#I thought i was gonna finish carrot top first but nah we decided to work on this instead

[susiequaz12]

Part 2- Call Me Sir

I have a few more chapters planned for this wip, so it'll prbably get a title soon. I also need a name for the handler, but that can come later. Anyways, the part prior to this is here.

CW: manhandling, choking, defiant whumpee, restrained, forced shower, forced strip (nonsexual).

- - -

“I told you to call me sir!” The man yelled.

Jeremy was thrown around for the hundredth time that  hour- a slap to the face having sent him reeling.

“And I said no-” He retaliated. 

The man wasn’t giving up, but neither was the boy. It’s not like he hadn’t been thrown around, or beat before. 

Jeremy got to his feet as the man approached him once more. 

“God, just leave me alone!” He cried.

“Excuse you?” The man yelled, crossing his arms over his chest. “When did you get the impression that you have any say in what happens to you now?” 

“Um- since I’m a human being with the right to my own body?” Jeremy felt himself backed into the wall as the man approached him, like a lion stalking it’s prey. 

His throat was grabbed and he was shoved backwards, head crashing against the grey, cement wall. He fought and squirmed, hands reaching to grab the man’s arms, but it was all useless. 

It’s like the man had abnormal strength- he could feel his eyes bugging out of his skull as he thrashed about- trying to get breath. Jeremy slowly grew more limp, until he hung there uselessly in the man’s grip.

“Your body, is no longer your own. You are a tool, or a weapon, to be used and trained and discarded of, as we see fit. The sooner you understand that, the better off you will be.”

Jeremy crashed to the floor as the man let him go- and he curled on his side, cradling his neck. He couldn’t help the soft whimpers that crawled out of his chest as he heaved for air.

“Now, you smell. Those are the same clothes we found you in, and now that you’re cleared by medical, it’s time to get you situated more permanently. Do you understand?”

Jeremy remained silent except for a grunt as he was kicked in the ribs.

“I said, do you understand!” 

He gasped out as he was kicked again, curling further in on himself. 

“Yes! Y-yes- goodness-”

Another kick, followed by another grunt.

“Yes- what?” The man pressured.

Jeremy stared up at him uselessly from where he lie on the floor. His hair was grabbed and he was dragged up onto his knees.

“Yes, what. Jeremy?” 

He stared back at the man- noticing the long scar that ran from his temple, in a slash across his face, cutting through his beard and part of his lip. He looked like he had been here a while. He was inhumanly strong, carrying Jeremy away from the wall towards the center of the room by his hair, like he weighed nothing more than a pillowcase. 

Jeremy choked back a sob that crept up his throat. He had been beaten and restrained, taken away from his home, to a place that for all he knew was clear across the country. And for what, he had no idea. This man could snap his neck right here. And as much as he didn’t want to give up his dignity, or his pride, Jeremy was not ready to die. 

“Yes- yes sir.” He choked out. 

“That’s more like it.”

The man deposited him on the floor in the middle of the room as he explained the next torment the boy would be put through. 

“This is your room for the foreseeable future, as long as you choose to comply. If you refuse, or resist, or are a genuine pain in my ass, we have separate containment cells. And believe me, this is the far better option.” He looked towards the boy in response, who sat silent on the floor.

As the man- or ‘his handler’- spoke, Jeremy’s eyes darted about the room, finally taking in the surroundings. He had been dumped in here after a day or two in the medical ward- recovering from hypothermia and mild frostbite.

There was a toilet in the corner, with only a curtain hanging from the ceiling, and a spout attached to the wall. He didn’t want to know what all the various hooks and rings bolted around were for. Two metal cots sat opposite walls of each other- looking more like examination tables, than beds. There was a locked cabinet built into the wall, and a small pile of items left by the door. 

“Your roommate should be here shortly, he’s occupied elsewhere. But for now, we’ve got to get you cleaned up.”

“My- my roommate?” Jeremy mumbled. 

The man walked over to the pile he had by the door and retrieved a couple items before walking back to the boy, and pulled him to his feet. 

“Give me your wrists.”

“What?” He instinctively pulled them behind his back, turning away from the man. His attempts were useless as leather cuffs were buckled and secured, before being locked in place.

“Don’t even think about trying to remove those.” 

Jeremy gasped as they were yanked upwards, before being restrained above his head by a chain coming down from the ceiling. He stood on the edges of his toes, rocking back and forth on his feet as he tried to get a view of what the man was doing. 

“Hey- what are- stop! No- stop it!” 

He screamed as he felt a blade against his back- and it took a moment to register that it wasn’t cutting through him, but the fabric of his shirt. 

Jeremy stood there trembling as his clothes were cut away, and he was left standing there in nothing but his boxers. His handler retrieved something else from the pile- and the boy could see it curled around his arm- a rope? How could he possibly tie him up any further?

But it wasn’t a rope. It was a thin hose that screwed into the spout attached to the wall by the toilet. The handler uncoiled it, turned on the spray- and left Jeremy shrieking.

“It’s- it’s cold!” He cried. 

He tried to thrash away from the direction of the water but it sprayed everywhere- soaking him to the bone. The nozzle on the end was harsh- almost like a pressure washer and it burned, leaving his skin irritated and red as it attacked his body. 

He tried to sputter out more pleas but there was nothing he cloud do- water poured down his dark hair- into his face, choking him as he tried to catch his breath and keep it from pouring down his nose. It washed down his back- curling upwards to his arms and hands as they shook. He let out a gargled scream as it struck the back of his head and neck- before moving to his shoulders- his chest, and stomach. Finally it trailed down his legs and around his feet before clattering to the ground. 

The water turned off and Jeremy uttered silent pleas of thanks. He was left shaking, feeling utterly helpless as the man paced around his nearly-naked body. The man was laughing. His teeth clattered together and he could swear there was no more feeling in his fingers or toes. 

The boy yelped as he was released from the ceiling, and he crashed ungracefully to the ground in a pile of limbs. The rest of the water was slowly seeping down the drain below him, leaving a faint dripping sound echoing throughout the rooms. 

“Alright, time to get dressed.” 

The man threw a pile of clothes at the boy and he caught them in fumbling fingers. 

“Go on and change. There’s a curtain there if you need your dignity.”

Jeremy stared at him- his body unwilling to move.

“I can always help if you’re too weak to do it yourself.”

