#a hot potato to warm the toes

[bi-writes]

Would you ever do like mob and Simon’s first date night together or something like that ( love your writing )

mail-order bride (18+)

the wine sits idle in the middle of the table. simon leans back against his chair, sighing deeply as he runs a big palm over his lower stomach, all pudgy and full from the meal you had placed on the table.

you had surprised him. candles on the table, his favorite red wine decanted into a crisp glass, beef short ribs falling apart over a plate of mashed potatoes. he had no time to scold you for cooking because you had been finished by the time he stepped through the door.

immaculate, sweet girl. the first bite of the food had him sucking on his teeth, biting back a moan. such a good meal, perfection in a pot, with creamy potatoes that had him licking the prongs of the fork as he watched you from across the table, eyes glazed over with love for feeding him better than he ever had been in his whole life. he had seconds, thirds, pawing at your skirt when you asked if he wanted more, his tongue sliding over the knife that he didn't even need to get any piece of sauce off the plate.

and then dessert. perfect little chocolate cakes in pretty little tins, with a cracked top. and when he broke the surface with his spoon, it was flooded with hot ganache, a gooey molten lava cake that he gave you heart eyes for as he ate it up with dramatic slurps.

fuck, he cannot stop looking at you. maybe you put poison in the food because you've never looked more beautiful than you do right now. you're sitting there, hair off your face, spoon in your mouth as you lick off the warm chocolate from it. that pretty pink tongue sliding over the edge of it, gathering that sweet center and swallowing, the bob of your throat making his breath catch as he follows it all the way to the low neckline of your dress. that sweetheart neckline makes your tits look so perky, so bouncy, and he can tell you aren't wearing a bra because he can see your nipples between the polka dot pattern.

"come 'ere," simon says lowly, dropping the spoon with a defiant clatter onto his plate. you smile, standing from your seat, and you bounce over to where he's sitting. simon sits you down on the table in front of him, shoving his plate far back to give you room. he picks up his glass of wine and chugs it practically, licking the last drop before setting down the glass and flipping you over with practiced ease.

you gasp as your hips hit the wood. you bend, barely having enough time to catch yourself with your hands before you hear his chair scrape against the floor. you can feel his size as he stands up and towers over you, and your toes curl when you hear the buckle of his belt.

"w-what--"

"'m not gonna fuck ya, baby," simon sighs, smoothing his hands up the back of your thighs before flipping your skirt up. he snorts when he sees you're wearing polka dot panties to match your little dress, and you squeak when he grips the flimsy fabric with one big hand and shreds it with ease, tossing it aside. "first time 's gonna be so nice, i promise..." he clicks his tongue, "but fuck, ya gotta let me, luvvie..."

"please," you gasp, sliding back a little, pressing your ass against the front of his jeans. you can feel the open zipper scratch against your cunt, and he sighs shakily. you hear the rustle of fabric, and you sob with relief when you feel the warmth of his cock slap against your ass. "oh, god--simon!"

"i know, luv," he groans, "i know...not ready for it, not yet..." he licks his lips, sliding your dress up further, exposing your lower back and the sweat that's gathered there. he grips himself at the base, swiping over his wet tip before using it to give himself a languid stroke. at the first sound of a squelch, you whine, and he squeezes your hip gently. "agggh--fuck--"

your back bows when he slides his cock between your thighs. he's so big. thick and wide, not as lengthy as you might have expected but god, he's got the girth of your fucking arm. he keeps your back arched as he grips your wrists and tugs, drawing you up until your neck leans back against his chest. he gives you a slow thrust, the tip of his cock catching on your clit as he rolls his hips just right.

"oh--simon--"

"can't wait," he mumbles, sliding a thick palm over your throat, mouthing against your ear. "fuck, i can't wait to 'ave ya...can't wait to devour this fuckin' pussy--"

"simon--" you cry, reaching up and gripping his hand around your throat, and you sob again when you feel the cold band of his wedding ring. mine, mine, mine, mine--

"wot's y'r fuckin' name, baby?" simon asks, rocking his hips. you shake every time he hits your clit, and with his tight grip, all you can do is stand there and take it as he fucks your thighs. his cock is moving so nice between your folds, stimulating every little part of you, and you aren't coherent enough to be ashamed of how wet you are, starting to soak his cock and contribute to the intense wet shlick that sounds from between your legs. "huh? tell me--"

"'m mrs. riley," you babble, sucking his fingers into your mouth as they move up your throat. your eyes flutter shut, your entire body going slack as he lets go of your wrist with his free hand and pulls your hips back against his.

"tha's right," simon grunts, "my pretty girl. my perfect little wife, cookin' so fucking good for me, takin' such good care o' me, fuck--" simon groans, "rock fuckin' hard ever since i walked through tha' fuckin' door, baby."

"mmm--!" you squeal, bracing yourself against the edge of the table as he cups your pussy with one hand and cums between your folds the next. with just a few warm strokes, you're spilling into his palm, jelly in his arms as he collapses into the seat behind him and cradles you in his lap. "mrs...mrs. riley..." you're babbling again, giggling all warm and lucid, and simon chuckles as he cups the back of your head, feeding you his wet fingers and cursing under his breath as he watches you lick the slick off his hand.

you pay special attention to his ring finger, tongue swirling around the gold band. when you let his finger go with a pop, your eyes flutter open, and they meet his.

yeah, he thinks. she's ready.

[hoshifighting]

WARNINGS: afab!reader, non-stabilished relationship, lots of alcohol, suggestive, university's games, competition, hangovers, being drunk, public-make out.

college fling!seungcheol just bc he looks so university's crush coded in today's show.

college fling!seungcheol that would stand there, hands on his hips, head tilted a little as he scanned you from head to toe when y'all got paired. “you sure about this?” he asked to the organizer of the games, voice full of doubt but eyes already sizing up jeonghan across the field, like that rivalry was the only thing keeping him in check. you just raised a brow, cocky grin pulling at your lips. “oh, don’t worry. i’ll carry us.” his laugh was quiet, disbelieving, but there was something about the way his lips twitched like he wasn’t ready to write you off completely.

fast forward a few games in and you’d completely turned the tables on him—like, when you knocked jeonghan’s smug ass out of dodgeball, the look on seungcheol’s face was priceless. you were really out here, dodging like your life depended on it. jeonghan’s out for blood, but you’re quicker. you hit him square in the chest, and his dramatic reaction has seungcheol laughing so hard he nearly doubles over. like, he blinked a few times and then that big, stupid grin just split across his face. he gave you this sideways glance, “i might’ve underestimated you.”

“yeah, no shit.”

so now, you’re stuck, tied leg to leg with him for this stupid-ass three-legged race. he’s got his arm slung around your waist, warm and firm like he’s not letting you trip up even once, and his breath is hot against your ear as he leans in. “you ready to win this?”

“you better keep up,” you shoot back, glancing up at him just to see that fire in his eyes, the same one you’d caught earlier when he was glaring daggers at jeonghan like the free beer wasn’t even the point anymore—it was just about beating him.

the whistle blows, and suddenly you’re off. at first, it's awkward as hell—legs all tangled and stumbling over each other “you gotta move faster,” he says, out of breath, too serious, like this whole thing isn’t ridiculous.

“maybe if you stopped dragging me like a sack of potatoes!”

“we’re not losing to him,” he mutters, eyes sharp like he’s got a personal vendetta against that flowing hair and smug smile.

and suddenly, you’re in it too, because if there’s one thing you hate more than this sweaty, chaotic mess, it’s losing to jeonghan.

“fine. let’s beat his ass.” maybe it’s the adrenaline or maybe it’s just seungcheol’s grip tightening around your waist, but you two start to move as one, hitting your stride, and you feel the wind whipping past your face as you dash ahead of the other pairs.

by the end of it, you’re both panting, chest heaving, but you’ve won.

later on, the soccer game, when you’re standing by the soccer field, he’s got this boyish smirk plastered on his face. “just cheer loud,” he calls out before jogging onto the field, glancing back every now and then, clearly waiting for your cheer. and yeah, maybe your voice is a little louder than it needs to be when you shout his name, but when you see the way his whole face lights up as soon as you do, it’s worth it. he says he’ll play better if you cheer for him, like your voice will magically give him superpowers.

he scores a few points and each time, without fail, he looks over at you, like he’s feeding off of it. like, your praise alone is fueling him more than anything else. after the game, all sweaty and breathless, he jogs over to you, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “told you i’d win.”

college fling!seungcheol that would be loud as hell when you’re out there, ready to crush the final game. it’s some chaotic water relay—like, they filled these huge tubs with water, gave y'all a bucket, and the goal was to fill up another container on the other side of the field. the buckets had holes in them, so you had to sprint before the water leaked out.

and seungcheol? this man was unhinged. standing right on the sidelines, practically losing his damn mind every time you bolted back with a half-full bucket. “FASTER, Y/N, COME ON! YOU GOT THIS!” it was like he’d forgotten that this wasn’t some life-or-death competition, just free beer for a year. other students were shooting him dirty looks, a couple even told him to shut up, but he didn’t give a single fuck. “LET’S GO, DON’T SLOW DOWN NOW!”

that's when he saw something different in you—like, something clicked in his head, especially when you wiped your face, water dripping down your legs, making those already too-short shorts stick to your thighs. his cheers stopped mid-scream for a second, eyes going wide as they raked over your legs. he blinked like he’d forgotten what he was supposed to be yelling, and for a moment, it was just him staring.

“shit,” he muttered under his breath, but then he snapped out of it just as quick, “COME ON, Y/N! LET’S GO! ONE MORE, YOU GOT THIS!”

the final lap, water sloshing everywhere, legs burning, and you sprinted across the field with that leaky-ass bucket. and when you dumped that last bit of water into the container, tipping it just right, you barely had time to catch your breath before seungcheol was on you.

he practically tackled you into a hug, soaked and laughing like a maniac. “WE DID IT! FREE BEER ALL YEAR!” he was yelling in your ear, spinning you around like you weren’t already dizzy from running your ass off. his hands slipped down to your waist again, fingers digging into your skin. the grin on his face was huge, like he was the one who won, not you.

“put me down, you big idiot,” you laughed, but honestly, you didn’t mind the way he held you up.

“not a chance,” he grinned, pressing his forehead to yours, still breathless. “you fuckin’ killed it. i knew you would.”

and then came the beer. someone from the staff tossed a cooler your way, cracking open a cold one, and before you could even take a sip, seungcheol snatched it out of your hand with this naughty look in his eye. “oh, nah, you’re not drinking that yet.”

“what—” but before you could even finish, he shook the bottle like a madman and sprayed it all over you, foam and liquid pouring down your face and chest, soaking your already-wet clothes even more. you gasped, but it was too late—you were drenched.

“cheol!” you screamed, reaching for another beer, ready to get him back. and that’s when it turned into this all-out beer fight, both of you laughing so hard your sides hurt, chasing each other around the field with bottles. students were cheering, joining in on the madness, but all you could focus on was seungcheol, hair wet and sticking to his forehead, eyes bright as he grabbed another bottle and aimed it right at you.

“this is for winning!” he shouted, dousing you again, the white beer's foam in the middle of your breasts through your sports top, and you retaliated, beer spilling all over his shirt, his jaw slack with a mock gasp.

“you’re gonna regret that,” he said, but his voice was soft, eyes flicking to your lips just for a second. you both froze, your chest heaving, his hands sliding to your waist again, beer dripping down your arms, clothes clinging to your bodies in the late summer sun.

“not if i do this first,” you whispered, grabbing his collar, and in one quick move, you kissed him.

your bodies slipped slightly, drenched in beer, but that didn’t stop you from pressing yourself tighter against seungcheol. his arm, still holding the half-empty bottle, looped around the back of your neck, drawing you in closer as his lips crushed against yours. his mouth was hot, wet, tasting like the beer he’d just sprayed all over you, and you felt the way his tongue dragged against yours, sucking at it slow and messy, like he was taking his time, savoring the taste of you. your fingers were tangled in his hair, pulling just enough to make him moan into your mouth.

you felt the cold bottle you were still holding press into his back as your bodies shifted. his free hand twitched, so close to your ass that you were almost sure he’d give in and grab it, but he paused. his fingers hovered just above your skin, twitching like he was fighting the urge. even though you could feel the heat between you two, that raw, hungry want, he knew where you were. middle of the field. right after the game. some people were definitely watching, but no one cared. honestly, stuff like this? it happened all the time after athletic games. it was almost tradition.

still, seungcheol held back. instead, he pulled back slightly, lips swollen, breathing hard against your mouth as his forehead rested against yours. “you’re making it real hard to be respectful right now,” he mumbled. the way he said it made you even wetter—not from the beer, not from the sweat, not from the water—and you let out a breathless laugh.

“who said i needed you to be respectful?” you teased, nipping at his bottom lip before finally letting go of his hair. his eyes flicked down to your lips, and his grip tightened, like he was fighting every instinct to just take you right there.

but then someone yelled, “get a room!” and seungcheol just grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at you. “come on, let’s go celebrate this win properly.”

— // —

after a good bath and a quick nap, at night, you made it to the bar, it was packed. everyone from the games was there, still high off the adrenaline, beers already flowing, and the music was loud enough to shake the walls. seungcheol’s arm was around your shoulders as you walked in, pulling you close like he wasn’t about to let you get too far from him.

“you think we’ll ever have to pay for a drink again?” you asked, glancing up at him with a smirk.

“not after today,” he replied, flashing you that same cocky grin that made your stomach flip. “free beer for a year? we’re legends now.”

you found a spot at the bar, already surrounded by some of your friends, and before you knew it, you had drinks in your hands. shot after shot, and seungcheol was right there with you, matching you drink for drink. you lost track of how many times he leaned in close, voice low in your ear as he made some comment that had you laughing so hard your sides hurt. his hand never left your waist, and each time his thumb brushed the bare skin just under your shirt, it made you squirm.

at some point, seungcheol challenged you to a drinking game—one that neither of you had any business playing after the amount of alcohol you’d already consumed. “you’re gonna lose,” he slurred, eyes half-lidded as he leaned in close, face inches from yours.

“in your dreams,” you shot back, taking another shot just to prove a point.

you lost the game, obviously. seungcheol won with a shit-eating grin, and you were tipsy enough to let him pull you into his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist like you belonged there.

— // —

by the time you both stumbled out of the bar, the cool dawn brushed your skin. seungcheol’s arm was slung over your shoulders, both of you laughing about something you couldn’t even remember. the streets were quiet, the rest of campus dark except for the streetlights flickering above. you were both drunk, but in that good way where everything felt light and easy.

“you think we’re gonna regret this tomorrow?” you asked, glancing up at him with a smirk.

“probably,” he grinned, his voice slurred as he leaned in to press a sloppy kiss to your temple. “but who cares?”

the walk back to your dorms was full of teasing, bumping into each other as you tried to walk straight. every now and then, seungcheol would stop, grab your hand, and pull you into a kiss, laughing against your lips when you almost tripped over your own feet.

when you finally made it back, he didn’t let go of you. not when you fumbled with your keys, not when you stumbled into your room, not even when you both collapsed onto the bed, still fully dressed and reeking of beer. he pulled you into his chest, both of you too drunk and too tired to do anything else.

“you’re a mess,” you whispered, eyes half-closed as you curled into him.

“you smell like beer.” he mumbled against your neck.

— // —

monday's mornings comes way too fast, and the hangovers hit even harder. you woke up with your head pounding, still tangled up in the sheets with seungcheol’s arm draped over you. groaning, you tried to sit up, but the room spun, and you collapsed back onto the bed.

“never again,” you muttered.

seungcheol just chuckled, his voice raspy and rough. “we said that last time.”

you both spent the entire day nursing your hangovers, drinking water, and trying to piece together the night before. every now and then, seungcheol would nudge you, reminding you of something stupid you’d said or done, and you’d both break into fits of laughter despite the splitting headaches.

[cute-sucker]

"❀˚ rafe is so attentive to you. he might be busy ‘handling business’ all the time, but he’ll drop everything if something’s bothering you. he wants you to live a cozy, carefree life, physical proof to you and everyone else that he can maintain that for you. so, when you show up at tannyhill with tears in your eyes, he goes straight into problem solving mode. ˚❀༉‧₊" - (x) inspired by @maiiuelle

you were in a foul mood. one that left you nothing but in shivers, and sniffles. you were holding yourself together until you saw rafe. you had started working lately, telling rafe that you could handle it and that you hated the way that he had to pay for everything. 

you worked at a meek small cafe, serving tables, and coming home greasy and bubbly. sometimes you'd bring free leftover fries, and rafe would kiss you, telling you that there was enough money to pay for it. but you liked it. you liked the simplicity rafe liked seeing you happy.

but today everything was horrible. from the way that the day started from the way you felt in the beginning. you had hit your toe on the door and chipped a nail. then there was a man who yelled at you for getting his order wrong, and you ended up having chunks of potato puree in your hair after a toddler grappled for the food you were serving.

so there you were at tanyhill. staring up at the daunting building, as hot tears streamed down your face. you felt caged in as your arms were wrapped around your body. you felt small, almost as if you could disappear the moment something was uttered.

rafe had given you the key to the house. that's the way he was, giving you small things. giving you small things that you'd always hold close to your heart. sometimes he'd just gaze at you, kiss your forehead and call you his "sweet girl," and you felt your whole body blaze with a fire. and so you gently swung open, the hall echoing with emptiness, you felt yourself smile gently. 

tanyhill reminded you of rafe. and rafe reminded you of good things. yet your foul mood followed you, and somehow there was this inkling feeling that rafe wouldn't allow you to keep your job if he knew how horrible the service was. 

but you couldn't help yourself as you bundled in rafe's bedsheets, smelling that scent of his, and wearing one of his polo's. your hand ached towards the phone, yet you held back. he was probably handling business, but it was finally when you picked up the phone and dialled his number. he picked up in one ring.

"rafe?" you sniffed out, your voice scratchy.

"what's wrong?" rafe murmured back. you could almost hear the alarm in his voice and could feel the way he was probably pacing around. he was probably going to be in trouble. that caused you to wilt even more, as you tried to stammer out your sentence. 

"i need you." 

