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worstrestaurantsinphilly · 10 months ago

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RED OWL TAVERN

433 Chestnut Street, Philadlphia. Pa 19105

Located in the Kimpton Hotel Monaco in Philadelphia, this so-called Rustic-chic tavern claims to revive the classic tavern experience, with a distinctly modern touch. If anything can be farther from the truth. Their upscale American comfort fare is not upscale at all, the only thing upscale about this restaurant is the price

Okay, you say to yourself, hey I read the reviews on yelp they are mostly good. Well maybe, but here is the real down and dirty about this place.

First off being located in the Hotel Monaco it has a captive customer base so the restaurant is mostly always crowded, but not with regulars, but with tourists who come to Philadelphia to see the historic sites.

Second, most of the regulars go to the red Owl Tavern for drinks and conversation, and not necessarily the food.

Third, In my opinion,this restaurant is not handicap friendly and does not meet the Federal handicap standards in most states. For example, the restaurant has a small dining area and a large bar on the first floor with a large dining area on the second floor. In order to get to the second floor you have to walk up a steep winding staircase. Oh you could take the elevator located in the hotel if you want to walk out of the restaurant and down the corridor. Unfortunately the elevator was out of service at the time.

The restaurant does not have a rest room and you need to go out of the restaurant and into the hotel and take the elevator to the basemet level in order to and use the hotel’s rest room facilities.

This is supossed to be an upscale restaurant, not a shopping mall, so you would expect that they would have rest room facilities in the restaurant.

Okay, so now to the food and service of the Red Owl Tavern.

I had a reservation for brunch for 10 people. Downstairs seating was not equiped to handle 10 people so we were seated upstairs.

Our waiter was named Matthew amd he was a rude irritating person who gave us the impression that he was doing us a favor by waiting on us.

When I made the reservation I requested separate checks, but Matthew said no way but he would separate the check into 4 parts. This never happened and we got one bill which we had to figure out for ourselves. (I will discuss this later in the review)

The Food

The food presentation was exceptional. I mean each entree looked like it was part of a food and wine photo shoot. Each entrée looked so fantastic, unfortunately that's where it ended.

Chicken and Waffle $23.00 - This item was cold and served with 2 chicken thighs with the skin on which was soggy and dripping grease so you were eating fat along with a cold waffle that tasted like it had cayenne pepper infused into the batter -GROSS

Avocado Toast $17.00 - This item came on top of a piece of toast that was so hard we needed a steak knife to cut it, which is what was requested. It was bland and hard to eat.

Brisket Taco $22.00 - 3 small tacos with very fatty meat and no taste.

Smoked Salmon $17.00 - Here is an item that is hard to screw up, but the Red Owl Tavern did just that. This item came on a piece of bread not a bagel, and like the Avocado toast was so hard that a steak knife was needed to cut it. Traditional smoked salmon calls for red onion, but this red onion was dipped in red wine vinegar, which dripped onto the smoked salmon destroying the taste of the salmon, which was bland to start with.

Fried Chicken Sandwich $18.00 - A fried chicked thigh, soggy and greasy on a bun with fries. The Chicken sandwich was GROSS but the fries were good.

Sausage and Gravy $16.00 each - This item was good but it was cold when it came to the table.

Two eggs entree $22.00 - This was was the best of of the lot. It was tasty and served hot.

Service

Our bill was $205.00 to which a Service charge of $3.66 was added to the bill as a tip to the kitchen staff and another $41.00 was added as a gratituty for our the waiter.

I have been in th restaurant business for many years and I usually leave a twenty percent tip when i dine out if the service was good. If the food was poor but the service was good i stil leave a twenty percent tip, but it is my choice and not an add on to the check like many restaurants in Philadelphia are doing.

If you are not aware, the word “tip” comes from the phrase “To Insure Promptness.” This phrase was found on the sides of bowls in coffee houses, where patrons could leave some money to ask for prompt service. Through the years, this became the practice we know today of tipping after the meal. Generally, you could say tipping is done as a a way to say thanks for being prompt and otherwise excellent service.

However, if the service is poor I should not be forced to give a twenty percent tip for poor, slow and incompetent service.

Also, keep in mind that if a waiter is going to get a twenty percent tip regardless of the quality of service rendened; what is the incentive to give good service ?

All in all the RED OWL TAVERN in my opinion provides poor quality food and service at high prices and automaticly adds on a twenty percent tip to customers whether the service is good or bad and ads insult to injury by forcing their customers to do the work of figuring out their own checks.

NOT WORTH THE EFFORT!

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strangerhottotties · 2 years ago

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Ty's Kinktober | 5. Alpha Beta Omega Dynamics with Eddie Munson

Warnings: MDI +18, A/B/O Dynamics, knotting, oral (fem receiving), cum eating, loss of virginity, kind of friends to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, slightly mean, dom!eddie, bratty sub!reader.

A/N: My first A/B/O fic. It's one of my favorite tropes. I perfectly content with not knowing why.

High school fucking sucks. That's no joke. A hormonal cesspool of overly territorial alphas and suppressed omegas. Not like the movies where everyone is pretty and drooling over each other.

It was stinky and uncomfortable. Alphas struggled to maintain level heads. Betas just watched blindly from the side, unable to smell the battling hormones. Omega's were usually ornery little goblins that enjoyed toying with underconfident Alphas. Mostly everyone just generally felt uncomfortable and gross.

You used to make fun of Omegas with your friends, until you presented as such. And suddenly your friends couldn't handle you anymore, your mother couldn't handle you anymore and sent you to live with your grandparents in the middle of Bumfuck, Indiana.

Bitterness ate up at you, creeping a chill over your skin as you find yourself parting the crowd. The temperature fluxes were a bad sign, one that promised a particularly bad heat impeding in the coming weeks. Three days already you'd been breaking your chills with sudden sweltering sweat that were priming your sweat glands with sticky pheromones. The ones that made you reek. Omega pre-heat always smelled like B.O. when you were a beta, it changed a year and a half ago when you presented.

It was different. Most Omega's smelled chemically. Alpha's smelled grimy. Like chili powder or onion. They ripened with age; you'd noticed. When the hormones start evening out, they start smelling good, like sex. Men were slower to mature in this way. But every now and then you'd catch a whiff of a mature Alpha and your knees would tremble. Your heart would race. You could feel the nature of your presentation bubble up to devour your self-control.

It was fantastic.

It's why you were surprised to smell a mature Alpha in the high school. His scent twinkled in the waves of hormones. Streaking the air like someone had graffitied it. It commanded attention from you, made your head fuzzy. For the first week of school, you'd followed it about mindlessly before you'd catch yourself.

You knew he sat somewhere to your left in the math classroom. And his fifth hour was spent often in the room you had English. His scent was usually heaviest in a room filled with props. A theater kid, perhaps? It was hard to tell.

It's not like you were normally keeping tabs on Alphas, but there was something with his scent that was making it hard to focus on anything else. With your approaching heat, many Alphas flaunted proudly, hoping to be chosen to aid your heat.

Which was the only reason you think they were being nice. Lunch was getting increasingly frustrating. You just wanted a quiet corner to sit in. Preferably, a table of Beta's, but you knew you'd reek to them.

"New girl," is called out as you look for an open seat, pushed away from most people. "New girl!" It's called with annoyance as you ignore them. Finally, your eyes skirt across the table of football players. A broad Alpha with a wicked smile gives you a very obvious once over and then glances at the open seat in the hoard of them. "You can sit with us," he offers.

"No, thanks," you reply, leveling him with your gaze.

He stands, trotting happily towards you. "Aw, come on. Just trying to be nice," he insists.

"Okay, let's try this one. Fuck off." You snap, expression further souring as you step into his face. His jaw flexes with irritation.

"Things could go a lot easier for you, if you play nice with the Alpha's." His response conveys the obvious threat in his voice. You're about to respond when the scent of that mature Alpha appears. Straight from the source and for a split second you think it might actually be the tool directly in front of you. The scent has you shivering rather obviously. But his eyes raise over your shoulder.

The scent saturates the air with intentionally angry pheromones. Like blood and jalapeño peppers.

"I'm pretty sure she told you to fuck off," he reiterates, and the sound of an Alpha growl has your hair standing on end. It was proof you didn't need that a mature Alpha was standing behind you. You don't turn immediately, more wary and less intimidated by the prick who just tried to threaten you to sit at his lunch table. "Are you looking for a spot?" He hums in your ear, the sound soft and neutral.

As Jock-strap retreats with a mutter of the Freak, you twist and meet a pair of deep brown eyes that are a lot closer than you expect. Something familiar fires in your brain and you blink. He evaluates you in the same way, surprise overtaking his features. And then he's rumbling your name out.

"Eddie," you reply, a soft scoff floating out of your mouth. He grins down at you. You can't help the flush or the warm grin you offer him.

The boy who you used to hang out with when you spent a couple summers with your grandparents. The one who tried to tell you how popular at school he was, despite not having friends during the summer. Except for you, he admitted once. The boy who'd irritated you beyond belief but was nice. You'd always returned the favor.

The boy who'd always fumbled his words around you blinks at you in awe. He wasn't a boy anymore. "You can always sit with us," he offers. "Guaranteed no one's going to be trying to get in your pants." He nods his head towards a table. He was still in school? You thought he would have graduated by now. It explains the maturity of his scent among the crowds.

You follow his gaze towards the table of half young kids. Betas.

"Uhh, thanks for the offer, but I'm gonna reek to them," you reply sheepishly. He rolls his eyes at you.

"You smell fine," he urges a little too quickly.

"Liar."

"Okay, okay," he chuckles, "You smell... fine to me." It makes you flush deeper, and you hope he doesn't notice the way your pheromones are blooming around him. "Come on," he says with a gentle nudge to your shoulder. "Follow me." And you listen. Not for any reason beyond the familiarity he holds. The trust and safety that always accompanied him when you were just kids. He leads you out of the

"Where are we going?" You ask.

"Drama room," he chirps. "We use it of our campaigns."

"You're still playing D'n'D?" You ask, with genuine interest of your old friend. He passes you a smile.

"Yeah, you can join us if you'd like."

"Do you remember how poorly that went when you tried to teach me," you laugh." A fond smile passes his face as he reaches the door you could always smell him behind.

"Horrible. I don't even know how you were that bad." It makes you snort. And then he was closing the door behind you. It felt strange, dreamlike as he leads on, hands stuffed in his pockets. "So what brought you back to Hawkins?"

"Starting heavy, I see." You reply as you sit down at the table, watching Eddie kick his feet up so he could face you while you ate.

"That's a heavy question?" He demands.

"Mhmm."

"I was there when you got your period-" You fix him with a hard look.

"You said, you'd never bring that up," you snap, smacking his leg drapped over the chair next to you. He laughs playfully and fixes an intense gaze on you.

"I just want to know how long you're going to be around this time," he replies. It makes your heart flutter. He'd begun to develop pheromone control, evidently, when his scent twists into a comfort you'd long since missed.

"My mom... she couldn't control me anymore after I presented." You sigh. "So she sent me to live with my grandparents... until I learn some respect." Eddie nods in understanding. The only thing that could settle a pissed off Omega was an Alpha and vice versa. It made it especially difficult for your Beta parents.

"So, that means you're going to be around more than a few weeks?" He offers hopefully.

"Yeah, I'm gonna be around a while," you tell him before you offer him a warm smile. He grins back, wetting full lips. He'd grown into his features. His wild hair longer than you'd ever seen it. Eddie Munson looked good enough to eat. With his ripped jeans and leather jacket, you bask in the moment quietly. It feels wonderful to see a familiar and warm face in this stress of moving in your senior year.

It's ruined when a gush of slick rushes out of you. Embarrassment fills you. "Shit," you curse, standing up before the scent hits either of you. Eddie jumps up in response. You try to scramble back.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Didn't mean to- what?" But you see it, the moment he smells your slick. The dilation of his gaze almost turning his eyes black as his nostrils flare. "Oh," he murmurs, standing upright.

"Shit, fuck, I gotta go. I gotta go home," you mutter as you move to the door. Cramps are starting low in your belly.

A wave of intense spice rolls over you. It vaporizes the anxiety from your bones as Eddie slinks closer. He pushes into your personal space but doesn't touch you, it doesn't feel like caging or like trapping. Still, you feel the desperation rolling off him.

"You..." he gulps, eyeing you nervously. "You smell... like-" The Alpha stalls himself, trailing off with a deepening crease between his brows.

"Like what?" You breathe, features softening without your control. Your voice lowly thrumming across the cold echo of the drama room.

"Like... warm... and soft... and... nice."

"Mm," you hum softly, peering off to the side. His eyes are still boring into your face. "Funny." A giggle softly pushes past your lips.

"What is?"

"I know what you mean." Suddenly the nervousness sags out of him, moving closer. You glance back at his face, observing each other. It's an intimacy that shreds you from the inside. "All I can smell is cinnamon... and bacon... and coffee. But like... not it." The Alpha grins down at you at that.

"You smell like clean laundry," he counters. "And like a bakery." It makes you blush at him, biting your lip. "And like stores at Christmas time." It shocks you that you smell good to a mature Alpha. Maybe Eddie triggered it for you.

In the back of your mind, it reminds you that this will be a true heat. A mature heat would be more intense than any of your previous. But Eddie's scent was sweeping those thoughts under the rug.

"Like a fireplace and hot cocoa."

"I'm not the type," he scoffs.

"Oh no, no, you're right. Definitely wet ashtrays, cold pizza, annnnd... stale beer." His jaw drops open. Laughing in offense as you giggle proudly. He gives himself a once over.

"That's more like it." Then he's smiling his voice coming out in a low gravel. The next words are rasped out in a distorted way. Alpha voice rumbling out. "You smell like something I want to bury my cock in." Both of you are startled by the words that flew out of his mouth. He's wrenching himself away from you.

"I'm sorry," he mutters. "I don't know what's coming over me."

"Eddie," you rasp out, satisfied with the way his head whips towards you immediately. You muttering his name is enough for him to give you his full attention. You open your mouth to tell him that you think he's causing you to spiral into your first full heat, but you hesitate. Not wanting to spring that situation on him.

He pulls completely away, pacing across the room. He sweeps away and your suddenly aware of how sweltering the room is... and how horrible the distance between you both is. It hurts with him so far away. It aches deep in your chest like your ribs are being pried apart. Your hands want to reach for him. You mouth wants to taste him.

Frustration makes tears bubble up in your eyes.

"What is it?" He prods.

"It's not fair," you spit, mood souring with the tightening cramps. He cocks his head to the side in confusion. "You're setting me off."

"I am?" He demands, baffled. There's a breathlessness to his words.

"I'm not supposed to get my heat until next week, Eddie." He breathes out a sigh of relief.

"I've been able to smell you since you got here. I've been trying to stop from following it every time I get a whiff. Fuck, I'm sorry." The spice twisted heavier in the air, a coil of musk. You evaluate the way he's standing, back mostly towards you, head tilted over his shoulder. It spikes something in your brain, spears you in a way that you can't help yourself.

You stride towards him, eyes burning into his.

"Wha- Wait, no, no." He protests as you try to move around him. His hands drop.

"You're going into rut?" You ask. It has him groaning and waving you off. He lifts his hands, blush gracing his cheeks as he shows you the tent in his pants.

"Yep," he sighs.

"What... do you propose we do?" You murmur quietly, unsure.

His eyebrows shoot nearly to his hairline in surprise. "You want to?"

Gnawing your lip nervously, you shrug. He blinks a couple times, like he can't believe it. He rubs a hand over his face, curling it over his jaw as he thinks. "My uncle is home right now, we can't go to my place." He responds and relief fills you momentarily. In a few hours, you probably won't care where you're fucking him, as long as you get to. The idea of being filled with a knot when previously you could only muffle cries of desperation and your own fingers was too good to pass up.