Jeremy flinched back as the man reached for him. Scrambling to his feet as fast as he could, clutching the pile of clothes to his chest. 

“No!” He cried. “I- I’ll do it myself.” 

“That’s a good boy.” The man stepped back and Jeremy felt a rush of nausea through his stomach as the man stared at him. He quickly pulled the curtain around the corner, ducking behind it for what little privacy he was granted. 

There was no towel to dry him off- only a pair of clean boxers- some grey cotton shorts, and a grey cotton tanktop. The material felt cheap- like you bought it in a bulk pack of 12 at the dollar store. He quickly pulled the clean dry clothes over his body, thankful for what little warmth it gave him. He glanced around the small corner- the curtain rod was bolted in the wall- the curtain impossible to remove. There was nothing there he could use to help him- or to fight with- but he had to do something. 

He wrang out streams of water from his hair, shaking off his hands, before peering around the curtain. The man had his back turned- he was coiling up the hose.

In a flash moment of courage, (or stupidity), Jeremy charged. 

Before he could even get close enough to swing a punch the man spinned around and locked a hand around the boy’s throat- lifting him off of the ground by his neck. 

Jeremy gasped- his eyes growing wide once more as he felt his feet leave the floor. 

“You are more stupid than I thought. This isn’t my first time doing this, kid. I’ve seen far too many people try and fight, and get themselves hurt, or killed in the process.” 

Jeremy squeaked as he thrashed his legs about- trying to get a kick or a hit in anywhere- but his vision was growing blurry. 

The man backhanded him across the face, choking off his air and sending pain tearing through his skull. 

“I know it’ll be better for you if you cooperate.”

Tears started leaking from the boy’s eyes and his handler laughed. His hands gripped the man’s wrists and he mouthed out a strangled breath of a word. 

“Never-” 

The man shook his head. In a swift move he yanked the boy upwards, grabbing the side of his leg and hurled him across the room. 

Jeremy’s back crashed into the wall with a sickening thud, the lights shaking ever so slightly. He slid to the ground with a wheeze, before he was finally able to catch his breath.

He stared up into the ceiling as he felt the man’s presence  kneeling by his side. His vision was blurry- spots going in and out, and unwilling tears leaked down his face. 

“Listen here, boy. You belong to us now. And it is specifically,  my job, to ensure that you know your place.” He leaned down, wrenching the boy’s head backwards by his hair. “Do you understand?” 

Jeremy choked on his breath- unable to get an answer to form as his chest heaved and his body flared with pain. A sharp slap to the side of his face brought him back to reality and he stared at the man with desperation in his eyes. 

“Do you understand me.” 

Jeremy nodded- but a sharp tug to his hair let him know that wasn’t enough.

“Yes!” He cried out- fearful of more pain.

The man shook his head, and dug a boot into the boy’s ribcage- causing a whine to leak out of his lips. 

“Yes- what?” 

Jeremy looked up with more fear than he’d ever felt. His life was in this man’s hands- literally. 

“Yes sir.” He answered.

The man patted the boy’s cheek before standing up, leaving him cowering in the corner.

“That’s better.”

- - -

@imagination1reality0 @morning-star-whump (lemme know if you don't wanna be tagged, I thought this might be kinda your vibe.)

[ethelphantom]

Things a Pet Name Can Reveal

Scroll down to the end for the art btw, don’t miss it! Also, you’re getting pure fluffy humour again, you should consider yourselves lucky. Maribat March day 13, Pet Names. Also, this is your friendly reminder that yes, I can tag you to stuff if you ask me to do it. This month or all my Maribat content or a specific series... You decide.

Ao3

This is Maribat -- don’t like; don’t read

_________________________

So, maybe, looking back on it, Tim regretted wanting to come over to see how Marinette was doing. He really hadn’t wanted to see and know what he did now and while it wasn’t honestly that bad, he kind of wished he’d found out some other way. Such as, maybe someone actually telling him with words.

The only good thing about any of it was that he had knowledge about Marinette none of the others except for maybe Alfred and Cass had. Scratch that, the two of them definitely knew, but the rest.

Marinette had gotten commissioned by many big names in the movie industry, as well as by a lot of the Wayne Industries’ partners, and yeah, she was definitely drowning in them. Of course, she had wanted to take them all as they paid well, they were good publicity to her, and they were okay with waiting as they knew she had a ton of people wanting to commission her at the same time. Tim would have felt bad for talking so much about his favourite designer to them because he was proud of her and how far she’d come, but Marinette had said it was okay and that she greatly appreciated it.

That was why he decided he wanted to come over to see how she was doing, maybe help her if she needed take-out (because yeah, he couldn’t cook to save his life), coffee (because at least he knew how to brew actually good and strong coffee), or really, anything. She would only need to ask and say the word, and he would do whatever she asked.

As he got to the door, the one that had opened it had been Jason. Which, okay, he could understand, they were close and Jason was the reason the rest of them knew her in the first place, but it still surprised Tim. Jason hadn’t even blinked an eye and let him in. And told him were Marinette was. And was that dark turtleneck Marinette's design he was wearing?

Marinette was, as Jason had said, sitting at the kitchen table (okay, to be precise, she was sitting on top of it), biting her pencil as she had a sketchbook in her hands. Some of her hair fell on her face and shoulders though most of it had been pulled up in space buns to stay away from her eyes. She didn’t even notice Tim had come in.

There was a huge pot on the stove, and the smell hanging in the air was wonderful. It was possible Marinette was cooking — that would explain why she was in the kitchen instead of her study — but somehow Tim found that unlikely. Marinette wasn’t focusing on any clock, didn’t check the food even once, and looked a whole lot like she’d stayed in one place for the past hour or two. There were chopping boards and knives behind her, as well as a whole lot of still untouched vegetables.

Yeah, so it wasn’t her cooking. Then who…?

The answer came in the form of a six-foot man with a white streak in his hair and a scar splitting his lips. “You gonna eat, Timbo?” Jason asked, crossing the kitchen easily with large strides before getting to the food he started stirring. “We’ve got quinoa.” And, as an afterthought, he added, “And avocado, tomato, corn, tuna, carrot and a ton of spices.”