˚❀༉‧₊˚.

you could imagine what rafe was thinking. he was probably worried. worried out of his mind, as you sat in his bed, messy bed head and tears streaming down your face. you heard the creak of the door opening, and there he was.

you saw him, eyes soft as they traced your body. there you were, eyes rubbed red, and a pout on your face. you seemed almost in disbelief, as you stared at him. finally, you jumped into his embrace. it was warm. it was home. you could hear his heartbeat. 

your voice was slurred as you whispered words out, still seeking his warmth.

 "you came." 

it was only here you took a peek at his face, a soft smile was sprawled across his face. 

"you called." 

maybe that was when you realised you loved him. 

[spdrvyn]

MIGUEL O’HARA — and places he’d kiss you in

rewatched atsv and was hit with a very strong wave of yearning for this man that (unfortunately) doesn’t exist so now we’re here! tagging @greensagephase too as she was the one who inspired me to write this, please enjoy!! (^_^) ♡

☆ his lab, at work

like i’ve mentioned a thousand times before in my other fics and posts, miguel isn’t the biggest fan of pda. he prefers intimacy when it’s just the two of you, without the crumbling pressure of his snoopy coworkers.

that is mostly why his laboratory is one of the most secure places in headquarters. with a platform that might as well be touching the ceiling, it grants utmost privacy to him and you. he enjoys it when you visit him, whether it’s to bring food or company, the fact you go out of your busy day to come see him makes his heart swell.

he loves to shower you in kisses in those fleeting moments you’re both together, before the day ends. he presses a kiss to your hairline, and takes a whiff of your shampoo. before he moves down to your forehead, your nose, then your lips. he’ll tell you about the day he’s had, you will tell him about yours in return, and he’ll wonder how he got so lucky.

☆ the park, early mornings

i’d like to think that miguel is a morning person. when he can, he goes on brisk walks in a park nearby to wind down a little before he starts a very hectic day.

you, on more than one occasion, have chosen to join him, which miguel feels guilty for most of the time. mainly because he thinks you need sleep, as adorable as you look when you’re tired. he notices how sluggish you can be when you join him, which is why neither of you give that big of an effort to make conversation. not like it makes the moment any less meaningful.

there is a way that the peeping sun reflects on you so beautifully. even with tired eyes, unkempt hair, and an “uncoordinated” outfit (according to you. but he’d be attracted to you even if you wore a potato sack), every inch of you from head to toe looks like it came straight out of a renaissance painting.

he will pull you behind a tree, pepper kisses to your cheeks, before kissing you senseless on the lips. he holds your face in his warm palms like a prized jewel, and each kiss feels slower than the next. his breath is hot against your mouth as he pauses before he leans in for one after the other.

☆ at a restaurant, dinner time

on date nights, it really depends on how both of you are feeling on where the location is. maybe, it feels nice to doll up and look nice, but if it’s too much effort, somewhere casual and near-by is sufficient enough for you and him.

either way, those nights are the ones where miguel’s romance levels are reaching through the roof. he simply can’t stop and won’t stop looking at you, and how stunning you are. he doesn’t know how you always manage to keep him relaxed, because even he knows about how high-strung he can get, but he always gets so eerily calm when you’re around.

while you’re in the restaurant, he will subtly hold your hand under the table. on the rare occasion, he’ll break his ‘little to no PDA’ rule, he will press kisses along the inside of your hand to your knuckles. he does try to be discreet, but the way you get so flustered by his boldness eggs him on.

☆ bonus: at home

when miguel comes back home, a lot of the time he lets his actions speak for how he feels.

normally, if you’re doing something when he returns, he embraces you from behind, lets out a huge sigh of relief, and clings to your back like a koala until you are both seated. if you’re on the bed or couch, reading a book or watching something on the tv, he collapses on top of you and puffs all the air out from your chest.

he will kiss you on your neck, or when he’s really tired, just leave his lips there. he’ll lay on your chest and kiss you there also, while leaving a trail down to your stomach.

i'm still so not over him. sorry to my cousin's friends who apparently read some of my stuff, i am not normal about this old man

[littlemousejelly]

you make me wanna (make me wanna give it all to you)

relationship: Kara Zor-El/Lena Luthor

rating: E

word count: 7.2k

Summary:

She slips her hand between Lena’s legs—still at a publicly appropriate height—and gently draws an aimless pattern along the inside of her thigh.

The hitch of Lena’s breath sounds like a thunderclap to Kara and she stiffens, fingers stilling as her ears heat up.

She thinks maybe she shouldn’t keep touching her while they’re in a room full of other people.

OR

Kara's maybe more than a little obsessed with Lena in thigh-high stockings.

(read on ao3)

Kara really doesn’t think she’s super obsessed with how Lena dresses or anything.

Okay, sure, sometimes Lena will wear something that makes this molten-hot feeling pool in her belly, filling her up with such a sweet, melty ache that she wants nothing more than to rush home and fill Lena up until she falls apart just as sweet and melty.

But it's not like she's got an obsession.

It's just that Lena’s so ridiculously pretty that Kara has a revelatory, earth-shaking, breath-taking moment of that can’t be right every time she sees her. Which, again, has nothing to do with being obsessed with the clothes Lena wears, no. It's all because Lena is that pretty.

Case in point, the fact that just the other day, Lena opens the door for her—

(And this is an aside, but relevant: It’s the door to Kara’s own apartment, and more importantly, she opens the door from the inside. Because Kara had given her a key the month before, since Lena’s welcome whenever! And they haven’t talked about taking the next step and living together yet, but sometimes it feels like they already are?)

—wearing black leggings and Kara’s well-loved, gray National City University sweater (her favorite thing to steal and wear, and not-so-secretly Kara’s favorite thing to see her in). The thick glasses she trades her contacts for once she’s in for the night are perched on her nose, her hair is in a messy bun, and her lower lip is caught between her perfect teeth before she smiles a million-watt smile, even though it’s just Kara.

The hamster in Kara’s brain stalls out and gets flung around its wheel. Kara loses all brain function and just stares at Lena because, well, that can't be right. How does someone just look like that?

“Baby,” Lena says, an amused twinkle in her eye. "You’re gonna catch flies if you don’t pick your jaw up off the floor.”

It takes a couple long seconds before Kara’s brain hamster starts running again, but once it does, she nods quickly, shuts her mouth, and steps into their apartment.

And then she doesn’t really stop moving in, barely pausing to take her shoes off. She just toes off one shoe and then the other as she continues forward to wrap Lena up in her arms and press her into the couch cushions.

And maybe that isn’t the best defense for Kara not obsessing over Lena’s clothes since Kara really likes seeing Lena in that sweater, but it’s- it’s not about the sweater. It’s about the fact that it’s Lena wearing it, looking soft and warm and pretty.

It’s always about how unbelievably pretty Lena is.

So when Kara picks Lena up for a movie date on a rare occasion where she isn't already at Kara’s apartment and the penthouse elevator doors open to reveal Lena wearing a dark gray, off-the-shoulder sweater French-tucked into denim cut-offs and black thigh-high stockings, she crushes her phone to dust.

Not because of the way the stocking fabric seems to cling like spidersilk to Lena’s thighs. Not because of the sliver of skin that's visible in the gap between stocking and shorts and how it makes Kara want to run her tongue along Lena's legs and slowly peel them off.

It's none of those things, honest. She could be wearing a potato sack and Kara would still lose her mind because she’s just that devastatingly gorgeous.

“Buhhh,” Kara says, before she starts to step off the elevator, intent on pressing Lena against the nearest surface to touch her lovely thighs—and maybe some other things too—but Lena stops her with a hand on her chest.

She tuts, then says, “I know that look, Kara, and you are not getting off this elevator. Movie, remember? At the theater you love because it’s got reclining seats and actual food you can order?”

Kara frowns because Lena’s thighs are right there and the couch and kitchen counter are also right there, and they've got a half hour of previews before the movie starts so they might manage to not be (too) late… but then she sighs because, damn it, she does love that theater. And she actually enjoys watching previews.

Lena smiles when she sees the result of her internal debate settle on her face.

“That’s what I thought," she says, stepping into the elevator. “Come on, you horndog, take me to the movies.”

And before Kara can even open her mouth to let out an affronted noise at being called a horndog, Lena leans up to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth and Kara forgets why she was feeling affronted in the first place.

“We also need to get you a new phone, I see,” Lena says, staring at the phone guts on the floor.

Kara flushes and wipes the remnants of shattered phone dust off her hand before reaching out to intertwine their fingers.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, squeezing her hand and nodding at Lena's socks. “I wasn’t expecting those.”

"My legs?"

"Wh— No. Your, uh. Those, thigh... sock… things," Kara finishes weakly before noticing the twinkle of laughter in Lena's eyes. "Oh. You're pulling my leg."

"Just a bit, sorry," Lena says, sounding absolutely not-sorry.

"You!" Kara pivots and wraps her arms around Lena's waist to pull her close, blowing a raspberry into her neck just as she digs her fingers into her sides and starts tickling her.

Lena shrieks with laughter and attempts to squirm away but Kara holds her fast, keeping her revenge-tickle up for a little longer before granting her reprieve. She drops her hands to mold them to Lena's hips and nuzzles affectionately at her neck with a contented hum.

"Love you," she says, muffled by the way she's got her nose and mouth squished against Lena's skin.

"Love you," Lena returns softly, reaching up to scratch lightly at her scalp.

Kara leans into her hand, enjoying the feeling of her fingers in her hair, but then Lena's shoulders start shaking with laughter.

"What?" Kara asks, pulling her head back to look at Lena. "What's so funny?"

"We didn't push the button," she says, gently rapping her knuckles against Kara's head and reaching out to press the button for the lobby. "We've been standing in a stationary elevator."

Kara barks out a short laugh as the elevator finally starts its descent. "Okay, well I was distracted. What's your excuse?"

"I was distracted by you being distracted!"

"You can't play that card, that's the one I played. You're just copying my answer!"

Lena sticks her tongue out at her and the swell of affection Kara feels is so strong that she has no choice but to dip forward to kiss her cheek, grinning so hard that the kiss is more teeth than lip. She pulls away after and throws an arm around her shoulders.

"You excited for the movie? I've heard good things. Lots of arm, which I'm sure you'll enjoy," Kara says, bumping her hip against Lena's.

Lena doesn't rise to the bait, however, and leans into her harder, wrapping her arms around Kara's waist.

"I'm just happy we get to go out together today," she says after a moment in one of her softest, sweetest voices. "It feels like we've both been so busy lately and I've missed you."

And that's just—

"Not fair," Kara blurts, before she can stop it from slipping out.

Lena can't just admit that while she’s wearing what she's wearing and expect Kara to not be incredibly affected by it, to not want to just say to hell with the movie and stay in and cuddle and kiss and touch a lot. Kara's only alien.

"What's not fair?" Lena asks, brow furrowed.

"It's— You can't say something that sweet, looking that good. It's not fair. I'm trying to take you on a date but you're making it hard for me to not push you up against the nearest surface," Kara pouts.

Lena hums in thought.

"Is that so… Thigh-highs, huh?” she muses quietly.

And maybe Kara should have recognized the tone of her voice. It's the one she uses when she's happened across something incredibly interesting and is secreting the knowledge away for later, the one usually accompanied by a cat-that-got-the-cream glitter in her eye, but Kara doesn't notice it because she's subtly trying to admire Lena’s legs.

In fact, she doesn't notice a lot of things.

Like how Lena adjusts her thigh-highs deliberately slowly when she gets out of the car, slipping her thumbs just under the elastic to smooth out the band, fingers splaying and brushing across soft fabric as she drags her thumbs until they meet behind her thigh and then back around again. (Which ultimately brings Kara's attention back to the way they cling, and her hands twitch involuntarily as she imagines slipping her own thumbs under the elastic to tease the skin underneath.)

Like how Lena keeps crossing and uncrossing her legs when they lean back in their reclined seat. (And it’s not even that big a deal, but her thighs keep squishing together and they look so soft.)

Like how Lena pillows her head on Kara’s shoulder and slings her stockinged legs across Kara's lap when they inevitably cuddle up together, an open invitation for Kara to touch them. (So touch she does, trailing her fingers indulgently over and over along the tempting sliver of skin that had captivated her before.)

Needless to say, Kara is distracted during the movie. Distracted to the point she doesn't even order food. Lena’s soft noises and the slightly elevated rate of her pulse as Kara touches her thighs are much more interesting to listen to than whatever’s being said on-screen, her thighs much more interesting to touch than theater food.

She does her best to keep the touching family-friendly, never veering too high and mostly keeping her fingers to the top and outside of her thighs, but can’t help but stray a little towards the end of the movie. She slips her hand between Lena’s legs—still at a publicly appropriate height—and gently draws an aimless pattern along the inside of her thigh.

The hitch of Lena’s breath sounds like a thunderclap to Kara and she stiffens, fingers stilling as her ears heat up.

She thinks maybe she shouldn’t keep touching her while they’re in a room full of other people.

But then Lena shuffles and squeezes her thighs together, effectively trapping Kara’s hand where it is, with the added bonus of providing a little pressure between her legs. At least, that’s what Kara presumes since she lets out a quiet whine and leans into her harder. And she’s not about to be inappropriate with Lena in a movie theater, but… there’s nothing wrong with a little teasing, right?

Clearly not, as Lena squirms again and reaches out to stroke at the skin of Kara’s forearm, relaxing her thighs so Kara can move her hand again.

“Keep going,” she murmurs, voice quiet even though the loud movie theater audio makes her inaudible to anyone else.

Kara hears her loud and clear.

She starts tracing little swirls along Lena's inner thigh again, hyperfocused on the way each stroke coaxes out a slightly different noise. After a while, she grows bold, slipping her fingers just under the elastic of Lena's thigh-highs then dragging them up until she can slide them beneath the hem of her shorts.

Lena makes a sound low in her throat and her fingers press into Kara's forearm, not painfully, but with enough pressure to spur her on.

And, here’s the thing: Kara really isn’t touching Lena with sexual intent. She’s just a tactile person and loves the feel of Lena’s skin under her fingertips, and Lena has stated on more than one occasion how she doesn’t mind it, that she actually finds it incredibly comforting when Kara touches her absent-mindedly. So this isn’t— Kara isn’t running her fingers all over Lena’s thighs because she’s trying to turn either of them on.

(Especially not in a movie theater.)

But she can’t deny that that’s exactly what’s happening to her right now. She feels restless. Tingly, sparking heat lances through her body as Lena squirms and sighs against her, all because she's lightly trailing her fingers over the skin of her thighs.

Lena squeezes her legs together again briefly, and bites at her lower lip.

“Is the movie over yet?” she mutters, before subtly rolling her hips up as much as she can with the way her legs are angled over Kara’s thighs, causing Kara’s fingers to slip the slightest bit higher.

"Yeah," Kara says, not even looking at the movie screen. She hasn't paid attention to the movie at all, really, not since Lena put her legs in Kara's lap and let her touch them.

"It totally isn't," Lena says breathily, mouth quirking up. She shifts again, sitting up slightly so she can comfortably nuzzle into Kara's neck, and the press of Lena's soft lips against the skin of her neck has her jerking her hips up with a stifled groan.

"It isn't," she agrees, voice strained as she grips at Lena's thigh and struggles to keep from bucking again. "But it should be. Are movies usually this long? They shouldn't be this long. The movie should be over. It's illegal to keep us here like this."

And apparently that's funny, because Lena muffles her laugh into her neck, sort of. That's what Kara thinks she does? It's like she was gonna lick up her neck but got sidetracked when Kara said something amazingly witty, because what she does instead is open her mouth and press her tongue against her, slippery wet, and laugh just like that. Her breath gusts out in warm little puffs around her tongue and a shiver runs up Kara's back. An insistent throb starts up between her legs, and Lena knows that her neck is a weak spot, so the fact that she's doing that is very illegal.

Lena takes pity on her when she whines unhappily and pulls her tongue back into her mouth before rubbing her smile against her neck apologetically.

"There's… nothing actually keeping us here, you know," Lena says. "We can go anytime we want, if we so choose."

Kara’s hand twitches where she’s resting it against Lena’s thigh.

“We could, couldn’t we?” she says, but then she shakes her head because, Nope, no. She refuses to be the couple that walks out of what's probably a really good movie because they couldn't go two hours without touching each other.

Lena tilts her head up to kiss just under her jaw, sensing her resolve.

“But we’re not going to,” she supplies.

“Nah,” Kara says, turning to press her lips gently to Lena’s forehead. “This is a date, and I’m a gentleman."

The irony of that statement is not lost on them, what with the hand she still has between Lena's thighs, but Kara keeps her hand still and they manage to behave for the rest of the movie.

—

"Wow, what a movie!" Kara says, swinging Lena's hand exuberantly as they exit the theater half an hour later.

"I have absolutely no clue what happened," Lena admits.

"Neither do I!" Kara says happily, taking the opportunity granted by the upswing of their joined hands to press a kiss to Lena’s thumb. “I’m starving, let’s get something to eat.”

Lena rolls her eyes good-naturedly and allows herself to be led back to the car.

—

"I thought- I thought we were going to stop somewhere to eat?" Lena asks breathlessly, back arching.

"Mm, yeah," Kara says, popping her head up from where she'd been sucking a hickey to the side of Lena's breast. She continues plucking at the hard nipple of her other breast, tugging lightly at her piercing as she admires how attractive Lena looks with her bra and sweater rucked high on her chest, ribs expanding with every gasping breath she takes, dark red hickeys splotching across her flushed skin. Beautiful.

She dips her head to lick out against one of the purpling bruises, almost forgetting herself in the taste and feel of Lena's skin again before she tears herself away and pats her on the nipple.

"Chop chop!" she says lightly, patting the other nipple for symmetry's sake. "Put your clothes on, baby. I'm hungry."

"Oh my god…" Lena says, wrestling her bra and sweater back down as she sits up and nudges Kara upright. "Did you just pat my nipples?"

"Sure did! They’re my favorite. The absolute loveliest."

Lena sighs a long-suffering sigh and puts her hands on the shoulders of the front seats to haul herself into the passenger seat. Kara lets out a pleased noise, enjoying the way Lena’s thighs look flexing against her stockings as she moves back into the front of the car, then follows suit, giving Lena a quick peck on the lips before relocating her car keys and starting the ignition.

“Okay, food for realsies this time,” she says brightly, placing her hand high on Lena’s thigh.

Lena’s breath hitches and Kara decides that they’re getting fast food.