"My grandparents are home, too. Do you know where we could go?"

"My uncle may vacate if I ask, but I don't guarantee it."

"If we stay here, someone's definitely going to catch us," you reply. His eyes glaze over at that. Oh, he liked the idea of someone catching you. He shakes his head, seemingly to clear it.

"It's not a romantic spot, but it'll be private," he mumbles.

"Okay. Lead. I'll follow." You breathe. He blinks down at you, still in disbelief it seems.

"Do you want to stop at my place? I can grab pillows and blankets if you want to make a nest." It was uncharacteristically sweet to hear him say that. You press forward then, reaching up to cup his face.

He meets you eagerly in the middle. Mouth pressing tenderly to yours. The smells surround you both, twisting into something that you could only describe as home. Eddie's hands come up to cradle you face back. You're just clinging to each other for a brief, sweet moment.

He peels back with a shaky breath. "I'd love to make a nest," you respond to his previous question.

"If were quick, we might be able to stop at your, too." A nest for you both to roll around in together. It felt far more intimate than it had any right being.

"Can we go, now?" You reply.

"Yeah, just, um, let me..." He shrugs out of his jacket, and you smell the waft of pheromones seep out of his pores. The fabric is brought up as he saturates the room with his scent, effectively covering the smell of your slick.

When he's done scrubbing at his neck with the inside of his jacket, he drapes it across your shoulders. For now, at least, it settles the ache in your chest and you smile at the idea of being saturated in his scent. "Okay," he promises, "Let's go."

"Sweetheart, come on," he whines. You peak at him over your shoulder as he sits in the corner, off your blankets. His van parked off trail, deep in the woods, smelled like the both of you already. You're still trying to shake off the disgruntled look your grandmother gave you as you came home to a full-blown heat, only to grab your blankets and pillows and even the twin mattress to shove in the back of Eddie's van. It barely fit lengthwise.

"Hold on," you say. "I don't know if this should go here, or not. What do you think?"

"I think it's a fantastic nest," he tries, creeping onto the mattress. You shoot him a pout. "I think, were about to destroy it any way," he adds. Your face heats at that.

"Yeah, probably." Your agreement makes him grin and he pushes in close, nose pressing to the column of your throat.

"Thank, Ozzy," he grunts, as you let him wrap his arm around you, dragging you down on top of him. A waft of his own rut fills the air around you. It sooths you in a way and riles you up in another. The cramps steam rolls you as he laves his tongue on your throat.

"I've never actually done this before."

"Me either, truthfully," he murmurs in ear.

"What've you done for your other ruts then?" You demand, pulling back to look at him. His lips thin as he averts his gaze, then he lifts his hand and wiggles his fingers at you. You gasp in horror.

"Doesn't it hurt to knot when you're not... you know."

"Like a bitch," he replies. "I cried every time."

Your brain short circuits at the thought of him with knot in hand and tears streaking his face.

"Why didn't you... ask someone to help."

"Never wanted any one to help... not like I want you." It nearly knocks you flat when he says that. You press your mouth eagerly to his after a moment. Those words burn away your nervousness and your reminded of the safety you feel in his arms. There was an intimacy involved in the fact that it was the first time doing this for either of you. A relief that there wasn't anyone to impress.

It did feel a little strange that it was just the over saturation of matured pheromones that had you in the back of an Alpha's van. To be fair you knew him long before he was an Alpha. You knew him when he was a scrawny, awkward kid. The last time you'd seen him you'd kissed his cheek as you ran away - and now you were about to let him knot you.

His mouth meets yours as hungerly as yours devours his. He lets out a heady groan and nearly rolls you off the mattress to press his hips into yours with a slow grind. You gasp as he plants himself into the bowl of your pelvis. The air twists hotly, sweat having risen on both of you hours ago.

"Fuck, I used to think about you. When I first presented." His eyes are squeezed shut as he rocks into you, still slowly. "I used to think about kissing you all the time when we were kids."

You don't let him say more as your dragging his mouth back down to yours. A shuddering moan leaves him as you rock your hips into his and whimper below him. There's a naturalness that folds into this, your teeth digging into his lip. He hisses with pain and his fingers tunnel into your hair.

The aggression that came with your presentation welling from the desperation his scent brought out in you.

He shudders as your hands brush up his sides below his shirt. He pushes up off you and onto his knees to peel his shirt over his head eagerly. You follow suit, relief flooding you as more skin descends on yours. You're eagerly reaching for his pants as you bear your throat for him.

"You're a natural," he complements as he leans down to bite your throat. You whine at the roughness he uses on you. "So good." You're able to arch enough to unhook your bra in the back. He all but tears it off your chest, his mouth eagerly trailing down after it, a nipple being teased by his teeth.

You sprawl out, arching into his mouth with a moan. "Shit, like that." You miss him glancing up at you when you throw your head back. A rumble leaves him that makes you shiver. He doesn't stop as he goes for the button on your pants. He pulls away, watching your breast bounce down when he drags your nipple up. It hurts a little. The sting excites you in a new way. Your jeans and underwear go in two jerking movements.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, diving face first into your cunt to breathe in the saturation of slick.

"Eddie," you whine, "want your knot, hurry." You watch the violent shutter that rocks him.

"Please, baby. You smell so good. Just let me taste you for a little while." He nuzzles your thigh as he waits. His arms wrap around from beneath your thighs, allowing him to bury his face against the doughy flesh his mouth was already working on. It almost works.

"Need it, though, Eddie." He peers up at you through his lashes, fluttering them.

"Jus' for a minute. Then I'll give you my knot until you can't stand." You're powerless to the dark promise he's giving you. Instead, you just lift your legs and let them fall apart for him. A soft hum of appreciation flutters from him and then he's burying his face at the apex of your thighs tongue teasing the seam of your slick cunt. The sensation brings a disproportionately violent moan to the surface. "Just keep making those noises, pretty baby," he urges. With his hands sliding over the back of your trembling thighs you let your eyes flutter shut. Fingers slide down your ass until his thumbs rest on either side of your cunt - only to use this to spread you open.

Slick gushes out, you feel it spill down and between. Eddie groans and you watch awe spread across his face. He has nothing to say. He only looks up at you with nothing but darkness in his face. All of the playfulness he's held for you has worn away into nothing but pure hunger. A deep breath expands his shoulders as he holds your gaze. Anticipation builds in you.

"I'm a gentleman," he tells you. You gulp, brows bunching in confusion. Eddie glances back at your pussy with glassy eyes. One hand leaves you and you watch as he dips his fingers in against you. You let out a strangled moan as he scoops slick with his fingers. "Which is why I insist on ladies first," he hums, eyes fastening back to your face as he lifts his hand with drenched fingers. He reaches towards you, and you realize exactly what he means.

Eagerly, you open your mouth for him. The way your lips wrap around his fingers and suck has Eddie trying to steady his breathing. "What a good girl," he breathes out with sparkling eyes. You let your tongue slide against his calloused fingers, humming at the taste of your own brine. They're hardly drier when he drags them from between your lips.

You receive a glimpse of a mischievous smile from him before he dives in immediately and begins to slurp at your cunt loudly. You gasp as his tongue slides inside to begin with, your brain feeling like fuzzy fireworks as he slurps up wave after wave of slick, stopping at times just to feel you pulse on his tongue.

Eddie lets his tongue travel just a little higher and it has you clamping your thighs around his head and cry out at his teeth scraping across your clit. "Eddie, please," you whine. You feel his taunting laugh from between your legs.

His palms skirt up the inside of your thighs and you release him as he pushes them back apart. "You taste so good, though," he teases.

Your hand snatches his hair by the root and his eyes widen as you drag him up the length of you. He goes unwillingly, whining and wincing as he does. "Eddie, I need you to knot me already." Your voice flows out like honey, despite your hard tone. He huffs, his pants being shucked off to reveal the leaking red tip of his thick cock. You don't have time to get excited about it.

"Fine," he responds, catching your jaw in his hand to tilt it up towards him. His playfulness evaporates all over again as the wildness of his Alpha instincts urge him on. "But next time I'm going to eat your pussy till you cry. Do you understand, little Omega?"

"Knot me," you hiss between your teeth. Eddie hikes your leg up higher on his hip and the head of his cock presses against you. The feeling has you going limp beneath him.

"Beg for it."

"What?" You demand.

"Are you deaf? Beg for my knot."

"What have I been doing, asshole?" You demand from him, rage boiling under your skin.

"Demanding my knot like a brat," he replies. "So beg for it." Frustration has tears filling your gaze.

"That's not fair!"

"I think it is."

"But I need it! Stop teasing me and give me your knot!" Eddie's mouth tilts up in the corner as tears spill over your cheeks. You roll your hips, attempting to sink down on him. It only works a bit. You get to experience for a brief, glorious moment of being penetrated before he grunts and jerks back to glare down on you.

You let go of a distraught whine when his cock leaves you. A hiccup of desperation leaves you when he scoops your knees up and pushes them up, up, up.

"Brat," he spits. You can't get enough air as he pins your knees up by your head. "Beg for it."

The heat was licking up you, burning you to ash in its wake. "You don't get to trigger my heat," you sob out, sniffling at your running nose, "and then make me beg to fuck you."

Your lower lips tremble as you stare up at him. The defiance in your eyes shining clearly as you clamp your mouth shut. He rolls his eyes at you and the world spins as he plants his knees and he flips you on your stomach. You try to push yourself up to glare at him, but his hands snap to your hips, and he jerks you back into him. You whimper, cramps easing in this position as you go pliant.

Eddie folds himself over your back, his cock sliding between the lips of your pussy until he catches on your rim. A raspy chuckle leaves his lips. "I don't play fair, sweetheart," he practically purrs in your ear. "Those tears are fucking hot. Now, all you gotta say in that whiney little voice is, 'Please fuck me so hard, Eddie.'" His fingers tunnel into your hair and guide your head back.

You grit your teeth as you meet his gaze. Despite everything, he was gazing at you with a tenderness you'd never experienced before. That was it.

"I'm so going to get you back for this," you sniffle again. "Please... fuck me so hard, Alpha." There's a swell of his rutting pheromones that surge with the brutal first thrust he gives you. "FUCK!" You cry out. He sinks all the way to the bottom with little resistance. It stretches you in a way you've craved since you presented.

Your Alpha is loud. It makes you shiver beneath him as he canters his hips at an unexpectedly quick pace. "Shit, you feel so fucking good. Call me that again!"

"Alpha," you whine breathless beneath his weight and the way it felt like there was nothing else you could take. His knot? There was no way. But this is what your body was built for. He was already slamming himself against the spot you could never reach and your legs tremble as the coil in your belly tightens. "Eddie," you wheeze out as a warning. "Eddie, I'm..."

His response is a rather needy whine against your spine. "I can smell it," he rasps out. "Fuckin' cum, 'mega."

You fold, wailing into the pillows as your Alpha pounds you through your orgasm. Eddie moans as he glides through your cunt, the sloppy sounds growing louder. "Shit- I-" He mangages before he throws himself down on top of you. His hand is fisting your hair roughly, twisting it to the side as his teeth greet the side of your neck, hovering over the space where a mating mark would go.

"Do it," you urge.

A snarl rips of him as his teeth savagely break skin and sink all the way in. It hurts. It fucking burns like plasma blazing through you. But as much as it feels like a brand, it feels like an orgasm ripping through your head. It has you tightening over his cock all over again.

There's a pinch below at first - then a blazing stretch when you feel his cock twitching inside you. "Ah! Ah!" You cry, drool smeared over your chin. Eddie shivers against your spine, his teeth still imbedded in your neck. He just moans against you, body sagging. His knot stretches you impossibly wider. His hands glide over your arms until he intertwines his fingers in the back of yours.

A different type of heat twists over you both, a sleepy kind as nothing but oxytocin fills both of your brains.

It took several minutes to get used to the stretch of the knot keeping Eddie embedded in your cunt - once you had, however, it was pure bliss. "Did it hurt this time?" When he rolls you both onto your sides. It makes you whimper as he draws back. He bit deep. You could feel that. A proper mating bite.

"No," he rumbles in your ear, cadance low and relaxed. "No, it felt incredible." His tongue slides soothingly across the bite mark on juncture of your neck and shoulder.

"Good, I'll get you back later," you threaten. It makes him chuckle warmly against you.

"You don't stand a chance."

#tys kinktober masterlist #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fics #eddie munson x you #eddie munson stranger things

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griefpersevering · 3 years ago

Text

Objectively Awful Soup

Length: 1.9k

Link to soup recipe.

Read on AO3.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Peter looks down at the cookbook. The spine is fraying, the pages close to translucent. Even with his enhanced sight, he can barely make out what the instructions say thanks to the combination of the elegant cursive and aged ink.

Tony shakes his hands dry, wiping them on his jeans. "It's just soup. What could possibly go wrong?"

Peter shrugs, wandering over to the counter where they have gathered all the ingredients. He picks up a bag of cauliflower rice, raising his eyebrows.

"I know," Tony interrupts, rolling his sleeves up. "It sounds gross, but I promise you it tastes good. My mom used to make it for me when I was a kid."

He isn't particularly convinced currently, but Peter's sure it will turn out delicious. The Starks have always been billionaires, and he can't imagine having so much money and choosing to eat disgusting food.

"It's called Italian Wedding Soup," Tony explains.

"Did your mom and dad have it at their wedding?"

"No," Tony laughs, his eyes glinting as he checks the cookbook again. "In Italy, it's called minestra maritata , which means something like 'wedded broth'. It's just a poor American translation that turned it into Wedding Soup."

"Ohh," Peter responds, his cheeks turning red. It has taken a long time (and a building falling on him) for Tony to start answering his texts, and even though he has been invited to the Avengers Compound every week since then to work on his suit, he still feels in awe of his childhood hero.

Tony doesn't seem to notice, too busy weighing out the ingredients. "Come on, this is gonna be just like how mom used to make it. We've gotta make the meatball mix first."

He puts the ground mince and pork into a big metal bowl, then he reaches into a drawer and pulls out a huge knife, as well as a smaller but equally sharp one which he hands to Peter. "Here, do you want to chop the onions or the carrots?"

Peter knows from experience that onion fumes are a considerably worse experience for him than most people—last time his eyes were still red two days later from how much he cried—so he opts for the carrots.

"You want to chop them as small as possible," Tony says, not looking up as he expertly dices the onions. "We want them to be soft, and bigger chunks might not cook properly."

"No one wants crunchy meatballs," Peter nods, wrinkling his nose at the thought.

Tony laughs again. "Exactly," he replies, turning to Peter with a smile.

There's a lot he likes about visiting the Compound. The facilities, to begin with—going from dumpster diving to the lab of a billionaire was a bit of a shock, to put it lightly—and the fact he could run into an Avenger at any moment is thrilling. But most of all, he likes spending time with Tony. He's so much more relaxed when he's at home, and Peter loves trying to coax a smile or a laugh out of his mentor.

Going from a random kid to someone who spends his weekends with a superhero has been a strange experience, but Peter wouldn't trade it for the world.

"Here you go, " he says once he has finished chopping.

Tony picks up the chopping board and slides all the onions and carrots into the metal bowl with his knife. "Right, then we grab all of these." He skim reads the cookbook again, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"Okay, get the garlic, the parsley, the fennel—yeah, it's those seeds—and then the oregano, salt and pepper."

Peter definitely uses the power of his sticky hands to carry all the ingredients over to the bowl.

"And then we just put them all in!" Tony exclaims, grinning. He picks up the crushed garlic, happily spooning in several heaps, and then starts pouring in the fennel seeds.

Peter picks up the pepper, but the grinder refuses to budge. Frustrated, Peter twists it a little harder, only for the wooden grinder to snap in half, letting pepper stream into the bowl.

Tony stares at the mixture for a moment, trying to suppress a laugh. "It—It's a pepper shaker, not a grinder."