Only then did Marinette realise there was someone else in the room as well. She lifted her head, looked at Jason, and then turned to Tim. The smile that had appeared on her face when she saw Jason widened and she abandoned the sketchbook and the pencil on the table in favour of getting down to give Tim a hug. “Hi Tim, it’s wonderful to see you. Sorry I haven’t texted you or anything, I’ve just been so—”

“Busy, I know. It’s alright, I didn’t really expect anything less from you,” he replied laughing. “You’re you, and you’re like me, and neither of us really knows how to stop working. That’s why I came over as soon as I had finished the biggest projects going on at the WE. I wanted to see you and thought that I could maybe help, even if it’s only in the form of providing you with strong coffee or snacks or something.”

Marinette snorted and covered her mouth with her hand. The ring in her hand glimmered in the light and her eyes crinkled. It was only then that Tim noticed the dark circles around her eyes that were so easy to see now that he paid attention. When was the last time she’d slept?

Not that he really had any say in it, he didn’t remember the last time he’d slept more than four hours at once. The last week had gone cat napping so much Selina would be proud of him. Dick would be horrified and disappointed. Well, who cared about that, that man didn’t know how to eat anything but takeout and cereal, so he had no right to judge the rest of them. Absolutely no right.

...Honestly, Steph, Cass or Jason were probably the most stable of them at this point. Maybe Duke. It was, the least to say, disturbing.

“Well, I appreciate that. You still remember how to make that death coffee you made for me like, a year ago when I was drowning in schoolwork?”

“The one that would probably kill any normal person with the amount of caffeine it contains but that both of us crave for because of the sweet, sweet caffeine?”

“Yes, that one.”

“Definitely. Where’s your coffee and coffee grinder?”

Marinette pointed him to the direction — to the left, the topmost shelf, hidden where neither of them could actually reach. When Tim asked why, Marinette’s sharp response of “Guess once,” and pointed look at Jason had told him everything.

Which meant, he needed to either get Jason to give the things to him or climb.

His dignity wouldn’t let him ask for help with this (after all, it wasn’t a life or death situation, or even an actual mission or job they had, simply his own personal need to be able to do something without anyone’s help on the line), so he climbed.

Eventually, he managed to reach the things and set them on the kitchen counter, careful as to not damage either of them.

After that, the coffee was soon finished, and he set a cup of scalding hot coffee in front of Marinette, who inhaled the strong smell of coffee into her lungs and sighed with satisfaction. He was rather sure someone else had sighed as well, and when he turned around to look at Jason, his suspicions were confirmed. He shook his head and looked at Tim like he’d ruined something personal.

“I was tryna to keep her from coffee. Just like you should be kept away from it, Baby Bird. Neither of you needs it, especially not the amounts I know both of you are drinkin’. God.”

“Yeah, we do need it,” Marinette and Tim chorused, followed by, “It’s the liquid of the gods”, “You can’t stop us”, and “stay away from our fountain of fortune.”

Jason just pinched the bridge of his nose but refrained from saying anything more even though it was clear he wanted to. That was alright with Tim — he didn’t, contrary to popular belief, have a need to fight Jason over every single little thing. No, the one he had the need to do that was Damian, even if he got along with the little brat significantly better these days.

When it seemed Marinette didn’t need him to do anything anymore and just wanted to concentrate on her designs again, Tim took out his laptop and set to work alongside her, just on the chair instead of the table. After all, just because he didn’t have that much work to do didn’t mean he didn’t have any or a lot of work to do.

Later, he was alerted back to the real world from his work by Jason who informed him food was done. A quick glance at the clock told him it had been forty-six minutes since the last time he checked it, so a little bit after he started working.

Reluctantly, he put his laptop away and accepted the plate full of the quinoa thing — whatever Jason had done — that was set in front of him. Marinette didn’t even move.

“Sweet Cheeks, you’ve got to stop working on that design before you burn yourself out. At least eat something.”

Tim’s gaze literally snapped at Jason. Sweet Cheeks? What was even going on?

Marinette groaned and let her face fall into her hands, but she missed and hit the table instead. That must have hurt. Then she gave Jason the finger, somehow perfectly aware where in the room he was located. “See, you started off saying that as a joke to annoy me and now I think you got so used to it that you're saying it unironically, and it's getting to be a problem.”

Jason just raised his eyebrow. “Does it still annoy you, Sweet Cheeks?”

“Yes!”

“Then I fail to see the problem here.”

“You are an asshole, Jason. Asshole.”

“No shit. We’ve been married for, what, half a year and you’re only noticing now?”

Tim’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He could not believe his ears. The fork in his hands falling to the floor, he finally got his brain to cooperate and asked, slowly, as to make sure he didn’t say something wrong and would actually be able to understand what was going on, “You’re what now?”

“We’re married, I just said so. You seriously didn’t know? I thought that out of all of the people B’s trained in his life, you would have been able to figure it out on your own.”

“And you — neither of you — thought to invite us to the wedding?”

“Nah. It kinda happened in the spur of the moment and well. I mean we did have a suit for me and a dress for her so maybe it wasn't that impulsively done but yeah. Forgot to tell you after that and then we started betting on who would notice and when.”

“Of course you did. I shouldn’t probably be surprised even, now should I?”

“No, no you shouldn’t.”

Marinette, that little shit, just laughed. Tim sighed.

“Well, congratulations, you two. I hate you both.”

“We love you too, Tim.”

The rest of the visit was spent discussing the hows, whens and whys of their relationship and marriage. It was cute, he supposed. He was most definitely sure that he was happy the two of them were happy together, though. They clearly deserved one another.

Also, it would be fun to see the rest of the family’s reactions because they told him that if they didn’t figure it out by the end of the month, the two of them would come over and tell them, in some way or another. Tim kind of hoped the family would not figure it out.

A week later, Marinette received a package that contained a card and a framed picture of herself and Jason, taken by Tim on the day he had visited. Under the picture, there was a quote from one of the few plays Tim knew for certain Jason favoured. What the card said was lost in the wonder that was the gift Tim had sent them.

“Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.”

