#I just need to finish his other foot and clean him up some and bake it

[bastard-of-a-bog-being]

Wip but you know what

I was initially SO bothered by this guy not having a nose or eyebrows but the more I make art with him I’m just like “oh thank fuck the little guy doesn’t have many facial features this is way easier than making Poppy or whoever else”

[spdrwdw]

Pairing: 1042 Miguel X f!reader Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI) fluff, smut, food play (Is that a term?), Miguel has a weird kink ( it is still kinktober, after all), oral-m/f receiving, slight breeding kink, unprotected intercourse, no use of y/n Summary: Miguel seems to have a sweet tooth. Not only for the birthday cake you are making for Gabriella's birthday, but also for you. Word Count: 2018 A/N: Thank you to @phoenixflower468 who requested some earth 1042 Miguel content! I will continue working on my other requests. Thank you to those who submitted requests to help my writer's block! ALSO; if you'd like to be tagged for my future fics, please let me know! No translations at the end. I figured most of Miguel fic readers already know some of the Spanish pet names and phrases used by now, lmao Check out more of my work on my Masterlist

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Tomorrow was Gabriella’s birthday and you were scrambling getting the cake finished. It was already eleven at night and you were covered in flour and frosting. Or was it icing? You could never tell them apart. Anyway, you were decorating the cake when you heard footsteps coming down from the stairs. 

You quickly paused what you were doing, trying to hear the footsteps. They were too heavy to be Gabriella’s. Miguel was coming downstairs to check on your progress. 

“Miguel. Mi amor, I thought you were sleeping already,” You spoke softly as he made his way into the kitchen, taking a seat on the stool across from you. 

“I miss you,” he pouted. God. He was too adorable. He was six foot nine of pure muscle and dad bod and yet he was the most adorable thing in the world. Besides Gabriella, of course. 

“Lo siento, Miguel. I’m just trying to get this cake finished,” You apologized as you went back to work. Thankfully, those baking lessons you took back in college were finally paying off. The cake didn’t look half bad at all. 

“Why are you making a cake rather than just buying one?” He asked as he took a bit of leftover frosting..or was it icing..and licked it from his finger. You couldn’t help but to bite your lip at the sight. The simplest things this man did made you go feral. It just wasn’t fair.  

He noticed your expression and smirked. Oh, he was such a bastard! 

“What?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him. 

He simply contained the smirk on his face and grabbed more of the frosting onto his finger and opened his mouth, tongue sticking out slightly before slipping his finger in, letting out a moan. 

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to keep your composure. 

“I still need that, you know?”

Miguel chuckled and shrugged. “You know how I get around sweets, querida. I have such a sweet tooth.”

You simply gave him a look before grabbing your things and went back to decorating the cake. 

“Yes well, that sweet tooth of yours is going to have to hold off until tomorrow, Miguel. I can’t have you messing this up,” you grumbled, trying to concentrate on your work. You were almost done. 

As you tried to concentrate on drawing up some flowers, you could feel Miguel’s strong arms wrapping around your waist, his chin resting against your shoulder as he watched you work. 

“You’re doing amazing,” he complimented, placing a kiss on your cheek. You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to get you distracted. 

“Thank you, mi amor,” you hummed, trying to not let him get to you. At least, not until you were finished with Gabri’s cake. 

Surprisingly, he was actually behaving, watching you in admiration as you finished up the cake for your daughter. 

“Looks perfect,” he hummed as you nodded your head in approval, marveling at your work.

“It does, doesn’t it?” You smiled, glancing over at him before pecking his cheek. 

“Mind putting it in the fridge while I clean up?”

Miguel nodded his head and did as he was told before an idea popped into his head and he glanced over at you. 

“Take the frosting upstairs with you,” he said, causing you to raise a brow. 

“What? Why?” You asked as you continued to clean the kitchen island.

“I want to try something,” he stated. 

“Try what?” You pressed, curious as to why Miguel wanted to take the leftover frosting upstairs.

“Just..I’ll show you when we get up there. Come on, mi vida. It’s getting late.”

—-

“What on earth? Miguel!” You gasped as you now laid completely naked in bed, with your hands tied above your head. It was to prevent you from stopping Miguel and his shenanigans. 

Miguel shushed you as he squirted some frosting out of the piping bag and onto the bottom of your navel, leading a trail all the way down to your pubic bone. 

“I told you I had a sweet tooth, mi vida,” he chuckled before he began licking the frosting off of you. 

Your body twitched a bit and you tried to fight back a moan. You had to keep quiet. You didn’t want Gabriella to wake up. 

“And you thought this would be a good way to ease your sweet tooth?” You questioned as Miguel began to coat your breasts with the frosting before taking a breast into his mouth, licking and sucking off the sweetness, swirling his tongue around your nipple and tugging at it before doing the same with the other breast. You couldn’t conceal your moans any longer. 

“M-Miguel..please..” you breathed. 

“Hmm? Please what?” Miguel asked, a smirk on his lips.

“You’re making me all sticky,” you pouted. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll wash it off of you later,” he continued to smirk before taking hold of your chin and ordered you to open your mouth. You did as he said, and he squeezed some frosting into your mouth, keeping it along your tongue before he kissed you, slipping his tongue into your mouth to catch the sweetness. 

“Mmm, tastes so much better coming from the pretty mouth of yours,” he moaned, licking his lips.

“Alright well, don’t be greedy. Let me in on some of that, too,” you stated. 

Miguel chuckled and freed your hands before he began to take off his own clothes. Geez, how did you get so lucky to have a man like him as your husband and father of your child? 

Miguel then laid down on the bed as you straddled his waist and saw him open his mouth, tongue hanging out as he waited for you to squirt some frosting onto his tongue. You did just that, shaking your head before leaning down and kissed him hard, all teeth and tongue as you tasted the sweetness in his mouth. 

In no time at all, you were both sticky and smelling sweet. The piping bag was now discarded somewhere on the bed, and you were now sitting on his face. Honestly, it was the best seat in the house, if you had anything to say about it. 

Miguel was eating you out as if your pussy was the sweetest thing on earth. Tongue slobbering over your folds, teeth nipping at your clit, and long fingers curled into you, hitting you at just the right spot, making you see stars. You couldn’t help but to grind against his face. Miguel could take it, though. He was sturdy. 

You tried to cover your mouth to muffle your moans, your other hand stroking his meaty cock. You could feel the veins twitching as your wedding band rubbed against them. Leaning over, you finally took him into your mouth, slowly, of course. You could feel his moan vibrating through you as he continued to eat your pussy, causing you to moan out around his cock in response. After taking in as much of Miguel’s cock as you could, you began bobbing your head, the tip hitting the back of your throat every time. 

It wasn’t long until you felt him twitching in your mouth, and you doubled down on your efforts, pumping him with one hand, and gripping his balls with the other as you continued bobbing your head. 

You felt his tongue assaulting your pussy, running through your bundle of nerves while his fingers curled up and rubbed against that spot that made you see stars. 

In no time at all, you were orgasming into each other’s mouths, and you didn’t dare to waste a single drop of him. 

Before you could even blink, Miguel picked you up and flipped you over, pinning you down onto the bed, lining himself between you and rammed his cock into your soaked pussy. 

“Oh! Miguel!” You gasped as he pounded into you. The wet, sticky sounds of skin hitting against skin bounced off the walls, filled with the harmony of yours’ and Miguel’s moans. 

“You feel so good, mi amor. So fucking good,” Miguel groaned through gritted teeth. 

“Kinda makes me wanna put another baby in you. Think that’d be okay?” He grunted. The thought of filling you up and getting you pregnant with another baby made his cock twitch inside of you. 

Eh, the conversation of having another child did come up every now and then, and..yeah, why not? Gabriella deserved a sibling. 

“M-Miguel..” You breathed, your mind going fuzzy as you tilted your head back against the pillows. 

“Qué pasa, amor?” He cooed once he leaned over and pecked you on the cheek, his pace still brutal. You were so close to your orgasm, you gritted your teeth.

“Can’t handle my cock? Hmm? Is my pretty wife gonna cum?” He continued to coo, pivoting his hips against you in a more snapping manner. 

“Cum over my cock, mi amor.”

And you did. Because when he commands you to do something such as this, you do it, gladly. 

“That’a girl,” Miguel groaned, his thrusts getting sloppy as he reached his limit and came, coating your walls with his seed, filling you up just how you loved it. 

Once he was finished, Miguel slowly pulled out of you and laid on top of you, however, didn’t put all his weight on you cuz, the man is huge.

Miguel rested his head over your shoulder as you both caught your breath. Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer before kissing his cheek. You just loved him so much. He was a great husband, and a wonderful father. The best person you could ever imagine having as your life partner. 

“You alright?” He then asked, a cheeky smile on his face as he gently rubbed your back. 

“I’m fine, Miguel,” You giggled softly before kissing him sweetly just as you heard something coming from the hallway. Your eyes suddenly went wide. 

Gabriella.

The bedroom door opened as you both scrambled to get your naked bodies under the covers. 

Gabriella slowly stepped in, rubbing her sleepy little eyes as she held her stuffed bunny in one hand. 

“Mamá? Papá?” She muttered. 

“¿Qué pasa, mija?” Miguel asked softly as Gabriella stepped further inside. 

“I can’t sleep,” she said, looking up at the both of you. 

“Oh, Gabri. Do you want to sleep here with us?” You asked her, and she quickly nodded her head. 

“Okay, go grab your blankie and your pillow.”

She then smiled and nodded her head before walking out of the room, and you and Miguel both bolted to the dresser and closet to grab some clothes and a quick change of sheets. 

As you fixed up the bed, Miguel as in the bathroom getting himself cleaned up, and then you stepped into the bathroom to do the same just as Gabriella came back in, holding her bunny, blankie and pillow. She climbed onto the clean bed just as you both made your way back out of the bathroom. Miguel closed the door and turned off the lights and joined you two, wrapping his arms around Gabriella. 

“Feel better, mija?” You asked with a smile and Gabriella nodded her head, grinning.

“Yeah! I kept hearing these weird sounds and I couldn’t sleep,” she said, causing you and Miguel to look at each other with slight embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, Gabri. Hopefully you won’t hear them again,” you told her, gently stroking her hair as she snuggled up against you. You noticed Miguel pouting over at you, to which you rolled your eyes and smirked at him.

“Let’s get some sleep. It’s your big day tomorrow,” you reminded her, kissing her cheeks as she giggled, nodding her head. 

“Good night, ladies,” Miguel said, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you and Gabriella closer to him, having your daughter sandwiched in the middle; which she loved. 

“Night night, papà,” Gabriella giggled. 

“Goodnight, Miguel,” you smiled over at him and leaned over to give him a goodnight kiss, still being able to taste the frosting on his lips. 

Perhaps you had a bit of a sweet tooth as well. 

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Tags: @migueloharastruelove, @camzzn

[strnilolover]

baker!matt takes reader on a baking date at the bakery!

requested : yes here!

Sometimes you and matt didn’t get a lot of time to yourselves. Between Matt constantly working at the bakery, and you taking care of your two year old daughter ��� it was kind of impossible to try to do dates.

The only time you guys got was late at night when he was home and your daughter was asleep, laying in each others arms while you talked about your day.

You felt down more days than others, missing how you two spent so much time together before your daughter was born. Matt took notice of your behavior, his own mind kicking into gear to think of something for you two to do together.

It was late, Matt just got home not long ago and you were currently getting your daughter ready for bed. As you slipped her pajamas over her small body, a knock resonated from the front door.

“I’ve got it!” Matt shouted, his foot steps loud against the floor as he quickly made his way to the front door. You weren’t expecting any visitors, but you could hear the faint murmurs of another voice. You shrugged it off, finishing with your daughter’s pajamas.

The sound of two pairs of footsteps made their way to your daughter’s room where you were with her — your head turning as the shadows loomed behind you. Nick was here, his face lighting up when he saw his niece, holding his arms out to her.