"Oh." Peter flushes red again, looking down at the broken container in his hands. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark—"

"It's alright, we can fix this," he reassures him. He pulls a roll of paper towels out of a cupboard, dabbing away most of the damage. "It might still be a bit peppery, but I don't mind. I like pepper—hell, I'm gonna marry a Pepper."

Peter manages a nervous smile. "Maybe you should do the rest of the seasoning?"

"Fair enough," Tony says, expertly putting the rest of the ingredients into the bowl. "Okay, then we just need the two eggs. How about I crack one in and you do the other?"

Tony cracks his egg into the bowl one handed, looking at Peter the entire time rather than what he's doing. He thinks Tony is trying to be encouraging, but honestly, that is one of the most intimidating things Peter has ever seen.

Swallowing, he gently taps the egg against the side of the bowl, digging his fingers into the crack and letting the egg spill out. A few pieces of egg shell fall into the bowl, but Tony already has a wooden spoon out and is stirring the mixture before he can fish them out.

No one will notice. Probably.

"Now you stir that together, and I'll start making the actual soup," Tony instructs, passing the spoon over to Peter, who dutifully continues mixing.

He pulls a huge pot out of the cupboard and runs it under the tap for a moment, letting it fill up. Then he puts it on the stove, turning the heat up to high and crumbling in some chicken stock cubes.

"Okay, is that all mixed up?" he asks, leaning over the bowl to check. "Nice. Now we have to roll them into little meatballs."

Tony quickly wets his hands under the tap and then grabs a small handful of meat, rolling it in the palm of his hand to create a neat little ball.

"God, I remember doing this as a kid," he mutters. "Do you want a go?"

Peter nods, stepping closer.

"Wait—" Tony interrupts, before he can stick his hand in the bowl. "Get some water on your hands first, then it's less sticky."

"My hands are always sticky," Peter mumbles, but he complies.

He goes in again, pulling out some meat and rolling it into a little ball. A sudden noise nearly makes him drop the meatball on the floor, but he just about manages to catch it in time.

"Sorry," Tony frowns, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "I've got to take this, I'll just be a minute. Roll the meatballs and drop them in the pot, and then we have to wait for it to cook."

He hurries from the room, leaving Peter alone with a recipe he can't even read.

Carefully, Peter rolls all the mixture into a dozen meatballs, dropping them cautiously into the boiling water. Some of them seem a bit deformed, but he tells himself it doesn't matter as long as they taste good.

Tony returns a few minutes later, rubbing his forehead. "How's the cooking coming along, kiddo?"

"Good," Peter shrugs. Tony ruffles his hair with his hand as he walks past, peering into the pot.

He turns down the heat, adding a lid to the pot. "We just have to let that simmer for a few minutes, now, and then we can add the other stuff."

Continue reading under the cut, or read on AO3.

Peter jumps up onto the table next to the cookbook, swinging his legs since they don't touch the floor. Tony uses the spare time as an excuse to clean up, filling the sink with hot, soapy water and washing the chopping board and knives, humming to himself all the while.

"What song is that?" Peter asks curiously.

"Kashmir," Tony answers, a smile creeping back onto his face. "I'm offended you don't know your Led Zeppelin."

Peter rolls his eyes. "Sorry I don't listen to old people's music," he shoots back.

"Oh yeah? What kind of music do you listen to that's so much better than mine?"

"Taylor Swift," Peter answers without hesitation.

Tony bursts out laughing. "You know what, I'll let you have that one, Bug Boy."

"Hey," Peter protests, jumping down off the table, but he doesn't really mind.

Tony takes the lid off the pot, stirring it for a minute. "I think it's time for the other ingredients."

He pours in the cauliflower rice and the kale, and they let it cook for a few more minutes.

"Friday, could you let everyone know that dinner's nearly ready?"

"Sure thing, boss."

"We just have to plate it up," Tony tells Peter, "and then it's ready to go!"

"I'm starving," Peter declares as Tony pulls some of the fanciest bowls he has ever seen out of a cupboard.

Tony divides the soup between six bowls, handing some soup spoons over to Peter while he sprinkles some parmesan cheese over the top of each of them.

"You take the cutlery, I'll bring the food," Tony suggests, and Peter nods sheepishly. They don't want a repeat of The Curry Incident from a few weeks ago, where Peter had accidentally ruined a $500,000 rug.

In the dining room, Pepper, Rhodey, Vision and Happy are already waiting for them. Peter hands each of them a spoon, taking a seat as Tony brings the bowls in two at a time.

"Did you guys cook this?" Pepper asks warmly.

"We sure did," Tony replies, kissing her cheek as he sits down next to her.

Rhodey picks up his spoon, taking a sip. "Delicious, Tones," he declares, but Peter doesn't miss the uncertain look that crosses his face when Tony looks away.

"It was my mum's recipe," Tony says proudly, admiring their dish.

Pepper picks apart a meatball with her spoon and a well-manicured nail, frowning at the pink meat inside.

"You not eating, Vis?"

"I am sure it is delightful," Vision replies, looking down at his bowl. "But unfortunately I do not eat food."

Peter doesn't think he looks too upset by this.

"I'm sure you guys had a great time bonding through cooking or whatever," Happy says, staring at his bowl like it's radioactive, "but I'm not eating this shit. I can literally see floating eggshell, and I'm pretty sure these meatballs aren't cooked."

"I'm sure it's not that bad," Tony protests, eating a spoonful. He spits it straight back into the bowl, wrinkling his nose. "Okay, that was disgusting."

"I think you went a bit overboard with the pepper," Rhodey comments, politely putting his spoon back down.

"I thought you said it was delicious?" Tony counters.

Rhodey shrugs. "I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

"Maybe you just need some more practice," Pepper recommends.

"You're probably right," Tony concedes. "Well, kiddo, it was your turn to cook. What kind of takeout shall we order instead?"

Peter smiles as all the Avengers turn to him.

"How about some pizza?" he suggests.

Tony grins, wrapping one arm around Peter's shoulder and holding Pepper's hand with the other. "Sounds like a plan."

Maybe Peter never imagined he'd end up getting bit by a spider and becoming a vigilante, but he knows that getting to see Tony Stark as relaxed—as human—as this… well, it's definitely worth it.

#peter parker #tony stark #irondad #spideyson #spiderman #iron man #fluff #marvel #mcu #lina lore #my writing #long post

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jinkicake · 5 years ago

Text

You Call Him Daddy?!

You accidentally call them daddy in front of the team.

Kageyama Tobio x Reader

Sugawara Koushi x Reader

Tsukishima Kei x Reader

For the anons who requested these characters!! Here you go~~ I combined them and put them on one page, the Karasuno boys. (*・∀-)☆ Pls omg Kageyama and Tsukki are aged up to 18, they’re third years in this. Don’t be gross and think they’re tiny first years, I wouldn’t be able to handle it TT

This is complete and utter filth, I have no idea what possessed me to write this. Please..... read this at your own caution TT SMUT