—

Lena smacks Kara’s hands away and Kara whines unhappily.

“No,” Lena says. "You’re not touching me with burger hands. Wash those first.”

Kara frowns bigly. She can feel how big and frowny it is, the corners of her mouth dragging down towards the ground like they’re physically weighed down by her disappointment and sadness, and she hopes Lena feels at least a little sorry for putting such a big frown on her face.

“But Lenaaa,” she tries.

“No ‘buts’, Kara,” Lena retorts, batting Kara’s wandering hands away again.

“I would've behaved,” Kara grumbles, pouting as she gets up off the couch to go wash her hands and throw their wrappers away. “Just wanted to kiss you a little.”

She can hear Lena snort from the living room, even over the sound of running water and her furious hand-scrubbing.

“It’s never just ‘kissing a little’, baby. We both know that.”

Kara grins. It’s not her fault Lena is so sensitive and makes the absolute sweetest noises for her.

She dries her hands and zips back out, plopping down on the couch with her hands out for Lena to inspect.

“I’m clean, I’m clean I’m clean I’m clean, can I please kiss you now?” she asks, batting her eyelashes.

Lena pretends to consider, but Kara can see the twinkle in her eye that means she’s already won. Even still, she turns Kara’s hands this way and that, taking her fingers between her own and stroking up and down their length with an appreciative sound, rubbing at the delicate webbing between them, trying and failing to bite back a smile as Kara goes quiet quiet at her indulgent ministrations.

“Okay, yeah,” she eventually breathes, when Kara swears Lena must be able to feel her pulse in her fingertips. “You can kiss me.”

Kara surges forward, linking their fingers together and pulling Lena’s arms above her head as she pushes her back into the couch cushions.

Lena lets out a surprised squeak, but Kara can see her pupils dilating as she licks wet wet wet at her red lips.

Kara leans in, stopping just before they touch. “I’m gonna kiss you now,” she whispers, feeling the phantom brush of Lena’s lips against hers.

“Mhm,” Lena breathes, thighs squeezing together. "Yes, please."

Kara smiles and closes the last bit of distance between them, sighing happily when she finally feels Lena's lips under hers, feels the tiny, shuddering breath she lets out as she sweetly parts her lips for Kara to lick in.

It always makes Kara feel like a million fireflies are lighting up inside her when she kisses Lena, like all the love she's got amalgamates and brightens her up from the inside out, until she feels like all that giddy, loving light is escaping from her pores. Even sitting out in the sun for a couple hours doesn’t make her feel as brilliant as one kiss from Lena does.

Kara slides her tongue slowly, wetly, against Lena's and her answering throaty moan makes Kara's head spin so hard her hips shudder helplessly downwards. But that only makes Lena jerk against the way Kara’s hands are keeping hers pinned to the cushions and roll her hips up and suck at Kara’s tongue like a lollipop.

Kara groans and humps into her again, and again, trying to keep her head from flying off, trying to not be really, embarrassingly close already even though they’re both still fully dressed and all Lena’s doing is sucking on her tongue.

But the pressure and wet suction of Lena’s mouth; the slick slide of her tongue; the little, hungry noises she makes as she tugs and tugs and tugs like she’s trying to take Kara as deep as she can to show how devoted she is, how ready she is, how good she is—

It all drives Kara absolutely wild because she's just so perfect.

Kara pulls away with a gasp, pressing their foreheads together, breath mingling hot and damp in the space between them, hips still mindlessly rocking down to meet Lena’s as she pants.

“H- hold on, sorry,” she says, flushing when it comes out way more breathless than she intends.

Lena nods patiently, turning her head and nuzzling at Kara’s cheek while she waits for her to calm down.

“You’re not even the one who got felt up at the theater, baby,” she muses quietly.

Kara nods, because, yeah, she’s not wrong about that. But, god.

She breathes in through her nose and holds it for three beats, attempting to Calm Down even as she makes no effort to actually stop the way she's grinding into Lena.

Eventually, once she can think past the pleasure slinging low in her hips, she tilts her head to fit their lips together again in a soft brush of lip against lip. It's a chaste kiss, but Kara still sinks into it, releasing one of Lena's hands to palm at her breast.

Lena eagerly arches under her and Kara swallows the breathy sound she makes, resolving to get her act together. Lena's been so, so good—so patient even with Kara's hands all over her—and she deserves to feel good twenty minutes ago. So, she brushes her thumb across Lena's breast, feeling for her nipple through her sweater and bra and humming happily when she finds the ball bearings of her piercing.

Lena lets out a desperate little noise, legs falling open as much as the couch allows. Kara smiles against her lips, sliding her hand further down until she can press the heel of her palm up between her legs.

Lena's foot drops to the floor with a soft thump and she uses the leverage to roll her hips into Kara's hand with a quiet whimper.

"Please," she whispers and Kara feels her neck grow hot.

"Okay, baby."

She unbuttons Lena's shorts and slowly drags the zipper down, listening for the hitch in her breathing.

Lena doesn't disappoint—she never disappoints—breath stuttering out when Kara eases her hand down the front of her shorts and presses two fingers up against the damp fabric of her underwear.

"Cute," Kara murmurs, and Lena squirms beneath her, cheeks flushed, back arching to push her breast more fully into Kara's palm. It's so lovely—Lena's so lovely—that Kara has no choice but to stroke along the patch of wet for a while longer, just to draw it out, before finally pulling away to slip her hand back down past the waistband of her underwear and rub the pads of her fingers directly over Lena's swollen clit.

Lena whines, teeth sinking into a kiss-bruised lip, pleading eyes flitting over Kara's face, searching, entreating.

Kara circles Lena's clit a couple more times before pushing lower, fingertips nudging at her entrance and drenching in her excitement, lifting her other hand to cup her cheek.

Lena releases her lower lip with a shaky sigh and Kara skims her thumb over it.

"Kara," Lena says, all air, lips brushing at her thumb, hips jogging up into her other hand, and Kara just grins because she knows. Slips her thumb past parted lips, rocks in in in until she's filled Lena up with two fingers in her cunt and a thumb in her mouth, until Lena's eyes are rolling back as she shudders and clenches and sucks.

"Fuck, you're good," Kara rasps, and Lena tightens around the fingers inside her, whimpering around the thumb pressing at her tongue.

Kara leans in to pepper Lena's face with tiny kisses. "Let me know when you're ready," she mumbles, nosing at a warm cheek.

Lena immediately lifts her hips to meet her hand, tongue slicking wet and greedy against her thumb, letting Kara know she's ready ready.

The breath gusts right out of her when Kara pulls her fingers out and thrusts back in again, a shuddering gasp tearing from her throat as she eagerly takes the stretch. She's hot and eager, and the insistent tug of her cunt every time Kara presses in and bumps at her throbbing clit reveals just how close she is already, just how long she's been patiently waiting on the razor's edge for Kara to take care of her.

"You've been so good, haven't you?" Kara asks.

Lena clenches hard, teeth closing around Kara's thumb. "Please," she whimpers, although it sounds more like 'leazhe with her mouth filled as it is.

"You've been such a good girl for me, haven't you?" Kara says again, punctuating her words by thrusting with extra force.

"Kara—"

"I want to hear it from your lips, baby." Kara leans in to kiss the corner of her mouth, then speaks her next words into her flushed cheek. "I want you to tell me how good you've been while I'm filling you up."

"Fuck," Lena gasps, eyes glassy, back arching higher with every hint of pressure against her clit. "'ve been so good for you. Please, please— I've been a good girl. Been good. I—"

She chokes off with a whine when Kara curls her fingers on a particularly heavy thrust, palm mashing against her clit.

"Yeah, you have," Kara agrees. "You're always so sweet."

A sympathetic shiver ripples through her when Lena recklessly jerks her hips up again, trying to get closer, to take her fingers deeper.

“Bet you'll sound extra sweet when you come for me."

Lena lets out a desperate, hiccuping moan. Then, with her tongue dragging against the thumb in her mouth, it only takes a few more deep strokes for her to fall apart on Kara's fingers, thighs clamping tight and cunt clenching rhythmically as her teeth dig into Kara's thumb.

"There you go, baby. You did so well," Kara murmurs, leaning in and pressing her smile to Lena's sweat-damp temple when she tightens around her fingers. "You're perfect."

She waits for Lena's breathing to even out and for the clenching of her body to slow to light flutters before she frees her thumb and eases her fingers out, prompting a quiet hitching breath. She wipes them on her underwear as best she can with the awkward angle then pulls her hand out of her shorts.

Lena's cheeks are flushed, her hair's all over the place, her nose and forehead are shiny with exertion, and she's beautiful.

"I love you," Kara says, kissing the tip of Lena's sweaty nose.

"Mm," Lena hums drowsily. "Love you, too."

"Gonna fall asleep on me?" Kara asks, nudging her smile against the apple of her cheek.

"Under you, yeah."

Kara laughs and snags a blanket off the arm of the couch behind Lena's head. She throws it over them, then carefully drapes herself over Lena, smiling when she snakes her arms up to wrap low around her waist.

"Who needs a weighted blankie when you've got Supergirl," Kara says.

Lena huffs out a quiet laugh and squeezes her tight.

---

Kara sort of forgets about how much she loves seeing Lena in thigh-high stockings.

Lena looks good in anything—and in absolutely nothing, of course—so after that first time, Kara doesn't think about the thigh-highs. It's always lingering there in the back of her mind, but it's just not something she actually, truly, really stops to think about.

It isn't, until it is.

She walks into her bedroom after work on an otherwise ordinary Thursday evening and finds Lena surrounded by lit candles, lying prone in the middle of her bed. Her legs are bent at the knee with her feet up in the air and she's completely naked except for the candy apple-red of her thigh-high stockings.

Kara almost walks right out again, half-convinced she's just walked into the wrong apartment, half-convinced she's fallen asleep at the office and is now having a sex dream.

"Uh, hello?" she says around a dry throat, as good a greeting as any.

Lena smirks at her and licks her lips.

"Hello," she returns. "I've been waiting for you to get back."

"Yeah?"

Lena rolls her eyes, propping her chin up on her palm.

"Yes, baby. I'm lying in bed naked for you. Are you gonna come do something about it?"

Kara stumbles a step further into the bedroom.

"What… what's the occasion?"

Lena pauses, pretending to consider, then drops her hand down on top of the other and presses her cheek to her flat arms.

"Nothing," she says simply, a girlish giggle hiding in her voice. "Just wanted to do something fun on a— What day is it?"

Kara swallows hard and lifts her wrist to look down at her very-analog watch.

"It's…"

Her watch face only tells her it's some time after six so she racks her brain and tries to remember which day the little green marker on her calendar had been under.

"Thursday?" she mostly-guesses.

"Just wanted to do something fun on a Thursday," Lena amends, eyes sparkling with laughter.

Kara drops her messenger bag on the ground and takes another couple of steps until she's standing right next to the bed. She reaches down to tug her button-up out of its tuck. "What did you have in mind?"

"Thought maybe you could put your cock on and I could ride you," Lena says.

Kara goes stock still, fingers going limp around the handful of cotton-blend fabric bunched in her hand, shirt still mostly tucked. The sound of Lena’s voice—lilting and lovely as she says something so filthy that the tips of her ears heat up—makes her shiver with preemptive excitement.

"Okay, yeah," she breathes, redirecting her attention towards undoing her belt.

"Great," Lena says, sitting up and revealing the harness lying next to her, already fitted with a sizable dick. Kara bites the inside of her cheek to hide her smile.

Her wonderful, gorgeous, brilliant, ever-prepared girlfriend.

"C'mere, baby," Lena murmurs, and Kara realizes that her fingers have stalled out again, the extra leather length of her belt looping goofily out of her pants where it's still tucked into her belt loops.

She lets her hands drop limply to her sides, then chews at her lower lip as she watches Lena slowly undo her belt, feeling each tug and yank as Lena nimbly loosens her belt like a teasing stroke against her clit. By the time Lena's fingering the button of her pants with one hand and sliding the zipper down with the other, Kara's already breathing hard, nostrils flaring as she tries to keep her hips from swaying forward into her hands.

Lena only smiles, red lips curling dangerously.

Kara shivers, suddenly noticing just how close her mouth is to her—

"What’re you thinking about, Kara?" Lena asks suddenly, and Kara snaps her eyes up to meet hers, blinking quickly.

"Nothing!"

Lena slides a warm palm up the inside of her thigh until her thumb is nudging lightly between Kara's legs.

"So, not thinking about fucking my mouth?" she asks, voice innocent. It's a direct contrast to the way she rubs her knuckle up against her and Kara almost doubles over.

"Jesus, Lena," she wheezes, and Lena laughs and pulls her hand away.

"I'll behave," Lena says, though they both know she won't. "Now hurry up and take your pants off so I can make you feel good."

Kara stops dallying. She undoes the button on her chinos, shoves them down, and steps out of them. She's about to push her underwear down too when Lena lets out an appreciative sound. She lifts Kara's button-up and has her hold it out of the way, hands finding their way back to her hips and smoothing over her dinosaur-print boxer briefs.

"These're cute," she murmurs. "Soft."

And then she leans forward and nuzzles indulgently at the front of them, hands squeezing at Kara's ass.

Kara's hips shudder reflexively and she bites back a groan, almost certain she can feel the way Lena's rubbing her smile against the front of her boxer briefs.

"H-hey," she doesn't stutter. "Baby…"

Lena simply hums, hands squeezing one last time before sliding up so her fingers can slip just below the band of her underwear. She moves dangerously from nuzzling to hot, open-mouthed kisses and Kara whines, hips pressing forward, blinking hard.

"Hhhey," she tries again, fist clenching around her shirt.

"Hi, hello, hey," Lena says sweetly, smiling up at her. And then she yanks her boxer briefs down and dips in to take her into her mouth, tongue hot and slick against Kara's twitching clit.

"Fuck," Kara gasps, free hand twisting into Lena's soft hair. "Oh fuck."

Lena slides her hands up to cup the back of Kara's thighs and keep her close.

"You’re so hard for me," she mumbles before she goes right back to sucking at her, and Kara feels her soul trying to escape.

She lets her indulge for as long as she can handle it, but the moment the ball of heat in her belly goes from gooey and pliable to a stiff, tensing thing, she has to pull away from Lena's mouth, hips shuddering.

"Sorry," she says, sifting her fingers through the hair at Lena's temple as she tries to ignore the throbbing between her legs. "Sorry, I'm sensitive. Close."

Lena looks up at her with eyes swallowed by pupil, lips and chin and cheeks smeared with wetness. She licks her lips with a pleased noise.

"You wanna come?" she asks, and the sound of her voice, scratchy with want, sends heat dancing up Kara's spine. She barely stifles a needy whine.

"Yeah," she manages. "Yeah, I really wanna. But not like this."

Lena's pretty gray-green eyes flick up to meet hers again and she nods, backing off. She reaches for the harness and passes it to her before leaning back on her hands to watch her step out of the boxers bunched at her ankles and into the harness, eyes flashing appreciatively as she tightens the straps.

The base nudges against her ever so slightly, but more than anything, the solid weight of her cock bobbing between her legs feeling comfortable and sexy and right has Kara swallowing hard.

"All good?" Lena asks, reaching out and gently running a finger along her length.

Kara bites her lip, not quite managing to muffle her moan when she feels that light touch, a shock of pleasure sparking through her. Her hips sway forward, instinctively chasing it, but it’s almost too good fucking into the air like that and she has to suck in a sharp breath and straighten up again.

After another deep bracing breath, Kara nods and crawls onto the bed. She immediately attempts to push Lena down and straddle her, but Lena gently stops her with a hand to her shoulder.

She smiles, red lips curving up.

"I'm on top," she says, voice low as she urges Kara down instead. "I'm riding, remember?"

Kara flops back against the pillows and remembers all right.

Lena straddles her easily, doesn't give her time to breathe, or think, just wraps her fingers around her cock and guides it until the tip of it is sliding between her legs to nudge at her clit.

"Fuck," Lena breathes, and Kara nods in agreement, trying not to buck.

And then Lena drags it back, fits the head to her entrance, and slowly drops onto her.

The first few inches sink in and Kara nearly breaks from the sound of Lena's breath catching high and fluttery in her throat. She forcibly tears her eyes away from the way Lena's thighs are trembling—the way her quads are subtly tensing and relaxing against red fabric as she works to take her—and stares instead at the way her lower lip glistens as she gasps, at the way her pretty eyes go glassy as she pants and slides her hands up under Kara's shirt to brace against her abs.

"Take your time, baby," Kara mumbles. "As slow as you n—"

Lena abruptly rolls her hips down, taking Kara’s entire cock and her breath away with it. She's hot, silken, wanting, and Kara doesn't know if she's ever been more in love.

Lena whimpers, fingers spasming against Kara's abs. She rolls her hips again, slow and shuddery, clit peeking out red and already swollen and begging to be touched.

Kara muffles a groan, ignoring the tension building in her stomach to settle her thumb over it and rub.

Lena jerks with a hitching gasp, pressing down harder into her lap, and Kara almost laughs at her eagerness. She slides her other hand up over the near-sheer fabric of Lena’s stockings, thumbing encouragingly at her inner thigh.

“Good?” she asks, knowing full well what the answer is and wanting to hear it anyway.

Lena whines, flushed all down her chest, which draws Kara’s attention to how adorably hard her nipples are. She lets her gaze linger, admiring the simple beauty of the silver ball bearings nestled to either side of stiff dusky nipples.

“It’s good,” Lena chokes out, thighs flexing as she lifts up and slides back down with a sound so wet it makes Kara’s ears hot. It’s all she can do to keep her thumb working over her clit. “You feel so fucking good like this.”

And then she starts to ride, thigh-highs red as sin and clinging to her soft thighs as she bounces on Kara’s lap, fingers splayed on her stomach for balance as she arches her back and drops her hips harder and harder with every stroke, breath escaping in tiny mewling gasps. She only sounds like that when she’s close, when she feels so good the noises slip right out of her.

Kara groans, the sound of Lena enjoying herself heightening the pleasure she feels.

“Oh god,” she grunts, eyelids fluttering shut when Lena drops and swivels her hips in a figure-eight that almost makes her lose control.

Blunt nails suddenly dig into the skin of her stomach and Lena lets out a disapproving noise, slowing down. “Open your eyes,” she says, voice low but demanding.