Confusion was written all over your features, watching your daughter run into Nicks open arms as he picked her up. You stood up on your own legs, Matt taking place by your side as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

“I asked Nick if he could take her for the night, so we can spend some alone time together.” He said, pulling you a little tighter into his side. Your head turned to look up at him, smiling as you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, the stubble grazing your lips.

You pulled away, walking up to your daughter who was in Nicks arms and kissed her temple. “You be good for Uncle Nick okay bun?” You whispered, and she smiled brightly, nodding her head.

-

After Nick had left with your daughter, Matt ushered you out the door to the car. He said he had something planned, but you didn’t know what it was. Once he started driving, you immediately recognized the directions he was going — it was to the bakery.

When you arrived at the bakery, Matt parked, quickly shutting the engine down and making his way out of the car to your side. He opened the door for you, helping you out as he lead you to the front doors. His hands fumbled with his keys, unlocking the front door to the bakery.

The bakery door jingles softly as Matt holds it open for you, the familiar scents of vanilla and warm dough wrapping around you like a hug. It’s quiet this late at night — just you, and Matt.

You made your way past the tables and chairs and shelves, slipping behind the counter with Matt and to the back.

“You ready?” He asks, handing you a clean apron and putting on a matching one himself. You slipped the apron on over yourself, his hands already going to tie the strings for you. His fingers linger at the small of your back when he ties your apron strings, making your stomach flutter.

“What are we making?” you ask, trying to sound casual, but the excitement in your voice gives you away.

Matt smirks, rolling up his sleeves with a practiced ease. The oh so familiar tattoos on his arm on display for your eyes to see. “Thought we could try my sweet rolls and those éclairs you’ve been asking for,” he says. “But only if you’re up for the challenge.”

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “You’re on, Mr.Sturniolo .” You joked, making him roll his eyes, acting like he was annoyed.

He moved swiftly, grabbing everything you both needed to make the sweet treats. You had never tried to make the more complicated looking dishes when helping in the bakery, always leaving that for Matt to do.

Matt stands close, his hands guiding yours as you knead the dough, his voice steady and encouraging. “Just like this,” he murmurs, his fingers adjusting your grip. You glance up, meeting his gaze, and he gives you that smile — the one that’s all warmth and pride. “You’ve got it.”

“Think I’m finally getting the hang of it,” you joke, but there’s a note of accomplishment in your voice that Matt doesn’t miss.

“I told you,” he replies, leaning in to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, unknowingly leaving a streak of flour on your cheek.

The two of you work in sync, moving around each other like it’s a dance you’ve both memorized. When you pipe the cream into the éclairs, Matt stands back, arms crossed, trying to look serious. “Not bad, not bad,” he teases, but his eyes are soft, like he’s watching something precious unfold.

“Only ‘not bad’?” you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him. “Okay, more like ‘really impressive,’” he concedes, laughing as he pulls you into a quick kiss. “You happy now?”

“Very,” you reply, grinning. As you start icing the sweet rolls, things take a playful turn. Without thinking, you swipe a bit of chocolate on Matt’s nose. He freezes, eyebrows raising in mock surprise. “Oh, you think you’re clever, huh?”

“What are you gonna do about it?” you challenge, trying to keep a straight face. Matt smirks, dipping his fingers into the icing and dabbing a spot on your cheek. “Now we’re even,” he says triumphantly, giving you a quick, almost smug peck.

“Very mature,” you mutter, wiping your cheek, but you’re laughing, and Matt’s grinning like he’s won some grand victory.

The kitchen gradually fills with the sweet scent of baking pastries, and the countertop becomes a mess of flour, chocolate smudges, and half-finished treats. When the last batch is out of the oven, Matt wraps his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder as you both admire the spread of pastries. “Look at that,” he murmurs, voice full of pride. “You did so good, babe.”

“We did good,” you correct, leaning back against him and savoring the warmth of the moment. Your own arms wrapped around your waist — on top of his — holding him closer to you. “I only learn from the best.” You whispered.

Matt smiles, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. You turn to face him, fingers lightly tracing the smudge of flour still on his cheek. You lean in to kiss him, slow and lingering, like sealing a promise.

The oven timer dings, breaking the moment, and you both laugh, Matt reluctantly pulling away to grab the last tray. “Duty calls,” he grins.

As the pastries cool, you both sit down at the counter, sharing a quiet moment and a few sweet rolls. The bakery feels almost dreamlike, a place that’s just yours, full of shared laughter and gentle touches.

“Next time,” Matt says, breaking the silence, “we’re making chocolate croissants.” You grin widely, taking another bite out if the sweet roll you were eating. “Deal.”

© strnilolover

a/n : I hope this is good! I loved making this, i need to go on a baking date with matt now like c’moneeee. I also tweaked it just a little :) (Also, help me come up with some names for their daughter!! )

[loverofdiluc]

𝕆𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕒 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕕

Diluc as a S/O (Boyfriend or Husband)

Requests are Open! Feel free to send some in :)

Diluc, despite not showing his emotions very often, does often mumble his affection and love to you. He likes to compliment you, the smile on your face, or the proud look in your eyes when he does making him feel happy himself. He wraps his arms around you from behind and buries his face into your neck, mumbling compliments or saying he loves you.

Diluc shows his love for you by offering to do things for you. Whether it's an errand you have that day or something you decided to do -- such as reaching for an ingredient for baking/cooking, or even some paint for a painting, etc. Being able to help you reassures him that he is a good lover and isn't ignoring you/not giving you enough attention.

Going off of the previous one, Diluc does worry if he's giving you enough attention and affection. Hes busy with the Dinery and the Tavern, as well as the annoying Kaeya that just won't leave him alone. He has a lot going on and he knows that, but he does make time for you whenever he can. So he does need some reassuring words here and there that he is doing enough and not seemingly 'ignoring' you.

Diluc has some trouble sleeping, so seeing him up and out of bed looking at the stars from the window or even just sitting up and reading some random book is common. He has been getting more sleep with the help of you, holding you close and taking in your scent. It calms him down and reminds him he's not alone. Especially when he gets his nightmares -- although night terrors would be a better word for it. Being able to hold you close just helps him sleep, that's really all. Cuddles at night are a must.

Diluc likes to do things for you, that's obvious, so on most days he cooks breakfast with the help of a few servants. Although most of the time it's just him. He likes the way you groggily wake up and hug him from behind -- asking about what he's making. He just likes morning you, fully awake or not, you still hug him from behind and ask him what he's doing/cooking. On days when you're still sleeping when he finishes cooking, he comes up and treats you with breakfast in bed -- with a side of Diluc doing your hair and feeding you if you ask.

Dilucs kisses are soft and sweet and full of love. He doesn't want or like to be rough with you, it makes him feel like a bad s/o. He thinks a partner should be protective and soft with their lover, not rough. So he treats you like porcelain, not wanting to accidentally hurt you no matter what you look like or how strong you are. Hes just a softie, and likes the soft sweet kisses he gives.

Diluc tends to wrap an arm around you/hold onto you wherever the two of you are. Sometimes his arms are around your waist, some other times he's just holding onto your hand. He doesn't really care what other people think, sure he's got his insecurities but with you, he's got none. He doesn't have an image he keeps up cause he simply doesn't care. Yes, the teasings from Kaeya and a few other people are annoying, but he can deal with them.

Diluc prefers giving back hugs. He doesnt really know what it is but he likes just wrapping his arms around you from behind and pulling you close. He likes to bury his face into your neck or shoulder and just stand there. He will gently rock back and forth sometimes, keeping his form moving. He has a hard time staying still for a long time, so he does have to move in some way -- purposely or not.

Going off of the previous one, Diluc has a hard time standing or sitting still. He always has to be doing something. Whether it's cleaning a dirty glass or even just tapping his foot on the ground. He struggles to stay still, he can do it for a few minutes, but not all the time. Sometimes if you're close enough, hell mess with your fingers, hands, or even clothes. Just keeping his hands busy.

My brain is fried from school so this is all I got right now :,) Feel free to request <3

[littleplantfreak]

MARI CONGRATS ON YOUR MILESTONE!! ♡＾▽＾♡

make sure to stay hydrated during all the request you're gonna receive <3 if i'm not too late could you yap about ume for me? specifically, his house husband skills with how amazing he is at cooking and looking after the people he loves, thank you!

Yes I can yap about his househusband skills i think till i'm blue in the face and TYSM!!! I'll drink water rn owu)/

-We all know he can cook, we've seen it done y'know? He dabbles in baking as well! He'll see a recipe online and is immediately sliding his phone towards you, asking your opinion on it. Takes into serious consideration if you have allergies/preferences or you just don't like how one ingredient goes with the others. You think it's just a in-passing thing, but the next day guess what's on the kitchen table? And he always perfects it, it's almost infuriating.

-Just when you couldn't think he could get any more perfect, he can clean pretty well too. Strong enough to move all the furniture when it needs to be vacuumed under, tall enough to reach the cobwebs on the ceiling or the tops of the shelves without a chair. (I'm just swooning onto the couch he just lifted with one hand)

-Even Ume has his days though, where he's a bit accident prone or messes up a meal. He's pretty good at covering his tracks and fixing his slip ups, but when you see him walking around with his foot bandaged and you ask why? He's not gonna lie to you, but he's super bashful telling you he knocked a bowl off the counter by accident onto said foot, breaking the bowl AND bruising himself. Or when you come home and it smells just slightly burnt and all the windows in the house are open. Takes a little guesswork but you end up figuring out the older couple next door started talking his ear off while he was waiting for some cookies to finish baking, and the fire alarm alerted him to the charred remains.

-A natural caregiver, loving people is what he's made for, at least in his head. Taking care of you when your sick or just need a mental health day is something he does with ease. Alone time? No problem, he has some errands to do. Wanna cuddle? Not even a question, he's already in bed with you regardless of germs or sickness. He is so in-tune with your needs, especially when you're not feeling well, that he does things before you even think to ask about them. Definitely babies you big time no matter what though. If you're miserable for some reason, I can see him Scooping you up in a blanket and just holding you like that in a loveseat.

-Even when it comes to family and friends, he's ever-present in making sure they're safe, happy, and cared for. Taking people leftovers if they've been having a tough time or just giving them a call to check in...he thrives on it.

-I figure I'd put kids at the end in case you wanted to skip over it? But yeah! Not necessarily your own kids, but he's just fantastic with them in general. I'm sure the neighborhood kids stop by all the time, checking in with him in the back where his garden is. He's one of the first they run to if someone gets hurt or there's a creep bothering them and also one of the first to ask for advice from. Sometimes I headcanon him being a social worker for kids and families but that's for another time

[iamatinydinosaur]

🐾Branch🐾

I like you

Branch was in his bunker, spring cleaning. Ever since he got his colors back he's been a lot happier. However, they haven't gone back to his true colors. But at least he got some of it back, because of you. Ever since your dance together he couldn't stop thinking about you. In the song he said I. LOVE. YOU! Then why hasn't anything changed? That's because you thought he only meant it in a friend way.

After the Bergen incident you started to develop feelings for Branch. The fact that you colors came back because of him made you realize. Yep you like him.

You were walking to the entrance of his bunker. "Branch!" You shouted. Branch heard you and ran to let you in. He climbed out his bunker. "What are you doing here? I told you I was spring cleaning today." Branch said. You held up a bucket with cleaning stuff. "Can't I help?" You pouted. Branch smiled taking your hand. "Of course."

Before long, you two were cleaning together in a comfortable silence. You two don't have to talk all the time, you just love being in each other presence. That's one of the things Branch loves about you. All the other Trolls talk his ears off, but you respect his boundaries. You're so considerate of him. Giving him space when he needs it, you push him little by little to be more social so he isn't so isolated, you make sure he eats because when he's focused of things he tends to forget about it and you always ask him to show you how to build stuff.

Ever since he found out how much he likes you he's been super nervous around you. He wants to tell you how he feels. He starts off with confessing but then changes it at the last minute. The last time went along. "I really like you....r bread can you bake some?" You started to get suspicious cause they always start off with "I like you" and then he turns it to your.