_________________

@kris-pines04​ @thethirdwheelfriend @daminett4life @abrx2002 @persephonebutkore​ @rebecarojas07 @corabeth11 @freshbark @maribat-march2020 @catsandfanfic @fertileleaf @eat0crow @cutechip

[eights-of-spades]

Supply and Demand 12/31

It was not entirely clear what Taji Tumet sold out here, except she did it without having to pay into the licensing structure of the Eorzean Alliance and without fear of inspection by Idyllshire's non-existant law enforcement. Nothing looked to be of much value at first glance; the sacks had the texture of sand when poked, and a half-open crate bearing the stamp of 'ARUN ALCHEMICAL' only showed a top layer of rocks. The rest was just scrap lumber. The Xaela had just finished a loud and frankly nonsensical conversation with a goblin, who was reassuring her that windsails would be available the end of the next span, and that no, he did not want to buy dirtsponges. "But these mushrooms are very good," Taji was insisting, palms flat against the counter, leaning over it and flashing plenty of teeth at the smaller creature. "Very fresh. You like VEGETABLES don't you."

Eight was ‘blending’. Also known as overdressing for any occasion. His favorite pastime that didn’t include drinking or stealing things. He was incognito as your run of the mill adventurer/craftsman. The miqo’te sauntered up to Taji’s counter, resting his elbow on the stall’s top as he grinned in a way that clearly said he was up to no good. Looking between Taji and the goblin she was trying to pawn some mushrooms to. The goblin and Taji. Back and forth. “Best dirt sponges you’ll find outside the Shroud. Have you ever had one? They’ll make your braincage explode with flavor.” He declared, making the mind-blown gesture with the hand he wasn’t currently propped up. “I came here all the way from Southern Thanalan just to buy them. Good thing you don’t want them now I can have them all to myself.”

Taji visibly brightened at Eight's appearance, flashing him an appreciative lopsided grin that was indistinguishable from any other threat display but for the excited twitching of her feathered tail. "Gobbies already have many eatplants..." The creature protested in between audibly ragged puffs through its mask. It seemed somewhat impressed to be addressed directly by such a fine specimen of engineering, though - Eight could have easily passed for any of the magitek technicians that came to the area to assist the goblins restore Sharlayan technology. "...Did this one really fly all the way from sand castle to buy these?”

“...Yeah, did you?" Taji asked him, curiously, fingers splayed over the side of her mouth to render the question inaudible to her hapless customer. She banged her fist against the table and gestured to the withered purple fungi, "And these will flavor your eatplants. Buy them. Buy them. Three hundred gil. Buy them. I'm supporting your business, you should support mine! Else I will ask this fine gentleman where he docks his airship."

Ma’sae remained leaning rakishly against the counter, plainly enjoying the spotlight as he seemed to have both Taji and the gobbie eating up his performance. He picked up one of the mushrooms tossing it up into the air before catching it and turning his hand over to show the tiny beastman. “Of course! The shroud doesn’t do business with outsiders like you and me, friend!” He declared to the Goblin. “But this fine lady has product for all! Best taste, best prices. Fairest trades. Now while I said I was going to buy them all myself, I would feel terrible if I sent you off without even a few after telling you how great they are. Too cruel, too cruel.” He declared as he set the mushroom down on the counter in front of the prospective buyer. “Go on, get what you need for you and your loved ones. They’ll thank you. I’ll buy after you.”

The goblin had begun babbling to itself as it set a money pouch on the counter and pushed it towards the dark-scaled purveyor without committing to letting go of it - plainly nervous at Taji's cheerful threats to revoke her business. Ma'sae's reassuring pitch had it looking at the basket in a new light - and so the jinglyshine was exchanged, and the goblin waddled off happily with a few additions to its stew. >

"Thanks for your participation in the food chain!" Taji called out after it, swiping the money pouch before Eight could get to it and tossing it up in the air. She tracked its motion up in the air with the angle of her shoulders, and it landed in her hood. She turned to the other Keeper and beamed at him. "Two hundred and ninety-eight gil," she informed him. "Family discount! Especially if you haven't bought Starlight gifts, yet? Lux loves reminders from the Shroud!"

Eight snorted and picked up one of the mushrooms, wiping some of the dirt off of it before he took a bite. He immediately made a face and set the bitten mushroom back down on the basket where he had retrieved it from. “Nope. I still hate mushrooms.” He declared cheerfully. “Nah, not gonna buy any but you’re welcome for the extra sales. ANOTHER BUT. I will in the future. How do you feel about custom orders.”

Taji paused at the question, tracking the motion of the mushroom he had just put back. Her grin lessed by several degrees; her eyebrows settled unevenly over the scandalized squint of her eyes. "You think you can just come to my place of business and bite my wares? Do I come to your warehouse and randomly drink out of your potion bottles and fill it up with water to disguise what I've done?!" She did. Taji just reached over to yank the offending item out of the basket and finish the job, finally answering around a mouthful of bitter fungus. "What kind of order? I didn't think you were interested in my line of business, but--" She swallowed. "You wouldn't be the most unlikely customer I've had."

Eight grinned and waggled his thick brows as he was scolded. It was just a stupid mushroom. “Listen, what I’m bringing here is gonna be worth more than an entire turn’s worth of fungus.” He promised as he leaned further onto the counter to lower his voice. “What’s a mage’s prize possession. The thing they value more than even their stacks of books, stuffy robes and fancy sticks.”

Taji gave him a dubious look, finishing the rest of the mushroom in a series of thoughtful and unladylike bites as she considered the riddle. 'Hats' seemed like the right answer, and she mimed flicking up the brim of some feathered monstrosity she currently wasn't wearing. "Their heart," she said instead. "Even if they have nothing else, they've still got one last thing to barter away."

“Great, that’s good.” He declared, pointing a finger gun at Taji as though to indicate she’d shot the target dead-on. “But I can’t sell them an extra heart for double the dubious decisions. But what’s almost as good as an extra heart…” He began, then decided maybe this wasn’t the best game to play with Taji. She had an artist’s spirit and a bard’s mind. She’d come up with something from way out in the far fields and he’d spend all day dragging her back. “Soul crystals.” He answered for her. “Crystalized knowledge and intuition to let them unlock unknown potentials.”

Taji slammed her hand down on the table, sending the entire thing shuddering - but it had been heavily reinforced by steel to withstand even the most energetic of xaelic monk gestures. "Aetheric fungi," she declared, apparently agreeing with him. This was the good thing about Idyllshire - they could talk about such things out in the open without fear of having it carry to the wrong set of ears. "The fastest path to reincarnation. Yeah. As good as selling an extra heart. Or charging them for removing theirs and hiding it away somewhere." She propped her elbows on the table, plainly intrigued. "...You're bringing me some? Are you -- err." Eight didn't actually read the reports, and Taji wasn't convinced Jyhun was honest about what they'd recovered from the corpse.