Kara forces her eyes open.

“Watch me,” Lena says. “Watch how I take you.”

"Fuck,” Kara whispers, goosebumps rushing to cover her arms.

Lena’s lips curl up dangerously and she picks up the pace again. She doesn’t give Kara a chance to rest, to pull herself together, to back up from the edge she’s so close to tumbling over. Just settles right back into a steady groove.

So Kara watches—dangerously close to coming—as Lena circles her hips in more figure-eights, as she pulls up and leaves a slick, wet trail on her cock before pushing down, cunt lewdly spreading to accommodate her girth.

It's dizzying, mind-melting, to hear and feel and watch Lena fucking herself.

"You're so— you're so pretty, baby," Kara says hoarsely.

Lena drops into her lap with a whine and this time it's too much and too good. The pressure between her legs finally tips over the edge of manageable.

"Fuck," Kara grits out behind clenched teeth, vision blurring, hot pleasure beginning to spill from the full reservoir in her belly. "Gonna come."

Lena moans, clit twitching against Kara's thumb, which has somehow, magically, more-or-less stayed put this whole time.

"Want you to come," she gasps, rocking in Kara's lap now, keeping her fully inside as she eagerly presses her clit to Kara's thumb. "Feels so good, want you to come."

She's so sweet, so perfect as she grinds down. Kara barely manages to nod before she spasms, body shuddering, back arching so hard she lifts Lena up a few inches as she bucks.

The way she drives her hips up to chase that blissful pressure seems to be enough for Lena, too. She lets out a breathy whimper and comes shortly after Kara does, clenching so tight around her cock that she doesn't budge from her lap even as Kara's hips jerk up.

It's euphoric—addicting—and it takes several shaky moments for Kara to regain all her senses, though she keeps slowly and mindlessly fucking into her just to prolong their pleasure.

Lena's arms give out and she collapses onto Kara with a small moan, languidly rolling her hips down as the change in angle shifts the way Kara rests inside her.

"God," Lena rasps where she's tucking her sweaty face to Kara's neck. "Oh my god."

Kara manages to let out a concurring sound, stroking her fingers up and down Lena's sides and enjoying the feeling of her soft warmth permeating her shirt. Her button-up and bra will have to come off eventually, but for now she just wants to lie here, floppy and weak post-orgasm, with her beautiful girlfriend breathing hard on top of her.

"You really like me in these, huh?" Lena pants.

"Sure do. Happy fucking Thursday to me," Kara mumbles, sliding one hand down to squeeze at Lena's ass.

"Mm, god, yeah," Lena says, bringing her own hand up to scratch gently at Kara's scalp.

They lay in contented silence for several minutes, long enough for Kara to start fading into a sated half-doze even with underwire digging into her skin, before she shakes off the sleepy and kisses Lena's head.

"I should shower," she says when Lena lets out a disgruntled noise to tell her she's moving too much.

Lena huffs a sigh but pushes herself upright as Kara sits up with her, causing her dick to shift inside of her again. Lena's breath catches and she bites at her lower lip.

Suddenly, separating for a shower sounds like a very not-good idea to Kara. In a maneuver that she's proud of herself for pulling off, Kara scoots towards the end of the bed with Lena on her lap and stands up. Lena squeaks, wrapping her legs around her waist as Kara smiles gleefully.

"What are you doing?" Lena asks breathlessly, eyes glittering.

"Like I said, need to shower," Kara says, heading off to the bathroom with her cock still buried inside Lena, already thinking about how nicely her moans will echo.

"Wanna see how good these thigh-highs will look on you when they’re wet, pretty baby."

—

Turns out the thigh-highs, like Lena, look absolutely delectable when wet.

—

It doesn't come as a surprise when Lena finally, officially moves into Kara's apartment with a whole drawer full of thigh-high socks.

[vivwritesfics]

Okay bonus bc you asked for Christmas/winter break ideas! What about Oscar taking Lando & reader to experience and Aussie Christmas and they’re just on the beach and bbq-ing etc and they can’t get over how different it is from uk Christmas’s 🤣

"Okay so we're starting at mine with my family, mum will do the traditional roast and then we do a family walk on the beach. And then we head off to Landos for a second round of British Christmas and then, by the end of the week, we're off to Australia for Oscar to give us the traditional Australian Christmas. Sound like a plan?" Asked Y/N as she flipped through her diary, laying the plan out before her boyfriends.

"Sounds good to me, baby," said Lando as he leaned back in his seat.

Oscar took a moment to look through Y/Ns plan. "This is a lot of travelling. Are you guys sure you're okay with that?"

They nodded their heads as they looked at their Australian. "Definitely, Osc. I seriously can't wait to experience my first Australian Christmas," Y/N said as she wrapped her arms around him. She ran his hands through his hair, pushing it away from his face and used it to tip his head back and give him a quick kiss.

First they had to get through Y/Ns British Christmas. Her family wasn't very understanding of their relationship, and it had taken a good year but they'd gotten used to it now. Now they said nothing, Y/N father would just give them funny looks. They had the roast dinners Y/Ns mother prepared and took her nieces and newphews on a rather cold beach walk. All three of them were wrapped up warm, with Lando and Oscar wearing their Mclaren caps.

And then it was off to Lando's. His Christmas was much the same as Y/Ns, but his family nicer and they didn't do a freezing cold beach walk.

And then they were jetting off for Australian Christmas and New year's. The light was long, with Y/N napping against Lando as he and Oscar watched a movie (but, in no time at all, they were sleeping too, the three of them all laying against each other).

Things were hot when they landed, not like they had been in England. Oscar was so excited to take Y/N and Lando to his parents. They'd met his mum during the season (and she loved the two of them) but they hadn't yet been to his place in Australia.

On the first night they had a seafood barbecue. Only half of thr barbecue had fish, the other had was regular (because they had fussy britches with them). Oscar had on his shorts and flip flops (or thongs) on as he barbecued, showing off his skills. "Looking good, Osc," Lando grinned as he watched him, sweating as he slaved over the barbecue.

Oscar blushed red as Y/N and Lando grinned at him.

The next day, Christmas day, they went for a swim. The water was lovely as Y/N, Lando and Oscar swam in the Australian sea. It was wonderfully refreshing, considering Lando and Y/N would usually be in their pyjamas, wrapped up warm under blankets as they drank hot chocolate.

There was backyard cricket and a traditional Christmas dinner. Barbecue, cold ham and turkey, potato bake and alcohol. They had pavlova and trifle with beer to top it off.

At the end of the night, Lando, Y/N and Oscar sat on the beach, staring out at the seas. It was the first time they'd managed to be alone since arriving in the land down under. "How have you guys enjoyed your first aussie Christmas?" Oscar asked, his arms wrapped around them.

"Absolutely loved it," Y/N said as she dug her toes into the sand.

"It was brilliant, Osc. Thank you," lando said and kissed him.

[a-not-so-clean-blog]

Nu carnival x ftm period

Mentions of blood, general pain, dysphoria, and drugs

♦️Garu, Aster, Morvay

Yakumo

Boy is comforting by nature and he will do anything in his power to make you feel better. Warm soup, mint tea, any kind of comfort food; he'll make it all for you. If he needs to he will even fight the awkwardness and ask his grandma for advice on how to make “someone” on their period feel better. He knows better than to out you to anybody, even to the people he trusts most. He just wants you to feel better.

Edmond

He's going to need some help. He heard that people like chocolate when this happens so he gets you expensive chocolate confections from your favorite bakery. If he's not too busy he might make some with you. Quality time is important to him and he wants you to know he's here to support you even if he's too awkward to express it with words. He will make time to try and comfort you as much as he can but it will be in all non verbal ways.

Olivine

He will pray for your recovery. He sympathizes with you, he understands how much his essence imbalance hurts him so it makes sense that your hormone imbalance hurts you. It hurts him seeing you so uncomfortable and him not being able to help. He really doesn't want to leave you alone and it hurts him when he can't be by you to help. Even if it's simply grabbing something for you he wants to take as much of your burden as he can.

Quincy

Quincy is big and I think he's very warm too, especially his right hand because of the gem. He cuddles up to you and uses himself as a hot water bottle. Resting his hand on your stomach and letting you use him as a pillow. If you have any kind of mood shifts he takes it in stride. It kind of reminds him of dealing with a cat; wanting pets one moment and biting his hand the next. It doesn't bother him much though and it's nice having a grounding personality like his around while you wait out the pain. He probably offers some natural pain killers if it gets bad.

Kuya

He has a herb that he gives you to help. You don't know what the plant is but it helps. All the pain and discomfort are gone but it makes you feel weird in the head. You've tried finding the plant but no book or even Quincy knows what it is. Kuya just tells you not to worry about it and enjoy not being in pain. You should probably be more weary of him but the herb works so well that you can't really say no.

Blade

He freaks out when you tell him you're bleeding. He thinks you're injured and immediately goes into protection mode. You have to explain it happens to some guys monthly. That's satisfactory for his curiosity for now. It's best to just tell him what helps you manage pain. If you don't he will take the initiative to look up what will help…and he will want you to try the weirdest home remedies. So unless you want him asking you to put a frozen potato wedge cover in sesame oil in your underwear, I suggest being open with him very early. It's so hard to say no to his puppy eyes when he's just trying to help.

Garu

This gets a little weird so continue with caution. He smells it right before you start bleeding and it scares him the first time. It hurts your heart to have him look at you so worried for a week. You know he's just concerned but honestly it doesn't help the dysphoria at all.

Karu

He is confused. Normally if something is causing you pain he just breaks it. Like when you stubbed your toe on the table, no more table no more problem. However he can't just rip your guts out, that would just make more of a problem. He tends to keep his distance unless you give him a specific task, once the task is over he's going back to keeping his distance though.

Dante

He is no help. Honestly he has no idea what to do. Normally the guys he's around only bleed when they are stabbed, but at least he knows how to dress a stab wound. This however, is out of his league. When this time starts he will assign a personal assistant to you to help. They have full permission to get you literally anything you need. Dante doesn't want to know about periods and assumes you don't want anyone to know about yours either, so your assistant is also sworn to secrecy.

Rei

No help in the beginning. I don't think he's been around many AFAB people so you are going to be his first reference point. After this happens a few times though he actually figures out the best ways to help you. He will learn what makes you feel better in terms of painkillers vs muscle relaxers, he learns if any foods make you feel worse and avoids them. Yeah he treats it like an experiment but as long as it helps in the long run he doesn't think it matters. Also he memorized all the early signs and is fully prepared for when it actually starts. I'm not sure how skilled he is with a scalpel (or if you can trust him with a scalpel) but he may offer to remove the problem if you want.

Eiden

I think he's the only one on this list who truly understands how much this week triggers your dysphoria. He will do anything he can help physically, but he is also extra protective of your masculinity during this time. He will literally fight anyone who misgenders you, and makes sure to give you lots of compliments. “Y’know most guys can't handle pain as well as you do. I've even seen knights cry at the sight of a paper cut haha!” He's very proud of you and will make sure you know just how manly you are.

Aster

Also kinda nasty so read at your own risk…. “Free meal”. He uh, gets pretty excited when it happens. He tells you stuff like “you look so handsome today~” and other masc compliments but it's all a ploy to get in your pants. Honestly he's more pushy than Morvay is when you're bleeding. It's just that the constant smell of your blood is impossible for him to ignore. He helps with pain management but is really only invested in the clean up.

Morvay

He heard an orgasm helps with cramps… this is the only thing he will do to help, but being a service bottom he does it so well. He will bring you food in bed, let you eat, make you cum till you can't see straight and pass you, rinse and repeat for a week. He gets so pouty if you leave because “doctor Morvay” just wants to make you feel better.

[jungle-angel]

All That Meat And No Potatoes (Calvin Evans x Reader)

Summary: Cooking Thanksgiving dinner with your husband turns into a giant chemistry lesson

Warnings: Parenthood

Tagging: @floydsmuse @ateliefloresdaprimavera

Calvin came through the front door with Six Thirty right at his side, the paper grocery bags full to the brim with all the supplies you would ever need for dinner. It seemed that every year, the entire neighborhood would be coming, the Shangs, Henny's family, Marie and Louie, Sandy and her family and everyone in between.

"Alright, in," Calvin told his loyal companion.

Six-Thirty sniffed a little before trotting into the house and laying down next to Rosie near the fireplace. The fire crackled away, warming the house and banishing the cold outside. Ellen gripped the couch as her little self waddled from side to side, still getting the hang of walking and just now beginning to talk a little. Calvin planted a kiss on her little pink cheek before heading into the kitchen to set the groceries down.

"Good grief I don't think I can do this," you sighed, rubbing your eyes.

"S'matter sweet cheeks?" he asked.

"Just all these recipes and shit," you answered.

Calvin pulled the little wooden box towards him, eyeing them carefully from dinner to dessert. "Ok," he said. "Ok we can work with this."

"Are you sure?" you asked him. "I just don't want to muck things up in case your dad's youngest sister comes."

"She won't come," Calvin told you. "Dad already made it very clear that she's not invited."

You breathed out a sigh of relief remembering the last awful encounter with Henry's youngest sister.

"Even still, we'll make sure it comes out ok," Calvin assured you. "Now lets grab an apron and get going."

You and Calvin immediately set to work, chopping vegetables and measuring everything before he switched on the stove.

"Just remember sweetpea," Calvin reminded you. "When the cheese melts the enzymes are denaturing at a quick rate. Too hot, the cheese in the casserole burns and too cool, it'll be a soupy mess."

"Optimal temperature then?" you asked.

"350," Calvin answered. "No more, no less."

You stuck the cheesy broccoli casserole into the oven and switched it to 350 before Calvin set to prepping another dish.

"Now remind me again," you told him. "Four essential elements in the kitchen?"

"Sodium chloride, lipids, carboxylic acids and thermal energy," Calvin said proudly, stirring the pan full of celery and onions.

"Salt, fat, acid and heat would've done nicely," you laughed.

"Dear, you're married to a professor with a doctorate in chemistry," Calvin said with a broad smile.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, standing on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek. "I love you," you whispered.

"I love you too darlin," Calvin said, kissing you back. "Always."

[another-lost-mc]

Pairing: Pollux x f!Reader/MC Rating/Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI; suggestive sexual content; food kink if you squint Word Count: 720 Summary: Dessert first, dinner later (spending the holidays with Pollux)

It was the holiday season in Bound Arlyn, and you wracked your brain thinking of something special to give to Pollux. He frequented all of the local bakeries and candy shops in town on a regular basis so surprising him with holiday treats was next to impossible. He loved it when you went on dates with him to share sandwiches and creamy milkshakes, but you weren’t convinced it was special enough.

Inspiration struck you one day when you were helping Arcturus in the academy kitchen. He was making a cheese sauce to accompany one of the side dishes at dinner. You were whisking the sauce to keep it from burning to the bottom of the pot.

“Hey, Arcturus?”

He hummed in acknowledgement while he was bent low, pulling a hot pan from the oven.

“Have you ever had fondue?”

Arcturus placed the tray on a cooling rack and took off his oven mitts. “Hm, I’m not sure that sounds familiar.”

You explained to him it was like a presentation of a warm cheese used for dipping bread, potato, or certain types of fruit.

“Oh, that sounds delicious!” Arcturus beamed at you. “I bet Pollux would love that too.”

You experimented in the kitchen when you had free time. You decided to try making a chocolate fondue dip, experimenting with the ratios of cream, chocolate, and vanilla before adding a touch of sweet brandy.

When you perfected your recipe, you walked into town to gather the missing items for Pollux’s gift. You couldn’t find a fondue pot, but you were able to find a small serving dish you could keep warm with a small lantern. You visited the bakery and grocer, picking up cookies and fresh fruits to slice and use for dipping. 

You gave Pollux a handwritten invitation to join you in your room later that evening. He blushed when he took the envelope from you, reading the card with a pleased twinkle in his eyes. “Are we having a tea party?” he asked excitedly. Tea parties always involved some sort of dessert.

“Something like that.” You smiled at him and kept your response vague. You wanted to give him something to look forward to.

Your plan went off without a hitch. Pollux arrived at your door right on time, wearing an elegant suit you’ve never seen before. He blushed and handed you a small bouquet of beautiful flowers. 

“These only bloom during the coldest months of the year,” he explained while you found a small vase to put them in. The blue and purple flowers almost looked like they were covered in fresh, powder-white snow. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him close. “They’re beautiful, thank you.” The flush on his face deepened even more when you stood on your toes and kissed his cheek.

He followed you to the little table you set up near the balcony doors, the dip already prepared and warming over a gentle flame. Pollux leaned over and looked into the pot.

“Chocolate?”

You used a small fork to pierce a slice of strawberry. “It’s a dish from back home,” you explained as you dipped the strawberry into the pot. “It’s a warm dip called fondue. It’s popular to make with cheese.” You leaned forward, cupping your hand under the fork and holding it in front of his mouth. “I thought you might enjoy trying the dessert version instead.”

He held your gaze, eyes glittering while he wrapped his lips around the fruit and slid it off the fork. There was a small smudge of chocolate in the corner of his mouth. He wrapped his hand around your wrist before you could pull away. He put the fork back into his mouth, letting it slide between his lips while he chased the lingering hints of chocolate left behind. He grinned while he licked his lips.

You set the fork back down on the table, and you looked at each other for a moment. Pollux turned away first, drawing a chair from under the table and taking a seat. He slowly unbuttoned his dinner jacket and loosened the tie around his neck. He had a teasing smile but the glint in his eye was no less hungry. He leaned back in his chair and patted his lap invitingly. You could already see the outline of his bulge straining against the zipper of his pants.

“I’m starving.”

[otpcutie]

Category preference game

Tysm @late-to-the-party-81 for tagging me in this game!! <3 These are my answers:

Egg: scrambled

Steak: well done

Milk: lactose free, or fun like spearmint/mocha

Alcohol: I'm not a fan of it but I do like mojitos

Warm drink: dark hot chocolate/mocha or black tea

Potato: hehe all the potatoes! like @late-to-the-party-81 quoted: PO-TAY-TOES. Boil ‘em, mash ‘em, stick ‘em in a stew. XD

Spice tolerance: none lol

Tagging: @siobhanhazel @apricitydays-lazynights @stargazing-enby @ghotifishreads @opalineobsidian

@mandyyvibes @katia-anyway @sunshineailin @starksvinyls @mrs-illyrian-baby @muse-of-gods & anyone else who wants to, pls tag me I'd love to see :3

[historia-vitae-magistras]

Canukr 12 for the dialogue prompts

I have no idea what's going on in this fic anymore but it's written so voila. The usual siblings suffering in a trench having a conversation about love, life and what have you with background ukrcan.