"Branch can you help me, I can't reach to dust." Branch turned around chuckling. You were on tiptoes on one foot, one leg in the air and at your highest reach trying to dust in the top corner. He walked over and gave you a boost, you sat on his shoulders and go the last cobwebs in the room. "Got them." You stated. Branch was about to set you down but lost his footing. You gripped his head as you started to fall forward (I dunno if any of you have watched Haikyu but I imagine it would look like this. 😂😂)

Branch managed to maneuver your bodies. He did a little turn so you fell on him. All the cleaning supplies were scattered around the room, creating a huge mess. You and Branch were staring into each other's eyes. Branch went bright red. "I'm so sorry!" He was trying to push you off but you weren't having it. He had been beating around the bush for so long. You took him by his jacket and pulled him close. Branch's eyes widened. You had kissed him quickly. "Branch I swear I've been waiting for this for ages. I like you! But you've been beating around the bush for so long!" You exclaimed. Branch look astounded. "Wait I wanted to make the first move!" Branch groaned lying back down. You pursed your lips together and pouted. Branch peaked at you and noticed your face. Yeah that wasn't the reaction she wanted. Branch took you softly by the back of the head sitting up. You expression softened as you looked up at him. Branch pulled you closer and kissed you.

"I like you too."

A/N: okay here's Branch. I fell asleep halfway through writing this last night, so I thought I'd quickly finish it. The gif I've used at the top. So I'm a massive Kpop stan and Red Velvet was one of the groups that got me into kpop. Along with BTS and Twice. The fact we got to see red velvet in it and Branch dancing to Russian Roulette sends me high!!!! Russian roulette is Soo good live!!! I saw them at a kpop festival last year they were so good.

So I'm leaving for my family's soon so that's my last piece of work for the next few days as I'll be spending a lot of time with them. When I'm back I have two requests I'll be working on.

I hope you all have a lovely Christmas!!!

[madhatterbri]

Demon of Love | F.B.

Summary: They make cheesy Valentines Day cards for each other together with their favorite candy attached.

Requested by @theworldofotps

Pure fiction.

You pulled the baked goods from the oven and closed the door with your foot before placing the hot pan on the cooling rack. Today was the day before Valentine's Day, and you were hard at work making sure the Valentine's Day party was perfect for your students. They did really well on mid-year testing, and they deserved a break.

You sat back down on the kitchen chair to continue your arts and crafts project. Different colored juice boxes sat at your table. You glued different types of arts and crafts pieces to make them look like little bugs. They were called love bug juices.

To curb the sugar intake, you decided to buy other snacks for the kiddos. Bags of chips are also laid out on the table. They had a tiny clip on them with a sign that said they were all that and a bag of chips! Bananas of all sizes laid on the table with a sticker that read I'm bananas for you.

Your boyfriend came home from the gym. He announced his return after working out at the gym. You called back to him that you were in the kitchen. He walked towards your location and stopped suddenly.

"Holy moly," Finn spoke with, his eyes widened. It was like walking into your classroom on the last day of school. The kitchen was littered with fun things for the students.

"Sorry, I promise I will clean it up," you apologized sheepishly. He smiled and kissed the top of your head.

"Need any help?" He offered. You gladly accepted.

Within an hour, the rest of the treats were done. Finn helped you by loading them into the car. You cleaned up the kitchen to look presentable once more. The last little things on the table were leftover arts and crafts supplies. A cute idea popped into your head.

"Honey, I'm finished," he informed you and leaned against the doorway.

"I have some leftover candy. Want to make some cheesy Valentine's Day cards with me, my prince of love?" You asked and showed him the snack size of his favorite candy.

"Feeling festive, aren't we darling?" He asked and sat at the opposite side of you.

The kitchen was filled with laughter and talks of the memories you made together. A couple of times, the two of you caught the other sneaking candy for themselves. Before the end of the night, you were sitting on his lap. A wine bottle lay empty on the table. His finger traced random shapes on your back. Your head was laid on his shoulder.

"I must confess darling. This was so much better than the ones I made growing up," he admitted and handed you the card he made for you. He drew himself in demon form. He wrote that you bring out his inner demon of love. You couldn't help but laugh at the cheesiness.

You placed your favorite candy in your mouth and handed him the card you made him. A pizza in the shape of a heart was drawn in the middle of the card. The words "Here's your cheesy valentines Day" card were around the drawing. He tried to keep his laugh in. The alcohol put the two of you in a giggly mood.

You stood up from his lap, swaying a little from the alcohol. "I'm just honored to be in the same room as the demon of love,"

"I may be your demon of love," he smiled and grabbed your hand. He started to lead you towards the bedroom. "But I can show you how much of a demon in other things I can be,"

[cuddleyhoney]

hey darling , can i request smutty john wick x reader (Maybe Meena Tarasov 😉😍) fic.

Maybe John comes home stressed and Meena prepares him a nice evening so that he quickly forgets his stress.

hii I was bored so I thought I would try and write something for this sorry i'm late also happy new year lol <3

john wick x oc mena tarasov

brief context -

-The bond that Meena and John cultivated throughout the past year created a cozy and affectionate lifestyle. Frequently, Meena would linger at his place, spending evenings together after delightful dinners or indulging in weekend sleepovers that added a touch of warmth to their connection.

It being the cold winter John invited you to spend the week with him during the holidays. He still had to work on most days though, which led her to being at home with "dog/mochi"! -

6:31 am

The sun was glimmering through the floor to ceiling windows you notice John start to shuffle in the sheets and wake up. As usual he performed with his normal routine of making coffee for himself and watching the morning news. After 10-15 minutes he went to shower later then going to work.

Meena hated the "old fashioned" morning routine John had. She wished she could just stay in bed for a couple more hours with him just to relax and be close to each other. After John left she slept for a couple more hours, I mean she's just a girl right?

Around 9:45 Meena awakened

(second pov)

Hearing the quiet yet noticeable pitter-patter of John's beloved dog walking into the bedroom was a sign that he needed some "outside time". John's dog you nicknamed "Mochi" really loved you and enjoyed attention from you.

In her adorable pajamas walking over towards the large shared bathroom she and John shared. Glancing at the counter and seeing the small area of her own personal items like skin care and makeup took over made you smile. Meena made her way to the glass doored shower to clean herself up for the day.

Time passed and Meena spent most of her time just hanging out with the dog, online shopping and baking cookies. She later fell asleep on the sofa watching YouTube. Until the sound of the garage woke her up she realized John was home.

Meena greeted her love with a warm smile and sprinted over to him with a hug. He loved your soft cuddles but this specific evening he seemed a bit more firm than usual. He have you a couple kisses then he released you from his arms and went to his office.

With such discomfort and tensity plastered on his face you worried if something bad happened? with work or maybe you annoyed him? maybe it was road rage from driving through the busy new york city streets?

Meena let John have maybe 12 to 15 minutes of quiet time to himself but she couldn't worry alone much longer. She left her comfy chair near the island counter she was in to work on the idea she planned. A small ice cream session with John!!

Preparing the adorable comfort snack with sprinkles and caramel syrup in small bowls, she placed both bowls on the table then quickly skipping to Johns office.

John noticed the sound of her foot steps immediately and stood up as soon as the door was opened. He greeted her saying "Hi Bunny". That was one of the nicknames he gave you. You looked at John with nothing but pure intention and grabbed his hand to lead him to the dining area where the ice cream was.

He stared in shock of the small gesture Meena made for him. He didn't have much growing up and was rarely given anything nice, so this was a big deal for him. The two love birds sat and conversed whilst having their delicious treat.

John finished eating and then placed his hand on top of her with his fingers moving slowly and taking in her beauty as the night went on. The two didn't want the night to go to waste but noticed the night was passing.

He then made then asked the small yet intense question saying "Would you like to visit me in the bathroom in five minutes?" a sparkle lit in her eyes and she nodded her head softly whilst blushing.

Quickly Meena raced to wash the dishes whilst John walked over to their beloved shower...

Meena looked at herself in front of the mirror making sure she looks good, checking if her eyebrows were in place or if she had any crumbs on her face. Then practically sprinting over to the bathroom and knocking on the door.

*knock knock* Meena ask gently "Can I come in?" hoping this situation is more than him just giving her a back massage and bath something more intimate.

John quickly opens the door to see Meena in her cute sweat pants and delicate top but for Meena all she is seeing is a very bare version of John. Her heart began to race with arousal. He pulled her hand into the bathroom and led her to the shower. He slowly undressed her let her check if the water was at a good temperature for her.

The two of them slowly started to bathe themselves but they both knew they wanted to do more than that. Meena's soft tanned hand made its way to Johns chest feeling the warmth of his body. John looked at her with water droplets dripping from his hair he used his own hand to move hers guiding it lower to his wait and made a small smirk...

Meena lowered herself on to her knees trying not to break eye contact with him. She grabbed his "shaft" and looked down then right back at him. He looked at her with so much love and put his hands on the side of her cheeks then saying "Please continue".

She took his length slowly but steadily hoping it was enough for him, he began to massage her neck and shoulders to ease any tensity she may have. His soft grunts made her so weak.

He tapped her on the shoulder and memoed her to stop. He wanted her to feel good too. John lifted her by the waist and had her back towards the wall, He glanced at her once she made the small "oh my god remark" smiling at how courageous he can be at time. He looked back at her to make sure he had her consent and she nodded heavily wanting him to continue.

John inserted himself into her and instantly felt a form relaxation. Luckily shes on birth control so there's no need to worry for any issues. John paced himself to make sure he didn't hurt or make any tears or marks on her skin. He left small kisses all across her waist and face. His small "I love yous" left her feeling like a princess...

The night ended with the two cuddle buddies snug in bed with facial moisturizer on and vanilla-scented lotion. Their pure bliss was so strong it radiated through their entire home.

the end for now

thank you for reading!!

[froggychair05]

Wrote this little thing for @enden-agolor :)

Jesse needed this to go well.

In all of his adventures, he’d never had to face a challenge quite like this. Taking down the Witherstorm? Terrifying, but he managed. Saving Sky City? Aiden didn’t stand a chance. Murderers, supercomputers, and battlefields of gladiators? Piece of cake.

Baking cookies, however…

Jesse had no clue where to even start. All of the ingredients were spread out in front of him and he held the recipe in one hand, the other resting on his hip as he studied Lukas’ neat handwriting. It seemed easy enough. He’d watched his boyfriend do it countless times (though he usually paid less attention to what Lukas was doing and more to whatever conversation they were having).

Lukas was busy at some book-signing event that day, so Jesse had to hurry. He knew that those kinds of things always stressed Lukas out—there were always people shouting questions at him and demanding his attention and it was all very overwhelming for the poor guy.

Jesse knew exactly how it felt, so he wanted to do something nice to surprise him. Besides, Lukas deserved it. He was always doing nice things for Jesse and he wanted to return the favor.

…If he could just figure out how, that is.

He sighed, carefully setting the recipe on the counter. He could do this.

Dewey wandered into the kitchen then, rubbing against Jesse’s legs.

“Hey, Dew,” he said, bending down to pet the ocelot. “Where have you been?”

Dewey just purred in response. Jesse smiled a little, standing up again. “Well, maybe you can help me.”

He pulled a chair out and watched as Dewey hopped onto it before turning back to the counter.

“I built a Formidi-Bomb. I can make some cookies.”

He rolled his sleeves up, measuring out the flour. Into the bowl it went, Dewey watching intently as Jesse began to go down the rest of the list.

“This isn’t so bad,” he said, smiling proudly at the bowl of ingredients. “See, Dew? Told you I could handle it.”

Dewey, by this point, had hopped onto the counter and was watching Jesse intently. His tail swished back and forth as he started batting at one of the eggs.

Jesse glanced at the ocelot. “Aw, is that next? Thanks, buddy, I— Dewey, no!”

Unfortunately, he was too late. The egg splattered onto the floor.

Jesse sighed. At least it hadn’t spawned a chicken—that would certainly be interesting to explain to Lukas.