WC- 2,208

~~~

Kageyama Tobio

Kageyama would pass away on the spot, he would stop functioning

Honestly though, it was his fault he got caught, he was too distracted to even catch his mistake

It was tournament season and you were going to watch some of his games

Sadly though you had to babysit your neighbor’s daughter, who happened to be the child of Aoba’s assistant coach, and with her parent’s permission you brought her to the arena

It was so crowded as you held her to your chest, you frantically looked around for any members of your boyfriend’s team

You couldn’t see where you were going and bumped into a familiar player, their large hands bracing your shoulders and your eyes widen at the turquoise in your vision

“Oh, Kindaichi I’m sorry, are you okay?” You smile politely at your boyfriend’s old teammate, much to Kageyama’s dismay, you actually liked the onion head and Kunimi

“I’m fine, it’s good to see you. Hi Natsumi.” He pats the little girls head and she squeals in delight at the familiar boy

“Where’s daddy, huh?” You coo and lift her up so she can find her father

“Daddy! Daddy!” The little girl calls out to her father and you hand her over to the assistant coach before waving at Kunimi

“(Y/N).” Kageyama calls from behind you, you can’t keep the wide smile off of your face when you see him “What’s wrong?” His concern sends your heart into a frenzy

“Oh, nothing! I’m just letting Natsumi see her dad before we head up to the bleachers, I was looking for you!” You tell him and he flicks your forehead, disappointment heavy in his features

“So you weren’t calling for me?” His flirty tone causes your face to heat up and you thought no one had heard due to the mass amount of people in the hallway

You were wrong…

“Gross.” Kunimi rolls his eyes as he passes his old teammate “That’s nasty, even for you Kageyama.” He tosses his nose high into the air and a bright red Kindaichi follows behind him

You can only gape and blink before clutching your boyfriend’s shoulders and laughing loudly into his chest

Kageyama seriously stopped working, his face turned bright red and he was trying to hide his face behind his thick hair

“Ah you’re so cute Kageyama!” You cup his cheek and smile sweetly, in an effort trying to bring his spirits up after the humiliation he brought on

“You look so cute with kids.” Kageyama praises, his face resting in the crook of your neck as he slowly thrusts into you. You tilt your head back against the pillow at the intensity of each stroke, your back arches into the air and Kageyama smirks before wrapping his lips around your nipple.

“F-fuck,” You sigh loudly, your voice breaking off into a moan when his teeth bite down on the small nub. Your hands quickly find his hair and roughly pull on the strands, you’re really being worked with each of his thrusts.

“I should fuck a baby into you, shouldn’t I? You would look so nice with my cum spilling out of you, don’t you think?” When Kageyama asks questions he always expects an answer, but right now it’s so hard to give him one. It’s so hard to focus between his pelvis rubbing against your clit and the overall feeling of being so full.

“Yes,” Your word stretches with a whine and you press your lips together to hold back another. “I would like it so much daddy.” Your begs make Kageyama want to pick up the pace but he continues to thrust into you slowly while one of his hands gently slaps your other breast.

“Is that any way to ask, petal?” His eyes are so commanding as he looks at you, almost as if he is testing you to reject his motives. The natural dominance, the need to be in charge, radiating off of him makes you feel so small under him. So protected in his care that you want to give your all to him.

“Please ruin me, I won’t waste a single drop daddy.” You promise and Kageyama breaks into a wide grin, his hips pick up the pace to fuck you into the sheets.

“That’s it sweet girl, you better keep your words.”

Sugawara Koushi

Listen nobody thinks Sugawara is nasty

But let’s be real, we have all seen him angry! That bitch is crazy!

We call Daichi the ‘dad’ but honestly,,,, Sugawara could make everyone his bitch without lifting a finger

Daddy!Sugawara periodt, that’s all I want to say

After practice one day you agreed to help some of the first years with their Japanese literature class, it went by slow and you mainly just proofread their writing to make sure it was all correct

As you continue to read through Hinata’s paper, your brows furrow together when you try to piece together the word he had written

It doesn’t look like it belongs there and you can’t figure out what it could possibly be

“Umm Hinata what is this word? It looks like you wrote ‘daddy’ but that doesn’t fit there?” You lightly point at the smudged pencil and the small boy squeaks before trying to piece it together himself

“Daddy? Hinata you’re an idiot!” Kageyama insults as he continues to write his own paper

“Daddy? I love that word!” Sugawara pops up from behind you and squats down to kiss your cheek before running back to the court

The two first years look at each other before looking at you, confusion painted on their faces before going back to their work

“Is no one going to say anything about that?” Tsukishima looks around with a mild disgust before shrugging his shoulders and serving to Yamaguchi

“You didn’t mean it like that right Sugawara?” Daichi smiles at his friend, his smile faltering when his friend doesn’t confirm his statement

“No I like being called daddy.” The refreshing setter sends an innocent smile back before grabbing a ball, ignoring the stunned look on his captain's face

“S-Sugawara-“ Asahi starts but can’t find the words to figure out what the hell to say

Kiyoko looks up from her clipboard and sends you an approving nod, hiding her face behind the object just as quickly as she looked up

“Hey! Let’s not be so surprised! We’ve all seen him angry before!” Nishinoya defends, standing tall next to his setter “Good for you Sugawara, daddys for life!” He gives him a slap on the back as praise and you simply watch the entire thing with a deep embarrassment

“Am I really that innocent to them? Do I not look like I would be into freaky shit, should I be offended?” Sugawara continues to ask you, knowing damn well you won’t be able to answer him back with the makeshift gag in your mouth. “Your panties work so well, don’t they angel? You look so utterly delectable.” He pushes the material deeper into your mouth with two fingers before going back to check each of the soft silk ties holding your arms and legs apart. “As if none of them want to be called daddy, and they look at me like I’m the weird one?” He continues to rant, gently running his finger up and down your naked body. “What do you think, sweetheart?”

You try to talk around the soaked material but it only comes out like complete nonsense, Sugawara nods as if he understands it anyway.

“What can I do to show them I’m not the vanilla player they think I am? I’ve already ruined you beyond repair, haven’t I?” He cups your cheek lovingly, his words are added with extra fluff that hold nothing but lies. “Maybe I just need to push your beautiful body further. Would you like that angel?” He continues to ask and you nod frantically. “Ah, of course you would.” Sugawara dips his fingers between your thighs, spreading your folds apart to tap at your clit. Even the small action makes you release a muffled cry.

“Daddy is going to take such good care of you tonight.”

Tsukishima Kei

I don’t know who Tsukishima would throw off a building first, you or himself

It would be just his luck that the first time you call him daddy, someone overhears it and can’t keep their mouth shut

Spoiler alert : said person is Hinata

It’s after school before practice and Tsukishima has you cornered against the wall in an abandoned hallway

One of his long legs rest between your own and his hands are pressed flat on either side of your head

Yes you had been teasing him in class, sending him filthy text messages to the point that you could see the familiar tent rising in his slacks but, did you stop there?

Nope

Seeing him so turned on in such a public setting only made you hotter and the sticky summer humidity wasn’t helping you either

But your boyfriend knows discipline and was able to control himself…. well until the bell rang

Now you’re his for a short time before he has to get to the gym

Two of Tsukishima’s fingers pinch your chin and force you to look up at him, his narrowed eyes glare down at you and it should make you feel nervous

… it doesn’t

The irritation radiating off of him in waves only makes you pout larger, purposely you push your lip out just to spite him

“What was that in there?” Tsukishima spits out in a hushed whisper, heavily referring to the last period when you sent him text after text of all the things you want him to do to you

“It was just a little teasing.” Your words fuel him to grab your wrist and place your hand flush against his crotch, the contact causes your thighs to clench around his leg

“Little? What about this is little?” He sneered and you could feel yourself going light headed

“I-I’m sorry” Your apology is still not enough for him

“You’re sorry? Who are you apologizing to?”

“You, daddy” The words slip out of your mouth, fumble out so smoothly that you don’t even realize what you said until he stopped moving

At this Tsukishima’s glasses fog over, it’s like he stopped functioning and you fear that you may have broken him

Fuck, you can’t think it had gotten any worse….

It had

“T-Tsukishima practice started five minutes ago…” Hinata calls from around the corner and from where you are, you could have sworn you saw blood trickle out of his nose

“Come on daddy” Kageyama tries to tease but ends up gagging on the last word, covering his mouth to shield his laughter

The two third years walk off while they try to hold back their amusement, unable to look their teammate in the eye

By the looks of it…. You can’t handle looking your boyfriend in the face either

“Fucking brat.” Tsukishima rolls his eyes as you lay on your stomach, your hands tied to the bedpost with your ass high in the air. He continues to glare down at you and as much as you want to look back at him, you know better not to. You feel the bed dip and you nearly moan when his large hands grip at your inner thighs, spreading your legs apart so that he can touch your delicate slit. He flicks your clit and you bite the pillow beneath you. “Good girl.” Tsukishima praises, moving to rub three of his fingers along your soaked entrance, occasionally dipping his fingers to rub along your walls. You nearly whine when he removes his fingers and you can’t stop the moan that slips from your lips when he finally lays a brutal slap against your ass.

“Oh?” You can’t see his face but you know exactly what he looks like. In your head you can see the mild irritation covering his face as he stares down at you amusedly, you know how badly his cock is aching in his shorts at the redness covering your ass. “You like that, don’t you?” He sneers, smacking your behind a few times before going back down to rub your slit. He toys with your clit too much, giving you too much attention that you can’t hold any noises back. “What can I expect from such a dirty girl? Are you going to call me daddy again?”

You can hear him laughing and his words do nothing but make you clench around nothing, you push your ass higher into the air and moan loudly.

“Yes daddy, please.” You beg and nearly faint at how quiet the room gets. You’re almost afraid that you went too far, that he wasn’t ready for this just yet, but all your fears disappear when you feel his nimble length between your lower lips. Tsukishima preps himself in your natural lubricant as he tries not to cum from your words alone.

“Scream for daddy.” He chuckles darkly before entering you in one swift movement, his chest presses against your back and you see his hands on either side of your head. “So fucking tight.” Tsukishima grunts and pauses, trying to ignore how tightly you’re clenching around him.

“Stop, if I fucking cum you’re cleaning it up.”

#Kageyama Tobio x reader #sugawara koshi x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #kageyama x reader #sugawara x reader #tsukishima x reader #kageyama smut #sugawara smut #tsukishima smut #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you

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raziroo · 4 years ago

Text

Cotton Candy

Pairing: Lotor x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Saying "Shit" twice

Word count: 2,076 (yay) (also, I edited this, I still need to update the word count)

Author’s Note: I'm crap at writing dialogues, and this is my first time writing for a gay couple. I'm so sorry if it seems forced or unnatural or shitty. Don't be afraid to call me out.

Story Moodboard!

It’s with a grunt of effort that I manage to lift the carton containing the cotton-candy-maker.

‘Here, dad,’ I say as my dad takes the box from my hands. ‘That’s all?’

‘Yep, that’s all of it. We’ll conquer this carnival with our delicious cotton candy,’ I nod, doing jazz hands while saying the last part. Dad chuckles. I grin.

‘Hey, Honey!’ I turn back, squinting to spot where my other dad is in the crowd of bustling people. Where, where…? Yep, there he is – in his embarrassingly brilliant sunshine yellow and bottle green striped shirt and hot pink trousers, a sharp contrast to his natural bright red hair. Don’t say that it can’t look that bright; you’ll never know just how blindingly bright bottle green can really be until you see the shirt my dad’s wearing. And trust me, he usually dresses in simpler tones; such bland tones that you’d be surprised to know he was capable of wearing colourful hues as well. It’s only that he’s very passionate about his job, and so whenever we set up a booth in fetes such as the current one, he never misses to match the shop logo.

‘Hul-lo, father dearest, how seems to go your day?’

‘Oh, quite lovely, if I do say so.’

‘Well, that’s simply charming –’

‘Alright, enough,’ my other, not redhead dad snaps with an exasperated sort of smile on his visage. You see, my not redhead, a.k.a. brown-haired dad happens to be British. And that means that me and dad would rather paint our teeth blue than to not tease him. ‘You both need to shut it and start helping me with the decorations, now. You know I’m trash at all that.’

‘Aw, now don’t get discouraged,’ I say, patting dad on the back. ‘After all, not everyone can be as blessed as me, can they?’

‘Hey, why don’t you go look around for a bit? You’ve been helping out since before I have.’

‘Yeah, he’s right, pet. You should.’

I huff, rubbing my palms on the fabric of my jeans. ‘You guys sure? I’m not tired, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘We’re not worried, we’re just saying you should also get a look, you know? There’s a lot of surprising booths this time around. I mean, there are aliens participating too, so…’

‘Hmm,’ I play with my bottom lip a little, then, ‘yeah, okay. I’ll be back in like, an hour? Forty five minutes? Sound okay?’

‘Sounds great.’

‘Bye, then.’ And with that, I turn on the heels of my Converse, wandering about the pretty stalls and eager children and kissy couples and aliens with curious features.

It really feels bizarre, just how astonishingly fast mankind has accepted the existence of aliens. It seems simultaneously ages and just a day before when conspiracy theorists raged all around the world, presenting baseless theories and concepts as to why and how the three-man squad on the Kerberos mission disappeared. Then came the Galra, bringing along with them global terror – because alien life, intelligent alien life existed and humanity remained oblivious all these millennia, and now they were actually attacking us. It could’ve been, perhaps even was, in some other dimension, the end of Earth. But then a defender appeared; Voltron appeared in all its glory, bringing along with it proof that however much these purple aliens claim that humans are scum of the universe, humans were, in the grand scheme of things, the ones that saved the universe too.

It feels even more puzzling to actually be on a first-name basis with the leader of Voltron; that’s right, I’m personally acquainted with Keith Kogane. It was around six months after him leaving the Garrison did I come across him. He’d been loitering around the neighbourhood, had ended up in a fistfight with some other kids, and along with that a split lip and bruised cheek. I’d been watching. When the fight ended, I (somehow) persuaded him to come along so that I could at the very least provide him with a band-aid.

Long story short, we’d bonded over how our moms were no-shows and how dads were the best and we became surprisingly close friends; the only difference was that after the death of his old man, he lived alone. I’d been adopted by my two current fathers. I told him about how when they’d initially adopted me, I was excruciatingly shy. I wouldn’t even come out of my room except meals. It was only when I came to know that they knew how to make candy floss had I timidly approached them if I could have some, because previously I’d always been grossed out at the thought of having to eat that. I’d overheard this group of kids saying that cotton candy was actually just dyed granny hair, so that’s where that came from.

I love cotton candy now. So much so, that even at the age of twenty-six, I will pout if someone takes some of mine without my permission. As if I’d ever allow them to.

Speaking of Keith, I haven’t seen him in years. We lost all contact when he turned eighteen, and then he went off into space, and even when he came back, I didn’t get a chance to meet him. I bear no ill will, though. He must have formed some close relationships. Our past friendship is comparatively much more trivial.

I spot a booth selling grilled corn. I instantly head there.

As I’m about join the crowd of humans and aliens who also want corn, a familiar call of my name leads me to pull a three sixty.

Lo and behold. Keith Kogane.

Despite him having obviously grown a lot, the face was still the same. I’m sure that, if he gets a split lip and bruise on his cheek right now, he won’t look all that different.

There’s a questioning hesitance on his features; he’s probably wondering if he’s got the right person. My pleasantly surprised smile and raised eyebrows assure him. As I step away from the grilled corn stall, I notice a motley crowd behind him; some are purple, some are holding Voltron plushies, and some look way too curious to be in a carnival. The introduction is going to be fun.

‘Keith! You're gonna live a hundred years - I was just thinking about you. But anyways, it’s – it’s great to see you,’ I say with a little giggle. ‘Though I am kind of surprised you actually approached me. The sixteen-year-old you would never.’

He smiles awkwardly in return. ‘Y – yeah… I, just… oh God, this is – I’m sorry,’ he says, his inner turmoil evident.

‘It’s all good. I know you’re shit at small talk, so… like, introduce me? Maybe?’

He nods rapidly, brows furrowed. ‘Yeah, um,’ he turns to the people behind him, telling them my name, how we met, the whole affair. I give them a wave. Most of them greet me back.

‘And, this is Shiro and Curtis,’ he points to the tall, white-haired yet young man, holding hands with a tanner guy, ‘Lance, Pidge and Hunk,’ he points to a lanky, bright-smiled guy, a buffer, kind-seeming person, and a short chestnut-haired woman who, despite wearing baggy jeans and a baggier tee, looks somehow better dressed than me. ‘Then that’s Allura, Coran, and Romelle, they’re Alteans,’ a woman with enchanting beauty and a regal aura surrounding her, a redhead who’s significantly older than the rest with an impressive moustache, and a youthful appearing girl with a big grin, ‘and Lotor, he’s Galran. The Galran Emperor, in fact.’ Lotor is a tall, lilac-skinned man with aristocratic features who shares the same cheek markings as the Alteans. Oh, and he’s unfairly gorgeous, his hair a luscious mane of white which I just know will be soft. It’s hard not to stare. You remember how I said Allura looked like royalty? Yeah, the way this man carries himself, he has the aura and visage of a God. Even in a white tee-shirt and jeans he looks way better than should be legal.