Spring, 1916

Jack might have been dead, as stiff as a corpse well into rigour mortis in this cold. His toes wouldn't flex in his boots, and when he peeled back his mitts, the skin on his fingers was cracked straight through. They should have bled, but his hands were too cold. He shoved them under his armpits and shuddered into the tent's wall. If he got any closer to the anemic fire, he'd set himself alight, but there was no point in living in this kind of cold. He wished he could close his eyes and see his home's cracked, desperately thirsty surface rather than that of his own hands—dry, warm sun and blue instead of the endless grey. Or that Zee would get off duty and nick some whiskey. Either would do.

“Hey,” came Matt's low whisper, gentle but as freezing as a polar wind. “You still awake?”

“No,” Jack muttered but shifted and opened his eyes: Matt was tall and sharp and the pale green of a blade of frosted grass. He was still damp from the showers.

“Jesus, Mattie. You sick?” Jack asked him.

Matt shot him an odd look and touched his greenish cheek. “Oh, right. No. Not sick. Just woke up on the corpse pile again,”

“Fuck mate,”

“Ah, all fine. Just was looking for something, it was stupid.” He knelt to sit next to Jack on the sandbag bed, and for the first time, Jack noticed he was out of regulation even more than usual, a blue sweater over their grey army-issued undershirts poking out from under his unbuttoned coat.

“You going to sleep?"

"Nah, can't get any proper sleep when I've got snow balls.”

Matt grinned, a flash of snow blindness. “Bet I can help with that,”

He produced an earthen crock, its contents held by butcher paper held shut with twine, tore it open with his teeth and thrust it into Jack's hands, displaying it with a proud grin.

He blinked.

“It's warm,” He said dumbly. He could feel it with his own two hands, warm and still steaming. Oh, there might be a God.

“It was hot,” Matt said sorrowfully, but Jack paid him little mind. He smelled things he had half-forgotten. Onion, garlic, celery, carrots, peas, potatoes, pepper. Curry. Fucking miracle of miracles—

"Is this... curry?"

Matt grinned again. "Curried lentils, yeah."

“Soup?” He gaped. “Like actual soup? Not from a tin?”

Matt smiled. “Fresh from the cookfires of the Indian division. Aditya says you're welcome."

He dug his mess kit from deep in the pockets of his great coat and scooped some into his mouth. But it tasted as good as it smelled. Vegetal and garlicky. No meat but— Oh! Lentils. Right, some of the Indian divisions were vegetarians.

“God, that's so good,”

Matt snorted. "Is it? Good!"

"Didn't you get any?"

"I didn't have scurvy last month," Matt said. "Speak of, how's the teeth?"

"In my head," Jack said. They ached. But they were firmly in his gums, at least. "Get over here and help me eat this, you sad bastard. I'm cold just looking at you."

"I'm okay." Matt said.

"Oh, get off the cross, we need the wood." Jack rolled his eyes. "No ones going go lose the war because you only martyred yourself once today. Get over here."

Sheepishly, Matt sat, and Jack dumped some soup out for himself. He gave Matt his half in the warm redware.

"Thanks," He said. He looked oddly worn out, even for him, and Jack kicked another log onto the anemic fire.

"What got you this time?"

"Concussive blast, I think." He grimaced, one hand floating over his shoulder before he realized what he was doing and put his hand back to hold his soup.

"Do you want to go bunk with the old man? He's got a few rooms in some ponce's chateau. Warmer than out here."

Matt shook his head. "They'll be fucking."

"Who's... oh your... yeah." Jack grimaced sympathetically. "Can't blame you there. Fucken awkward just being in the same room at those two much less when they're your... whatever Bonnefoy is."

Matt hummed a particularly miserable agreement, and Jack elbowed him. "Hey, you carked it. Means you'll get another care package from Alfred, right?"

Matt snorted. "You keep more track of when those arrive than I do."

"Well yeah, where else am I going to get the good shit?"

Matt shouldered him, jostling their seat. "You just want chocolate."

"Always." He grinned and was awarded the slightest smile from Matt for his efforts and thought he might press his luck. "What are my chances of you translating some Baudelaire for me?"

Matt stirred his soup and gave a flat, dead stare. Jack laughed, uncomfortable.

"Take that as a no."

"Not a no. Just... Not today."

He gave Matt a wry grin. He’d pushed his luck, and he knew it. He gave Matt a gentle elbow and took up some more soup. He was grateful. Extra calories were a small thing in the grand scheme. However, Matt, the blessed bloodhound he sometimes was, could sniff out and scavenge spare calories at a thousand paces. The smell of soup and broth was so… normal compared to damp wool, a soggy tent, and French soil. Wet, horrible, cold French soil. He kicked at the duckboards and the hard-packed earth beneath his feet.

“Thanks for this, by the way.” He said.

Matt glanced up. “Of course. You looked like you needed a hot meal and rack time as badly as I do.”

“… About that rack time.” He grimaced, remembering the envelope in his pocket with all the odd markings Zee had told him to pass on when he saw Matt. “It’s encrypted, so it's probably urgent.”

“No.” Matt lifted one finger. “Not until I’ve eaten. This is going in me, I’m going to pretend I didn’t just crawl my way out of a corpse pile for a bit and then Dad can ruin my day.”

Jack snorted. “Look at you, not coming like a labrador just because Dad called.”

“Ah, piss off you.” Matt gave him a gentle whack. He was the best of their father, sometimes. They ate in companionable silence for a long while, silent except for the fire. Matt finished and tossed himself on the berth Zee commandeered when she was so sick of the posh limey nurses she worked with that even the comfortable billets they had weren’t worth the fucken poms and gestured for it.

“All right, I’m human, give it up.”

“Ah, bloody hell, where’d I stick it.” He went patting himself down.

“Half of me doesn’t want you to find it.” Matt shook his head. “Try your cartridge pocket. You’re always sticking things in there and forgetting.”

“Am not,” Jack said, putting his hand there anyways. Fuck, Matt was right. “All right, never mind. Am so.”

Matt shook his head, hand out. “Give it up,”

“Arsehole,”

“Sieve for brains.” He got a shoulder squeeze as he handed over the dirty envelope. Matt barely had it in his hand before going white. This was somewhat disturbing, considering he was practically green even in the firelight, and his knees collapsed beneath him as he sprawled onto the bed again.

“Matt? What... is it that bad? Why did they have to send it in code like that?" It was covered in circles, stabbed through, or otherwise backward-written.

“It’s not code…” He fumbled for his pocket knife and opened it carefully. “That’s cyrillic.”

“Cyrillic? What, like the Russian stuff?”

“Ukrainian!” Matt blurt out. He’d lit up from the inside out, colour coming into his face for the first time in weeks. He kissed the envelope.“It’s from Katia.”

“What, that scary blonde lady with the braid things?” He gestured to his head, and Matt sighed, lovelorn. Actually lovelorn. Christ was a kookaburra. The Russians occasionally tossed boats on his front doorstep whenever Ivan felt he didn’t get enough attention from Dad. He had occasionally glanced at her on other occasions, dressed well and fierce looking even when she laughed.

“Most beautiful, terrifying woman on planet earth.” He sounded instantly drunk—bloody hell. Jack had never known him to sound like that. He watched Matt clutch it to his chest like a father when he was being a mad and sentimental old bird and sigh.

“Mate.” Jack watched with amused befuddlement and more than a bit of concern. Creatures have behaviour patterns. The koalas had diets of almost nothing but eucalyptus, were riddled with chlamydia and clung to their mothers' past reason. Matt, too, mostly put away narcotics, was riddled with venereal disease and hadn’t disobeyed their father in a solid decade. Wombats mated in spring between September and December, shat in cubes and lived in their mother’s pouch. Matt mated every leave, probably had the only solid shits in the entire British army and did what their father said. It was the way of the world. He scavenged food, slept poorly, and murdered many. And now he was grinning as his eyes passed over the letter. As much as he tried, Jack couldn't help but worry.

“Mate,” He said again, dropping onto his berth and leaning over, squinting to catch a glimpse as if he’d understand even if he could see the letters. Matt looked like someone had cracked him over the head with a trench shovel again. “What does it say?”

He grinned, holding it to his chest. “It’s from Katia.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that.” He said, brows raised, bemused. Still concerned. “But what does it actually say?”

“Haven’t read it yet.” He said. “I’m just… she wrote me…”

“Why would she write you? Isn’t the eastern front in collapse?”

“Yes,” He said. “The Russians are getting trampled over there and she still wrote.”

Jack gawped. The words were grim against his brother’s delighted expression. “Okay. So why is she writing to you?"

“Might’ve… sort’ve married her.” He mumbled.

“You did what?” Jack stared. “Yoi’ve always been a few roos short of a mob but– you did what?”

“It’s not official. Bread, salt, and sex, mostly. I just–” He took a breath, but that dopey look hadn't left. Jack watched as he kissed the envelope and suddenly felt like doing what he did when their father shagged the frog across some canvas. Fleeing the country.

“Does Dad know?” And if it was possible, Matt’s grin widened.

“Old man hates Ivan so he loves her.”

“You’re telling me that our father, who art an arsehole, hallowed be thy church of him, let you go and– how did you pull that off?”

“I’m older than you,” He said, looking smug, like that explained anything.

“What has– never mind. What does it say?”

“She has these eyes.” He said dreamily.

“Reckon she does,” Jack snorted. “Most people do.”

“Shush,” Matt said, but there was no fire. “They’re alive. They burn. It’s like when the sun comes out.”

“Do you have brain damage? Are you ill?” Jack reached over, putting his hand on Matt’s forehead.

Matt tossed his hand off. “Paws off.”

“I’m serious.” Jack said, seriously scanning him now. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Can’t I be happy without something being wrong?”

“Not this happy!”

“I’m fine. Just, hush a damn minute and let me read. If it isn’t sexy, I’ll translate some of it.”

“Oohohoho now you’re talking. Story time afterall.”

They sat there for a long while, in a strange happiness, the anemic fire higher. Both were relaxed, concern absent from Jack as Matt ripped through the letter. Jack busied himself with stupid little things, straightening their few belongings, pouring each a bit of what whiskey was left from Uncle Alasdair’s last trip back home. He nearly dropped the bottle when Matt yelped.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Which one of you fuckers sent her a photo of me?” He broke into laughter. “With my hair short? Oh my god.”

“That’s a Kiwibird maneuver if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Shitheads, the lot of you.” He was still laughing, fist against the bottom of his ribs. “Jesus Christ.”

“Why, what’d she say?”

“Sit down, its story time.” Matt shook his head, incredulous and overjoyed.

“Dear…” His brother squinted, frowning. “I don’t actually know what that word means. It’s got something to do with spooky and tree and the ending is a diminunitive. Anyway.”

He started again, and Jack listened as he read out loud.

Dear 'word I can’t translate',

We have brought the harvest in. Most of the men are gone, and it was not as easy as it may have been. However, the wheat fields were yellow under the bluest skies this year. You might not recognize this village, even with your head as complete with me as it is with hundreds of thousands of mine now yours. We planted winter wheat, which the British passed on via the Red Cross. To my surprise, I found it was Canadian Soft Red winter wheat. It was a pleasant surprise, I think. You might also thank your sister for that as well.

Regardless, children and seedlings grow, and wheat and men are reaped. On and on it continues. However, with this wheat, a photo and letter were passed onto me. You can imagine my surprise to see you looking so… different. You changed your hair. I like it well enough; you may tell your sister she did a fine job. I do, however, expect it to be of its preferable length when I see you again. I also expect you to remember what I asked of you last we spoke. Remain yourself, Matthew. Also, I would ask you to inform your father that I expect you to be in one piece come the end of this war. He may recall in short order how it was in Miklagarðr.

May the winter be kind,

Katia

Jack raised a sarcastic brow. “She’s romantic.”

“Isn’t she?” Matt said, for once not hearing any of the ironies. “She’s so beautiful with words.”

“Must be prettier in Ukrainian, eh?” He said. Matt sighed and ran a hand through the short curls that made him look like Alfred.

“I wish I hadn’t let them cut it.”

“It’s not like you had a choice," Jack said. His was shorter than usual, and he’d never let it grow long. The thought, 'Even with hundreds of mine now yours,' came unbidden into his mind.

“Do you love her?” He blurted. “Is it love when its like that?”

"Yes," Matt said instantly. He constantly pondered and always considered things before he said them. But not this.

“Is it easier than humans?” Jack tried not to let the green-eyed Irishman he had let himself go arse over heart for flood into his mind. He had to clench his fists.

“Yes,” Matt said. “In a lot of ways. There’s always more time for us. Even if we die, we’ll live. But its no less nerve wracking. I haven’t had a letter from her since the war started. I’m sure Zee had to redirect some serious funding to deliver one and get this back. Remind me to get her something, would you?”

“Fork over that fancy yank soap next time you get a packet from Alfred, and I’m sure she’ll settle.” Jack said because he could easily say that while his thoughts tumbled through his mind. Tossing Will a Yorkshire pudding as he ducked a splatter of tea, laughing when they’d been camped under the pyramids. Blood. A heart-shaped disk he’d hacked out of a bit of scrap iron and slid into Will’s pocket. Screaming. Will’s hand in his as they cuddled too close in their funk hole. Aunt Brighid in black as he’d shovelled the soil over an ancient family plot in an ancient churchyard on a rainy spring morning with Australian autumn in his bones.

His fist clenched, nails puncturing his palm.

“Jack.” Matt was suddenly very close, gently squeezing Jack’s knee. “Hey. I’m sorry.”

His eyes sprang open. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed them.

“It’s fine.”

“Jack.”

“I said its fine!” He snapped. “I’m glad you can fuck our own–”

Matt squeezed his knee again, unflinching and looking like that letter had restored him to his whole self.

“We have a bit of leave soon. Why don’t we order and take a whole crop of snowdrops to Will’s grave? Dad doesn’t need to know." As soon as his anger was there, it was forgotten. The bastard was so fucking reasonable sometimes.

“Yeah.” Jack released his fist and sagged, flopping over onto his berth. “Yeah that sounds nice. Be nice to go up there when I don’t want to shoot Dad for once.”

“There you go.” Another tender pat on his knee as Matt pulled a blanket over him, but Jack shoved his face into the pillow.

“Mattie?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad she wrote to you. You deserve it.”

[dawndiggidydagger]

could i get ahhhhh hero x villain fluff? maybe some snuggles after a long day of work?

i love that you ordered like someone at the mcdonald's drive-through. but of course! thanks for requestingggggggg

Hero x Villain Fluff - Fire Fighter

When she walked through the door, she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. But, I thought that every time I saw her.

"Well, hello there, beautiful," I said, standing from my spot at the computer.

Her brown hair was tied up in a messy bun, and her white lab coat was wrinkled. The dark circles around her eyes told me she had had a long day.

"Hey, hon'," she murmured tiredly, sliding her work bag off of her shoulder. She didn't bother to hang it up, instead tossing it in the corner. She slipped off her lab coat with a grown.

"How was work?" I ask, dutifully picking up her work bag and hanging it on the hook she had insisted I install on the wall.

"Oh, you know how men in power are," she sighed.

I wanted to joke, saying something along the lines of 'incredibly sexy and irresistible?' But she looked sad, frustrated, and exhausted. Her careful mask was crumbling as she relaxed in our home.

"They didn't believe you, did they?" Anger sprung up in my chest like hot fire, licking at my throat.

She shook her head.

"Why, because you're a woman?" The words came out hot and spitting.

"Yeah. They wanted to listen to Doctor Mcgee instead."

Now I was furious. The anger was burning through my entire body. "He isn't even a goddamn doctor! He's a doctor of gender studies. That has nothing to do with the environment! If they don't believe that you're right, I'll make them believe. I'll set the damn ocean on fire myself!"

Hero stepped forward and pressed her cool finger against my lips. "Villain, shhh..." she murmured, smiling lovingly at me.

Her cool touch extinguished the flames consuming me. I calmed instantly, and shut up like she asked.

"It's okay, honey."

"Well, what can I do for you?" I asked, feeling helpless.

She gave me another smile. "How about some dinner, and then we watch a movie? I heard that new mystery-drama is on Netflix."

I agreed. I warmed up her plate of dinner, her favorite: chicken cutlets, mashed potatoes, and garlic green beans. Once she had eaten, I took care of washing the dishes while she started the movie.

I popped some popcorn and sat down on the couch beside her. She rested her head on my shoulder, sighing with contentment. She had been so excited about this new movie, but she didn't even make it past the opening credits.

I sat through the movie. She slept better with voices around anyways. Something about growing up in an orphanage. Once the movie had finished, I carefully carried her up to bed.

I crawled into bed beside her and held her close to me. She relaxed in my arms, her breathing heavy and musical. I pulled her closer, happiness filling me from my head to my toes.

I was the devil, and she quenched the fires of hell.

"I love you, Hero," I whispered into her ear. She continued to sleep.

[igotlostinthesewers]

Some Type Of Drug

Chapter 1: Ninja what, now?

Pairng: Leonardo x Reader

Reader Type: Gender neutral

Song: Free fall- Rainbow Kitten Surprise

Word Count:3046

Warnings: Swearings. Fighting. Blood mentions.

An: First fic for the fandom lol. It's been a while. So here's me dipping my toe in the water to see what's up. Any feedback is appreciated! Also I went through like. Three different one shot ideas until I landed on this one lol.

"If someone is cruel to you because of your soft disposition and generosity, respond to their poison with equal parts sweet honey, equal parts dangerous ferocity."

-Nikita Gill.

To have thought you would trade towering trees for sky scrapers and thick forests for crowds of people. New York was beyond new, beyond strange, for someone who has spent an entire life in quiet mountains and within a small town.

All the same you are here now. The last of your furniture moved into an apartment that seems so small compared to your old home.

You had moved almost a month ago. The small town that had once brought you comfort was now suffocating. People who you have known since childhood smothering you in well wishes and worries.