“C’mon, Dewey, we don’t have a lot of time here.” He looked at the egg in dismay. “And it was going so well…”

Dewey at least seemed somewhat apologetic. He walked over and nuzzled his head against Jesse’s shoulder, purring. He was pretty cute…how could Jesse stay mad?

“Okay, okay, I forgive you.” He pet the top of Dewey’s soft head, smiling a little.

It wasn’t a total loss. They definitely had more eggs, and he could just step around the mess and clean it when he was done. The important part was getting the cookies finished before Lukas got back.

Jesse grabbed another egg, glancing back at Dewey, who was sniffing the pile of cocoa beans.

“No, Dewey, those aren’t for cats!” He rushed over, waving his hands at the ocelot until he backed away. Jesse felt something wet make a crunching sound under his foot.

Oh. Right. The egg. Wait, hadn’t he just been holding…?

He looked back at where Dewey had been standing. On the wall behind him was…another splatter of egg. It must have flown out of his hand when he was waving them at Dewey.

Jesse groaned in frustration. Fighting the Admin had been easier than this.

He peeled his sock off and draped it over the egg mess on the floor. It needed to be washed anyway. Cleaning the wall shouldn’t be too hard, either. As long as nothing else went wrong, Jesse was certain he could salvage this batch of cookies.

“Okay, Dew, I’m gonna need you to get off the counter,” Jesse sighed. “You can stay on the chair.”

Dewey only gave Jesse a look, not moving from where he was sitting next to the bowl.

“Dew. Please.”

Dewey did not listen. Dewey instead stuck his entire kitty face into the bowl of ingredients, sniffed, and sneezed. He lifted his head, blinking. His whole head was white.

“Dewey!” Jesse stared at the ocelot in disbelief. The situation would have been hilarious if it weren’t for the fact that Jesse would have to start all over now. Of course, he’d have to clean Dewey first, because he couldn’t just leave his boyfriend’s cat covered in flour.

Bathing Dewey was going to be a hell of its own, but it would probably be easier than baking cookies at this point.

Just then, Jesse heard the door open. His heart sank as he heard a tired but unmistakably familiar voice announcing his boyfriend’s presence.

“No,” Jesse whispered, staring at the mess. “He wasn’t supposed to be back yet…”

Dewey hopped off of the counter and ran toward the voice. No, no, no, this was all wrong!

“Dewey? What’s all over your fur?”

Jesse took a deep breath and walked out of the kitchen. “Hey, Lukas. You’re home early.”

“Yeah, thank goodness. I got through the line pretty fast today. Do you know what happened to Dewey?” He glanced over at Jesse. “…Where’s your other sock?”

Jesse sighed, reaching down and scooping Dewey up. “I was trying to make cookies. I wanted to do something nice for you since I knew you’d be stressed from today, but it didn’t really go well.”

“Aww, Jesse, you didn’t have to—“

Jesse shook his head. “I wanted to. You deserve it.”

“Well…thank you, then,” Lukas said, leaning down to kiss Jesse’s cheek. “I appreciate it.”

“But it turned into a disaster,” Jesse mumbled. “The kitchen’s a mess and Dewey needs a bath and the cookies are ruined because he sneezed into the bowl.”

Lukas laughed softly. “That explains a lot. But it’s okay, really. We can clean the kitchen and give Dewey his bath, and then we can make the cookies together. Does that sound good?”

Jesse shrugged. “They were supposed to be a surprise for you since I knew you’d be tired from today, though. If you’re making them, then it’s not really a surprise.”

“Well, I didn’t know you’d be making them, so I was surprised. And getting to spend the time baking with you is just as nice,” Lukas said, smiling. “It’ll be fun.”

Jesse couldn’t help but smile, too. “We’ll just have to keep Dewey away from it. He’s cute, but he’s a little menace.”

“Aww, he probably just wanted to help. Didn’t you, buddy?” Lukas pet the ocelot’s flour-covered head. “You’re definitely gonna need a bath, though.”

Dewey shook his head, a cloud of flour drifting off of him. Lukas laughed a bit and carefully took Dewey from Jesse’s arms.

“I can clean the kitchen while you give him his bath,” Jesse offered, dusting flour off of his shirt. He was realizing that he should have worn an apron.

Lukas nodded. “We’ll finish faster that way. Thank you.” He kissed the top of Jesse’s head. “You have flour on your nose.”

Jesse blushed, dusting his nose off as Lukas left with Dewey. He went to the kitchen to clean the splatters of egg.

Baking was hard. Maybe he should just stick to stopping world-ending catastrophes.

[hypnified]

I want to be shipped with one of your OCs pleaseeeeeeeee 😁

Female, 27, 5'7", 105 lb, caucasion, blue eyes, brown 3B type curly brown hair that sits just below the shoulder, glasses, freckles everywhere except my face, and long freaken legs.

I have no idea what my personality letters are, but I'm an extroverted introvert. I am a leader, not a follower. I love public speaking and being in front of a crowd, but I also love my quiet alone time where I can write and think in peace. I love people, and I also can't stand people. I'm a lazy, do-nothing Saturday person, but also a let's do everything humanly possible person.

I'm incredibly introspective and inciteful. I spend most of my time in my head and am often asked for advice from others. Don't ask me how I know what the right thing is, I just know. 100% self-sufficient. If I dont know something, I will figure it out. Great sense of direction. I travel for work and I absolutely love it.

No nonsense, and an aversion to stupidity. Master of eye rolls and of sassy one liners. I can let loose once and a while, but only if I've known you for a longgggggg time. If you get to hear me cackle like a hyena, you've made it. Mostly dry sense of humor, but apparently, people still find me funny. I can have a crowd roaring in 5 minutes, but I can't carry a one on one conversation without being awkward.

I am prone to sensory overload, get migraines, and have low blood pressure. I may pass out on you, but I give out instructions on what to do if it happens. Im straightforward, and I will let you know exactly how I feel. There is no pussy-footing with me. I don't lie to make people feel better.

I am probably the most confident person you will ever meet IRL. I am a public speaker, so it comes with the territory. Also, I am a female in a male-domnaited industry, so I either suck it up or get wrecked. Most of the time, though, I'm wrecking the guys. Once I crush their egos with my knowledge and wit, they give me their utmost respect. I don’t have many insecurities, and the ones I do have don't run my life.

Oh, and underneath all of that, I am an absolute sweet person. I will shower you with kisses and hugs and so much love. I just gotta put my thick skin on when I go to work. Loyal to a fault. If you've gained my trust and respect, I will defend you to the ends of the earth. I have fought people before, and i will do it again. I am also a sucker for domestic life, and I can do everything from clean, cook, bake, laundry, gardening, and repairs. I would make a fabulous wife for the right guy.

I hope that wasn't too much...

@the-bad-batch-baroness

I just finished baking so time to answer some more oc ship asks! The longer the better it makes it easier for me!

At first I thought Erix, but I'm also getting Phoenix vibes!

Phoenix is an ambivert, but he doesn't lean towards being introverted or extroverted he's just there I guess. He's more of a follower, Laz is more of a leader. But he also won't sit for anyone's shit, but not much really bothers him. He's very picky with his company, which tends to upset some people but he doesn't care about it too much. He's a menace, and has no problems with being a little shit but he knows when to tone it down. Phoenix is really good at making people laugh and not even he knows why, it kinda just happens!

He's completely fine with you being awkward, if you still wanna talk he can keep the conversation going without any problems. But he won't force it either! If you pass out on him, he's one of the best equipped out of all my clone boys, so you're in safe hands. But if anyone approaches you I can't promise he won't get snappy, but a morbid joke is all he needs to shut someone up.

Phoenix really appreciates how straightforward you are, he's fairly blunt and he can't count on one hand the amount of times he's offended someone. Thanks to his death and the trauma that came along with it, he's not exactly confident, he really admires your confidence. To him you're one if the coolest people in the world, and will not shut up about it Laz will actually tell him to shut up. He's so proud of everything you do, but if he gets too much please tell him he will listen.

Youll never be short of attention with this boy around, Phoenix will be reminding you you're loved, he's peppering your face in kisses, hugging you everything. He just wants to give you attention! But for the love of god, do not let him cook he will burn the house down to a crisp, once he's gained your trust he's not gonna break it.

[spacebookettes]

Book 10

Two kicks shelf stacker

The gleaming night of a supermarket after hours. They are short staffed. Seven of them are stacking shelves. The New Girl has been there only a few months and is ending her shift and about to go home, she uses the loo.

In walk two massive blokes, with guns.

“Where’s the new girl.”

‘Which one?’

“THEY DON’T KNOW”  say Liver and Onions to each other.

A rush a flash streaks up behind the men and a New Girl roundhouse kick knocks them both to the ground. New Girl picks up one of the men’s guns and THUD THUD they are both shot through the head...

“If you want to live, finish your shift and go home like nothing happened. Never mention this to anyone or each other ever again. If you want your lives to stay normal!”

Brenda dropped a can of own brand baked beans on Jonathans foot, he doesn’t flinch or take his eyes off of the New Girl. They all stare as she slowly meticulously drags the two bodies into a side store room, like an expert in bodies.

The shift manager finally realises they should do something... their eyes look side to side and then back to the blood dragged floor. New Girl closes the storage door, looks to the manager and points to their office. They follow New Girl inside.

Jonathan shouts OWWWW. The other six look at him and then at each other stuck. Brenda’s eyes look around the store and she slowly goes back to stacking shelves.

The night shift shuffles out of the supermarket, they all eye the blood stained floor and the storeroom door. They go back to their homes with their families and say nothing.

The next night the seven All make it to work late. They eye the floor by the storeroom, it is CLEAN. The seven are quiet all night, they go about their jobs as normal, not daring to look each other in the eyes. They go home with no sign of New Girl.. the shift manager is off sick. Again as they leave they give a side eye to the storeroom door.

Brenda is making a dandelion coffee, she didn’t sleep well the night before so doesn’t need the caffeine. She peeps out of her small houses window, between her pale curtains, out into the night. All is calm and quiet. She sleeps surprisingly well.

Brenda makes her way to her night shift her slammed mini with backwards cap pulls into the carpark and she enters the supermarket. The manager is back, she halts when she sees them... they don’t  look at her, though there is some recognition in how they are moving. Brenda carries on to the staff room.

They all carry on as normal over the weeks and slowly the life eases back into the atmosphere of the night shift. They all feel happier than they had done before the incident. Jonathans depression has subsided. Brenda feels an excitement every time she goes to work. No one speaks about the New Girl.

Brenda is inside a rival supermarket, she prefers their salad bar selection. She reaches the self service till with her pasta pesto, boiled egg, bacon bits, sweetcorn fritter, hummus and shredded carrot salad. She sees New Girl stacking shelves near the tills. New Girl does not see her... she quickly flusteredly scans the food, pays and leaves. Her slammed mini screeches out of the cornered slip road of the rival supermarkets carpark. A police car is passing and Brenda calms her driving. She makes it home, eats the pesto pasta with odd bacon bit half of the salad and sits at her window staring out at the looming darkness spreading across her small street. She doesn’t go to work that night.

Jonathan’s foot is bruised, his sock is off and he is looking at the purple, yellow and black. His significant other asks again what happened.. ‘i told you, just an accident.’ Though he is unable to talk about it at all.

Brenda makes it into the store the next night. She wants to say something about seeing New Girl. Jonathan still limps a little.

None of the seven have been into the storeroom. Brenda can not resist a peak. The other seven see her walking towards the door. She unlocks it and goes inside. The one light is dim... the storeroom is for the sick buckets, incase any customer is upset. It doesn’t smell of blood, there are no spackles. Bleach is all she can smell. Jonathan knocks on the door with her startle. He joins her, checks for spackles. They both look at each other glumly. I want to say the small light goes out... it doesn’t. They both leave the storeroom to five corners of eyes.

New girl had been true, nothing happened, nothing changed, their lives were the same, the job was the same. None of them changed careers: they all stayed working the night shift... perhaps they were worried that if they all left it would be conspicuous. Perhaps they didn’t want to risk it. New Girl hadn’t been specific in this regard.