I rip my eyes away.

‘So…are Noah and Oliver here too? I’d love to see them. I mean, I never did get to thank them to permit a possible criminal to sleep in their house.’

I laugh. ‘Never mind that, but we actually sit up a stall here. I could, you know, maybe even get you guys something to eat.’

‘Free? Please don’t.’

‘It’s nothing, really, just… I don’t know, accept it as a small thank you present for not letting the planet go to shit.’

A bit of thinking. Even after a nod from Shiro, it was Lance who said yes. Good ol’ Keith.

When we reach the stall, my British dad is the only one we find there. He looks up, about to say something to me, when he notices Keith.

‘Dad. You remember Keith?’

‘Your possible criminal friend who turned out to be the saviour of the universe Keith?’

‘That Keith. He wanted to see you.’

‘Oh? Well then,’ he dusts his hands, stands up, and greets Keith. Both of them engage in a conversation.

‘You guys wanna try something?’

‘What do you got?’ asks Pidge.

‘What do we got? Um, we got chocolates, candy, marshmallows, jellybeans, tortilla chips, ice cream, popcorn – butter, cheese, caramel, peri peri – Lays, like, a lot of Lays, and the good old cotton candy. What d’you want?’

So, after providing the humans with two Cream n’ Onion Lays, a pack of tortilla chips, a double scoop of butterscotch and chocolate, a small tub of popcorn, and three cotton candy sticks, I turned to the aliens.

‘I’m assuming you guys aren’t familiar with a lot of this stuff, so you could either pick whatever looks to be good, ask your friends, or I could recommend something. What’ll it be?’

Romelle was the one who asked, ‘What’s ice cream like?’

‘It’s sweet. It’s cold. And it’s like… heaven in mouth.’

‘Ooh. I want an ice cream. The… pink one?’

‘That’s strawberry. You can eat it in a cone, or in a cup.

‘What’s the difference?’

‘Well, the cup you can’t eat. The cone is like a crispy biscuit,’ judging by her face, she didn’t know what biscuit was. ‘I’ll just give you a cone. It’s all on the house, so no worries if you don’t like it.’

I watched eagerly as she licked the ice cream. An unreadable look crossed her face. Then – ‘This is almost as good as Hunk’s cookies!’

‘Really?’ Coran asked, twirling his moustache. ‘Well, then…’ he squinted to read the names of the various flavours. ‘I would like “cookies and cream”. Yes.’ A cone of cookies n’ cream was served.

‘Allura?’

‘Do you have something that isn’t sweet?’ That was a plot twist. I’d have taken her as someone who appreciated sweeter foods.

‘We do. You want spicy?’

‘…Sure.’ Peri Peri popcorn was given and enjoyed.

And last… ‘Lotor. What would you like to have?’

It takes me a lot of will to not laugh at Lotor’s way too analytical expression. ‘What would you recommend?’

‘Me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Out of all this stuff, candy floss is my favourite.’

‘Candy floss… the item that looks simultaneously like a cloud and an old woman’s hair?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I would like a helping of candy floss, then.’

As I hand Lotor a stick of cotton candy, I wait with anticipation for his reaction.

‘How am I supposed to eat this?’

It takes me a moment to process that. ‘Uh, you just… pinch a little of the stuff in between your fingers, then eat it. Or you could just, um, go in directly, which I’m thinking isn’t really your style.’

He narrows his eyes, but follows my instructions nonetheless. Only a second after putting the stuff in his mouth, Lotor purrs.

Everyone around him, being me, Coran and Romelle (Allura’s off telling Lance how great Earth food is), looks with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. Lotor appears as if he’s just died inside. The berry-shaded blush on his face is adorable, though.

'I didn't, like, poison you or something, right?'

'No. It's that... I would never in my lifetimes have expected something so tooth-rottingly sweet to be this delicious.'

'So you're okay?'

‘Yes. In fact, I quite like… this cotton candy.’

I grin.

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aliwritesfic · 3 years ago

Text

The Night Shift Part 9 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Summary: Your first night at Frankies, yearning mostly . . . no hanky panky! (yet 👀)

Warnings: Talk of abuse, talk of death of loved ones

W/C: 2.2k

Spotify

Part 1 Part 10

Frankie was buzzing with adrenaline as he drove you and Manny back to the restaurant. His hand hurt slightly, but he couldn’t stop think about how damn goodit felt to punch Kurt in the face, how when he heard the fear in your voice, everything turned red. How it took everything not to crush the vermin under his boot. But, he would unpack those feelings later, preferably over a case of beer with the boys. They, of all people, would understand.

You got out of the truck to say goodbye to Manny, and Frankie didn’t miss how you rubbed your lower back, how even from where he sat, he could see the ring of a bruise blossoming around your wrist.

“Sorry that took so long,” you said, climbing back into the truck. Frankie glanced at the clock on the dash – barely five minutes had passed. “Are you completely sure it’s okay I stay with you?”

“I want you to stay,” Frankie said. “Please, don’t get it in your head that you’re an inconvenience. I know you well enough by now to see that’s exactly where you’re heading.”

You laughed weakly. “I hate that you’re right,” you said, “I’m just not used to having extra help.” Frankie nodded, and waited for you to continue. “For a second in there, before you and Manny came in . . .I was terrified. I forgot I wasn’t alone and I – thank you, for what you did in there. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come in when you did.”

You slumped back in your seat and closed your eyes.

“I think this whole thing got rid of my hangover, though,” you joked.

“You’re young enough that you can bounce back quickly from hangovers,” Frankie said, taking the obvious hint for a change in the subject.

“Please, you’re barely older than me,” you said. “You’re like, what? Thirty?”

“Thirty-two,” Frankie corrected.

“Oh my apologies, you’re ancient,” you said with a roll of your eyes. Frankie grinned and shook his head. It amazed him how easily you could still make a joke, despite everything you had been through today alone.

It was almost sunset when he pulled up to his home. Golden light splayed across your features, making you glow. Stunning. The thought was in Frankie’s mind before he could stop it. You turned to smile at him.

“Nice gnomes,” you said gesturing to the dozens of gnomes of varying sizes that were scattered around Frankie’s front garden. He rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced.

“Thanks. My Abuelo used to give me one every Christmas, right up until he died last year.”

“I’m sorry,” you said your voice sincere, “I know how hard that is.”

Frankie shrugged, not wanting to talk about how after his Abuelo died, he made himself sick with grief. Instead, he chose to share something happier. “He used to hide things in them, since they’re all hollow. Sometimes it would be candy, or money. Once he hid my first iPod in one.”

“Sounds like he was a cool dude,” you said and Frankie nodded.

“He was the coolest,” Frankie agreed.

You were quiet for a few moments, holding your arms across your chest. The toll of the day was written plainly on your face, weariness lending itself to the dark circles under your eyes, to the way your shoulders curled inwards. Without thinking about it, Frankie wrapped his arms around you. You leant into the hug, burying your face into his neck. He rubbed your back gently, careful to avoid the spot he knew you were still hurting. You stood like that for a while, warmth leeching into him, and when you finally pulled away, you were almost quick enough to hide your damp eyes.

“Wanna go in?” Frankie asked, already feeling colder without you. He wanted to tug you back, hold you to him and not let go. You nodded, still not looking directly at him.

Inside, the house was cool and dark. Frankie tugged his cap off and placed it on a hook by the door, running a hand through his curls to fluff them up. He was suddenly more self-conscious than he had ever been before. He very rarely brought women back here, and when he did, he never liked them as much as he liked you.

He tried to imagine what you were thinking – were you grossed out at his unwashed breakfast plate sitting in the sink? Was the number of photos of family and friends that hung up on the walls and sat framed on every surface excessive? He didn’t remember seeing any photos like that at your apartment. But then, he also hadn’t been looking.

“It’s uh, not much,” he said rubbing the back of his neck.

“It suits you,” you said. Was it a compliment? Frankie wasn’t sure, until you continued. “Like, at first, it seems a little understated, but the more I look the more I see how you it all is.” You wandered over to a shelf stuffed with books and records, most of them coming from his old room at his parents when they had cleaned out their home a few years back.

“Tell me to fuck off if I’m being nosy,” you said, tilting your head to read the spines. Most of the books were well loved classics – stuff that Frankie had read over and over until the covers became loose and pages began to fall out.

“Just don’t search the drawers in my bedroom, that’s where I keep all my vintage Playboys and a spare bag of mushrooms.”

You snorted with laughter and turned to face him properly. Your eyes were still puffy and red, but no longer teary. Frankie counted that as a victory. “You always struck me as more of an acid guy. Just like you’re striking me as a fan of Thai food?”

“Big fan, actually.”

“Excellent, I know this great place that delivers, I’ll pay.” When Frankie opens his mouth to protest, you hold a hand up silencing him. “Please, let me pay. I owe you big time for doing this, all of this, for me.”

Frankie eventually conceded, sensing that you were infinitely more stubborn than him. Thai food was ordered and delivered, the scent of the panang curry made Frankie’s mouth water. You sat across from him at the table, eyeing him. It took a few moment for Frankie to realise you had put one of his albums on – Erykah Badu, he quickly identified.

“Can I ask you something?” you said after swallowing a mouthful of pad Thai.

“Anything,” he said. Just don’t ask me how long I’ve wanted to fuck you.

“What’d you mean today, when you said it’s not my fault?”

Frankie wasn’t expecting that. “Well, all that stuff Kurt did �� like trying to kill himself, that’s not your fault.” You shrugged, clearly unconvinced, so Frankie ploughed on. “It’s just a form of emotional manipulation. Do you remember Benny, the guy your friend went home with last night? His sister, Eve, kind of went through something similar. Her partner would threaten to hurt himself and her if she tried to leave. It wasn’t until she ended up in hospital that she told Benny and Will what was happening.”

You looked horrified. “Is she okay?”

Frankie made a wavering motion in the air with his hand. “Some – most days are better than others. She moved to Portland, met a really nice lady, they’re getting married in the summer.”

“Good for her,” you murmured.

“But like I said, it’s not your fault. None of it is. He’s the one to blame, if he tries anything. He’s in control of his actions, you aren’t.” Frankie’s voice was firm, and he refused to look away from you as he spoke. He needed, more than anything, for you to understand that.

The next few hours passed quietly, sitting next to each other on his worn couch, Netflix half forgotten while you drifted in and out of sleep. Eventually, when the sky turned from black to grey to pink, Frankie showed you the spare room and gave you some privacy, knowing you probably needed some time to yourself after the gruelling day. He knew that sometimes all a person needed was some time alone to process. He sat on the couch and pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket.

Andi, the waitress, had given him her number, followed by three x’s and a winky face. Once, Frankie would have opened his messenger app and texted her, asking her out. But now. . . he found he wasn’t at all interested. He crumpled the paper and threw it in the trash.

~*~

How long is too long to spend in someone else’s shower? Five minutes? Ten? Until the hot water runs out? Vanilla and honey body wash? Oh, shit that smells delicious.

You kept your thoughts light, avoiding the darkness that brewed in the forefront of your mind. You felt like you were going through a billion crisis’s, so instead of focusing on any, you decided to focus on none.

You thought back to Frankie’s intense gaze as he spoke to you at dinner, how incredibly sexy it had been. You were shocked you could think something like that after the day you’d had, but the thoughts had entered unwelcome into your mind. You tucked them away for later, when you weren’t so close to him and wouldn’t feel burning shame if you looked at him.

Stepping out of the shower, you took a deep breath and decided to truly inspect the . . . damage that was done today. Your wrist was already bruising and ached slightly when you thought too much about it. You faced your back to the mirror and twisted, grimacing at the sight of the damage Kurt had caused. Your lower back, like your wrist, was bruised black and purple. You quickly wrapped a towel around yourself, hiding the damage.

Deep breath, Spud, you’re stronger than you think.

Your grandfathers voice echoed in your ears. It was what he would say to you whenever you were hurt – just fallen out of a tree and fractured your ankle, sliced your finger open cutting onions, sobbing because the boy you had convinced yourself was your soulmate at fifteen just dumped you the day after you lost your virginity to him, it was always your grandfathers voice saying those words. Your heart ached with missing him.

The room Frankie had showed you was more of a home gym with a bed shoved into the corner than anything else. There was still a scattering of things that were undeniably Frankie in the room: a pile of old boots with holes in the canvas, a greasy looking toolbox, a poster for the Brooklyn Nets with players that looked like they had wandered out of the 90s. You didn’t know much about basketball but decided to at least keep an eye on when the Nets lost so you could rag on Frankie about it.

You grabbed your bags, assessing what Manny had grabbed. God, he’s good, you thought, realising he had packed you everything you needed. You dressed and grabbed your phone, breathing a sigh of relief when it was free of messages from Kurt. You typed out a quick message to Manny.

You are truly the most amazing friend anyone can ask for <3 thanks for packing my stuff.

Then, after a few moments, you sent one to Sara.

I broke up with Kurt, should I be sadder about it?

It was 7 in the morning, but within a minute your phone was buzzing with a call from her.

“Tell me you’re not lying to me,” her voice was hushed. You could hear her moving, a door clicking shut.

“I’m not lying. It’s done.” You laid back on the bed and closed your eyes. “It was a fucking nightmare to do though.”

“Spill, what happened? Are you okay?” Sara’s voice was louder now. You gave her the rundown of everything that had happened, from the lunchtime confession to the actual breakup to how you were now sleeping in Frankie’s spare room.

“Wait – Frankie? Benny’s friend?”

“Are you still with Benny?” This was different: Sara had a policy of one night only – anything more and she claimed they’d fall in love with her.

“Of course, he has a massive dick. But back to you missy, you’re staying with Frankie?”

You sighed. “Yeah, just until I get the keys to my new place.”

“Are you gonna fuck him?” Sara sounded hopeful.

“Oh, my god! No!”

“Aw, c’mon, rebound sex is good for the soul.”

“Maybe with strangers in seedy bars who have half a chance of giving me the clap. Not with someone I-”

“-Have a huge thing for. Please, I saw it the moment you spotted him at fight night. You’re so hung up on this guy and Benny says-”

“This conversation is over, it’s my bedtime. I love you and you’re wrong.” You hung up quickly, cheeks burning with the lie. Did you want to have sex with Frankie? Desperately. At the most inappropriate of times, like when you heard the rumble of his voice through the window at work, like when you caught a glimpse of his beautiful, unique side profile, like when you were alone and allowed your thoughts to wander to what could be under his jeans.

You sighed, frustrated with yourself and rolled onto your side. If you were braver, more sure that his attraction matched yours, you would have gone to his room, crawled into bed beside him, let whatever was meant to be, be. But right now, you weren’t brave. You felt like you had used up all your courage quota for the year in a single day, which was a ridiculous sentiment.

So instead of going to Frankie’s room, like the pulsing in your underwear desperately wanted you to, you closed your eyes and tried to sleep.

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish @punkerthanpascal @nakhudanyx @gracie7209 @quica-quica-quica @pintsizemama @phoenix-of-loki

#triple frontier #the night shift #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader

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kanonsarchivedblog · 3 years ago

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Heat Waves Been Fakin’ Me Out-

(Can’t make you happier now). ━━━━━━━━━━━━ Word Count: 1679 TW: Anxiety Attack Author's Notes: This was inspired by that trend on TikTok when people reminisce to the chorus of Heat Waves by Glass Animals, and I realized that wow, this trend really fits Kisuke and the massive guilt he has. Let's exploit that. ━━━━━━━━━━━━ The sweltering summer heat settled across the city of Karakura, making it’s citizens suffer from the moment they opened their doors to leave their houses to the moment they reached their (hopefully air conditioned) location. Children played in the splash pads or in public swimming pools, dipping their feet in the rivers and streams, or crunched happily on flavored shaved ice. Anything to beat the heat, realistically.

Sweat slowly trailed down between tense shoulder blades as Kisuke listened to Rojuro sing along to the radio. The shop did have central air, thankfully, but even that didn’t seem to give a blessed respite from the heat that rolled in through the door every time it opened. He never had been good at handling the heat; had always suffered in the summers of Soul Society when he’d been young. Yoruichi used to tease him about it, despite being just as miserable at the time.

Thankfully, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, the heat began to lift and a sweet summer breeze danced through the air. It was then that they were able to function as Tessai and Kensei worked on dinner. It was weekly, this little get-together, planned carefully to avoid detection or an accidental brush with someone from Soul Society- or someone with stolen powers and a horrible case of hero syndrome.

“Ne, Shin- hand me that cup, would you?” HIyori asked, not bothering to sit up from her sprawled position on the tatami. Kisuke couldn’t blame her- she suffered almost as badly as he did.

“Get it yerself,” Shinji stated even as he reached over, taking hold of the cup before handing it off to the other. She hummed her thanks and placed the bottom of the cup on her forehead, sighing at the feeling of the cool perspiration settling on her skin. Lisa let out a snort at the sight as she reached into her own cup, plucking out an ice chip to pop into her mouth. A moment later, she crunched down on it.