Eight lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Here’s the problem. Lots of people want them, almost nobody has them.” He explained plucking a mushroom and setting it down on the countertop. Then a few carrots as well. “One mushroom for all these carrots. Doesn’t work. Only one gets it. Not a huge problem because mushrooms can be grown.” He dropped a few more onto the counter as well. Mostly just making a mess now rather than actually illustrating anything useful. “Now what’s say we could grow soulstones.”

@exmhachina

[deans-baby-momma]

The Padackles Link-Ch. 16

Chapter 15

A/N: I have never watch either movie mentioned so I have no idea if my portrayal is correct. Google helped by explaining the plots.

After I change JJ, I head downstairs to prepare her lunch only to be surprised to find Jensen in the kitchen readying a bottle. He already picked a jar of food and has it sitting on the table with a small spoon.

I lower his daughter into the high chair, making sure she is buckled in tightly before I reach for the jellied meal.Thankfully, he chose one of the more appetizing ones so I knew JJ will be no trouble to feed.

I go about scooping bite-sized amounts and feeding her. Jensen steps over, sitting the bottle on the table beside me.

“You know, I'm home now so I could feed her if you wanted to take some time to yourself,” he tells me.

“And miss this precious face? Nah, I'm good. I enjoy spending time with her,” I tell him just as JJ blows a carrot-flavored raspberry toward the two of us, covering my hand and wrist. “Plus orange spit up is good for the skin. Ain’t that right, miss messy?”

Jensen laughs and leans down kissing the top of her head. “Well, I will clean her up after she's finished Ok?” he says, handing me a towel to wipe off with.

“Yea, okay,” I say, looking at the toddler. “You hear that JJ? Daddy is gonna clean you up after. So make a big mess. Gotta break him in.”

Jensen's mock look of horror causes me to giggle as he then places his hand on my shoulder and leans down to my ear and whispers, “Traitor. I thought we were in this together.”

The feel of his warm breath on the shell of my ear sends shocks down my spine and I shiver. What is this man, this married man, doing to me? How has being with him affect how I react to him? The warmth of his touch, the sound of his voice, the mere presence of him has my body acting all kinds of crazy.

What had transpired just an hour before was nothing more than sex, right? Just two lonely people using each other to feel close. I'm sure he was just missing his wife, my friend, and just needed to feel close to somebody. And as for me, well I really don't have an explanation for it. Yes, I have always thought Jensen Ackles was an attractive man. Who doesn't? If you ever spent time with him and see how he protects and cares for not only his family, but his friends, you can't help but to be attracted. Not to just his good looks, but his fierce need to tend to those he cares for. Jensen Ackles was a nurtured and those he loves reap the benefits.

While Jensen was cleaning the mess that was his daughter after lunch, I went about tidying the kitchen. Wiping the high chair down, placing empty baby food jar in the recycling bin and rinsing the spoon and bottle in the sink.

As I reach to turn the water off, though, all hell breaks loose. Instead of the water flow simply shutting off, the knob breaks and,water starts spewing everywhere, drenching me, the counter and the floor. “Jay!” I hear his hurried footsteps on the stairs as soon as I yell his name.

“What?! What is--" his inquiry is cut short when he catches sight of me. Water dripping down my face, my hair and t-shirt drenched. He barks out a laugh and I just scowl at him. “Drea, you know we have actual showers upstairs,” he chuckles.

I put my hands on my hips and smirked at him. “Smartass! The fucking faucet broke.”

“I see that,” he says, smiling at me. “Go on and change. JJ’s in her crib playing and I'll take care of this,” he motions to the river that used to be his kitchen.

I walk by him and punch his shoulder. He grabs my wrist and pulls me against him. “Baby, if you wanted to get wet I would've helped,” he whispers and winks down at me. His comment catches me off guard and I don't realize his implication until his lips touch mine. I revel in the feeling of our mouths connected and freely open mine when his tongue swipes across my bottom lip.

He moans and pulls away. “I gotta get the water turned off before we float down the street,” his says, the tone of voice giving away his reluctance to stop kissing me.

I walk upstairs on pure automation. Walking into my room, the bed sheets rumbled, the duvet hanging halfway off just reminds me once again that today my life has changed. Today, I had sex with a man who is married to my friend. I should feel repulsed at myself. I should regret falling into bed with him. But I can’t. As much as I try, I can’t feel remorse; all I feel is alive. Almost four years after losing my husband at the ripe young age of 22, I feel renewed. I feel like myself again, Audrea Marianne Murphy.

I smile as I pull the shirt over my head, seeing myself in the mirror. My breasts and chest is covered in bites and marks. I can faintly make out finger shaped bruises on my hips where Jensen had held onto me as he pumped himself into my body. The thought of those actions make my panties damp. Jensen, I think to myself. What is he to me now? Before, I considered him a friend. My savior all those years ago when he was kind enough to stop on the side of the highway to help me with my car troubles. I think back to those days and chuckle. I was in such a state of anxiety and anger that I was downright crabby to him at first. He could have just as easily turned around and left me to fend for myself. Pulling on a clean, dry shirt I laugh out loud at the memory of thinking I was going to walk the 7 miles to the next town in the sweltering Texas heat.  I silently think whoever is upstairs looking out for me for sending Jensen to save me.

After checking on JJ and seeing her happily babbling in her crib, apparently having a conversation with the pink bunny tucked into the corner, I make my way back downstairs to check on the water-logged kitchen. I am stopped in my tracks as soon as I enter the room. Laying in the floor, his torso hidden under the sink, twisting the connection nuts loose is Jensen. A shirtless Jensen. As he works to loosen the hardware the muscles in his stomach clenches causing all kinds of impure thoughts to flow through my mind. I whimper at them and he glances at me, smiling.

“Like what you see?” he winks.

“Eh, plumber’s crack isn’t a big turn-on for me,” I tell him, squatting down beside his legs and peering in.

“Drea, you are one,”he pauses to tug on the tightened bolt, “sassy lady. You know that?”

“I’m just me. You either love me or hate me.” I laugh, straightening myself as he crawls out and sits up.

“Is that right?” He quirks an eyebrow at me and I realize what I said. I can’t help the blush I feel crawl up my neck and onto my cheeks.

“Oh god!” I exclaim, face-palming myself.”I just have verbal diarrhea around you. Forget I said that, huh?”