Brenda is parked in the rival supermarkets car park. The rival shop is at the other end of the city. Brenda is often passing in her slammed mini with backwards cap. New Girl leaves the supermarket. Gets into a taxi ‘a taxi' it drives away. Brenda follows.

Winding roads out of the city still some light blue at the edge of the sky. A posh gate opens electrically and the taxi enters. Brenda keep driving. She can see a distant house, modern and a little palatial. Black bushes run around the perimeter of the gardens one side closer to the house.

Brenda is trudging through a damp field towards the house. I’d like to say an owl hoots, it doesn’t. There is wind though, enough that Brenda feels concealed. The light blue has been replaced with cold deep blue. Brenda reaches the black bushes near one side of the house. She parts the branches and looks onto a pool area and large glass windows. Inside sits New Girl. She lays back on an expensive settee and goes to sleep. Brenda watches.

Brenda takes the next night off. And watches New Girl... nothing much is happening. New Girl is on her phone, watches TV, makes food. Then sleeps. No strained or exasperated phone calls, no handsomely mystery men, no strange packages, no dodgy behaviour, no drinking, no bodies. Brenda goes home.

Brenda leaves her job and finds work elsewhere. She finds work at a wilderness park, protected views, protected wildlife, visitors. Brenda had no experience in conservation work when she applied for the job... but when she walked into the interview in a bright red suite jacket and generally seemed at complete ease with herself, the interviewing conservationists couldn’t help but employ her. Brenda made herself completely at home. She bossed around the conservationists. She bossed around the ducks. Though she was not Yet management, she managed the whole place. The wilderness centre was just outside the city. Brenda careened around the country roads in her slammed mini. She worked her way up the non corporate ladder until she was paid to manage the place. All the while paying very occasional visits to New Girl. Nothing much had happened to New Girl, she had relationships, never lasting long. In summers she swam in her pool, she regularly got takeaway pizza and six days a week she stacked shelves. Meanwhile Brenda was partying in ibiza, having affairs with other peoples partners and was now driving a classic AMG. Her tire tracks could be seen on all the country roads around and about the wilderness centre.  The wilderness centre had bags of money, plenty of donations, investments and government funding. The ducks now had a giant hillside caricature advertising Back To Nature Shampoo built in local chalk... and an eagle nesting. It still wasn’t enough for Brenda... she needed some underworld fun.

Brenda met some country locals under a black sky. She would provide the ducks... and so the underground duck fighting gambling started.

Ten years later Brenda was organising the smuggling of white powders through a subversive eagle breeding program all around the world. It wasn’t enough

Brenda met the Boss from the USA. He looked sad. They exchanged ideas, partied and the Boss went back to the US.

Everytime she met the Boss he always looked slightly distracted, he would gaze off to somewhere. Even at the height of the partying he would be gone for a short while. Brenda wanted to visit the US next time; the Boss agreed.

First class and then a smart car drove her to a lot palatial somewhere in the warm of the USA. The two Bosses partied. Brenda was nosey. She had taken much interest in the home of the other Boss. Nothing was a clue to the other Bosses inner world of something. Brenda and the Boss became close. The became spouses. They ruled the white powders world in a passionate perplexing dangerous love. And one day the other Boss told Brenda about his daughter.

to be continued

By Peter Stringer

By Peter Stringer

[vongosh]

"mmm... famous last words," she grumbles facedown into the pillow, one leg blindly stretching back to jab him with her pointed foot. whatever release he got, she's still spring-loaded from the half-baked orgasm she frantically chased down, tackled to the ground and threw herself into like it was the last chance she'd get—major tactical error on her part. there wasn't any actual relief, just a brief spike in pleasure that was over before it really started and felt more like a check point than a finish line. it was a taunt, and straight from max's lips in the form of yet another lecture about patience and delayed gratification. how unbelievably annoying. now there's a battle of exposed-wire sensitivity and aching hot need duking it out between her thighs and all she can do is press them together and groan her frustration. "well you just tell me when you're ready then, how's that," she condescends, rolling onto her side, one leg crossed tightly over the other, and propped on one elbow to watch him, almost immediately wishing she hadn't.

the name out of his mouth is jarring, the sound of it ricocheting through the room and smacking her square in the face—her eyes have adjusted well enough to know he can see it land pretty clearly. he gets the full show—the irritation, amusement, disgust, self-satisfaction, suspicion—and she's not sure which one her face chooses to settle on when her eyes narrow on his. "damn, you didn't waste a second," she notes, almost impressed. "what, got your nut now all bets are off?" her stare's like a hawk's, laser focused and picking his expression clean, except there's no meat to chew—just more of the easy mocking he defaults to, impenetrable as bone. "i get tested, i just wasn't sure if you do, and there's not really like, a sexy way to bring up stds, so... condom." might deserve a pat on the back for that evasion, except she huffs out a breath and presses her luck anyway. "noted, though. and same, obviously. not sure about jude, though." there's an edge to her smirk and her head tips to one side, and hand extending for his cig. "i'm sure you can ask him if you're curious—hey no, c'mon. i don't want a whole one. just gimme some of yours." she pats the space beside her, trying to lure him into snatching distance. "i'm trying to cut back. the vape's just for the trip. it's actually only like, the second one i've ever bought myself. i used to just hit his, you know? and would you believe they actually carded me?" her gaze slinks sidelong to his. "d'you think was my perfectly smooth skin or the tight little body?"

"huh?" distracted, breathless, decidedly rhetorical. hooded eyes watch as jenny's mouth dips down around him, his jaw just about dislocating from his head. max wouldn't realize if he had cobras wrapped around his ankles let alone socks. he can't even bother to care that he's fallen victim to his own jab -- conversation is officially on the back burner. vaguely he can feel his thigh twitch under the weight of her elbow, can feel that hot unfurling deep in his stomach as something inside wakes and stretches. the head that he's hung back snaps up again as he hisses under his breath, his fingers sliding tight into her hair again. "you're trying to," max admonishes, his growing smirk accusing her of actually conspiring to trigger some premature ejaculation. it seems almost inevitable, frankly, especially considering the impromptu and expeditious drum roll they've engaged in the last hour, but it doesn't rouse any shame in him. the question of what happens next looms at the end of the night, not at the end of round one.

you're trying to, in max's opinion, is a fair argument anyway, especially when, once he'd dragged her back up his body and guided her to sit down around him, she did the thing with her hips. luckily he had enough working brain cells to roll their bodies before he fell into her trap. in a practiced motion max flipped her into doggy position, grip rigid around her hip and muscles flexed tight. it felt not unlike love island - quick and dirty and raw. didn't require a ton of thought aside from god fuck yeah again more yeah good and then he was there.

"no, no," he chides when she flattens against the mattress, gives her ass a smack for good measure. "don't lay down. i just need a sec." it's not really certain to him whether or not she came and, if asked, he'd claim he didn't care. what better way to prolong a dangerous liaison than to withhold pleasure? max would just call this edging. "just gotta find my --," smokes, in his discarded jeans. in the same motion he's peeling the condom off his dick, snorting a laugh. "you didn't have to do that," he informs her. "i'm clean, yanno... unless --," brows up, jaw dropped. the sardonic deadpan of surprise. "jude has the syph." surely speaking the name he's avoided all night is allowed in brief, urgent matters of mocking. once the condom's tossed and the cigarette's lit, he approaches again, pinches one of her toes. "you want one? y'know, the vapes aren't good for you."

[friedwangsss]

LET’S PLAY HOUSE. | austin!elvis x black!reader (part 4)

notes : “elvis wants to play house with you, if you know what he means.”

extra notes : idk why i thought i had the draft for this already made so yeah. this was also longer than i anticipated and it’s probably shitty but hey, i was trying my best to get this out on schedule, enjoy !

“seems like she’s still awake, the kitchen light is still on.” you took elvis’ hand that he held for you to take and stepped out of the car. “oh, and thank you for dancing with me, i enjoyed myself.”

he looked down and smiled at you, “of course, i enjoyed you.”

you smiled back and walked up towards the walkway that lead to your home. it wasn’t big and fancy, just a couple of bedrooms, a family room, a nice kitchen, a couple of bathrooms, and staircase which led to the bedrooms.”

you had moved here with your mom when you were about 14 and have been here since. she was able to buy it in a rather nicer black neighborhood with the money she saved up so she was very proud of it.

you unlocked the door to the home and called out to your mom, “momma, i’m back! and i brought a guest!”

she yelled back, “girl, stop yelling. i told you better.” you shook your head and laughed.

“sorry.” you replied and turned to elvis, “you can take your shoes off and leave them by the door. no one will steal them.”

he chuckled at you. “wouldn’t worry about that, unless you wanted ‘em then, i’d be a little worried.”

“y/n, come help me with this cornbread, hurry.”

you walked towards the direction of the kitchen and gestured for elvis to follow. “momma, greet the guest.”

she turned around and looked taken back at the 6 foot white man with slicked back hair and a pink lace shirt standing in her kitchen. “y/n, who’s this?”

“elvis, momma. you remember him.”

she looked at you, “baby, i remember a shorter, scrawny white boy with blonde hair.”

elvis and you both chuckled. “hello, ma’am, it’s been a minute.” his voice was deeper so that made her widen her eyes. “you look as good as ever, ms. l/n.”

she took him in for a second before rushing over and giving elvis a big hug, “my, look at you. you’re so grown!”

you knew your mom secretly had love for elvis like he was her son or nephew: she was always making sure he was on his best behavior, making sure he had some nice sunday clothes, or was fed and his mom too. “okay, momma, don’t choke him.” you smiled.

they pulled back from their hug and she was smiling big. “goodness, your hair. i’m gonna miss the golden hair but you look just as good.”

“thank you, ma’am.” he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “do you need any help with anything?”

“well, i was just about to put everything away but you can help y/n with the cornbread, i know it was your favorite.” she smiled and turned back to the sink to clean whatever was in there.

you looked at the pan of already made cornbread and saw the bowl of glaze on the table beside it. “come on, elvis, you can spread it on.”

he picked the bowl up and the little food paintbrush and started to spread the glaze on. he had a content look on his face, he actually enjoyed things like this. domestic things. it reminded him that after all the fame washes away, he’ll still have little things like this with you—even if he won’t get to see you as often.

your mom told you to get the other pan of cornbread that just finished baking out of the oven so elvis could put the glaze on that one as well. “here, el.” you placed the pan cautiously down.

“el.. haven’t heard that one in a while, love.” he smiled and looked at you from the corner of his eye. “forgot how much i loved it.”

that statement made you blush, or rather your body heat up with the way he spoke.

when did his voice get so deep?

why does it make you feel a certain way? the way you felt when you were a little girl with a big crush on the pretty, skinny, golden hair boy.

you figured staying in your head wasn’t good and decided to come back to reality. your momma had finished prepping the food and put everything away. she even took a pan of the cornbread and wrapped it up so she could hand it to elvis on his way out.

“elvis, you did a great job. forgot how great of a helper you were.” your momma smiled up at him. “take this pan home to your momma whenever you leave and y/n,” she turned to you. “don’t keep him ‘ere too long. make sure he leaves at a reasonable time so his momma don’t get worried.”

you took a small glance at the clock above the stove and realized that it was only 11:33. “yes ma’am.”

she kissed you on your head and smiled and have elvis a hug one more time. “make sure you visit us more, baby. we’d love your company.”

he smiled and hugged her back just as tightly. “of course, ma’am. before i start going on the road more, i’ll be sure to come back. maybe bring momma too.”

your mom nodded and pulled back from the hug, bidding both of you goodnight and retired upstairs. you waited one more moment before you turned to elvis, “when did you start singing?” you asked, trying not to start an awkward conversation but you were sure you did.

he chuckled at you and walked over to stand in front of you. “i don’t know. it was like one day i was driving past a recording studio on my way to work, next thing you know i was singing in said studio, then, i was on stage scared out of my wits at the jamboree.”