“That means you have an iron deficiency,” Hachi commented as he fanned himself, eyes closed. “Perhaps you should purchase some supplemental tablets.”

“Maybe,” Lisa murmured, gaze not lifting from the book she was engrossed in. “Or maybe I just like the way it feels when I bite down.”

“You always did like biting,” Rose mused with a smile as he brought in a fresh tray of drinks. “I remember watching you fight- you almost took a chunk out of Kyoraku-taichou.”

“I wonder if he scarred?” Mashiro questioned, her gaze darting about the room.

“Probably,” Kisuke hummed, grimacing at the way his haori clung to his skin. Gross. Even so, his mind began to drift. This was nice- seeing them all together, no one really arguing- hearing the laughter drift from the kitchen as Tessai tried to do an onion volcano, only for it to fail in a tiny puff of smoke. Love had settled in a chair, his feet propped up on Hachi’s leg, while Lisa leaned against the leg of the table. Hiyori lay away from them, trying to stay as still as possible to avoid any unnecessary movement. Mashiro wasn’t bothered- but she never had been bothered by the heat, especially not now. Yoruichi laid on the front porch, for once not in her feline form, enjoying the cool northern breeze.

Shinji was watching him, Kisuke noted belatedly- his brow raised, a question posed within his gaze but not spoken aloud. He waved him off idly, a lazy smile curling his lips but coming nowhere near his eyes. His head dipped, the brim of his hat settling low over his eyes.

This was how it used to be. Kensei and Tessai would work together in the kitchen with Mashiro “helping”- more often than not, they’d all gather in the Twelfth. It had the most room back then. Shinji would sit with him and Yoruichi, sharing in any news he’d heard recently; Lisa would arrive later, having been with her Captain, even if she denied it. Hachi would bring sweets that he graciously picked up from the Western Rukongai, and Hiyori would bring drinks-

Along with Aizen.

The mere thought was enough to cause a weight to settle in Kisuke’s stomach like a stone tossed into a shallow pond suddenly. The waves rippled throughout, sending out spikes of anxiety and guilt that settled in the palms of his hands and the back of his mind. His heart skipped a beat.

Silently, he rose to his feet and slipped away into the depths of the Shoten. The weight was back, settling across his shoulders, draping itself across him as if it were a thick blanket, suffocating him. His breath began to come quicker, his heart beginning to race in his chest, causing his palms to sweat. He almost stumbled when grabbing the handle for his bedroom, all but shoving himself inside before carefully, quietly, closing the door.

Breathe.

This was familiar, the anxiety. It happened more often than he’d like to admit. But by the Soul King, he couldn’t breathe. It felt like hands had wrapped around his throat and were squeezing, cutting off his air supply. His eyes closed, and all he could see was chestnut brown hair, a smile that was nothing more than a facade, and dark brown eyes. A gasp escaped him as he opened his eyes-

And found himself alone.

Alone.

Outside, they all sat. His friends. But this wasn’t where they belonged. They belonged back home, back in Soul Society, but that could never happen. Not with how they would be killed on sight if ever seen. How he himself had a kill order placed upon his head for a crime he didn’t commit.

But it was his fault, wasn’t it? All of this was his fault. His fault for bringing up the question of what would happen if a Shinigami became a Hollow. His fault for beginning research- he wanted to know what Hollows were like. He didn’t want to experiment. But he’d planted the seed, and unintentionally, watered it, causing it to grow into the beautiful flower it had become.

It was his fault Aizen started his experiments, he was certain of it. How else could it be explained? Why else would Aizen target Shinji? Target any of them? It was his fault, and then he’d been too fucking late to save them.

He should have been the one. He should have been the one who became Aizen’s experiment. It was his fault. His fault they had all essentially been killed, his fault they all now suffered with the Hollows that took up residence within their minds and bodies, his fault that they were no longer seen as Shinigami. His fault.

His fault.

All his fault.

His breaths came in choked sobs as he sank to his knees, reaching up to clutch at his chest. Calm down, Kisuke, calm down. Your reiatsu will spike if you don’t- the voice was soft, a croon in his ear. Benihime, his benevolent princess.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

He swallowed roughly as he forced himself to calm down. He couldn’t afford to break- no, he needed to stay strong. He had to stay strong, stay sharp, stay ahead of the game. If he slips up, they could all die. He can’t do that. He already fucked their lives up once. He can’t let that happen again. Not again.

They can never return to what they once were- and it was his fault for that.

“Kisuke?” Shinji called softly, knuckles rapping on the wood of the shoji. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Kisuke croaked, grimacing at himself for how awful he sounded. “Just got- choked. ‘M fine!”

A sigh settled in the air as Shinji opened the door, stepped in, and closed it. “You’ve always been a shitty liar,” he murmured as he came over, settling down beside Kisuke. “What’s gotten into you, huh?” Voice soft as he questioned the other. Carefully, he reached up, brushing the remnants of tears away from flushed cheeks. “You look so broken when you cry.”

“Just the… Damn heat wave,” the excuse was weak. “I’m fine.”

Shinji didn’t respond; instead, he reached over to tug the other blond close, arms wrapping around him. “Damn cry baby,” he muttered as Kisuke laughed in a broken sort of way- almost bordering on a sob as he settled into his arms.

“Just the heat.”

“Sure it is.”

Kisuke fell silent, listening to the slow beat of Shinji’s heart. Alive, somewhat. He still wasn’t completely sure how it worked, the hollowfication. The impact it had on the body. Rose’s heart barely beat, while Mashiro’s sounded like a hummingbird’s. Strange.

“I miss it, too,” Shinji admitted after a moment. “We all do.”

“I know.”

“It’s not yer fault.”

“Right.” Liar, his mind whispered. He pulled away carefully, wiping at his face. A shower would be nice, but dinner came first. “Let's go eat,” he rose to his feet, holding a hand out for Shinji, who took it and let Kisuke pull him up.

“Kisuke?” Shinji called as the former captain made his way to the door. Kisuke paused, head tilting, yet he didn’t face him. “Y’know we love you, right?”

“I know,” you shouldn’t love a monster. “C’mon, my stomach’s growling and I don’t wanna miss out on Kensei’s coconut shrimp.”

A laugh escaped Shinji as he brushed past him, walking ahead of Kisuke, who hesitated for a moment, his head tilting back to study the bedroom. It felt as if something had shifted in that moment.

As if someone had done something.

Thunder rumbled overhead, a summer storm rolling in suddenly.

Strange.

“Kisuke! Get yer ass in here!” Hiyori yelled, startling him from his thoughts. A laugh tittered free as he finally joined his group once more. Even so, something scratched at the back of his mind.

Someone had just arrived in the World of the Living from Soul Society.

“Let’s eat!”

Here we go again.

#m's scribbles #bleach fanfiction #urahara kisuke #shinji hirako #hiyori sarugaki #lisa yadomaru #hachigen ushoda #rojuro otoribashi #vizards #tw: anxiety #yes i cross posted this onto my twitter and my other tumblr #i'm proud of it okay

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kemakoshume · 3 years ago

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haikyuu boys vs normal high school shit

(long ass) a/n; so, i was in marching band in high school. it was the best thing i’ve ever done. i miss the camaraderie and sense of support that came from being involved in such a huge friendly group (i mean my hs band had like 500 people in it or something & most of us got along so when things were good it was great). one thing i look back on with the most fondness was how people would help each other through the small things; older kids would help their younger friends through the embarrassing bits of puberty, girls would share secrets that helped keep their hygiene up, we’d swap (albeit horrible in hindsight) relationship advice, etc. so here’s a little headcanon (series???) about the boys helping each other out and being bros against the turmoil of high school & puberty!

DAICHI ✧

Daichi 100% would be the member of the group to bring up the wonderful world of ~deodorant~ to all the other boys. “Listen up guys... I gotta be honest with you. Some of you stink. No one's going to point out who... Tsukki shut up. But, it had to be said. I know we're all out here working hard, but you smell like onions, and feet. So, deodorant! It’s not supposed to be used as a replacement for showers. You use it WITH the shower. They’re best friends. I don’t want any of you to separate them ever again!”

SUGAWARA ✧

I could so easily imagine the second years freaking out over a girl and talking about her like she’s not a human being and Suga being the one to slap some sense into them. “Uh, women are people, not objects guys. She’s just a normal person, stop being gross. Little weirdos.” With a big ol eye roll and a back slap to send them on their way.

ASAHI ✧

Okay, imagine Tanaka contemplating really hard over whether or not he wanted to grow out his hair so he goes to Asahi for advice about haircare stuff. “Oh, I don’t really do anything special. I just wash it twice a week, t-shirt dry it, then oil my scalp and the ends. You can’t forget the ends. Maybe you can just start with massaging your head with a little oil and see if that stimulates some growth,” but like he would be dead serious, not trying to be shady or funny at all. Noya would jump in asking why Tanaka didn’t come to him and he’d just shrug. Hinata would come bouncing up to Noya all eager like “can you teach me how to spike my hair up like that? Your's always looks so cool!" Which would cause Kageyama to make some slick ass remark about how Hinata's hair doesn't need any help looking crazy. Daichi would have to come break up the fight.

#this is a sfw post but im not a sfw blog!!#kk.writes #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hcs #kk.wholesome #kk.haikyuu #karasano #haikyuu!!#anime headcanons #wholesome headcanon #kk.hcs

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elisela · 4 years ago

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make my wish come true buck x eddie, g, 2k, fluff and sweet drunk boys for @madamewriterofwrongs because for once it wasn’t @tylerhunklin who said “yes write it” after sending me a TikTok

“Four,” Buck says. His head is tipped back on the couch, cheeks flushed, eyes bright—Eddie wants to reach out and touch him, to trace the lines of his face with gentle fingertips, to press his mouth against Buck’s and see if his lips are as soft as they look, if they would give way underneath Eddie’s teeth and thumbs and—“no, five,” Buck says, looking over at him. “Six? I dunno, Eds, s’probably time for water.”

“Probably,” he says. He doesn’t move. The kitchen—it’s so far away, and the couch is already tilting a little, pressing Buck right against him, his body radiating heat that Eddie feels down to his bones. He presses a palm down on the arm of the couch, but his stomach lurches as soon as he shifts forward and he gives up. “Gonna regret this in the morning.”

“Long way from now,” Buck says, and his head drops onto Eddie’s shoulder. “Hey, Eddie. Truth or dare?”

“This is a bad idea,” Eddie says. He’s still sober enough to know that Buck’s usual dares take a dangerous turn when they’re drunk—it’s only happened twice before, but he can still recall how cartwheeling into the side of the house had quickly ended the game last time. Still. “Dare.”

“I dare you to do a handstand for five minutes,” Buck says. His breath blows out over Eddie’s skin as he laughs, seemingly already picturing Eddie struggling in his mind.

“Fine,” Eddie says. He still doesn’t move. “I’m gonna puke on your floor though.”

Buck’s arm slides along his waist as he twists, ending up with his face smashed into Eddie’s neck, his weight pressing Eddie back into the couch. “Nevermind,” he says, and he rubs his nose into the crease of Eddie’s neck, laughing again when Eddie tries to push him away. “I don’t wanna clean it—no, stay—”

Eddie relaxes, stops struggling against him, but Buck’s still got most of his body tucked against Eddie’s so he doesn’t feel bad about the hand he keeps on Buck’s waist. “S’this mean I win?”

“No,” Buck says. “I get a do-over.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too,” Buck says, poking him in the ribs. “You can’t just say you win, Eddie—” the way Buck’s lips brush against his skin drives him crazy, and he’s too buzzed to remember that he really shouldn’t be leaning into it, he should probably pull away, move himself across the couch and to a safer distance, where he couldn’t smell the shampoo Buck uses from the way his hair tickles under Eddie’s nose, “—uh, did you say truth or dare?”

He frowns. “Um. Dare?”

He always chooses dare. Buck somehow hasn’t caught on, but he’s not worried about Buck’s dares, all some variation of physical stunts that will likely result in one of them breaking a bone at some point if they keep it up. But truth—he’s heard the questions Buck asks Maddie, asks Chim. He can’t risk that Buck wouldn’t dig straight to the bottom of his soul if he got a chance.

“I dare you to get us water,” Buck mumbles.

“Okay,” Eddie says, and neither of them move for several minutes. Buck’s head gets heavier on his shoulder, and Eddie feels his own tilt down until his cheek is resting on Buck’s forehead. It’s—gravity. Alcohol. Nothing he’s doing of his own volition, just—”you still awake?”

Buck hums. “I’m hungry. Let’s go get tacos.”

His stomach turns over. “Pancakes.”

“Oh, those dumplings you like at that one place—”

“The one by—”

“No, the other one,” Buck says. “Think they deliver?”

“Not at three in the morning,” Eddie says. He doesn’t really know what time it is, but it’s been dark for hours now, so—maybe.

“You ever been to San Francisco?”

“Not since I left my heart there,” he says, and snorts when Buck makes a confused noise. “It’s—nevermind. No. Have you?”

“”m gonna take you ‘n Chris,” Buck says. “There’s a place, they have these green onion pancakes—it’s amazing. I dream about ‘em.”

“When’d you go to San Francisco?” He’s heard Buck’s life story, knows the trips he’d been on with his family, the route he’d taken through South America and up through Mexico before landing in Los Angeles. Nothing further north than L.A. had ever been mentioned.

“After Abby,” Buck says. “Drove up the coast, tried to get used to being alone again. Didn’t need to, I still got you guys.”

His throat is only dry because of the alcohol. God, he wants. He wants to tell Buck that he always has him, has Chris, that as long as Eddie’s alive he’s going to wait until Buck decides he wants him. He thinks—well, he’s never quite sure if he’s reading things the right way. There’d been the ghost of Abby, then Ali, then a long stretch of no one until Buck had started to make comments about dating, about finding someone, but—nothing ever came of it. And every time Eddie thought, this isn’t something just friends do—like this, this cuddling on the couch with Buck’s fingers pressing idle patterns against his skin—he’d turn around and see Buck getting just as close with Hen, his feet in her lap on the couch at work, or catch him flirting with other people.

It’s fine. Eddie’s just not used to friendships like this, such tactile, vulnerable relationships, but he can live with it, even if he constantly wants more, even if he sometimes would bet on Buck wanting more, too.

“You ever go?”

“No,” Eddie says, even though he’s pretty sure Buck had already asked. His hand is in Buck’s hair, somehow, scratching the pads of his fingers against Buck’s scalp. “Want to.”

“Let’s go,” Buck says. “Trade our next shift, we can take Chris—”

“Our next shift is Halloween,” Eddie says, and there is absolutely no one who will trade them if it means they end up working on Halloween.

“The one after that, then we have six days—there’s the bridge and Chris would love Alcatraz and we could drive up—”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Eddie says, a yawn interrupting his words.

“Cool,” Buck says, and Eddie can always tell when he’s smiling by how his voice sounds. “But ‘m still hungry.”

“Water.”

“Carbs,” Buck says. “Oh, sourdough bread. You think Uber Eats can bring it?”

“I think we should have water and go to sleep,” Eddie says, but again—he can’t bring himself to move. Buck is warm against him, soft and happy, and Eddie would stay awake all night if it means getting to touch him like this, getting to drop his chin down so that his lips almost brush Buck’s forehead as he speaks, a poor imitation of the way he wants to kiss him.

“You remember the sourdough french toast we had last Christmas? Where’s that? I want it.”

“Chris wants a dog for Christmas,” Eddie says, dropping his hand to the back of Buck’s neck and squeezing. The groan it draws out of Buck is enough for him to squeeze harder, and the little gasping noise he makes when Eddie rolls his thumb up behind Buck’s ear—“I think I’m gonna give in.”

“You should,” Buck says. “A big one. What do you want for Christmas?”

“Someone who will take care of a dog when Chris inevitably loses interest in twice-daily walks,” Eddie says, shaking his head. It bumps his chin against Buck’s head, and he catches himself just before he presses an apology kiss to the spot. “Dunno. It’s October, I haven’t thought about it. What do you want?”

“You,” Buck says sleepily. “And carbs. Maybe together, like, at the same time. Oh, you know those banana muffins you make and you make them into pumpkin muffins for Halloween? Do you have Christmas muffins? Like—wait, what would you put in Christmas muffins?”

“Maybe eggnog,” Eddie says, and then he blinks when everything Buck said filters through the haze covering his thoughts. “Wait. Did you—”

“Eggnog in muffins? Eddie, that’s gross.”

“‘s’not gross,” he says, because he makes amazing eggnog french toast—well, Sophia makes it, same thing—and he can’t see why eggnog muffins wouldn’t be delicious as well, but really there are more pressing issues here like “did you say—”

“You.”

His hand stills on Buck’s neck. “Like,” he says, slowly, trying to force reason through everything he’s had to drink tonight, “like—you want to spend Christmas together?”

Buck snorts, but he doesn’t say anything for a long moment and Eddie wonders if he’s drifting off to sleep, or if he’s having the same trouble trying to think clearly. “If that’s what you want me to mean,” he says finally, yawning. “You’re right, we should sleep.”

“I want to know what you meant,” Eddie says, and a second later Buck’s hand is cupping his jaw and pulling him down, tilting Eddie’s head as he brings him into an open-mouthed kiss; Eddie tastes the bitterness of the vodka on his tongue as Buck kisses him, swallows down the soft noises Buck makes, keeps his hands absolutely still against Buck’s body like if he moves it’ll break the spell. “If you forget this in the morning—” he says when Buck pulls away, and Buck laughs softly as he moves away, shaking out his limbs before standing up.

“I won’t,” he says. “Come on, you can sleep in my bed. I’ll keep my hands to myself, I promise.”

“I—” can’t make that promise, he thinks. His lips are still wet from Buck’s kiss, and he shakes his head. “No, I’ll sleep here. Don’t—just—”