Don't get it wrong. You were forever grateful to them and all your friends. But enough had been enough. You had to shed the old. To shake of the heavy coat of lingering sadness.  

For what you did not know. But the not knowing was a greater feeling that the smothering sickness that had been depression. It was still there. Longering. But no longer was it the only thing you felt.

The torrential downpour happening outside is some soft of familiarity though. As is the incense slowly wafting around the room. The scent of dragons blood and vanilla heavy in your lungs.

The oil in your skillet spits and spatters around the chicken you are frying. Foam bubbles over the potatoes boiling in their pot. Behind you you can hear the timer on your rice cooker beep.The steaming broccoli is done.

.

.

Not for the first time you find yourself sitting on your bed with your knees drawn to your chest. Night time is the worst. Were there is nothing to distract you from your thoughts.

You look out your window and to the city alight. The blurred lights from other apartments and cars flying through the streets are little distraction. As pretty as they are. The sky is dark and heavy. Full to bursting with blackness from the rain clouds. 

The last of your incense darkens, ashens, then falls to the tray below.

You to fall. Head cradled with pillows. Your heart heavy and throat tight.

.

.

You are woken to your alarm blaring and your cat angrily meowing. He was hungry and you were still tired. 

Knowing that if you laid beneath the covers, warmed by your body, any longer you would once again succumb to the pull of sleep. Instead you threw the covers off with one arm. Chilled air forced a shiver from your body.

You sit up. Stretch. Then go to fill up your cats dish.

It was five in the morning when you glanced at the clock. You had work at seven.

You sat near a cracked open window. A hot cup of coffee in one hand and a smoldering cigarette in the other. A bad habit you had yet to break. Worsened by the growing stress in your life. You had almost quite once. A few years ago. Only smoking once in a blue moon. But when they. 

When you had gotten the news..

Cold air cut through the growing warmth in your home. The only light to be had is the overhead oven light and the soft reddish glow from the rising sun. Just creasting over tall gray buildings.

You contemplate making a quick breakfast as you watch your cat, Zeki, eat his own. In the end you don't. Only drinking another cup of coffee before taking a quick shower.

You are pulling on your shoes when you phone bings.

New message from :All Star:

:U Up?:

It was lucas. Your oldest friends since your diaper days and the only one who had supported your decision to move to New York.

You are quick to type back. :Ya. Whats up?" You set the phone down to finish tying your shoe. Gently moving Zeki when he decides to use your laces as a toy. It is only after you toss his favorite toy mouse towards the couch does he leave you be.

Your phone dings again.

:Not much. Just checking in. I know how you can be.: Then another. :Coffee isnt breakfast either. Eat something.: At this you laugh. Mostly just a rush of air and a shake of your head. But a laugh all the same.

You are quick to type back. :You my mom or something? Lol. But ya. Ill grab some at work.: You hit send. Then type another. :I'll even send a pic as proof: You pause a moment. Type another message. :Thanks. Ya know. You've.: You delete it then. :Good luck with the football game. Ya?:

He sent back a thumbs up emoji. Someone, most likely his girlfriend, had stolen his attention.

You pocket your phone. Along with the rest of your cigarettes, earbuds, wallet, and house keys. You then pull at your basket of clean clothes to find a jacket to wear.

.

.

Public transport is the bane of your existence, you decide. You probably had a bruise on your ribs now. That kid kicked you pretty damn hard. It was an accident. One that you could excuse, being a victim of restless leg syndrome yourself. The kid had been asleep when it happened. Their head laying on their fathers lap and sprawled across the middle seat. The dad had apologized profusely as another kid, slightly older and most likely an older sibling, giggled like a maniac.

You had shrugged it off and told him not to worry. At this he had relaxed. Apparently it had not been the first time it had happened and if you had to wager a guess, most were not as accepting about it as you were.

.

You worked in a caffe as a barista. The place was ran by the same people who had opened it in the fifties. The two of them had been the only out of a handful of places that you had applied to that had been willing to hire you.

You were close to getting a job as a car mechanic. But in the end flesh and blood won out over your own extensive background in that field. 

So, here you were, calloused hands making simple black coffee to some of the most labour intensive frapps you didn't know even existed.

"Y/N!" A young voice called out. Helen, one of the store owners granddaughters, came running from behind the table in the back room as you entered. 

You are hit with the dark scent of coffee only leveled out by light pastries and sweetened strawberries.

Small arms wrap around your leg and you chuckle. Patting the top of her purple dyed head as you said hello. Only to laugh harder when she pulls you towards the table she had been sitting at.

Mrs. Helen, the elderly woman the young girl was named for, was quick to point you to a seat. She pushed a plate of fried eggs and toast towards you along with a cup of rich coffee.

They, being Mrs.Helen and Mr.Paris, lived just upstairs. You accept the plate from her with a smile. And true to your word you snap a pic off to Lucas.

"That friend of yours is a good one." Mrs. Helen tells you with a wave of her spatula. You say nothing but nod. If anything he was to good for you. You felt as if he had done far more for you than you ever could for him.

"I get to help today!" Helen spoke up beside you with a mouthful of jam covered toast. She had broken you from the start of a bad train of thought.

"That so?" You ask her. Your rings clink against the dark ceramic cup as you lift it to your lips. "With what?" You follow up. Catching droplets of coffee off your lips with your tongue.

"With cleanup!" The young girl practically vibrates off her worn chair. Her pink tutu flouncing up and down with every jump she makes. "Papa said for every table I do I get five dollars!" She holds out her hand with a toothy grin. Only to look down as jam falls and lands on her metallica shirt.

"Aww man." Both you and her grandmother laugh.

"C'mon baby. Let's go get you cleaned up." With that you are left alone to finish your food and coffee. You are quick to clean your cup and plate when you hear Mr.Paris unlock the front door.

Shedding your jacket you pull on your powdered blue apron embroidered with white roses. Mrs. Helen had made it specifically for your. Favorite color and all. 

You finish tying it and made your way to the register in time for you to see Bill, a regular, come in. 

"Heya Bill. What can I get ya today?" The man smiles.

"The usual chai tea, although the husband wants to try those creampuff's you've been making." With that your day had begun.

.

.

Your day ended at five. It would have ended an hour or two earlier if you hadn't insisted on helping with all the dishes and helping Mr.Paris fix a few odds and ends.

All ready the sky was darkenning. The horizon pulling away the sun and spitting back the moon. You on the other hand were ready to truly curse out your luck for today. You do utter a curse when you step into yet another puddle. The water soaking your already wet jeans. All because you were pretty sure you had pisssed off some deity that day, you had missed your bus.

So here you were. Taking some back alley shortcut in the dying light just to get home. All of it against your better judgment. And truly you shouldn't have. Mad deity and all.

You had stopped to light a cigarette. Covered from the rain from a building overhang when you first heard it. The soft push and pull of something or someone breathing. You follow through with lighting your cigarette before pulling your earbud out. If it was someone you didn't want to let on that you had heard them.

You pull in a lungful of smoke. Blowing it out as you stepped away from your little alcove.

Whoever it was din not wait long and you are quick to throw your elbow back. Twisting and turning as your assailant continued to attack you.

Now don't get it wrong. You can throw a mean punch. Having taken boxing classes throughout your life and well. Mostly schoolyard brawls. But this person was bigger and clearly more skilled than you were. It was shown for every duck and weave for every hard hit you threw. 

Their palm makes contact with your nose when you make the briefest pull down with your hands. You are sent stumbling back. One hand held to your now bleeding, and hopefully not broken, nose.

"The fuck you want!" YOu snarl out. Tasting and feeling your own blood on your lips. You couldn't see. There was no light save for a flickering streetlight at the far end of the alley. Your groan as the rain begins anew. A heavy down pour seeming to almost slam against your heavily breathing body.

The person, now two, points at you. Speaking in a language you don't understand. You bare your teeth at them. Only to bend down, eyes still one them, to pick up a piece of busted pipe.

You point the sharp end at them. Taking in their strange and dark gear. It blends to well into the night. "English asshole." They look to each other. Then to you.

"You will tell us where the ninja turtles are." You take a step back for their step forward.

"The ninja-" You shake your head. "You tweaking asshole?" The smaller one broke off in a rapid fire speech then.

Smacks the taller one upside the head. "You have the wrong one idiot!"

"How was I to know!"

"Maybe by actually making sure it was O'niel or Jones!" The smaller one pointed at you. "And now we have to neutralize them." Oh screw that and everything else about these two.

You are quick to run. Knowing when and where to pick a fight. And this was not one you could when. Maybe through sheer brute force. But they have skill and you are running out of stamina. Despite your head start the two are quicker than you, The bigger of the two bodily grabbing you from behind.

The pipe falls from your hand and you throw your head back while stomping your heal down. You hiss in pain as the back of your head makes contact with hard metal. 

Mostly out of instinct you lift your legs up and kick at the smaller person. Using them to springboard backwards and heaving a breath when both you and your captor fall. 

You are quick to your feet. Faster than them both. You walk backwards. Fists held close to your face. Elbows tucked to guard your body. You swallow thickly when you realize that you are going to have to hold your ground. You taste blood in the back of your throat.

This was the worse case of wrong place wrong time you have every been in.

Your two assailants are rising to their feet and began running towards you. You spit and steel yourself. Feet shifting on the rain soaked concrete as you widen your stance and tuck your chin.

Only to watch the two skid to a stop. Something. Someone was behind you. Some a lot taller than you. Once again you throw your arm back. Terrified that more had come. Only to have a large hand, far to big for a normal person, catch your arm. Holding it in place with ease. Despite the light touch your could tell. You just knew, that there was far more strength behind that grip than they let on. Your heart touched your feet.

"Enough." They. Him. He speaks. Curt and to the point. Cutting through the cold air. "Leave them alone. They have no part in this." You could feel warmth radiate off of him in waves. Could feel his chest bump against your back. Or was it his waist? His knees bumped against the back of your thighs leaving you to wonder just how tall he was.

The two look to you. To a point well above your head. Then turn an run. Leaving you alone to deal with whoever this was.

"I'm going to let you go now. Don't freak out." True to his word he lets you go. You take a step forward and turn.

You do nothing. Say nothing as you take in the person in front of you. The rain beating down on you both as you just. Stare.

Their body is large and imposing, Scars litter the exsposed.Skin? Of his arms. Thick legs, far larger than both your own, are covered in dark jeans and bits of padded armour. His three fingered hands are wrapped. Just like how you do just before you begin boxing. In one hand is a katana. The iconic sword recognizable damn near anywhere.

He shifts and you lift your gaze to his face. A blue bandana hangs over even bluer eyes. They take you in. Scan you over. His tongue darts over his lips. Capturing the rain water trailing down his face. In a fluid movement he sheaths his sword.

He steps forwards. You step back.

"Afraid?" He asks and you snort. Immediately you regretted that. Pain flares from the center of your face. A new trail of blood followed the bath of the old.

"Nervous? Ya. Afraid? Hardly." You tell him. Using your fingers to smear away the blood. He hands you a pale blue rag. When you don't make an immediate move to take it he places it in your hand then brings it up to your still bleeding nose.

Why was he helping you? What did he want?

"Most are." He tells you. "Why not you?" You shrug. Body shaking as the adrenaline slowly leaves you.

"You haven't hurt me." You look to the ground. To him. Capturing his gaze with your own. "Don't think you're going to either." You pull the bloodied rag away. "Are you. Mr. Ninja Turtle."

Turtle indeed. If the green skin and large turtle shell is anything to go by.

"Thank you." You tell him. And  you meant it. He looks almost surprised. It flickers for the briefest moments before he schools his features. He nods. Looks away. Hands clenching at his sides.

"You live nearby? I'll make sure nothing else happens until you get home." At this you chuckle. One brow arched as you nodded you head.

"You trying to get at something Bruce Lee?" You laugh at the look on his face until he to, laughs. It is soft and light. It brings a flicker of warmth you have yet to feel in a long time. Just as quickly it is gone. Cold has gone your heart. And heavy is your chest.

"No. But there may be more Foot Soldier. Clearly you can hold your own. But." His brow drops. Or what you assume to be a brow behind that blue mask. "Try not to take back alleys anymore." Two thick fingers point at you. "If they ask. I do not exist. You know nothing of me or this night."

You clench your jaw. Heart hammering in your chest as the air grows heavy. "That a threat blue?" You pocket the rag.

"A promise." He tells you. You nod your head.

.

.

You don't see him as you continue your way home. You are away he is there. Somewhere at the building tops.

You see him outside your window when you come home. He is on the building opposite of yours. His body lights up, once, twice. By the lightning. By the third strike he is gone.

Sighing. You close the curtain and shed your soaked clothes. Zeki is elling for food again. Clearly starved because you took to long to come home.

It is only after your shower and when you begin  your laundry do you notice that you have lost your phone.

"For fucks sake." 

[mastomysowner]

Today is World Teachers' Day!

Petya the Little Mouse

Petya lived in the kitchen, under the floor, he hid from everyone. The mouse was too small, smaller than his brothers and sisters. Mama mouse was always busy, and when she was raising her mouselets, Petya’s turn never came. Because of his brothers and sisters’ backs, Petya could not hear his mother’s whispered instructions. And so he didn’t know what to fear most and why to hide. He didn’t even know what was the worst thing in the world! The basement was full of potatoes and grain, nourishing, dark and warm. And sometimes sunlight filtered through the floorboards, making the mice happy, they warmed their backs, cleaned their fur and laughed. Petya, as the youngest, did not get a place under the rays of the sun. Larger brothers and sisters drove him away.

And then one day, there was a terrible roar and clang. The mice scattered to hide. Petya hesitated and did not have time to escape. In one minute it became so light in the underground that Petya shut his eyes. At that time he was sitting on the lid of a three-liter jar of cucumbers.

It was a girl, the house owner's granddaughter, Nastya. She needed pickles, and not just any pickles, but cucumbers, and when you go down into the underground from the light, you can’t immediately see what’s what. That’s why Nastya had a flashlight in her hands, she illuminated Petya with it and cried out in surprise. There was a tiny mouse sitting in a circle of light, not moving, trembling. He covered his eyes with his paws so funny that Nastya involuntarily laughed. “Oh, you're so small", she opened her apron pocket, "get in here.”

Petya jumped into the pocket without hesitation. At this time, the grandmother told her granddaughter to quickly give her the jar. Soon the door slammed behind the girl. The basement was dark and quiet again.

From the basement, to find yourself in rooms full of light, a real test for a mouse. “This is the worst thing,” he thought – the unknown – what could be worse? From his pocket, Petya heard his grandmother giving Nastya instructions. Sweep up. Lay out the tablecloth on the table. Put the kettle on. So much noise, so much fuss. Petya sat very quietly, trying not to move. Then Nastya climbed onto a chair, smoothed out her apron, and sat down to dinner. Petya heard her grandmother’s voice, she was commanding everything. Nastya's obedient voice. And another, male voice, the grandfather. He was filling his pipe, and it smelled of tobacco. Petya was surrounded by different smells that could not be heard in the basement. He sniffed the air curiously. Suddenly, the pocket opened slightly, and a small crust of bread fell into it. “This is the worst thing,” thought Petya, "to be poisoned!” But the bread smelled so tasty, and Petya was very hungry. He quickly ate a piece, immediately got a second one, and another one. Delicious! Then Nastya cleared the table and washed the dishes. There was a terrible noise from pots, plates, and pouring water. The mouse's ears were buzzing. “I could go deaf, that’s the worst thing!”, Petya thought. And then Nastya, splashing water out of the basin, accidentally soaked her apron. The mouse was soaked from head to toe. "Oh! The worst thing is drowning!", he decided. Soon, however, he fell asleep from the excitement he had experienced.

In the morning, Nastya took Petya to the yard. “The sun is so hot, you could burn!”, the mouse thought. Nastya put him on her shoulder, and she poured food for the geese, ducks, and chickens. “Terrible, voracious birds! With hard beaks", Petya thought. Then Nastya fed the piglets. Then a barking dog at the gate. "Sharp teeth, evil eyes", Petya thought. Then Nastya swept the yard. “A scary, rustling broom, don’t get caught under it!”, the little mouse was trembling. Then Nastya collected raspberries in a jar. “To fall into a glass jar and not be able to get out!”, the mouse was completely confused, counting his worst fears. A huge number, you can be afraid of everything! The world is full of scary things! But what was the worst thing, what one should be afraid of most, what his mom taught, Petya did not know.

After dinner, Nastya helped her grandmother with knitting. She was shaking colorful balls of wool. Petya quietly crept to the edge of his pocket and looked outside. Grandmother was old, her hands were shaking, she was knitting a scarf. Every now and then she adjusted her glasses in front of her eyes with her wrinkled hand. “It’s scary to be old and blind,” thought the mouse.

And suddenly a huge red cat jumped onto Nastya’s lap. Staring at the mouse with yellow, shining eyes, he said “Meow!” The mouselet froze with delight! What a velvet voice, what soft red fur! What a pink nose! No hard beak, just fur. And while he was admiring him, he didn’t notice the sharp, scary claws on his paws. Nastya's cry "Scram!" scared and surprised the foolish mouse. A moment, and the girl threw the cat off her lap. From that time on, the cat did not leave Nastya’s side, following her everywhere and wanting to get to the mouse. And the mouse, not understanding, kept looking out of his pocket, admiring the cat and dreaming of getting to know him better.

By evening, Nastya, fearing for the mouse’s life, released him into the basement. She sat him down on a glass jar with tomatoes and put a piece of cheese next to him. As soon as the door slammed behind Nastya, the whole mouse family came running. Turns out that everyone was upset and worried for Petya. Especially his mom, she hugged and kissed him. Since then, Petya the mouse has become a celebrity. To visit people, to experience the worst fears and return alive!

And the mama mouse soon told Petya what he should fear most. "It's the cat! The red one who lives upstairs!" Petya was surprised and didn’t believe his mother. Can this be true? Cat? So beautiful, with soft silky fur, sparkling amber eyes? This is the cutest creature Petya has ever seen in his life! And for the first time he wasn’t afraid and even dreamed of getting to know him better.

Nastya often visited the mouse, bringing goodies. Cheese, crust of bread. She talked to Petya, which made the mouselet even more famous. This is a true story, but really amazing, because where have you seen mice not be afraid of cats?