“you preformed at a jamboree? when? i don’t remember hearing about this.” you had to raise your chin to look at him and another question flashed through your head: when did he get so tall?

you and elvis used to be the same height and when you were 14 you grew a lot more before you stopped when you turned a certain age. you weren’t super short but you were reaching that average to above average height. but elvis? oh god, his height made you almost want to drool.

“ah, it was the lousiana hayride. not the most welcoming folk at first, mainly the men.” when he stepped a little closer to you, he wrapped his hand around your waist. “the girls were different. just started hollerin’out of nowhere.

“hollerin’?” you raised an eyebrow. “what do you mean?”

“i’on know. but it was crazy. my buddies tol’ me it was because of the way i was movin’.”

now that you could understand. “have you seen the way you dance? it’s sexy so i think their reaction was reasonable.” you smiled.

“sexy, huh?” he smirked down at you and leaned a little closer. “i’m glad you find it sexy, baby, that’s what matters the most to me.”

a silence blanketed over the both of you and you were curious as to what was gonna happen next. it seemed like the only thing either of you wanted to do was just stare into each other’s eyes for as long as you could.

“i have a question,” elvis started. “and you can say no but, i’ve been waiting for a moment when i could kiss you. again, at least.”

you sucked in a quick breath, remembering the last time you kissed. it was a quick one, nothing special. you didn’t even think he’d remember it.

“can i kiss you again?”

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[bitsandbobsandstuff]

The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons.  Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie. 

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.  

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Planting a sneaker clad foot on his ass, you shove. Hard.  

“Bucky, we talked about this. Remember how you agreed to lower the drama and keep things in perspective? I thought we were under attack.”

“If I don’t get a green gum-ball,” he declares dramatically, “there will be an attack.”

Throwing the cloth bags at his face, you stomp off to retrieve a shopping cart, plunking your purse in the front and hunching over the handlebars.  

“I thought you said you were a millionaire now. Buy your own gum-ball.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Like I carry loose change,” he scoffs. “C’mon, just one quarter. Please?”

This time, he gives you the Look. That patented Bucky Barnes stare, with the wide eyes and full pouty lips and faux innocent expression, and if this man wasn’t the love of your life you’d quite happily stab him in the heart.

Instead, you open your purse and fish out a quarter, flinging it at his frustratingly pretty face. It bounces off his forehead and he scoops it up with a grin.

“So just to clarify. You came to the grocery store covered in knives, but you forgot to bring money?”

Giving you an indulgent smile, he jams the quarter into the slot. With a twist and shake, a gum-ball rattles free, and Bucky crows with delight when he sees the green candy. He pops it in his mouth. 

“I didn’t forget. I made a conscious decision to remove the temptation. If I bring cash, I’ll spend it. You know I ain’t great with that whole self control thing.”

“How encouraging to hear, from the man with knives pouring out his ass.”  

Jumping to his feet, he throws an arm around your shoulders. 

“Ass knives sound painful.”

“Depends on how sharp they are,” you mumble, pulling a carefully folded sheet of paper from your jacket.

“Excuse you? My knives are always perfectly sharpened, thank you very much. What kind of expert assassin runs around with dull knives? Damn baby, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Ignoring him, you flatten out the paper and smooth the edges, sighing happily at the block letters and structured diagrams drawn in deep blue ink. 

Here it is, your masterpiece. A monument to productivity. The gold standard by which all optimization models should be benchmarked. This isn’t just any list, this is The List.

Everything is grouped, first by aisle, then by product location within the aisle, and then from top to bottom shelf order, to maximize efficiency. This is the dream list. The kind that inspires jealousy. The kind people hold up at TED talks when they talk about time management techniques. Marie Kondo wishes she had this list. 

Bucky snorts when he sees the carefully printed boxes.  

“God, you’re such a square,” he says adoringly. He plants a sugary wet kiss on your temple and you grind an elbow into his ribs.

“We discussed this, Bucky. Don’t mock my lists.” 

“Sorry babe, I ain’t mocking. Your lists are beautiful, they always get me all hot and bothered,” he agrees, dipping lower to lick behind your ear. “And I really love that list you keep with all those dirty, filthy, sex things you wanna do to me.”

“I don’t have a list like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs, “and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop here.”

Reaching under his shirt, you rub his belly consolingly. “Okay then. This weekend I’ll sit down and make you a special list. One so disgusting and dirty and depraved, it would make Wade Wilson cry.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes you tighter. 

“About damn time honey. I’m equally parts terrified and horny. So where’re we headed first?”

“Produce,” you answer promptly, plowing forward, Bucky still chuckling beside you.

The whole scenario was ironic, actually. There was no need to grocery shop - automatic ordering mechanisms  across the Avengers tower rendered the task meaningless - but sometimes it was a welcome relief to partake in such an ordinary thing. Unable to sleep after one particularly terrible mission, you found yourself wandering the aisles of your 24-hour supermarket, dressed in pineapple adorned pajama pants and one of Bucky’s rattier sweatshirts, searching for ice cream. The unexpected symmetry of products arranged along the shelves, the rainbow hued produce, the hint of baking bread wafting from the ovens, all those everyday trappings of normality, they washed over like a soothing balm. Soon enough, the boiling bad thoughts simmered to nothing more than a cache of blurry memories.

When you got home, sleep came fast, deep and dreamless.

One month later, the idea struck again.

After 36 hours of Bucky tossing and turning, dark shadows bruising beneath weary blue eyes, you took his hand and led him down the dark street for a midnight adventure. He was skeptical, disbelieving that something so simple could chase away the insomnia. But he dutifully followed you, strolling aimlessly through the aisles, throwing odds and ends into the cart. 

The tension gradually eased, he began to relax, and suddenly? 

He was hooked.

An hour later, after arguing the health benefits of frosted Cheerios over oatmeal, poking each hunk of cheese in the display, and loading the cart with every single flavor of spaghetti sauce on the shelf, the heavy weight of remembering began to ease. When he collapsed into bed, he slept for eight hours straight.

I don’t know what that was, he swore the next morning, munching through his third bowl of frosted Cheerios, but it was magic.

And with that, a midnight ritual was born. Sometimes you make the trek alone, sometimes Bucky does the same, but whenever life permits you go together. This small slice of domesticity brings a warm comfort to this strange life.   

There is no doubt, this is your favorite area of the entire store.

Barrels filled with tart oranges and smooth red apples. Tables piled high with bananas, some just shy of yellow, others sunshine perfect, and a few with speckles of black (which are the best). Shelves lining the walls, overflowing with bundles of herbs and lettuce, all coated in a fine layer of mist. 

Bliss. 

Heading straight for the apples, you plunge into the Gala pile, rummaging until you come up with ten perfect ones. Peaches follow, fingers rubbing along the delicate pinky-orange fuzz. Squeeze, smell, squeeze, smell. Five are chosen for a pie (Sam pleaded shamelessly until you agreed to make him one), and in the cart they go. Heading toward the wall of herbs, you’re reaching for the basil when a metallic bang makes you jump. Spinning around, you find Bucky lobbing coconuts into the cart.

“We need these.”

“We really don’t, Buck. I hate coconut, it tastes like suntan lotion.”

“They’re not for eating,” he grabs an apple, wipes it on his shirt, and takes a juicy bite. “They’re for security.”

Sticky juice drips from his lip, catching in his beard. When you reach over to swipe it away, he nips your finger with a grin.

“Explain please.”

“See it’s like this. We’re just here shopping, doin’ our thang -”

“Don’t say thang.”

“- when someone attacks. What happens? BAM. One of these furry beauties breaks their face. Problem solved.”

Giving him a slow perusal, you raise an eyebrow.

“Were the 47 knives you’re carrying not enough to deflect this attack?”

Finishing off the apple in three sloppy bites, he carefully tucks the price sticker in his pocket so he can scan it before leaving and sets the mangled core beside your purse.

“Babe, these are my back-up plan. A good soldier always has a back-up plan.”

While you grab a bottle of extra-pulpy orange juice, Bucky picks two jugs of chocolate milk, snaps one open and takes a swing. Ever the thrifty shopper, he pulls a familiar bag from his back pocket, fishes out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and dangles it before you.

“Found a coupon for this,” he says gleefully. “Buy one, get one free. It’s called a BOGO. A BOGO. Hilarious, right? Fuck me, I love the future.”

Still laughing, he takes another long drink of chocolate milk and smacks his lips.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you discovered this particular habit. Walking into the living room, you found Bucky buried in a sea of Sunday newspaper, tongue between his teeth and scissors in hand while he clipped coupons. He wasn’t picky, if it was remotely interesting, it went into the YES pile. It was one of those random things that brought him inordinate levels of joy, so of course you encouraged it. On his last birthday, you gifted him with a green zippered bag decorated with angry looking owls and official looking letters stitched across the front:

Bucky’s Coupon Bag  Thriftn’ Machine Since 1917

He laughed for five straight minutes and then stuffed it full. The bag accompanies you on every trip and the sight of Bucky excitedly rifling through his wad of coupons still makes your heart swell.  

Setting aside his BOGO, Bucky continues down the aisle, leaving you to pause in front of the yogurt. While you contemplate the merits of blackberry vs strawberry, Bucky slides over holding three cans of Reddi-Whip. 

“Are you actually planning to eat that? I thought you said whipped air is for, and I quote, ‘spineless, tasteless trash heathens’?”

Bucky shakes the can of spray whipped cream and wiggles his eyebrows, leveling you with a sultry stare. 

“Hell no I’m not eating it. This is for the bedroom. Last week I watched this god-awful movie where some blond guy - who looked exactly like Steve, by the way - made himself a whipped cream bikini for his girl. Decided I’m gonna do that for you. You’re welcome.”

“That sounds gross and unsanitary.” 

“If by gross and unsanitary you mean spicy and sexy, then yes. Yes it does.”

Whistling what sounds like the theme music from a bad porn, he adds two tubs of honey swirled Greek yogurt, pats your butt, and strolls ahead, throwing a roughish wink over his shoulder. Imagining the melted whipped cream soaking into your bedsheets, you mentally add more laundry detergent to the list.

“Hang on, turn here.”

Tugging the cart behind him, Bucky stalks toward the feminine hygiene display. It takes him a minute to scan the products before squatting down to the bottom shelf. Grabbing two jumbo boxes of tampons, oddly enough the brand you prefer, he pops back to his feet.  

“Dare I ask why you need these?”

A faint pink flush crawls up his neck.  

“Well, you know, two reasons. They’re really great for stopping bloody noses, you know? Just poke ‘em up there and they soak it all up.”

 He mimes the execution and adds a thumbs up.

“And the second reason?”

Squinting at his boots, he shuffles his feet a bit. The pink flush deepens. 

“Um, you know - I know you’re out, since I stuck the last one up Steve’s nose last week, and yeah. Anyway. It’s about that time. Of the month. For you.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches for his chocolate milk, but you grab his wrist.  

“You know when my period’s going to start?”

He shrugs self-consciously and fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.  

“Well yeah. You think it’s just a coincidence when all your favorite candy shows up every month?” Looking up, he shoots you a crooked smile and leans over the cart to kiss your forehead. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you haul him in for a real kiss instead and his startled laughter tickles your lips. When you break away, those bright blue eyes are shining. 

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmur.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers. 

This is the aisle where the cart officially explodes.

Lasagna noodles.

Egg noodles.

Spaghetti noodles.

Penne.

Linguine. 

Fettuccine.

Literally one of every noodle is selected, because Bucky Barnes is a self-proclaimed noodle slut. 

As you organize the boxes and search for orzo, you see him furtively add an extra bag of elbow macaroni. A quiet cough hides your laughter.

The last time Sam’s four-year-old niece came to the tower, she and Bucky spent hours making glittery elbow macaroni necklaces, which they ceremoniously gifted to everyone. When Sam casually mentioned her enthusiastically telling everyone at pre-school about her friend Bucky and how much fun she had visiting him, Bucky ran to a craft store and bulk bought supplies of glue, string, paint, and glitter, just in case she comes over again.