“You worry too much,” Buck says, “I’m a little buzzed but not so drunk I’ll—” he trips over an errant shoe as he passes by, and Eddie reaches out to steady him. “Okay, just because I tripped doesn’t mean—”

“Just go to sleep,” Eddie says. “Goodnight.”

“Eddie.”

“Goodnight,” he says again, because maybe he can forget—or not forget, but convince himself that one kiss doesn’t mean that much, that the thrill it sent up his spine was just because it’s been so long, that—

“Goodnight,” Buck says, and he bends down to kiss Eddie’s forehead before he stumbles his way out of the living room and up the stairs. “You can come join me when your back starts to hurt, old man.”

Eddie flips him off, even though Buck can’t see, lays down, and prays.

-----

“God,” Buck groans the next morning, cursing loudly when he runs into a chair and it scrapes against the floor, “death would feel better than this. I want coffee. Come make it for me.”

“Just because I cave to a ten year olds whims doesn’t mean I’ll cave to yours,” Eddie says, pulling his arm down from where it had been over his eyes, blocking the sunlight. “Do you have to have so many damn windows?”

Buck’s been up for ten minutes, talking loudly to Eddie the entire time, and it’s all Eddie can do to lay there and pretend like his heart isn’t breaking. He knew it, he knew, he should have—stopped him, or something. Should have let the “you” go unanswered, ignored it, realized that being lonely and drunk caused a person to do things they didn’t mean and make promises they wouldn’t keep.

He closes his eyes again as Buck walks over to the couch, lets himself be manhandled into a seated position while Buck sprawls out next to him. He can do this—it’s just the same kind of contact they usually have. He’ll be fine.

“Whatever,” Buck mutters. “Here, I want you to listen to this,” he says, nudging Eddie until Eddie opens his eyes and looks at him. “Ready?”

“Sure,” Eddie says, waving a hand weakly. He’s not sure what he expects, but bells and Mariah Carey in October is definitely not it. “Buck.”

“Told you I wouldn’t forget,” Buck says, leaning against him. “I’d kiss you again but something died in my mouth overnight—”

Eddie leans over and hits the pause button on Buck’s phone. “I’m telling everyone you played me All I Want For Christmas is You, you know.”

“Good,” Buck says, grinning. “It was pretty romantic of me, right?”

“I think we have a very different idea of what is or isn’t romantic,” Eddie says, but he turns his head to the side and presses a kiss to the corner of Buck’s smile, then another, and has to pull himself back before he does anything else. “Let’s go talk about it during breakfast. I’ll take you out.”

“It’s a date,” Buck says, and leans in to kiss him again.

#buddie fic #buddie #eli writes #more shit based on tiktok videos lets all be surprised #evan buckley #eddie diaz #drunk boys in love #yes i wrote what is essentially a christmas fic in september

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virusinfected-memes · 4 years ago

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ANIMAL CROSSING SERIES SENTENCE STARTERS ;

80 starters. Sentences come from all the mainline Animal Crossing entries, and also includes quotes from the spin-off titles Happy Home Designer and Pocket Camp. Feel free to change words and pronouns as needed!

“Never underestimate the value of being just who you are. Life isn’t about being extreme all the time.”

"Sometimes, all it takes is a good friend to remind you of all the things you like about your life...”

“Ack! I lost! My hopes...smashed to bits like some kind of... I can’t even think of an appropriate analogy!”

“It’s a gross world. And I wanna rescue you from it.”

“No, I mean it. I had tacos for lunch. So enjoy the fresh air while you can.”

“But I did learn one thing from the experience. I’M STUPID!”

“Stick to chocolate and comic books. You’re too young for love anyway.”

“It’s always teatime somewhere.”

“You’re looking awful as ever. Who dresses you?”

“Sometimes I like to flush the toilet and just stare into the bowl. It’s kind of relaxing.”

“Please don’t question my driving or parking skills. You couldn’t begin to understand the level I’m on.”

“Did some new, totally rad Nintendo game come out?”

“You’re a little obsessive, aren’t you?”

“Sometimes I think I’d make a pretty darn good househusband. Who knew?”

“Oh, no... No matter how much time passes, I can’t forget him!”

“No matter where you live, one thing stands true... Life costs money.”

“Wait... You weren’t ACTUALLY trying to give me trash for my birthday, were you?”

“Okay, so don’t tell anyone because I’m not proud of this, but I was a little thirsty and kinda desperate.”

“I think I dropped my house key somewhere. That was my favorite key... It opened my house.”

“You filthy ogre! I hope you get stung by a thousand bees!”

“I just feel like life is all rainbows and flowers lately.”

“I’d tell you what I was dreaming about, but I’m not sure you can handle it. How old are you?”

“Um, I asked for something cool...and this is not it.”

“Even though you bug me sometimes, I don’t ever want to fight with you.”

“Rivers...are just fish roads.”

“_____?! What are you doing up?! It’s past your bedtime!”

“I’d offer you something to eat, but I don’t want to. Hey, it’s my house. Get your own food.”

“Explore all the things that make you happy now, and you’ll discover what you really want out of life later.”

“C’mon! Say something amazing! Treat me like a pretty princess!”

“If you ever need anything, anything at all, and I can do it without moving from this spot, just ask.”

“Shut up! You lookin’ for a fight? No? Then back off, buddy!”

“Hey, how about you letting me spend the night tonight?”

“Since I can’t cook, I just played Super Chef RPG IV for 24 hours...”

“You know what? I thought of you the other day, and it filled me with warm fuzzy feelings! For the record, I was also thinking about puppies, so you were in good company.”

“You can just forget about being friends with me!”

“It’s good to appreciate the times when you’ve got nowhere to be and nothing to do.”

“Yeah, exercise is totally hard and stuff. I think I’m gonna go take a nap and read a book or whatever.”

“Planning to do some post-midnight mischief? Yeah, me neither.”

“Do you need someone to share a snack with you? I’ll share a snack with you!”

“Ya ever just feel like cryin’? Me too!”

“We meet people, get to know them, and then they get up and leave us behind.”

“I don’t know if I told you this, but I’m allergic to bad vibes. When they’re nearby, I can’t help but... ACHOO! Oh, no! Bad vibes in the vicinity! This is not a drill!”

“Weeds are just flowers that no one thinks are pretty. That’s sort of depressing, isn’t it?”

“A joke for my birthday?! Nobody’s ever gotten me a joke before! The only thing is? This joke...IS NOT FUNNY! IT’S GARBAGE!”

“It’s kinda weird how being irresponsible with money can be rewarding, isn’t it?”

“You’re already mature for your age. My suggestion is to just be yourself. Don’t change to impress others.”

“I resolve to focus less on others and more on what really matters. ME!”

“Time to worry about an insignificant conversation that happened 15 years ago!”

“I used to be so focused. But now it’s like I just can’t...you know...do...stuff.”

“WHAT’S GOING ON?! THE RAGE! IT’S TAKING ME!”

“You are SO going to lose all of your friends if you keep acting like such a complete steakhead.”

“I’ve learned that you can’t get too connected to the people in your life.”

“I gotta admit, I really love that one show where all those people do the stuff and then something happens.”

“Just because two people are good friends doesn’t mean they’d make a good couple.”

“I was happy at first. But then I cried. And then it was kinda okay. But then I totally cried again.”

“The shortest route to getting something done is to just do it!”

“If you get scared, don’t hesitate to leap into my arms! I won’t be able to protect you in any way, but it might look cool.”

“NO ONE EVER UNDERSTANDS ME! I’M HUNGRY ALL THE TIME AND NO ONE CAAARES!”

“Whenever we talk, I feel like there’s a lot more going on inside you than you ever let anyone see.”

“Hi. I lost my voice. I was trying to be a heavy-metal singer. Instead of a pop star... I am SO not metal.”

“You’re just like a BABY! Waaah! Waah! WAAAAAAAH! Feed me! Feed me! I’m a wee baby!”

“Even the peppiest of people feel blue sometimes. It’s a sad fact of life.”

“Believe it or not, I feel like I’ve known you for a long time.”

“But I’m already pretty cute already... So, even cuter clothes might be...um...overkill.”

“After all, I’m beautiful, but I am also...deadly.”

“Even when I didn’t see you in real life, you made special guest appearances in my dreams!”

“You think my lips are cute? Why, do you want me to smooch you or something?”

“Wanna know something sad? There are some things about places you just don’t realize until you leave them.”

“If you don’t stop pushin’ me, I’ll be forced to break out the bicep canons!”

“I used to get taller on birthdays. Now I’m usually just wider.”

“I don’t like seeing you hurt, even if it’s just pretend... I can’t help that I care about you so much.”

“I’m terribly sorry, but nature is not always family friendly!”

“I’m soooooooo broke! Whaaaaaaa!”

“I guess I just went into fight or flight mode, you know? Only my “flight” is more like “cry.”

“Should we invent something? Destroy something? Invent something that destroys things?”

“Sometimes your heart tells you when you’re in love. Your tummy too. Both can sure make you sick.”

“You want another one? That seems a little greedy, don’t you think?”

“An apple a day keeps the doctor away. An onion a day keeps everyone away.”

“I really watched my...language...here today. I’m not usually quite so...you know, so polite.”

And remember that bad times...are just times that are bad.”

#ask meme #inbox meme #roleplay meme #rp meme #rp sentence starters #sentence starters #animal crossing #* mine

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the-winter-smoulder · 4 years ago

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What The Hell...

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Series Word Count: 1,880

Warnings: Language! Mentions of Death, CLIMB ABOARD THE ANGST TRAIN... followed by the Fluff caboose!!

Seriously... What the HELL?!

Since the defeat of Thanos, nothing has really been the same, especially not for Sam and Bucky.

Read Chapter 9 Here

Chapter 10: What The Hell Am I Supposed To Do Now?

God, she’s amazing. Why did I tell her that? What’s the matter with me?

Bucky was silently chastising himself as he quickly showered and dressed. He thought about how effortlessly she moved, how her instincts matched, no, surpassed his own when it came to fighting. He thought about how cute she looked with that triumphant smirk on her face when she pinned him down.

Sexy smirk... NO! Bucky! Stop it! You can’t think of her that way!

He scowled at himself in the bathroom mirror. He trudged toward his bed, flopping himself down as he sighed. “Shit,” he whispered, staring up at the ceiling. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

Don’t fall in love with her – that's weird. Unless she’s into it? AH! Bucky, stop! You’re disgusting.

He sat up, pulling his boots on, still thinking and over thinking.

Ask her to go out for something to eat. It’s harmless. Get out of the compound for a little while.

Bucky stood, grabbed his wallet, keys, and took one final look at himself in the mirror by the door. He ran his fingers through his short, damp hair. Sleeves of his black button-down shirt rolled up to his mid forearms, dark blue jeans, tight around his bulging thighs.

Dude, you look like you’re going on a date. Change your shirt. Something more casual.

He cocked his head to the side, looking himself over again.

“You look fine. It’s not a date... it’s a meal with a friend,” he convinced himself out loud before grabbing his leather jacket.

Yeah, just a friend... nothing more.

-----💥🌀💥🌀💥🌀💥🌀💥🌀💥🌀-----

“Shit!” Y/n cursed as she tore through her closet, trying to find something – anything – to wear.

She looked at her reflection in the window, and she cocked her head to the side.

Damn butterflies! Calm down! It’s not like it’s a date. It’s a meal... with a friend... in the kitchen.

“Shit, Y/n, calm the fuck down!” she quietly yelled to herself.

What if he wants to go out though? Should I wear jeans? Leggings? A dress?

“But he’s not. He’s a different Bucky,” she reminds herself out loud.

What was that twinkle in his eye? Was it even a twinkle? He’s your dead fiancé's Grandfather for fuck’s sake!

She huffed as she pushed her hair from her eyes, stilling herself for a moment as she took a deep breath.

It’s gross. Or is it? Ugh! Shut up, Y/n!

“Jeans. T-shirt. Boots. Go.”

She checked herself in the mirror. Dark blue jeans that hugged her curves, crimson t-shirt, black boots that zipped up to her knees. Neutral eye makeup, little bit of mascara and slightly tinted Chapstick.

Good choices. Harmless. Casual. Not a date.

“Casual, right?” she asked her reflection as she checked out her ass.

Only if you want to give the old man a heart attack, Y/n.

She sighed again, grabbed her wallet and leather coat.

“Just in case,” she replied to her reflection as she grabbed for the door handle.

-----💥🌀💥🌀💥🌀💥🌀💥🌀💥🌀-----

Bucky and Y/n bumped into each other in the hallway – literally.

“Oof! Sorry!” Y/n said.

“My fault! I was just going to knock,” Bucky replied.

“So,” Y/n said, eyeing his jacket, “We’re going out?”

“Um... if you want. I thought maybe we could get some pizza and talk somewhere not around everyone here. Maybe show you around town a little. If that’s okay, of course!”

“Yeah! For sure... Let’s go! I’m starving!” Y/n smiled, clamping her hand down on his shoulder.

As they walked down the hall together, Wanda was walking toward them. She didn’t say anything, just smiled and gave a little nod. Bucky’s cheeks flushed slightly, and while he hoped Wanda hadn’t noticed, he knew full well that she did.

“Um, so, we can take my bike if you want. Or we can grab one of the cars if you not comfortable with motorcycles.”

“Bike’s fine. I love riding bitch on a bike!”

Bucky laughed as he opened the door to the garage for Y/n. They walked toward the big Harley Davidson Road King, and Bucky grabbed a helmet for Y/n from the locker on the wall. He grabbed his own from his saddle bag, and they hopped on.

“I like the flames on the gas tank,” Y/n said, wrapping her arms around Bucky’s waist.

Bucky’s breath hitched slightly at her touch. Y/n’s heart began to beat quickly as they rode down the driveway. She wasn’t sure if it was from the bike, or from Bucky.

As they were winding down the road into the city, Y/n relaxed, leaning her head on Bucky’s muscular back. The smell of leather, and what she assumed was his cologne, black pepper and sandalwood, was intoxicating.

The bike slowed as Bucky found a place to park in front of the little Italian restaurant.

“Mmm! I can smell it from here!” Y/n said as Bucky helped her off the bike.

“Best pizza in town, I promise!”

“It better be, I’m fucking starving!”

Bucky opened the door for her and she looked around the place – red and white checkered table cloths, chianti bottles with taper candles dripping wax – the quintessential mom & pop owned Italian eatery. It was perfect.

“James!” the old man behind the counter smiled, his Italian accent as thick as his mustache. “I haven’t seen you in a while! Who’s this lovely young lady?”

“Giovanni, this is Y/n. She’s new in town, and I wanted to bring her to the best place in town for some pizza.”

“Oh! You are too kind, James! What will you be having tonight, kids?”

“Y/n? What are you in the mood for?”

“I’m a simple girl with simple tastes... how about cheese, sausage, mushroom and onion?”

“Large Giovanni Special coming right up! I'll bring you some cheesy garlic bread too. Wine or beer?”

“Beer for me – Peroni. Y/n?”

“I’ll have the same.”

“Thank you, Giovanni!” Bucky smiled.

“Yes, yes! I’ll leave you kids to chat. So good to see you, James!”

“James?” Y/n whispered.

“Yeah - he’s always called me that. He knows who I am. I think he does it so other people leave me alone, actually.”

“That’s sweet,” Y/n smiled.

They walked over to a table in the corner, Bucky pulled out a chair for Y/n, then sat across from her. Awkward silence while they both smiled at each other.

“Hi, James,” a small voice called out, little footsteps coming closer.

“Hi Beth! Wow! You’ve gotten so big!”

Bucky leaned over to a little curly-haired girl a hug. Her dark hair and big brown eyes suggested she was related to Giovanni.

“Who is this lady?” she asked, pointing curiously to Y/n.

“This is Y/n. Y/n, this is little Miss Elizabeth.”

“So nice to meet you, sweetheart,” Y/n smiled.

“Is she your girlfriend, James?” the little angel sing-songed, staring right into his eyes.

“Uh, well, she...”

“Elizabeth Angeline! You get over here this instant!”

“Oops!” she looked at them and giggled, “Gotta go!”

A younger woman with a stern look on her face came over with their drinks, shooting the little girl a “mom look,” Beth skipping and disappearing into the back room.

“I am so sorry about that!” she exclaimed.

“It’s okay, Nikki,” Bucky chuckled.

“I swear, that girl is getting bolder every day,” she said, putting down the glasses and beer.

“How old is she?” Y/n asked.

“Just turned five. I’m Domenica, but you can call me Nikki.”

“Y/n. She’s adorable!”

“Thanks! Nice to meet you! James doesn’t usually bring company,” she winked. “Your cheese bread should be out in a few minutes.” Nikki smiled as she walked away.

“So?” Y/n laughed, “Am I?”

“Are you what?” Bucky asked, a sly smile forming across his lips.

“Ha!” Y/n laughed. “Well, I'm the first person you’ve brought here, so I'm sure they’re whispering about that in the back. Actually, I know they are. I can hear them.”

“So can I,” Bucky said, taking a sip of beer.

“Okay! Let’s change the subject!” Y/n said, grabbing her beer.

“What do you want to talk about?”

Y/n’s face dropped slightly. “We should probably talk about last night.”

“Only if you want to.”

“I do, I want you to know... I just... it’s hard.”

“I know. You were yelling his name,” Bucky placed his hand gently on hers, encouraging her to continue.

“Yeah. It was Vormir. I watched him... all over again. I'm really sorry I woke you, Bucky. It must have freaked you out.”

“I’m used to my own nightmares. It didn't freak me out – not really. It’s okay.”

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you stay? I mean, I know I asked you to, but why did you stay all night?”

“Y/n, I couldn’t just leave. You were so shaken, and, if I'm being honest, I feel... protective of you. I can’t explain why. I just... I needed to make sure you were okay. And, once you relaxed, I was relaxed, and I fell asleep. I’m sorry if I scared you being there this morning. I... I won’t do that again if you don’t want me to.”

“Cheesy bread!” Beth yelled, running over to the table with the basket.

“Well, thank you so much, angel!” Y/n smiled, patting Beth on the head.

“Welcome!” Beth yelled, running away.

“Cute,” Y/n smiled, watching the little girl disappear into the back room again.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, smiling and looking at Y/n, grabbing for his beer before she turned back toward him.

“God! This smells so good!” Y/n said as she grabbed a piece, taking a bite. “And it’s okay. I wasn’t scared. Just a little confused for a second. I... well... I didn’t mind at all, to be honest. I... I kinda liked it. Waking up with you holding me,” Y/n’s cheeks blushed as she took another bite.

“Oh! Really?” Bucky asked, putting his beer down, grabbing some bread.

“Um, yeah. I guess that’s probably something we should talk about too, huh?” she said, mouth full of cheese and bread.

Bucky laughed, swallowing, “I suppose so. I, uh, I do have some things I should tell you about that.”

“Do you, now?” Y/n questioned, arching an eyebrow.