[fishnets-fingers]

I'm fast. I'm very fast.

[She is  currently behind Earl’s stall at the farmer’s market, where he’s selling his produce and flowers. The slanting rays of the afternoon light, permeate through the thin petals of the dahlias, making the pointed edges seem luminous. It was unusually busy, the marketplace, almost all of Earl’s produce were sold out. Her eyes were fixed on the task at hand - wrapping a sheet of newspaper around a bouquet of aster and dahlias.] Please I LOVE the way you describe things!!

[longing for him to glance her way but he was busy] awh :(

[The crisp autumn air does not make her quiver, like it used to. She’s still getting used to layering for the cold, but she thought she did a great job with her outfit.] I literally spent the last two summers in my summer clothes and one jacket but this winter I've been layered up since the midst of November... and every one's surprised, including me

[But Harry had stepped out with a surly look in his eyes, doing nothing but giving her a curt nod and he’d remained like that till now.] Someone's being rude this time I see

[Hoping to lighten his mood Layla jabbered about what happened in golf and the nosey question a student asked about the two of them; she received nothing but apathetic nods and muted hums.] Oh no he did not.  

[That’s how it started then it snowballed into completely pretending like she doesn’t exist until now. He didn’t meet her eyes and went out of his way to put space between the two of them. Gone was the warm touchy, kissy boyfriend and in his place stood this lanky frigid boy - who looked like he didn’t want anything to do with her. It was someone pressed a button that bought a sledgehammer that shattered Harry’s lavender haze.] Oh my god I can't stand them separated from each other already.

[Maybe he realised loving you way too much of a burden, she shakes her head, trying to dispel her thoughts] OH HELL NO SHE DID NOT GURL I'M JUMPING THROUGH THE LAPTOP SCREEN

[It doesn't go unnoticed that Harry immediately steps away from her when she brushes past the two, making her frown. Since when does he pass up the opportunity?] Ah tell me what happened already so that I can fix these two folks' brains!

////

[Layla had managed to make quite a spread. A creole potato salad, sweet chilli halloumi with cashew slaw, and Ribollita.] das my talented gal.

[she’s slipping on some mitts to take out the pan] some writers use ANY OTHER word than mit's and that confuses the hell out of me always.

[She notices Harry’s wallet peeking out from his tote - abandoned on the kitchen island - as she sets the hot utensil down. Maybe if I put the tickets in there? Maybe the surprise would make him perk up and stop being surly, she ponders.] First of all, do no tell me she's going to do exactly that and Harry will catch her in the midst of it all and taunt her of robbery cause I will snatch all the hair off this guy's scalp if that happens. And second, do not tell me those are the tickets to where I think they are.

[She takes it as an opportunity to  quickly pull out the black Gucci wallet and flip it open.] I'm on my toes.

[The image in his photo pocket makes her want to run over and tackle him in a giant hug. He’d put a picture of her in his wallet. He went out of his way to print a wallet sized picture and slotted it in there. Important enough for his wallet, it makes her smile.] AWWH

[It was the picture he took on the day of Abi’s flower braiding ceremony - the two of them on her bed smiling into the kiss, dimples on display, her hands cupped around his face, lips pouring affection into each other.] I REMEMBER I REMEMBER

[making her swiftly dig into the pocket of her black faux leather jacket, slot the two fall carnival tickets she bought at the market behind his dollar bills and discretely slip it inside the tote.] NOT THE FALL CARNIVAL TICKETS I WANNA GO TOO 

[The corners of her mouth droops when he barely looks at her, staring pointedly at the glass as he pours in the pineapple watermelon  big boy soda Earl has stocked up.] This bitch ain't gonna get away with this behaviour.

[Despite not being acknowledged, she continues, “I remember you telling me about your final night in Tuscany where you, Mitch, and Sarah were so drunk and how you all stumbled into this dodgy looking place run by an elderly couple at midnight. And how that ribollita was the best you’ve ever had.” He even told her that if he ever got a chance to take her anywhere in the world, he’d fly her out to Anghiari and trudge up the steps of the town, wine drunk with interlinked hands under the starry Italian skies. “I found this recipe on YouTube by some nonna. Took a while to make it; hope it tastes -” “Whatever,” he says quietly, shrugging his shoulders, walking over to the dining room with the glass of green liquid on one hand and the squash on the other with the dish towel. “Prick,” she mutters, shooting daggers on his back.] THIS BOY DID NOT. HE DID NOT JUST DO THAT. I SWEAR I'M ON MY WAY TO PUNCH HIM IN THE DAMN THROAT.

////

[“Everyone has headaches,” he says, popping an ibuprofen in his mouth. “Not everyone had a stent placed on their heart three years ago. You’re feeling faint often, yeah?”] Oh no. OH NO NO NO.

[She pries the tab open to find red coloured rectangular papers inside, she shuffles them out and five ticket stubs fall out. There’s a picture of Mickey and right underneath it it says ‘THE HAPPIEST PLACE ON EARTH.’ The other end of the tick stub is perforated, and it says ‘ADMIT ONE.’ “No fucking way!” She squeals. “You got tickets to Disney World!”] WE LOVE EARL IN HERE

[“Hush,” Earl shuts Layla down. “You and Harry have worked in my shop and helped me with so many orders. Think of this as your wage.”] awwwh

[“ Why aren’t you coming with us, Earl?” Vasanth asks. “I’ve been there multiple times with my grandkids. Plus, I’m heading to Florida in the new year to stay with my son for a few weeks.”] Why do I feel like he'll be in his grave when they come back... maybe I've read too many stories.

[Harry made this on Photoshop. He even got it printed, so you all can have a tactile reminder.” “Thank you,” Layla smiles at Hary who’s scooping up the Ribollita. He doesn’t say anything, but gives her a tightlipped smile in return as she spoons some salad on her plate.] what happenedddddd tell meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

[He quickly walks away from where he was in conversation with Earl to his niece, who he believes Shiva put on his Earth to turn every hair on his head grey.] lmaoooooo

[she spent over an hour trying to meticulously follow his wife’s recipes hoping the elimination of thick cut bacon won’t affect the taste as much.] please I'm either awing, or shouting my head off.

[“உன்னை அடிக்க வைக்காதே(don’t make me whack you), Layla. I’m being deadly serious. You could end up in trouble with the cops.” “Hey! I’m not that bad of a driver.”] okay this was funny.

[“Calm down, சித்தப்பா! Look,” she shuffles through her tote and whips out her licence from her wallet.  He examines it closely. “When did you-” “தாத்தா ஒரு நாள் என்னை அழைத்துச் சென்றார் (Grandad, took me one day).” She winks.”You’re crazy to think I would do anything that would jeopardise my shot at a PhD.”] SLAYYY

[“Because,” she blushes, knowing Anne’s right there. “I don’t get to spend much time with you,” she says quietly. “Aunty works remote on certain days but you always go out the door at nine and get back home after six. Then you have things around the house to take care of and I know this is really selfish of me to say this but I don’t know how to share you with someone as needy as me.” “Are you talking about the -” She nods. “I’m just selfishly trying to bank on Layla Vasanth time before you run out of that because you have an infant to cater to. And I know that’s how it it should be but -” “நீ என் பயிற்சி சக்கரங்களாக இருந்தீர்கள். அப்பாவாக இருப்பதில். (You are my training wheels. For being a dad.)” He sniffles, pinching her cheek. “Besides we both know the minute you’re gonna start studying here, you’re gonna be my pain in the ass full time.”  She laughs. “Shut up!”] watch me cry-laugh.

[“Bowling then? I can teach you how to,” Vasanth proposes. “We can even go see a movie while we’re there.” “It’s a date.” Layla smiles.] heheh

////

[Unfair, Layla thinks as she watches Abi muss up the hair at the scalp to give it that oompf. Layla would kill to look that effortlessly gorgeous. ] Her might might be gorgeous but that doesn't make Layla any less drop-dead gorgeous like queen you slayin'

[“Open, please. Harry’s coming with?” “He’s not exactly speaking to me at the moment. Don’t know why but nevermind, you finish your meeting.”] sigh.

[Panic! At The Disco t-shirt ] we love it

[but the redeeming factor were the pockets. They were as deep as the mines in Moria; Layla was akin to greedy dwarves throwing it into the shopping cart, when the pocket swallowed half her forearm. ] lmaoo, true tho.

[ breathed a sigh of relief when they found out that she was tall; it was a right pain to find someone for Vasanths’s towering six foot two.] hahahahah

[So, she used up some emergency snack money she’d set aside in her wallet and got her a set of these dragonfly pearl earrings and a matching pendant. It wasn’t made of real pearls or gold, it wasn’t the fanciest choice either, she’d bought it in a small fancy store - a small shop that often sold bangles, bindis, kaajal, and some cheap imitation jewellery - but Abi’s reaction indicated that it was the most precious thing that she’d ever received. Layla’s heart warmed when she caught sight of the tarnished, worn out dragonfly pearl necklace in Abi’s jewellery drawer yesterday, when she raided Abi’s closet for the faux leather jacket.] my heart is in your hands. my heart is in your hands.

[“Aren’t you up late?” Layla speaks. “Amma and I came back from a movie half an hour ago,” he answers. “What movie?” “Ponniyin Selvan.] ayeee i know which one you talking about!!

[“இன்று அவனிடம் பேசினேன். ஒரு ஐபாட் வாங்க முடியுமா என்று கேட்டார் - (I talked to him today and he asked if you could get him an iPad -)” “Appa! Do I look like an Apple mule to you all?”] LMAOO

[But if I get detained by the TSA for looking too suspicious with this many Apple products in my carry on. You’re gonna pay.” Her dad guffaws on the other end. “உன் முகம் கடத்தல்காரன் மாதிரி இல்லை (Your face doesn’t scream smuggler).” “To you maybe, நான் எப்படி மற்றவைகள் இருக்கிறேன் என்று யாருக்குத் தெரியும் (who knows what I look like to others)?” She laughs.] help- als I really like her dad. Better than her mother, at least, Maybe that's why I've briefly mentioned him in the fic.

[Her dad lets out a laugh. “Now, Amma will hold you to the same standard when you get back. Listen, பாட்டி (grandmum) wants me to remind you to buy Ziplock-” “Already bought three boxes of her precious ziplock bags.” “Good. Okay, kutti. I’m gonna head to bed. You take care okay?” “Will do. Tell Amma I said hi. Bye.”] I'm happy with this conversation.

[The door swings open as she makes a fist to try knocking on it and there he was - clad in one of his muscle tank top that had darkened patchily with sweat, blue shorts, hair pushed back with the blue bandana she’d got, lips  and eyebrows pursed in a grimace.] oop-

[“What do you want?” He grits his teeth, as he looks down at her - a result of the trapezius bundle protesting.] dare you fucking talk to her like that again.

[“I don’t want anyone’s company.” “Well -” the door shuts on her face, and she feels her heart drop. “I’m not anyone,” she mumbles dejectedly at the wooden door, tears prick the corner of her eyes and she makes her way back to her room. Tossing the gift box on her bedside table. Tearing off a page from her notebook, she scrawls with tears beading her waterline.] I SWEAR TO GOD THIS BITCH DID NOT I WILL RIP HIS HEAD OFF HIS SHOULDERS HOW FUCKING DARE HE I WILL NEVER FORGIVE HIM FOR THIS OH MY GOD HE WILL NOT SEE THE NEXT SUNRISE IF ONLY I WERE THERE

[That’s all she manages to jot down before her mother’s voice echoes in her head, “சில நேரங்களில் உன்னை விரும்புவது கடினம் (It’s hard to love you sometimes).”] NO NO NO NO NO I WILL KILL HARRY

[She abandons the crumpled ball,] he better find that.

[What other perfect way is there to channel gamer rage other than using the bubbling anger directed at her boyfriend to kill the remaining two warrior women with wings.]* practices deep inhaling and exhaling*

////

[(die, pig, die)’ at the projector screen armed with one of her video game controllers.] I'm not even able to laugh at this I'm SO upset with Harry

[“Yup. As long as the boy was Hindu and from our caste,” Abi answers. “Of course. It came with terms and conditions,” Layla giggles. “As long as they were from the same caste. Could you imagine going around and asking people what caste they belong to when you’re out on a date.” “I know right! Hella awkward.”] trew. I hate Harry I'd have been enjoying this convo rn.

[“Yeah,” Abi chuckles. “I didn’t make it easy for my parents either. I had given them a zillion expectations that they needed to meet. I rejected many. Plus, they had to find someone taller than me.” Layla laughs. “It’s the same thing that happened with Uncle. Finding someone tall enough for him, தாத்தா பாட்டி (grandad and grandmum) almost pulled out their hairs trying to find someone tall.”] heheh

[ Your uncle asked me what I wanted, rather than ask me what I want as one half of a couple. ] big slay

[I haven’t told him this but when he readily put his notice in and moved to Charlotte with me - before he found himself a job here - he just became so much hotter.” Abi uses one of her hands and fans herself.] lmao

[“I initially thought the kick would be like a ping but it’s like a jelly rolling around with her. Getting more active by the day this one.”] my mum said the same thing!

[“You two are gonna team up and make fun of us, aren’t you?” She manages to get out in between fits of laughter. “Obviously.” ] duh Abi

we love some good advice.

I literally just fought with my parents to let me stay up (to finish an essay *wink wink*)

[He’s been secretly hoping you have UNC at the top of the list, so you can live with us while you study.”] I hope so too

[I heard you tell him the other day that you’re gonna marry him when you were eating the focaccia he baked. And I know it’s not my place to say this but I get that you meant it as a term of expression but sometimes it necessarily might mean the same for him. Have a talk with each other. The sooner the better. I know he means the world to you and I know you mean the same to him.” “I didn’t think of it that way… I never thought that I’d feel all these things for him. I just thought it’ll be a fun hookup but I guess you’re right. I think he knows that I don’t mean it like that. Whenever we talk about things we know our priorities - colleges. We always talk about the future like it’s distant. I think the hardest thing about January rolling around soon is him. I don’t want to leave,” Layla bites down on her wobbly lower lip. It only makes the angry flames in her chest spark up again because Harry’s being an utter asshole to her. All she wants to do is cosy up to him and drum her fingers down his back as he presses wet kisses on her pulse. ] nooooo don't cry!!

[“Maybe I’m overstepping my bounds but do you ever see yourself getting married or are you just saying no because of what happened between your mum and dad?”] oh this question is an attack to both our guts.

[you know how everyone says we often butt heads because we have similar personalities - and that means I’d have to go through the same things she did. As much as I do and villanise her sometimes, I honestly don’t think I have an ounce of the strength and determination she does. We lived alone for almost a year and she single handedly took care of all of the finances and even now, she works and does so much work at home too.] LITERALLY SAME. that's the problem.

[“That’s not true, kutti. We hit a rough patch during my final year of my MBA. We even talked about separating,” Abi explains.] wot-

[All of the little free time we had went to chores. We went weeks without talking to each other, and didn’t even acknowledge each other. It was like two strangers living in a hotel. Every time we’d open our mouths, we’d snap at each other and both thought that things weren’t working out because we’d grown apart.”] ohhh

[Marriage is not easy. They don’t just work. You make it work. It’s very easy, at least, with arranged marriages to drift off to your separate paths - be strangers - and it takes work to meet in the middle again. And it needs to be done because you’re growing as your own individual too. That’s how we make it work - we’re not the same Vasanth and Abi who’d agreed to marry each other. We set aside time for ourselves. We talk. Go out on dates. Take holidays. We make each other a priority. It’s work. We are at this point because we put in the work to get here and we will need to put in the work after the baby too.”] I- I've got nothing to say, your honour.

[“Oh yeah? Finally realised that Abi is like that tortoise from Kung Fu Panda,” her Aunty jokes around. “Yeah. An old tortoise,” Layla snickers. “Are you calling me old?” Abi pinches her cheek. “I wouldn’t dare,” Layla tries to say it earnestly but her giggles give her away. She shuffles closer to her, throwing her hands around her shoulders, slotting her body to the side, mindful of Laya’s residence. “By the way, you didn’t overstep your bounds at all. I’m glad it took you four years to find Uncle because there’s no one else I’d rather have as my Aunty.” ] ah, love this duo and also want to watch kung fu panda again...

////

[Harry can hear Layla’s voice faintly drifting from the floor above - wrapping up her class - as he makes his way up the stairs to her room. It’s twenty past one in the morning and every time Harry shut his eyes, he couldn’t help but shake the image of her walking back home dejectedly when he slammed the door. ] oh look who's here.

[What catches his eye was the crumpled ball of paper lying limply at the foot of the bed.] good, you're doing good h.

[his heart falls to his stomach when he reads what she’s scrawled in cursive. Fuck, he shakes his head, plopping down on the mattress.] yeah, fuck.

[Harry can’t help the way the corners of his mouth tug upward - she always grunts out that word when she’s finished with whatever exhausting activity she was engaged in.] i know i know.

[“No!” She says, voice louder than either of them anticipated, stalking further into the room. “Leave,” she seethes, chest heaving as she rapidly takes in shallow breaths, clicking the door close to not wake Vasanth and Abi. “I don’t care. Just go.”] SLAYY

[Harry gets up. “Baby, please listen to me.”] dare you call her baby bitch

[I’m fucking livid!” She blinks back the angry tears that begin to prick her eyes.] oh no-

[Harry’s eyes blur as a thin film beads at his waterline, and he’s quick to blink them away before they have the chance to trickle down. The last thing he wants to do is upset her further, so he sighs and mutters, “Okay. I’ll go.” He makes his way to the door with his head hung dejectedly.] see how it feels?

[Layla’s eyes soften, instinctively stepping closer to him. “Shit. Your shoulder still hurts?” She enquires, eyebrows furrowing in concern as he gives her a weak nod. “Go wait downstairs in the kitchen… I’ll be right behind you,” she exhales.] that's love right there and i'm here for it

[“Can you take off your hoodie for me?” Layla asks, as she spoons some of the brown and green balm into the bowl.] omg watch her grumpily tend to him I always eat that shit up omg

[“Sorry about the smell,” she tells him quietly as she kneads his muscles in circles - easing the taunt muscles under.  Harry’s speechless as she works her way down his shoulder and back, letting the warm liquid trickle down and later gently rubbing it all over. He doesn’t deserve this from her, especially with the way he’s treated her the past two days. But here she is carefully working the knots in his shoulder, even after asking him to leave her sight. He feels his heart weigh heavy in his throat, and he closes his eyes to succumb to the emotions his girlfriend’s tender act stirs up in his chest.] *nods* yeah.