Months later and the entire team are still finding puddles of glitter all over the tower, but the delight on Bucky’s face anytime someone mentions that arts and crafts afternoon? 

It’s worth the mess.     

Gathering up brown sugar, instant oats, and chocolate chips, you turn to drop them in the cart when Bucky makes a strangled noise. Glancing over, you find him bouncing on his toes, vibrating with excitement.

“Babe. Babe. Are you making monster cookies?”

Adding a can of raisins, you search for the good vanilla. The kind that actually tastes like vanilla, not a cheap car wash air freshener. 

“I promised I would,” you remind him. Bucky plasters himself against your back, wrapping you in an enthusiastic hug and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love those fucking cookies,” he declares. “They’re my favorite thing ever. Next to you I mean.”

Finding the vanilla, you spin in his arms and return the squeeze.  

“I know you do. But you have to share them this time, okay? You can’t just eat them all yourself like the last two times. Agree?”

“Agree…to disagree. They’re wasted on other people, no one else loves as much. It’s for the best when I eat them all, it’s proof how much I love you. I’m doing it for you. I’m supporting you. Because I love you.”

“You’re completely full of shit,” you reply.

“I swear I’m not! Just listen!”

The excuses grow longer and wilder as Bucky outlines his rationale against sharing, walking backward and dragging the cart with him as he pleads his case. He’s diving into the science of super soldier metabolism levels and caloric requirements and the fact that his sister never shared anything with him, when he bumps into a tall display. 

He pulls up short, eyes narrowing. Plunking his fists on his hips, he growls a disgruntled sigh and glares at the rows of packaging. 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Lined up in neat rows, you see boxes of Jell-O organized by color and flavor. On the cover of each are an assortment of familiar images.  

“Are these Avengers themed Jell-O?” you ask, picking up a box with Sam’s image and the words Wild Berry Wilson. The rows extend further, filled with Lime Green Hulk and Blue Raspberry Rogers and Black Cherry Widow and Strawberry Lemon Stark. Exasperated, Bucky grabs the Sparkling Orange Spider flavor. 

“Is this for real? The kid gets one and I didn’t? Someone in PR is getting fired.”

“Well there’re only so many flavors, Buck,” you point out practically, but Bucky’s not in the mood for logic. Instead, he swipes an entire shelf of Jell-O flavors into the cart.  

“I swear to god, I have to do everything around here. Fine then. I’ll make my own flavor, Blackberry Kiwi Soldier or Winter Watermelon Rainbow, or something.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ll work on the name. But I’m bringing it to dinner tomorrow night and everyone is gonna eat it.”

He dumps in a bag of mini-marshmallows and grabs sprinkles for topping, before marching down the aisle. Cringing at the volume of sugar in the cart, you make another mental note to schedule a dentist appointment.

“Go do your manly duty and find the meat. We need two 5lb rump roasts.”

“I like your rump roast,” he instantly responds and reaches over to smack your butt again. Anticipating the move, you catch his arm and twist it behind his back. He barks out a breathless laugh and you slap his ass in return.

“Your innuendos are tragic.”

Releasing him with a gentle shove, Bucky snatches up his three coconuts and ambles away, laughing while he juggles them. When he returns, he has the requested rump roasts, several packages of bacon, and a bundle of cocktail shrimp.

“If my innuendos get better, then can I touch your butt?”

“Maybe. But they better be real good.”

An added benefit to shopping at midnight? Not a soul in line.

Loading everything onto the conveyer belt, you automatically organize for bagging. Boxes together, produce together, meat together. Bucky adds a pack of batteries, a tin of mints, and some trashy magazines.

The last three items in the cart are his coconuts. They rattle around until you toss them at him, motioning back to the produce department. 

“We made it out alive. Go put them back.”

Still chomping his tasteless green gum-ball, he shakes his head and plops them down. 

“Nah, I have another idea for them. Got all those craft supplies at home, I’m gonna make you something.”

“Should I even ask?”

Bucky blows a huge, wet bubble and looks you up and down.

“Have you every worn one of those coconut bras? Like on TV, with the ladies in grass skirts? I’m gonna make you one. I already have string and glue. And glitter.”

“I think you may be overestimating your crafting abilities.” Digging out your credit card, you wait for the final tally. 

“Well, if it’s terrible then you’ll just be naked. Either way, I win.”

Shaking out your grocery sacks, he packs everything with Tetris-like efficiency and slides all of them up the vibranium arm.   

“How about I make you a deal. I’ll wear a coconut bra, if you’ll make yourself something to wear as well.”

Bucky blows another sugary bubble, pondering the idea.

“Like a coconut man thong?”

“Exactly like a coconut man thong.”

“Deal. Add it to that special dirty list you’re making me honey. We got loads to do.” 

Outside, the night air smells sweet and cool, the barest hint of a spring rain and fresh grass lingering on the breeze. Already, your eyes are feeling heavy, tonight’s quiet adventure ushering in that sought after peace. 

In your right hand, the three coconuts swing gently in their plastic sack. Humming under his breath, Bucky yawns, reaching for your other hand. His warm, calloused palm squeezes tight, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin.

He turns to you with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

Midnight and coconuts.  

It always does the trick.

***

[contemplativepancakes]

sunsets for somebody else

Daphne runs into her long lost husband arguing with another man in the grocery store. Things start to take a turn when she realizes they're married.

The bottle of bleach drops from Daphne’s hand into her cart, landing with a sloshing thud as she takes in the scene in front of her, frozen in her tracks. Emmanuel is standing right in front of her, arguing with another man about cleaning supplies.

Wearing a beige trench coat for some inexplicable reason—it’s almost 90 degrees outside—Emmanuel listens to a man who’s explaining in minute detail how to clean an oven. They’re both wearing wedding rings, and Daphne’s heart swells for a moment before she realizes it’s a different ring from the one she gave Emmanuel all those years ago.

“Dean, I don’t think this is safe for Jack. This is going to create noxious fumes,” Emmanuel says, squinting at the ingredients of the cleaner apparently-Dean had thrust at him.

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose, and Daphne squeezes the handle of her shopping cart harder, feeling faint. It’s not every day you come across your long lost husband at the Stop N’ Shop.

“I think the kid can take some fumes,” Dean says, plucking the bottle out of Emmanuel’s hands and putting it in the cart. “We wouldn’t even have to worry about this if someone didn’t let the pizza fall onto the bottom of the oven.”

“The directions said to put it directly on the middle rack!” Emmanuel protests, and Dean rubs a hand down Emmanuel’s back in a familiar way that makes Daphne’s stomach roil.

She’s not jealous, she’s not. She was just helping Emmanuel when she found him, after all. Their marriage was simply one of…convenience for Emmanuel. It’s not like he had a birth certificate with him, or a social security number. What did Daphne get out of all this? Well. Daphne looks at his cheek bones wistfully, her gaze dipping down to his strong forearms his trench coat is rolled up to reveal.

Dean rolls his eyes fondly, and then he tugs Emmanuel into his side, kissing him on the temple. Daphne jerks her stare away for a moment before returning it, noticing now that their wedding rings match.

“Emmanuel?” she chokes out, against her better judgment.

For a long second, she doesn’t think Emmanuel heard her, but he turns around. “Daphne?”

Daphne nods, her words forsaking her. She doesn’t miss the way Dean clutches possessively at Emmanuel’s hip.

“I…thought you were dead,” she finally says. “I filed a missing person report.”

Dean squints at her, before something like recognition passes over her face, and now that she thinks about it, Daphne recognizes him, too. He’s the one who showed up right before everything went to shit. Horror stories of Stockholm syndrome flash through her mind.

“Emmanuel, are you…happy?” she settles on.

Emmanuel gives her a smile, leaning harder into Dean. “I am.”

“Good. That’s. Good,” she says, a strangled look on her face, she’s sure. “Would you want to catch up some time?” she asks before she fully registers what’s coming out of her mouth.

Emmanuel gives her a warm smile. “I’d love that.”

As they set up a time to get coffee, Daphne tries to ignore the glare Dean levels at her throughout the whole conversation. He insists that their meeting be tomorrow, since apparently they won’t be in the area for long. Daphne tries to ignore the warning bells in her mind that tell her she’s about to get murdered and takes solace in the fact that at least they’re meeting in a public place.

Besides, even if Emmanuel’s husband is a serial killer, surely Emmanuel won’t let him murder her, right?

-

The next day, Daphne hems and haws as she debates what to wear. Whatever this is, it’s the exact opposite of a date, anyway. She knocks on the door of her foster child, Alex, to wake them up before she goes into the bathroom to do her hair and makeup. Really, she’s just doing it for herself. She’s allowed to want to look nice!

When she finally deems herself as ready as she’s going to get, she goes back to Alex’s room to make sure they’re actually up. To her pleasant surprise, they’re sitting on the edge of their bed putting on their socks and almost ready. “Excited for school today?” she asks.

Alex makes a face at her. “Never,” they say, but their voice at least has the edge of a smile to it.

They’ve come a long way since they were first placed with her, and even though Daphne knows she shouldn’t be getting overly attached, she can’t help it. She walks down the steps and into the kitchen, deliberating for a moment on breakfast before putting frozen waffles into the toaster. If she’s about to get murdered while Alex is at school, she can at least make sure the last thing she made for them wasn’t cereal.

Alex tromps down the steps, dragging their bookbag behind them, and Daphne hides her smile behind her glass of orange juice. Alex lights up at the sight of the waffles, disturbingly easy to please, as always. They inhale them, as teenagers do, before putting their dishes in the sink. Daphne cracks open her laptop as they wait for the bus, attempting to get some of her work done for the day since she’ll be taking a break later for the coffee. She really hopes her boss doesn’t try and call her while she’s out.

Or, maybe she does. She��s not sure she’s prepared for the level of awkwardness that she’s about to go through, but maybe it won’t be as bad as she thinks. She really wants to know what Emmanuel has been up to for all of this time. She’s still…embarrassingly hung up on him, and it would be nice to get some closure.

The bus pulling up in front of the house jerks her out of her thoughts, and she gives Alex a wave before they race off to get on. She watches them settle into a seat with one of their friends, and smiles at the fact that they even have friends now.

In the end, Daphne doesn’t manage to get much work done before she clambers into her car and drives to the coffee shop they agreed on. She doesn’t really think she needs caffeine with the way her leg is bouncing already.

Emmanuel and Dean are already there when she walks in, Emmanuel with a cup of black coffee he’s dumping sugar packets into and Dean with something with whipped cream and chocolate syrup drizzled on top. She gives them a tentative wave before ordering hot chocolate for herself, settling herself delicately in the seat across from them.

“So,” Dean says. “You were Cas’s wife?”

She squints. “Cas?”

Emmanuel speaks up. “After I regained my memories, I remembered that was my name.”

“Oh.” Smiling weakly, she tries to reconcile that. “You have them all back now?”

Emman—Cas nods.

“Just forgot about me, though?” she tries to ask lightly, but it comes out a little garbled.

“You took advantage of him!” Dean explodes from the other side of the table, making Daphne flinch. “Who the fuck finds someone naked with no memories and marries them?”

“Dean,” Cas chastises, his arm shifting like he’s putting his hand on Dean’s thigh under the table.

“I was helping him,” Daphne says hotly. “Would you have just wanted me to leave him there?”

Cutting Dean off before he can say anything else, Cas looks at Daphne and smiles in a way that makes her heart flutter. “I’m very grateful. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out to let you know I was alright.”

Dean crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair, taking a sip of his sugar monstrosity. He comes away with a whipped cream mustache, and it’s hard not to laugh as he wipes it away in total seriousness.

“So,” Daphne says. “You two have a kid? Jack?”

Scowling, which seems to be Dean’s automatic reflex, he exchanges a glance with Cas before softening. “Yeah, we have a kid. He’s four.”

Daphne thinks maybe Dean should have been a little bit more concerned about the fumes of cleaning chemicals if they have a four year old, but she keeps her judgments to herself. Cas beams. “He’s very bright.”

Returning the smile tentatively, Daphne asks, “How long have you two been married?”