He pushes off the floor and stands up, pulling me into his arms. “You’re so cute when you get embarrassed. I remember the first time we met, you did the same thing. It’s adorable.”

I relish in his embrace. Those muscular arms holding me, caging my body in to his. I wrap my arms around his waist and lay my head on his chest. We stand there for a few minutes, just holding one another. I know this isn’t going to last. Dani will be home tomorrow but I’m going to savor it while I can.

He loosens his grip and kisses the top of my head. “I have to run to the hardware store and get a new faucet. Will you be okay while I’m gone?”

“God, Jay! It’s not like I’ve been living here for the last week by myself, taking care of the house and your daughter,” I laugh, looking up at him “I think I can manage it for an hour.”

“Well, excuse me for being a gentleman and asking,” he jokes playfully.

“Thank you for being a gentleman then,” I say, standing my tiptoes and kissing him. He deepens the kiss by slipping his tongue between my parted lips. God, this man can kiss!

He pulls away and looks at me. “Wanna watch a movie tonight after we put JJ down?”

“Sure,” I say. “What did you have in mind? I’ve watched more Disney this week than I have in all my life.” I laugh and he joins in.

“So Lion King is out?” he asked me, facetiously.

“Uh, yea.”

“I’ll run by the video store and see what’s new, okay?”

Sounds like a plan. Might want to get some popcorn too,” I tell him. I had noticed the last time I ate popcorn as a late night snack the box was empty. “Extra butter,” I inform him. “Popcorn isn’t popcorn without butter oozing out of it.”

“I agree with you there!”

He goes to get ready and heads out the door while I am once again changing JJ’s diaper. “You’ll be one year old soon, missy. You need to learn to use the bathroom like everyone else.” JJ giggles at me and smiles that toothy grin that I just adore. “Don’t be trying to use your cuteness on me, young lady. It won’t work.” I laugh as I nuzzle my nose into her cheek.

"Mah-ma.”

That one word, two syllables makes me freeze in my spot. Sure, JJ has said it a few times before but that was when Dani was here. Was she calling me Mama? Was me taking care of her while Dani was away confusing her little mind?

"No JJ,” I softly correct her. “I’m not Mama. I’m Drea. Dray-ah.”

“Mah-ma,” JJ giggles. “Mah-ma! Mah-ma! Mah-ma!” She keep chanting the word as I pick her up and carry her to the play pen I had set up in the front room. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want the little girl to stay confused or have Dani heartbroken that her daughter is calling someone else Mama. I decide just to wait and ask Jensen what I should do when he returns from his errand and finishes replacing the kitchen faucet.

An hour later, I’m sitting in the chair watching television when I hear Jensen return. He walks through, looks at his daughter and then me and asks, “How’s two of my favorite ladies?”

“We’re fine,” I answer him nonchalantly, watching JJ turn her head when she hears her father’s voice. I don’t see the look he throws my way as I return my attention back to whatever is playing on the screen. Jensen lays a plastic bag on the end of the sofa and continues on to the kitchen. “I got a couple of movies. I thought I’d let you pick what we watch,” he says over his shoulder.

“Ok.”

I hear cursing coming from the kitchen so I get up and walk in to see what the problem is. Jensen is once again laid out with his upper half under the sink, muttering under his breath.

Squatting down beside his outstretched legs, I ask him what’s wrong.

“Stupid nut won’t go on straight. I think it’s stripped,” he tells me.

I nudge his leg. “Let me in there. I might be able to help.”

He crawls out and hands me the offending fitting. I make my way into the space and using my fingers, twist the hexagonal nut onto the bolt and tighten as much as I can. I know that it will need to more than ‘hand-tightened’ so I maneuver my body back out and grin at Jensen.

“Just needed a woman’s touch. But you’ll need to use a wrench to secure it so that it doesn’t leak.”

“Okay. Thanks, I guess.” He doesn’t look at me as he goes to slide back under the counter. I listen for JJ and can hear her babbling and laughing so I lean against the bottom cabinets across from the sink and watch Jensen work. I muster the courage to bring up JJ’s earlier faux pas.

“Jay, can we talk?”

“Sure,” he tells me. “You wanna explain to me the cold shoulder you gave me earlier?”

“What? When?” His question catches me off guard. I don’t remember giving him the cold shoulder.

“When I got back. I asked how you were and you gave me short, curt answers like you were trying to blow me off.” By now he has finished with the sink and is sitting against the counter across from me.

“That wasn’t a cold shoulder Jay,” I tell him. “Something happened while you were gone and it has me anxious.

“What happened Drea?” He looks at me worriedly.

“JJ called me Mama.”

“That’s all?” he asks me chuckling? “So what?”

“I’m not her Mama Jay, that’s what! Are we confusing her, having me take care of her while Dani is away? Does she think I’m her Mama because she’s seen us touching?”

“Drea honey,” Jensen scoots over beside me and takes my hand, lacing our fingers together. “She’s a baby. She doesn’t comprehend the change between you and I. She’s too young. And as for her calling you Mama, when my nephew was an infant and Mac had to put him in daycare for awhile, he called his teachers Mama all the time. It’s not a big deal. Really.”

“So, she isn’t going to think I’m her Mama and Dani is some stranger when she returns?”

Jay slips his arm around my shoulder and pulls me to his chest. “No babe. She isn’t going to not know Dee when she gets back. And as she gets older, I’m sure she’ll  have her own special name for you. Probably Auntie Drea.”

“But I’m not her aunt.” I dispute.

“Have you heard what Tom calls me?”

“Unca Jensen,” I answer. I had heard Tom call out for Jensen with that title a few times.

“Exactly. And I’m not really his uncle.” Jensen explains. “A wise man once said, ‘Family doesn’t end in blood.’ And it doesn’t start there either, sweetheart.”

I giggle and slap his chest. “That’s a tagline from your show.”

“Wait! Did you just admit to watching Supernatural?” he asks, excited.

“No. I might have seen the quote on social media and it was associated with something to do with it.”

“You’re breaking my heart darlin’.”

That evening Jensen took care of putting JJ down for bed while I went to my room to shower and get comfortable for our movie ‘date’. I washed my hair in the shampoo I had purchased for the simple fact that it smelled marvelous and shaved anything and everything I could. I know that this morning we had both alluded to something happening tonight and in that case, I wanted to be smooth.I wondered if Jensen had been serious about having tonight but I didn’t want to assume anything else would happen. What if it had just been a one-time thing? What if he regretted sleeping with me? Afraid of rejection I decided to just let whatever happens, happen.