[And Amma (mum) did this for me and I swear the pain subsided the next day, which I know is not possible but I barely felt it after. I mean it’s just pain gate theory, right?” She waffles on hoping to distract him from the pain she might be causing him as she massages the last of the liquid on the expanse of his shoulder. ] i love her so much i'll cry

[ “Sometimes I think I’ll perish if I don’t have a jar of Tiger Ba-” she stops where she hears a sniffle, followed by a shaky inhale and feels his frame tremble under her palm.] oh no there we go, as he should be. he should be crying but hey i feel bad now why is he crying

[and Layla realises that he’s hurting. He’s been hurting the past two days and that he wasn’t apathetic and detached. ] oh?

[“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to - Sorry,” he blubbers, pulling her close to him, burying his face in her midsection as his arms hold her in place.] oh no it's okay i don't hate him make him stop crying

[“Sorry. Sorry. I’m -,” he hiccups, a fresh wave of tears halting him and all he could do was nuzzle into her warmth as he bawls. “We’re okay. You’re okay. Let it out. I’m sorry too, babe,” she whispers, mollifying him as she rocks him to and fro, letting him cry it out.] sigh

[“I’m sorry.” He says, rapidly blinking down another fresh set of tears. “I’m sorry too,” she says, hand coming to caress his cheek.] that's a healthy relationship right there.

[“I uh - I was jealous,” he replies, cheeks reddening in response.] oh NO DO NOT MAKE ME MAD AGAIN

[“Ashwin,” he admits, feeling the blood rush to the tips of his ears as he hangs his head.] i knew it!! i fucking knew it hahah!!!

[“I do! It’s a me thing. Don’t take it personally.”] not that, uh-uh

she's right in this argument.

[“Hissy fit,” Harry chuckles] how dare he?

[ “How are we gonna work through this? What are you gonna say next? ‘Let me mark my territory when you hang out with others, like how a dog would do?!?’” She shuts her eyes, forcing herself to take a few deep breaths through her nose so she would raise her voice and wake her Aunty and Uncle. She knows she’s spiralling and spewing out ridiculous things but she can’t help but feel hurt by his admission. ] oh shit- it's getting real now

[“No, baby. No. It’s not you!” ] stop calling her baby when she's mad!! it makes you look like a shitty man!!

[“every time I see you two hanging out, it makes me insecure and I didn’t like feeling like the second best again.”] oh no I'm going to cry not the second best oh no

[“I’m just scared that you’ll realise he’ll give you something I can’t.” He confesses. “Like you don’t need to check if a Tamil movie has subtitles at the cinema to watch with him, he gets all the references you make, you don’t have to translate things in your head or explain why you’re doing certain things - like the other day when you accidentally stepped on my book and you’d stopped talking to bend down to touch it and bring your fingers to your eyes and you’d spent the next twenty minutes explaining why for me. And it’s scary to think that one day you’ll realise that I’m not worth it and leave.”] naurrrrrrr

[ It works both ways too. You taught me so much about your home too. I didn’t know what a chip butty was before I met you,” she jokes weakly. Harry doesn’t laugh - or even smile - instead he looks crestfallen, Layla leans over and stamps a soft kiss on his pink lips and his splotchy cheeks. “I’ll never not think you’re not worth it. Ever. You mean the world to me. You make me feel safe and you make me feel loved. And that is something I will not take very lightly. Ever. I have nothing like that with Ashwin. I hitched a ride with him the other day because everyone else was gonna shower at the country club and head straight for work. Ashwin had a day off and obliged to drive me to Raleigh to pick something up for you,” she tells him, nodding towards the black box. “Besides, he acts like he’s from the hood sometimes - I guess most brown boys do that when they come here; pretend to be an African American rapper. It just does not get my motor running like you in a pair of fishnets.”] I was going to write something sappy but OOOOH HIM IN FISHNETS EH

[“It was,” Layla agrees. “I did not deserve to be treated that way. I thought you were mad at me or that you needed space which is very unlike you. Because I’m the one that pushes you away-” “Not in the way that I did. You always told me that you need some time to yourself before you share but I just pushed you away.” “True,” Layla sighs. “Would inviting you along help whenever I go out with that gang? I’m not gonna stop hanging out with them because I feel like I’m hanging out with my cousins. And I’m trying to make the best out of that because they’re gonna fly out as soon as the wedding is over.”] yes woman, slay.

[“That’ll be nice. I sorta felt left out when you went to watch that movie without telling me because I’m really used to being your number one go-to person for everything,” he admits. “I didn’t want to seem clingy I guess.” ] ahhhhhh okk

[“You said earlier about not wanting to feel second best again. Has it got something to do with your dad? I mean you don’t talk about it and I’m just theorising but feel free to tell me to back off if I’m crossing a line.”] oh..

[“Yeah. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if he chose us. He was a good dad, Layla. He was everything I wanted to be when I grew up. But I guess, I was not enough for him with anything I did,” his lower lip wobbles. “He’d had another family and I guess in the end my step-siblings - god,  it’s so weird to call them that - had something that I didn’t and when he figured it out he’d just left mum and me.”] imagine if anyone were to walk in on me tearing up and red nosed

[It made sense to Layla now - his icy behaviour was not to attack her but to protect him, his inner child. ] I WILL sob whenever it has to do something with inner child of a person.

[She had the power to make him feel the things he once felt, and the second Harry realised that she held the power; when he felt ‘not enough,’ he’d cut her off so she wouldn’t put him through that - like a hedgehog balling themselves up and straightening out it’s quills when it senses his predators were nearby.] i can't fucking see tears are blurring my sight

[ Remember when you told me love is not a burden?” She can feel him nod against her neck. “Love shouldn’t be earned either. It’s not conditional - especially from a parent.”] oh no tears are falling out.

[“No need for thank yous. I’d take care of you anytime,” she shrugs.] I will 'aw' out loudif it keeps going like this

[Harry’s fingers trace the gold foiled lettering - Fink’s -  against the soft material. He flips the box open to find a dainty gold chain and a thin cross pendant hanging from it of the same metal. It looked identical to the silver one he’d have around his neck - he’d go on a limb and say this one looked even more beautiful. He immediately looks into her homey raven eyes, bottom lip trapped with her teeth, as she looks at him expectantly. “I know I ripped it off your neck that day,” her face flushes with heat thinking back to their lecherous activity upstairs in the swing room in front of his giant ornate mirror. “I’ve been feeling bad since. I’ve never ever seen you take it off and when I got the deposit money for the commissions, it was the first thing I thought of. I wanted to get you an exact replica but I just couldn’t bring myself to get it in silver, so I called Fink’s and had them make it gold. You kept complaining that the clasp on the old one was too tiny, so I asked them to use a circular clasp, so it’s easier for you.” She rambles. “They said they couldn’t make the chain dainty in 22 karats, something about them not able to get the metal to bend, so it’s only 18 kara-” Harry cuts her off with a passionate kiss, hands clutching her cheeks holding her close, as he pours his devotion. His tongue melds with hers and it makes her breathe out a quiet moan, as she sinks his fingernails into his bicep. He breaks apart, pressing his forehead to hers as they both catch their breath from the dizzying ordeal. “I love it! Put it on for me?” He asks her, thumb caressing her bottom lip, making her smile.] AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

////

[a spatter of gold paint he’d managed to get when he helped her paint the ornate frame of his mirror.] we love quality time

[“I don’t do it hard,” she replies.

“Well my stinging ass cheek would beg to differ.”] LMAO

[“I could just lift you up and spin you around,” he suggests. Layla laughs. “Cute that you think you can lift- aaah!” She shrieks as Harry quickly squats down, to grab the junction where her bum and thighs, and hoists her up. “You were saying?” He arches his eyebrow up at her. “Put me down,” she demands as he makes his way to the hoop. “Nope. Make this backwards basket and come on a walk with me around the pond.”] i'm literally smiling ear to ear and my throat is hurting bad

[Layla tosses the ball and Harry turns them around to watch it perfectly go into the net, making him hoot and spin her around in celebration. They both laugh as Harry loosens his arms around her thighs making Layla slide down his torso. She doesn’t stop giggling as she wraps her around his neck, fingers massaging the baby curls at the nape of his neck, as she rubs her nose against his - feet still dangling above the ground as he holds her in place. “This is my favourite trick shot,” she whispers. “Nandhini’s watching,” he mumbles, reminding her of her PDA rule around brown aunties, as she angles her head. “Fuck her,” whispers with a smirk as her eyelids flutter close and she closes the distance between their lips.] ooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhh

MAYA YOU WERE BACK AND WITH A BANG. Literally only you can pull so many emotions out of me i love you sm and this part too <33

Here, lots of Lotuses for ya:

Aaah lotuses my heart just can't!!! You went on a ride reading it and I went on a ride reading this!

My favourite moment is Layla being grossed out by the fact that her her aunt thinks her uncle is hot and the baby agreeing with her. And omg Earl's gonna be there to hear about the adventures in Disney World... Plus, the gold chain finally made an appearance... I love the fact that it was her that bought him something he'd have on him for a long long time.

I love that you were ready to throw hands for Layla and wanted to smack Harry so much lmao... I can't believe you read it so quickly aaah!!! Thank you so much!! Here are some virtual flowers from the hundred acre wood!

[friendlyneighborhoodhorrornerd]

"Icebox"

Maybe it's just frost.

That's what my stomach says, anyway. It's a fridge, it's supposed to be cold, you could just reach out and wipe it away, letting it melt in your fingers and finally eat. If it's just frost, then think of all the perfectly good food you could be eating—strawberries, orange juice, mashed potatoes, carrots, anything you wanted. All you have to do is let the condensation melt away.

I think that's my stomach, anyway. I can't be sure.

I don't know how long I’ve been here. I tell myself it’s just the storm blocking out the sun, trying to fight the thought rising to the surface that there is no sun, there's never been a sun, just an endless snow, growing and growing, reaching into the house to find something to feed on.

Maybe I'm lucky. Even without any noticeable heating, this cabin seems to be protecting me from the blizzard, at least a bit. My fingers are mostly numb, and whenever I wake up my feet feel like blocks of frozen ham from a butcher shop, but I still wake up, and haven’t lost any toes. It seems like it’s insulated just enough to keep the temperature survivable, assuming I bundle up.

It can’t go any higher, though. This cabin isn't designed for warmth.

The first thing I found in the fridge was a bunch of bananas. I had just entered for the first time, trying to escape the blizzard, and I had some trail snacks still on me, but I didn't know how long the storm would last, and didn’t want to run out of food while waiting for it to clear.

At first, they were a relief, an extra store of food to sustain me. The first pangs of hunger were starting to hit me, so without thinking I reached out, but suddenly stopped, fingers hovering just above the skin. They were browning in places, bruises digging into the peels like infected scars, spots appearing like hives. Other spots were still green, simultaneously unfinished and already decaying. One's skin was split, the ends curling both away from and into themselves, the edges of the exposed flesh tinged with the first tendrils of the expanding rot.

I decided it would be wise to ration. Settling in, I ate my trail snacks and went to sleep.

My dreams were surprisingly pleasant at first. I sat curled up on the couch of my childhood living room, a crackling fireplace keeping me warm as the snow grew in the windows. I had a hot chocolate in my hand, fluffy white marshmallows floating on the surface, somehow not dissolving.

The warmth filled my stomach as I drank, settling the leftover hunger pangs. The taste sent me back in time with the rest of the room, swirling chocolate with hints of peppermint, the cocoa my mother made for me when I came back in from the cold, holding me safe.

Then I swallowed one of the marshmallows.

It crashed into the drink, distorting the swirling vanilla and peppermint into rot. It was bitter, like citrus and fluoride toothpaste, and it dissolved as soon as it hit my tongue and coated my mouth and throat. I gagged, trying to expel it, but instead it slithered down my throat, a writhing mass in my stomach coated in razor blades.

I woke up suddenly, sweat almost frozen on my skin, stomach growling angrily.

I returned to the fridge, cursing myself for my previous disgust. The rotting fruit was gross, sure, but it didn't look inedible, not yet anyway. If you can make banana bread with brown bananas, they must be still safe to eat, right?

The decay had continued, brown rings forming around the base of each stem, spots spreading and festering and bulging with pus. Now, next to the bananas, there was a bowl of strawberries, similarly decaying, flesh turning brown and purple with leather rot.

Once again, I reached out, determined to fight my gut reaction of disgust. Nothing there was inedible, just bruised a bit. Besides, they weren't going to get any less overripe, waiting would just make it worse.

And once again, I stopped, fractions of an inch above the rotting skin.

Lining the split in the skin of the banana was a thin fuzzy white line, mimicking the snow keeping me outside. As I looked, I saw it more and more, poking out of the pustules, lining the edges of the strawberry bowl, hiding underneath the leaves, even lining the shelves of the fridge itself.

I tried to push forward, telling myself it was just frost. My stomach groaned, as if begging for me to end its misery.

But the remnants of the marshmallow stuck in my mouth, twinging every time I saw the white masses consuming my only source of food.

I closed the fridge.

I busied myself for the next few hours searching the house for anything else of use. The fridge had power, so the it must come from somewhere. Maybe there was heating, waiting in the bowels of the house for me to turn it on.

There was nothing. The house was empty apart from some sparse wooden furniture, wallpaper peeling, everything blending into a dull brown in the darkness.

I went back to the fridge. Maybe it was just frost, and if it wasn't it probably hadn't spread to everything, and if it had it would still probably be better than starvation, at least according to my snarling intestines. I could find a hospital once the storm let up, I just had to survive until then.

The fuzz was spreading. Multiple pustules had burst, covering more of the fruit in the ice-like growths. A few strawberries seemed to have been completely engulfed, and a hole looked to be burrowing into one of the larger ones, the edges of a rotting scab covered by the white growth.

Now, though, behind the fruit, there were the legs of a turkey, grease congealing underneath. They were raw, but I might be able to cook them with the extra wooden furniture, assuming I managed to avoid burning the cabin to the ground.

I reached out, arcing my arm away from the growths reaching up from the fruit.

Something underneath the skin of one of the legs began to squirm.

I slammed the door again, stumbling and collapsing against the far wall. My stomach was screaming, trying to force my feet up, but they wouldn't budge, and in the haze of hunger and disgust, I began to drift off again.

I was back in my old living room, hot chocolate in hand. The snow had covered the windows, creeping in through the edges of the panes. The marshmallows were larger, bulging in places, the bitter taste seeping into the drink and wafting into the air.

There was no table, nowhere to put it down, so I held onto it, thankful at least for the opportunity to warm my hands. I gagged a few times, stomach acid rising in my throat, as if trying to reach out to take the bitter drink. I kept it down.

I heard my mother's voice from the other room. “Aren’t you hungry?”

I woke up in a sweat again. The room had gotten colder, and instead of being against the wall I was in the middle of the floor, closer to the fridge, as if pulled towards it overnight.

The palms of my hands itched. I took off my gloves, expecting they had just gotten too sweaty, but instead they were red and splotchy, a few hives popping up. They felt hot, lingering from the mug, and around the edges of one of the hives white fuzz was starting to grow.

I got up, frantically trying to wipe my hands clean. My face flashed hot, pulsing with my now-hammering heartbeat. The fuzz wiped off onto my clothing, but was still on my hand, as if all I had done was spread it further.

I stumbled to the fridge and shoved it away from the wall. There had to be some kind of cable or air vent on the back if it was still functioning. Even if nothing inside it was edible, I could at least use that.

In place of a cable, there was a vein, stretching and pulsing into a scab in the wall. Lesions ran along its length, green and yellow flesh leaking pus, covered in small spots of the same white fuzz.

I ran, throwing open the door into the storm, not bothering to put back on my gloves. My hands continued to throb feverishly, momentarily staving off frostbite. After a minute of fighting through the waist-deep bank blocking the door I fell through, collapsing onto a much thinner layer, and broke into a half-crawling sprint. There still wasn’t any sunlight, the swirling snow blocked what little vision I had, but I didn't care. Even if I died of hypothermia, I just needed to get away from that house.

I ran for hours, days, centuries, memories of anything other than the storm and the house growing fuzzy like the snow, flashing between frostbite and fever, what was before a forest fading into an endless white desert, flat in every direction. The snow blew into my mouth, weaving around my scarf, bitter and savory and sweet and sour and bloody and rotten. My legs stiffened like icicles, ready to shatter in a moment’s notice. When they finally gave way, I looked up, just barely making out the outline of the cabin through the swirling white fuzz, unwilling to let me go.

I woke up inside again, sitting in one of the few chairs in the cabin, the room having morphed into a distorted twin of my living room, the fridge, cold and fuzzy and slowly growing, taking the place of the fireplace. One hand had frozen around a mug, paint faded, white fuzz spilling out and into my frozen skin.

I haven’t tried to leave since.

In my dreams, the living room warps, snow creeping and growing in from the outside, the voice of my mother warping with it to become cold and bitter and fuzzy until I can no longer remember what it originally sounded like, slowly growing and infecting what little I remembered of the time before.

"Why won't you eat?" it asks. "I'm trying to take care of you, to keep you safe. Why don't you trust your own mother?"

It's not my mother. It never was.

Food keeps appearing in the fridge. Mashed potatoes, pork ribs, ground beef, orange juice, milk, carrots and salad and anything I could ever want. The vegetables rot and the meat squirms, all of it coated in the bitter snow.

The bananas disappeared a few days ago. I don't know where they went. I don’t think I ate them, I don’t think I ever could, but my memories are growing fuzzy, I'm dozing off more often, always waking up somewhere different. My stomach aches all the same.

This has to end.

I open the fridge for the last time. The fuzz is gone, all of the food perfect and mouth-watering. I know it’s a lie, though. My mouth froze shut a few days ago anyway.

One by one, I take out the shelves, careful not to touch the food I know still held that rot beneath the surface.

The fridge empty for the first time since I arrived, I climb inside, closing the door behind me, plunging me into darkness. The mug feels warm in my hand, and as my thoughts drift to black, I smell the mix of peppermint and cocoa and vanilla again, welcoming me.

Whoever comes here next will have something to eat, at least.