“It’s almost our one year anniversary,” Dean says gruffly.

Daphne tries not to let it affect her, even if that’s more time than she ever got with Cas. “Practically newly weds, then!”

“It’s been an adventure; that’s certain,” Cas says, smiling serenely even as Dean elbows his ribs. “Tell us about you, Daphne. What have you been doing?”

Daphne shrugs a shoulder. “Oh, not too much.” Mourning the man I pulled out of the woods and saved and married, she doesn’t say. She knows Emmanuel never felt the same way about her that she did him. “I got approved to be a foster parent, so I’ve had a few kids come through.”

“Helping people has always been your calling,” Cas says softly.

Daphne takes a few minutes to gush about Alex, and her previous kids before them, before she notices Dean’s not actively glaring at her anymore.

“That’s…nice,” he begrudges when she finishes.

“What do you do, Dean?”

Looking like he just dropped something on his foot, he stammers before he hastily says, “I work construction.”

Daphne squints at him. She has the feeling he’s lying to her, but she has no idea why he would be.

“And what about you, Cas?”

“Oh, I mostly just take care of Jack.”

“You’re a stay at home dad?” she asks, the thought making her stomach twist into knots and heat rise to her face.

“Of a sorts,” Cas agrees.

God, they’re making it impossible to carry on a conversation with them. Daphne keeps a smile pasted to her face. “What do you two do for fun?”

“I’m convinced Dean thinks fun is superfluous,” Cas confides, even as Dean splutters at him. “But I like to drag him to thrift stores with me. Dean likes to bake, also.”

“I work on cars, too,” Dean says, and Daphne can feel his desperation to maintain his facade.

She tries not to quirk a smile at his discomfort. They chat for a while longer, Dean getting increasingly dodgy about the questions she asks before she finally excuses herself to go to the bathroom. She shuts the door behind her and looks down at the dank floor. Is she getting what she wanted out of this? She has no idea what she even imagined happening when she asked to catch up. Emmanuel running away with her? Maybe in her wildest fantasies. Taking a deep breath to ground herself, she looks in the mirror and checks her makeup, rubbing at her under eye circles before walking back out of the bathroom.

Cas is at the counter ordering another drink, for Dean, by the sound of the sugar content, and she walks over to him. Hesitating before she bites the bullet, she asks, “You’re not…like, being held against your will, right? That Dean seems,” she pauses, “interesting.”

Cas laughs warmly, putting a hand over Daphne’s. “No, nothing like that. This is a choice of my own free will, believe it or not. Dean is much more caring than he lets on.”

Well, Daphne’s not sure she believes it, but. At least he’s happy, and in the end, that’s all she’s ever wanted for him.

[shemarmooresfedora]

Sugary Sweet Apologies

Summary: You and Reid never really got along but when he saves your life, you decide to be the bigger person and thank him and hopefully start over. Unfortunately, it isn’t that easy.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: light to mild angst with fluffy ending, swearing, spencer reid being an annoying bitch, brief mentions of case stuff (if you watch cm, you should be fine)

A/N: this is for @willowrose99 ‘s 1 year anniversary on tumblr writing challenge!! congrats! i literally wrote and edited this whole thing in less than one day because i got so excited, anyways i hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1.8k

“Reid and Y/L/N, go to David Whitney’s house. He was the therapist of two of the three victims. He could have some insight into the victimology and know of any overlap between them. He has no criminal record of past aggressive behavior but we can’t rule him out as a suspect entirely,” Hotch stated.

“Hotch, you stuck me with her yesterday for the geographical profiling. Send Prentiss with her instead,” Spencer whined.

“I don’t mind going with Y/L/N. She is a great partner in the field,” Emily glared at Spencer.

“No. Reid, go with Y/L/N or be taken off this case. I’m a unit chief, not an elementary school teacher. I don’t have time for temper tantrums,” Hotch chided.

“Fine,” Spencer grumbled as you grabbed the keys to an SUV.

You don’t know what it was but ever since you started at the BAU four months ago, Spencer had never liked you which resulted in you disliking him as well. Everyone else on the team was super friendly and welcoming but Reid always was jabbing snarky remarks your way like “I don’t have time to explain it to you” or “This was in the FBI handbook. God, you need more training.”

Luckily, the others were quick to defend you. Once Garcia even heard him snip at you over the phone and as soon as you all got off the elevator after the case, Reid was being dragged by his ear into Garcia’s lair with him going “ow ow ow” behind her. So, you didn’t really pay much mind to him because you could deal with one annoying know-it-all to have such an amazing job with great coworkers minus the one.

“Look, I’m not happy about this either,” you said as you climbed into the driver’s side of the SUV, “But at least I’m not being a whiny bitch about it and being rude to the other person’s face.”

“Oh wow, I’m so sorry that I hurt your feelings,” Spencer mocked.

“Fuck you, Reid,” you shook your head.

-

David Whitney was on edge the second you arrived and showed him your badges. He was bouncing his leg up and down, he couldn’t sit still, and he kept avoiding eye contact.

He knew way too much about the other victim that wasn’t even one of his clients but you didn’t have anything solid on him. His house seemed very neat so you doubted he kept anything incriminating here. Organized offenders usually have a secondary location. So, you decided to push his buttons a little.

“I mean blitz attacks, leaving the bodies on the side of dirt roads,” you combed through the crime scene photos, “This guy was a real coward.”

Spencer picked up on what you were trying to do and his eyes widened, he was subtly shaking his head and mouthing “no”.

“Excuse me?” David asked.

“Well, I’m just saying a real man wouldn’t cower in the bushes and blindside a woman. He must not be very strong,” you stated, “He probably can’t even get it up.”

Before you even had time to react, David pulled out a switchblade knife from inside the couch cushions and put you in a chokehold, pressing the cool metal up to your throat. You closed your eyes tightly.

“David, you don’t have to do this,” Spencer stood with his gun pointed at you both.

“This bitch insulted me,” he snarled.

“She insults me too. That doesn’t make you any less of a man,” Spencer spoke carefully, “Just put the knife down and I’ll escort you out.”

David sighed, dropping the knife to the floor and releasing you.

Spencer put David in handcuffs and walked him outside as reinforcements came running in.

“Are you okay, Y/L/N?” Hotch asked.

“Yep, a little shaken up but fine. Thank you,” you stood.

“Let’s get you to the medics,” Morgan grabbed your arm to support you as you walked over to the ambulance.

Spencer never checked on you.

-

You knew your decision in the field was a little rash and you wanted to thank Spencer for essentially saving your life.

However, there was no way in hell you could verbally get out an apology while staring at his smug face, but you could bake. You settled on a note tucked inside a tupperware container of your Grandma’s special recipe of chocolate chip cookies. It was a good peace offering, maybe even a chance to start fresh.

During your lunch break, you took the tupperware from your desk drawer and approached the break room where Reid had entered about 5 minutes ago.

“I’m just saying I could not have been more clear in my message to her that it was too dangerous but of course, Y/L/N didn’t listen cause Y/L/N is going to do whatever she feels like,” Spencer stirred his coffee.

No one had noticed you standing in the doorway yet.

“Reid, you’ve got to be nicer to her. She earned her spot here just like the rest of us,” Emily defended you.

“Did she though? How much do we really know about her? She couldn’t even tell me how many pages the FBI protocol manual was,” Spencer said.

“That’s not a normal thing people know,” Morgan retorted.

“Well, I’m just saying the team was perfectly fine before her and it would probably be better off if she left,” Reid finished.

Garcia looked up from her yogurt to see you standing there, “Oh, Y/N”.

Spencer turned around in his chair as you angrily stormed up to him.

“Here’s your cookies, asshole,” you seethed, grabbing the note from inside and crumpling it up into a little ball and tossing it into the trash.

“Y/N!” Emily called after you but you were already gone.

The whole team glared at Spencer and picked up their lunches, leaving him alone at the table.

Spencer retrieved the balled up paper from the trash, having to fish through Rossi’s week old pasta and Anderson’s half eaten tuna fish sandwich.

Dear Reid,

Thank you for saving my life, I guess. These are my Grandma’s secret recipe for chocolate chip cookies so I hope you enjoy. I think we got off on the wrong foot and I would like to start over. I think cases would be a lot less miserable for everyone if we got along.

Thanks again,

Y/L/N

Spencer, you’re such an idiot, he thought to himself.

You never came back after your lunch break ended and Derek made Spencer go tell Hotch why it’s his fault you were missing the rest of the day.

He tried to call you multiple times but they always rang out before going to voicemail.

Spencer hesitantly knocked on Penelope’s door at the end of the day.

“Is she okay?” he asked softly.

“You don’t get to ask that as the person who hurt her in the first place. Also, she told me to tell you that don’t you dare go to her apartment to ‘check on her’. I’m headed over there myself actually,” Penelope collected her things and shut off her monitors.

“Will you at least tell her I’m really sorry?” Spencer followed her to the elevator.

“Absolutely not. I’m not doing any apologizing on your behalf,” Penelope huffed as the elevators shut.

-

You came in the next morning, keeping your head down. You grabbed a pen from your cup holder and the first folder on your stack before getting to work.

You were on the second page of the file when your clean, empty tupperware was placed in front of you plus another baking dish with aluminum foil over the top.

You glanced up to see Spencer guiltily looking down at you and you returned your eyes back to the file.

“I-I made you cinnamon rolls,” Spencer broke the silence.

“Are they poisoned?” you asked, not sparing him another glance.

“No, they’re not poisoned,” he assured you.

“I’m just saying how can I trust you as you have made it very apparent you would like me off this team.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Spencer was quick to reply.

“Then why the hell did you say it, Reid?” you slammed your pen down.

You grabbed your empty coffee mug and briskly walked to the break room but unfortunately, Spencer was right behind you.

“I didn’t eat any of your cookies by the way. Not that I didn’t want to but I felt like I didn’t deserve them so I handed them out to everyone else.”

“Oh how kind, taking credit for my work,” you tried to close the door in his face.

“I told them that they were from you,” Spencer insisted.

You rolled your eyes as Spencer grabbed the coffee pot before you could get to it, pouring your mug of coffee for you.

“What do you want from me, Reid?” you asked defeatedly.

“I want you to try a cinnamon roll and let me explain.”

“Fine but only because I didn’t have breakfast yet and I want to critique your baking skills,” you huffed, walking back to your desk.

Spencer gingerly placed one of the sticky frosting-coated rolls on a napkin and pushed it towards you. You tentatively bit into it. Damn it, it was actually delicious.

“It’s okay,” you understated.

You knew Spencer hardly ever used his kitchen let alone be up baking all night. He even chose a recipe that required more time and effort because the yeast dough would have to rise for a few hours.

“That’s good. The first batch didn’t come out as great...or the second,” he smiled softly.

“Well, the floor is all yours, Reid. Please explain to me why you talk shit about me to my co-workers when I’m in the other room,” you leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms.

Spencer muttered something incoherent.

“I have to hear the apology, you know,” you said, enjoying watching him uncomfortable.

“You’re intimidating to me because you’re intelligent, beautiful, and courageous. I think I was a little jealous that my spotlight as the ‘kid’ of the BAU was coming to an end so I said some harsh, completely untrue things and I’m sincerely sorry.”

“Oh my god,” you smirked, “Hotch was right, you are an elementary school kid.”

“In what way?” he curiously asked.

“You like me like like like me. You don’t know how to talk to the girl so you pull her pigtails on the playground,” you giggled.

“I take it back. You’re a horrible profiler,” Spencer was getting up from his seat, completely flustered.

“Awww,” you were laughing at Spencer’s bright red face as he went to go to the break room to fill his coffee mug.

When he got back to his desk, a sticky note was placed front and center.

In typical elementary school fashion…

Will you go get coffee with me?

Check:

Yes

or

No

Spencer smiled before picking up his pen and checking one of the boxes, crumpling the sticky note up into a ball and throwing it over to your desk.

“Good choice. See you Saturday at 9 at the cafe down the street,” you grinned.

“It’s a date,” he smiled.