Downstairs, Jensen is sitting on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn and two bottles of beer on the coffee table.

“I got two different new releases. A scary one and one that the main character is a heroine. What ya wanna watch first?”

The scary one. If I watch it later, I’ll never sleep tonight!” I tell him, sitting beside him, close but not touching. He reaches out and pulls me next to him and whispers, “I’ll protect you.”

The scary movie ends up being “The Appearing”, about a woman who was possessed, uncovering a dark secret about her past and must face the demon within herself. I close my eyes through most of the movie while Jensen watches and has a running commentary on the special effects used and the storyline itself. I try to pay attention to his interpretation of the film but every time I open my eyes something happens and I have to close them again, snuggling into Jensen’s side. I was pleased when the ending credits rolled.

“You wanna watch the other one? Or are you too scared now?” He looks down at me and smiles.

“Put the damn disc in,” I tell him, determined to redeem myself. The menu screen for The Hunger Games Catching Fire pops up which thrills me. “Oh, I have been wanting to see this one! I watched the first one, one night at a motel in Indiana during my trip.”

“So it was a good choice then?”

“Yes! Thank you Jay!” I hop up on my knees and pull him down to me as he passes by me to take back his spot after inserting the previous disc in its case. I kiss him sound on the mouth.

I watch as Katniss Everdeen escapes  the arena and the clutches of the Capitol just as Peeta falls victim to them, putting him in danger. But when Katniss finds out that her home district has been destroyed and it goes off, I literally yell at the screen. “What? You can’t end it like that!”

“Shh,” Jensen laughs. “You’re going to wake JJ.”

“But how can they stop it there? It’s not fair.”

“They do it that way to make sure people will watch the next one. It’s called a cliffhanger,” he explains to me.

“Because it leaves you hanging,” I nod in understanding. I stand up, pick up the empty bottles and popcorn bowl and take them to the kitchen. Walking back into the room, Jensen is ejecting the dvd and I tell him I’m headed to bed.  

As I walk upstairs I wonder if he will come to my room tonight to cash in on my earlier promise of ‘more’.

Chapter 17

The Padackles Link taglist:

@xxdragonagequeenxx. @carryonmywaywardcaptain @sunskittlex @darlingpeanut @sis-tafics

[hellomissmabel]

Nothing under 7 inches (4)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Baker!Bucky x reader

Warnings: After a lot of angst in part 3, there is a tiny bit of fluff and hope in part 4. So don’t despair just yet, but don’t get your hopes up too much either.

Word count: 2k

Summary: Bucky is a baker in Y/N’s hometown and with her mother’s birthday right around the corner, he’s excited to see her again. Y/N however doesn’t plan on staying for too long and aims to return to the city life, a dirty little secret getting in the way of her love life.

A/N: My prompt was “cottage”. This fic is written for @soldatbarnes her writing challenge. If you want on the tag list, please send me an ask! I can’t keep track of all the comments.

Series masterlist can be found here

After dinner you rushed up to your room to switch shoes, trading in your comfy sneakers for high heels. Whilst searching your luggage for the heels you took out earlier, you realise you must’ve left them downstairs in the living room before heading towards Bucky. So you take two steps at a time and hurry downstairs again, finding your brother Wade perched on the couch, his feet up on the table and your high heels in his lap as he plays one of his old video games while he waits for the guests to arrive.

“Looking for these, baby sis?,” he chuckles as he holds up your heels. “How high are these anyway? Won’t you break your ankles or something when you fall on your face?”

Shoving his shoulder and taking back your heels, you sit cross-legged next to him on the couch after kicking off your sneakers, dirty from the muddy road to the cottage. “They’re only seven inches and they were a gift from a… euhm… a friend. They’ve got this rule… nothing under seven inches. Most of my heels are like ten or something…”

Wade rolls his eyes at the word ‘friend’ and sticks his tongue out at you. “Friend? My dick! This shit is expensive, Y/N. It’s got red soles, sis. No way one of your friends could ever afford Louboutins.”

He hands you the second controls and invites you to play with him, giving you a nice way out to avoid the topic any further. But as soon as he beats you for the third time in a row, he notices your mind isn’t really focused on the present and shuts off the television.

“Alright, baby sis, tell me, why do you suddenly have a huge stick up your ass? The girl that I grew up knowing would never risk her life wearing these monsters.”

You gaze at your big brother with big doe eyes, that innocent pitch to your tone worked wonders for you back when you were kids. “They’re for work. And it’s true, a friend gave them to me.”

But Wade doesn’t fall for your act and crosses his arms over his chest, sticking his tongue out at you. “Nah, you can’t fool me, Y/N. Unless you won the jackpot with the lottery or you have some filthy rich guy on the side.”

Wetting your lips as to delay your answer, Wade realises he’s right. “Holy shit, Y/N. It’s true, isn’t it?,” he laughs in surprise. “My baby sis is now a sugar baby.”

You’re too embarrassed to say anything and avert your eyes, looking like a prissy little kid that didn’t get the Christmas present they wanted. “Don’t look like you’ve just eaten a lemon, Y/N,” Wade reason with you, the joke ever present in his voice. “When life hands you lemons…”

“You squeeze ‘em,” you finish the sentence first, a small smile breaking your sour expression.

“That’s right! You squeeze ‘em!” Wade claps his hands and wraps an arm around your shoulder, holding you against him. “Now, tell me, how did you manage to squeeze that sugar daddy of yours, hm? I promise I won’t judge. I’m the last person in this house to judge.”

You’ve always felt like you could trust your brother with anything and everything. Your mother would never understand what you were going through, all of her empathy poured into her fictional characters. Your father on the other hand was a good listener, but rarely around. Peggy was always busy with her extracurricular activities, so that left your big brother Wade to cheer you up when you were feeling down. He was your confidant, and still is.

So you confide in him about Tony, about Sharon and how she introduced you to Steve, and finally about your conversation with Bucky. Wade sometimes makes a little, funny comment to lighten the mood but never interrupts you, not even when you start to cry again.

“I thought you guys broke up after high school?,” he eventually whispers softly into your hair. “Or did I miss something?”

“We didn’t really break up, Wade…,” you stutter in between the tears. “We said goodbye and broke up, but we never really broke with each other. And I think that this time, we did.”

“Oh, Y/N,” Wade shushes, his usual sarcastic tongue tied by the overwhelming pain you must be feeling. “You clearly don’t know, do you?”

Batting your eyelashes, heavy with droplets, you free your blurry vision and gaze at your brother, a question on the tip of your tongue. “Don’t know what?”

“The problem is not that Bucky doesn’t want to move to a big city or that you don’t want to stay in a small one. The problem is that you think there’s no way you can work it out. But Y/N, there’s always a solution, even if you don’t see it. Like… I didn’t believe I could give such good advice, but clearly I can.”

“Fuck you, Wade,” you chuckle quietly. “I love you, but fuck you.”

A hearty laugh rumbles through his chest and shakes up your nerves. “I deserve that. I wasn’t there for you. But I’m here for you now and I’m going to help you in any way I can. Starting with Buck.”

Wade scoops you up in his arms and once he’s on his feet, throws you over his shoulder, your protesting cries resonating through the entire house. Luckily the rest of the family is serving drinks on the terrace out back, so they don’t hear the profanities you direct towards your older brother.

“Bucky is finishing up on mom’s cake at the cottage. I’m carrying you there personally.” When you keep screaming at the top of your lungs, he halts in the middle of the hallway and slaps your ass. “Y/N, I’m doing you a favour.” And with those final words, he takes you back to the cottage, eventually shutting you up.

Bucky has just added the finishing touches to the decorations to your mom’s raspberry chocolate birthday cake, like Wade predicted, when he heard some kind of argument going on outside. Peering out of his window, he sees Wade hoisting you up in the air by means of teasing you before setting you back down.

“What’s going on?,” he queries as he dusts off his hands on his apron as you eye your brother with an angry gaze.

Wade just straightens his back and answers straight to the point. “Y/N loves you. You love Y/N. I’m taking the cake back to mom while you get dead honest with each other.”

Your brother points to you first, his eyes telling you he means serious business. “You’re gonna tell him everything. And then you’re going to find a solution that fits you both.” Then he directs his finger to Bucky. “And you,” he begins with a sigh. “You’re gonna listen and shut up until she tells you to talk. You’re not gonna argue, you’re just gonna listen. And then you’re going to kiss and make up.”

Wade’s statement leaves no room for interpretation and with one nod of his head in your direction, he leaves you in the lion’s den. Bucky is nailed to the ground in astonishment, not intimidated by your brother but by his words and he knows Wade’s only doing this with the best of intentions.

So after a short while, Bucky proposes something new. “How about we bake a cake together?”

With ardent eyes you scan him, searching for signs of mockery or malicious intent. But Bucky is just Bucky, in all his innocence and his boyishness. He doesn’t want to make you feel even worse than you already do, he only wants to bake a cake with you to clear the air and just talk.

“O-Okay,” you stutter after you’ve assessed the potential heartbreak that could come from this situation. Yet Bucky means no harm, and with a soft smile playing on his lips he gathers all the ingredients he has left in his kitchen.

Taking out some milk and honey, Bucky’s hip subtly bumps into yours as you both reach for the spatula. “Sorry!,” you whispers in a hushes tone as Bucky takes a few steps back, careful not to break the proverbial glass cage surrounding you, distancing you from him.

“What are we making?,” you ask gingerly while Bucky starts to add eggs to the mixture.

“White chocolate honeycomb mud cake,” Bucky smiles as his eyes light up like a Christmas tree. I still have a lot of chocolate left and your dad brought me a jar of honey last week from your aunt’s bee hives. But since I don’t really eat honey…”

Humming while you pour the honey bit by bit, your fingertips caresses Bucky’s hand while he stirs the batter of the cake. “I love honey, it’s so sweet. I could finish that jar all by myself in just one day.”

“You’ve always had a big sweet tooth, Y/N. I recall a time when I had added too much sweetener to the carrot cake I’d made for the town fair. Because everybody wanted to be polite, they finished their piece but they never came back for a second one. So I had made all this cake and people only ate one fourth of it. But then you walked by and decided you wanted to taste for yourself if it was as horribly sweet as people said it was.”

“And I ended up eating half of what was left because I loved it so much,” you laugh happily in remembrance. “Fall came early that year and Peggy had decided to pay us a visit. Wade had just left for Los Angeles and she noticed how much I was hurting, so she dragged me to the town fair. She made me try everything, from the disgusting vegan cookies that wannabe cheerleader Maria made to that old lady’s chicken broth. But then I tried your carrot cake and just knew that this was the best thing I’d ever eat in my entire life.”

“You still remember that day? It was long before Sharon introduced us.”

In all the giddiness that the memory inspires in you, the filter keeping your thoughts at bay slowly dissipates while you’re reminiscing. “Of course I still remember that day,” you confirm with a hearty chuckle, “I couldn’t keep my eyes off the handsome brunet near the willow tree with his carrot cake and his adorable puppy dog eyes.”

It’s as if Bucky’s heart is being ripped from his chest. All this time, you’ve been dancing around each other, both afraid to make a move. But not anymore, even though your words still resonate harshly in his heart, he has to kiss you. He has to make sure he kisses you now or all will be lost. He’s still got a shot, he knows it and wants to seize it before your self-destructive and overly protective nature bombards the entire thing.

He drops the spatula and takes the spoon of honey from you, cupping your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours in adamant desire. Yet Bucky doesn’t kiss you with lust or passion, rather with moderation and above all, adoration. And the moment your lips lock, he starts to overflow your system, pushing just the right buttons to make you yield.

Nonetheless, the kiss is different from before in various ways. A kiss from teenage Bucky is cautious and clumsy yet feverish and keen for your touch. But a kiss from adult Bucky is confident and calm yet soft and sweet. His eyes bore into yours with a loving intensity when your lips part. “I love you,” are the only three words he leaves hovering over you like the sword of Damocles. “And I know you love me, too.”

“Wade is right, we have to talk. So let me tell you what’s going to happen,” he continues after another longing kiss. “We’re going to put this cake in the oven and then we’re going to kiss some more and make up.”

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Series tag list: @buckyappreciationsociety @alexaduke @incoherentsmiles @iamthemaskhewears @booksb4boys69

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