“I do, but probably not here. That little spy is going to tell the family everything she sees and hears,” he pointed to the little head peeking out from behind the door jamb.

“Beth? Would you like some of your Grampa’s delicious cheesy bread?” Y/n asked.

Her little eyes wend wide, and she said, “Can I, Momma? Please?!”

“She can join us, Nikki. She’s clearly curious about Y/n here.” Bucky got up and pulled a chair over for the little one.

“Really, James? Are you sure?” Nikki asked.

“Well, she is usually my date. Don’t want to make her jealous,” he winked.

“Okay, baby. I’ll bring you some milk. You can sit with James and Y/n.”

“YAY!” she screeched as she ran over to the table, climbing on the chair.

“Do you need a booster?” Y/n asked.

“No! I’m a big girl. I can sit on my knees.”

“Oh! My mistake... here you go, sweetie,” Y/n said as she placed a piece of bread onto a plate. “So, Beth. Tell me, what do you think of my friend James here?”

“He’s nice,” she smiled, taking a huge bite.

“Yes, he is, isn’t he?”

Chapter 11

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Tag List

@sebastiansqueen

@katiekate23

@chipilerendi

@juenenfeu

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barns x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction

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ubernoxa · 4 years ago

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The Dare: A Guns N’ Roses Fanfiction

Chapter 35: Bring Her Home

(Masterlist)

Pairing: Duff Mckagan/OC

Story Summary: A stupid harmless dare, that’s all it was supposed to be. It was supposed to be something they would do, and never revisit. For Delilah, little did she know that visiting the strip wasn’t going to be a one time thing when she made the choice to accept the dare. Life is full of choices. Some choices can mean absolutely nothing, while others can change your entire world. Delilah had heard many rumors about the Sunset Strip or Devil’s Strip. Teenagers would whisper stories about how the Devil walks the streets of the strips without a care in the world. It was known as a place untouched by God. After years of hearing rumors about the Devil’s Strip, Delilah wants to see it for herself. Thus a Dare was born.

Chapter Summary: Mags finds out Duff and Delilah had sex, and Mark finally gets the nerve to pop the question.

Taglist: @gingerspicetalks @str4nge-haze @queen-crue @dustnbones

It was cold.

Everything was cold.

Even the sunlight that shined through her apartment windows was cold.

Her eyes quickly scanned the room, and the only thing that changed from the night before was that Tonya was most likely in her room, fast asleep. A state Mags envied.

As if Mags was on autopilot, she took a shower and got dressed for the day. She was still mad at her brother, but she still sprinted towards the bus stop not wanting to miss the bus that would take her to her brother’s apartment. Not only did she have some food she wanted to drop off, but she also wanted to check up on Del.

She adjusted her jeans as she sat on the hard plastic seat watching the bus shoot through traffic. Part of her wondering the entire trip how the bus drives didn’t get into an accident. It was borderline impressive.

“Morning Mags,” Mags turned to see a familiar blonde smiling at her.

“Hey, Sasha! What’s up?” Mags would describe Sasha more as an acquaintance than a friend, but Mags always puts on a smiling face. Like her brother says, it’s a lot better to spread happiness than make enemies.

After several minutes of casual small talk, Mags began to get the sense that there was something Sasha wanted to ask. There was something lingering in the girl’s eyes, and when the conversation began to die off, Sasha always kept it going. Mags knew something was up, and hoped it wasn’t about the stupid article. She was in no mood to deal with talking about how the bastard got her pregnant.

But sure enough, only a few moments later, Mags paranoia was proven right.

“So if you want, I’m having a big party...we’ll Christian my...boyfriend...is having a party at his place this Saturday, and I’d love to see you there...unless you know….it might be weird because...of the...whole pregnancy thing,” Mags took a deep breathe as it took every ounce of her sanity to not punch Sasha. Mags wasn’t Axl, she wasn’t him by a long shot. Unlike him she could control her temper, or atleast that is what she told herself.

“The pregnancy thing? Ohh you mean that bullshit article? Girl that was full of lies! What he chose not to mention was that I broke his heart because he wasn’t my type,” Mags let out a fake laugh to try to cover the lie that rolled off her tongue.

Was she going to admit she was pregnant to Sasha? No.

Was she going to admit that Drew, the man who wrote the article, shattered her heart into a million pieces? No.

Why? Because that’s not who Mags Adler was.

“Oh my god! The fucking bastard! I tell ya, the media only wants a story that sells their magazines. It’s despicable that they don’t think about how the lies they are telling are going to affect the people. Like I bet that Stef girl who is dating your brother never said how he wouldn’t make it. And oh that Del girl, I bet she does more than fawn over Duff and be his groupie. Like the girl has to have a life. I should have known this were off when the article framed Trixy as a good person. She is a fucking bitch,” Mags nodded and smiled as Sasha spoke.

The truth was Del really didn’t have much going for her besides the fact that she was in love with Duff. Of course Del had hobbies, but none that paid the bills which was a discussion for another day. Mags tried not to think of it, but Del was turning into a groupie. She quickly reassured herself that Del technically wasn’t a groupie Del wasn’t going around having sex with Duff, but little did she know what Del did last night and into the morning.

Part of Mags wondered if Stef actually said what she said. There were parts of the article that were true, but it was also filled with lies. Did she mean it when she said her brother was going now where? Mags knew with her whole heart that Stef adores Steven, but there was a small pit in her stomach that said otherwise. Mags tried connecting the dots on my Stef had been making excuses and events for Mags to go to that happened to be on the same days as concerts, but there wasn’t any connection. It just didn’t make sense.

“So I’ll see you on Saturday?” Sasha asked, pulling Mags from her train of thought.

“Maybe? My brother is playing a gig, but maybe after?” Mags offered the girl a soft smile as she saw her stop coming,

“Yeah, we will be partying till sunrise! Feel free to bring friends! Chriantian’s place is huge and there will be a live band!” Sasha smiled before Mags pulled the cord asking for the bus driver to stop.

It was only a 10 block walk for Mags, one she had gotten used to over the years. She kept her head high as she took in the peaceful strip. It was weird seeing it like this, but at 8 AM in the morning this was to be expected. Mags would admit that she appreciated the silence over the cat calls. She figured that one of the few benefits of being pregnant was that once she started to show she would get fewer cat calls.

Once inside the apartment, the smell of a cooking kitchen hit her like a truck. Eggs, onion, peppers, and paprika filled her nose causing a smile to grow on Mag’s face. Del was awake!

She froze as she saw the tall blonde over the stove instead of little Del.

“Hey Mags, how’s it going? Are those apples for breakfast?” Duff casually asked as he continued cooking, as if this was a normal occurrence. Mags placed the bag of apples on the table trying to make the confused look that grew on her features.

“What’s wrong Mags? Did you think those were oranges or something?” Mags shot her attention to Izzy who was sitting at the table. Mags wanted to slap the smirk off his face, but she knew that would only get her kicked out of the apartment, and if she was going to be kicked out it was going because she slapped Axl.

“Those are red apples to be exact,” Mags ignored Duff’s comment and placed the apples in the one of the few bowls that was at the apartment. It was a actually her bowl, but after a month of fruits rolling off the table, she figured they needed it more than her.

“Where is Del?” Mags asked quickly looking around the kitchen and their sad excuse for a common area.

“Still sleeping, she had a busy night,” Duff casually said, earning a snicker from Izzy.

Mags froze in place as she heard Duff’s comment.

“Did you fuck my roommate?” Duff was taken aback by Mag’s tone. She seemed agitated. What did she care? They were two consenting adults. Plus he would barely count Del as Mags roommate since she slept with him most nights.

“What does it matter-“ Mags cut Duff off before he could continue talking.

“I asked, did you fuck my roommate? It’s a yes or no question?”

“It’s none of your fucking business what I did between me and my grilfriend. Fun fact Mags, you can’t control everyone. Del isn’t your puppet,” Duff shot back, making sure to keep quiet so he wouldn’t wake Del.

In another room, Del remained frozen in Duff’s bed using his only blanket to hide her naked body. She tried to make sense of the emotions that were currently flowing through her.

Regret wasn’t the right word. She loved Duff, and from what she knew, she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

Pride was also wrong. She wasn’t proud of losing her virginity. It was something she was taught her entire life to protect and save until marriage. Having sex was sacred.

It wasn't that she wasn’t happy, but she also wasn’t sad. She possibly felt more content than happiness or sadness.

Shame, was another word that filled her head. Shame was the word that she felt right for her. She was ashamed that she had gotten so tipsy that she lost her virginity to the man she loved.

“Hey, you okay?” Del rolled over towards Slash as he spoke.

“Yeah...just trying to figure out how to get out of this pickle. I feel kinda…..”

“Gross?” Slash finished Del’s sentence earning a nod from the girl.

“I wouldn’t recommend putting your clothes from last night on, they’re probably still wet. I can grab a shirt from Duff’s stuff to help you cover up,” Del nodded at Slash’s kind offer, but before Slash could get up to help Duff walked into the room.

“And this is my cue to leave. I believe Duff has this under control,” Del shot Slash a quick smile as he headed out of the room to enjoy some breakfast. For the first time, Slash was kind to her. Usually he just existed in the room she was in and never truly interacted with her, but now...now he was kind.

Izzy’s words echoed through Duff’s head as he joined Del on his bed. He had to be slow and gentle with her.

“How are you feeling,” Duff played with her hair as he spoke, watching the curls bounce as he dropped them.

“I’m sore, and I feel gross,” this caught Duff off guard as a frown flashed across his face.

“Like you regret it,” Duff let a sigh escape him. Fuck, Izzy was right.

“No, I don’t regret it. I regret the fact that you don’t have a nice shower though,” Del teased back in attempt to make him smile. It worked, and she felt her heart flutter as a smile formed and she guided him gently ontop of her.

“Ohh is someone ready for round two?” A cocky smirk was placed across the bassist’s features as he hovered over Del.

Del let out a soft chuckle before shaking her head no.

“I’m still sore Duffles,” she cupped his chin as she watched a smirk cross his features. This was a view Duff would do anything to see. His small little Del, under him in full view.

“Did you...did you make breakfast?” Del asked, trying to change the scene that had unfolded in front of her.

“Yeah, and Mags brought apples,” Del smiled at the mention of Mags. It was good to hear that she left the apartment.

“How...how tense is it out there?”

“Well Steven is asleep, and Mags came in with a bitchy attitude so pretty tense?” Del was caught off guard by Duff’s tone. Del knew she should have said something, stand up for Mags but she remained silent. Something was wrong, and Del didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire.

“Is everything...okay?” Del asked as Duff climbed off her and dug through his bag and handed her on of his shirts. She knew he wasn’t mad at her, but she still wanted to know why he was pissed.

“Yeah,” Duff’s one world answer irked Del, but she quickly brushed it off.

“Come one Duffles, you can tell me anything,” Del quickly got out of bed and walked over towards Duff. As the words escaped her lips, she laced her fingers into his shoulder length hair.

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself Axl!” Del dropped her hand from Duff’s hair and snapped her attention towards the kitchen. She couldn’t see a thing since the door was closed, but she recognized who the screaming was coming from.

Del turned back towards Duff to see a scowl had formed on his face. In attempt to lighten the mood, she said “Mags knows that there is probably a line of people who are waiting for Axl to go fuck himself.”

This earned a small smile from the blonde and Del quickly got dressed in Duff’s shirt he handed her.

“Duff, can I borrow some shorts too?”

Del froze as Duff's laughter filled the room.

“I love you Delly, but my shorts are going to be a little too big on you,” Duff teased back, earning a playful eye roll from the girl. He wasn’t wrong, Del looked like a twig compared to Duff.

She threw Duff’s shirt on and followed him out to some breakfast. Her stomach rumbled as the smell of a freshly cooked breakfast drowned her senses.

“Good morning lovebirds!” Slash bellowed as Duff guided a slowly moving Del into the kitchen.

Izzy and Slash shared knowing looks as they watched how slowly Del was walking. They were defiantly going to tease Duff about this later, once Del wasn’t in the room.

Duff and Del sat down at the table joining the rest of the band minus Axl. Del figures he was probably in his room either lying on his bed or drawing in attempt to calm himself down. She wished there was something she could do to help, but she wasn’t in the position to do that at the moment.

“Thanks, Izz! It smells amazing,” Del said as Izzy placed a plate of eggs in front of her.

“Hey! I’m the one who made it!” Laughter echoed through the tiny apartment as Duff spoke.

“It tastes delicious,” Del said before kissing him on the cheek.

Axl was the last to join the group. He almost froze as he sat down as he saw Del at the table. Her hair was a curly mess that framed her features perfectly. To Axl, she looked like an angel in his shirt that she was practically swimming in. He had forgotten that he gave that old shirt to Duff a month or so ago, and now after seeing Del wear it part of him wished he had kept it.

Feeling Axl’s stare, and immediately misinterpreting it why he was staring, Del quickly spoke, “Ohh...I can..I can eat in another room..if you guys want to have a band meeting. I can go eat with Mags..wherever she went off to.” Del began to look around left and right to see where her friend went.

“Mags left. She just stopped by to drop off some food,” Del knew that Mags didn’t leave by choice. By the tone in Steven’s voice she knew that Mags was kicked out.

“You’re not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now..like it or not,” Duff whispered into Del’s ear earning a sweet smile to cross her lips.

——————-

“Come on Beth, we are almost there and then you can take the blindfold off,” Mark said as he guided the blindfolded girl through the church basement. His heart was racing a million miles per a minute, and he couldn’t believe he was going to finally do it. He was going to propose to her. He felt giddy, excited, and nervous all at the same time. He had finally found the right moment to propose to her.

“It smells amazing! Are you sure we are still in the church?” Beth asked as Mark guided her to sit down.

“Yes, and you can take off your blindfold,” Mark couldn’t help, but smile as Beth remained silent as she took in the room.

The first thing she noticed was that the room was illuminated by candles instead of the ugly yellow lights that traditional illuminated the room. The second was the rose petals on the floor. The third wwas photos taped to the wall.

“5,110 days….that’s how long I’ve known you. We met when we were 5 years old. I am going to be honest, but I don’t remember much from back them. This though….this memory I will always remember,” Mark pointed at the first picture that he had tape in the wall only a few hours ago.

Beth let out a giggle as she stared at the photo. It was of Beth and Mark covered in flour. Their smiles were large as they posed for a photo which Beth assumes Mark’s mother took the photo since from what she remembered her own mother wasn’t to pleased with the situation at the time.

“It was in the middle of a small bible study, and we were being read from one of those children’s bibles with the large colorful photos. You wanted some cookies for a snack and after begging…..” Beth began to say.

“I didn’t beg!” Mark playfully shot back.

“No you begged because I remember Delilah teased you for a month about it!” Mark shook his head trying to hide his giggle at Beth’s comment, but she was right.

“Anyway, after you harassed the poor book reader he finally said you could go and grab some cookies from the kitchen, but you couldn’t go alone so I had to go with you. Anyway we ended up in the kitchen, but there were no cookies. So we decided to make some….and….” Beth couldn’t contain her laughter as the memories of how poorly their cooking went filled her head.

“I was grounded for a week,” Mark added smirking.

“A week? I was grounded for two months! Delilah and I couldn’t play because of it,” Beth playfully hit him as he spoke.

“I’m assuming I follow the rose petals?” Beth asked as she followed the rose petals towards the next photo. She smiled at the thought of celebrating her four month anniversary with Mark looking through old photos.

Mark nodded and they walked down the rose petal path looking at photos that ranged from their first day at school to after school activities.

“I still think you look good it Delilah’s hot pink tutu,” Beth said as they looked upon a picture taken from one of the talent shows.

“I think my rendition of the sugar plum fairy gave her cute little dance a run for its money,” Mark smiled as Beth’s laughter filled the room. They were just 12 years old when that photo was taken, and even back then he wore the tutu and jokingly danced around like a fool to make Beth laugh.

“Which one is your favorite?” Beth asked as they walked in front of the 12th photo.

“The last one,” Mark smiled as he purposely focused on the picture. If he looked at her he would cry because the last one was going to be a special memory.

“And which one is that?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Mark sneakily replied earning an eye roll from Beth.

The next photo was from their eight grade graduation. Beth, Delilah, Mark, and Matt were posing in front of the church holding their little diplomas in the air with the pride of a college graduates who had just earned their doctorates in advanced medicine.

“Do you remember how much of a fuss you were making because the cap flattened you hair,” Beth smiled as she pointed at the picture.

“Do you know how many photos my mother took that day? My brothers would still be making fun of me if I looked bad in those photos!”

“Ohh Mark...they make fun of you anyway,” Beth teased before she headed towards the next photo. It was from Halloween when they were 15.

“Do you remember when Delilah was told she couldn’t be Tinker Bell because Tinker Bell was inappropriate?” Beth asked as she looked at the photo.

“If I remember right it was because Tinkerbell promotes sin because she was a needy attention hog or something like that?”

“And how Delilah was so busy complaining that she forgot to tell her mother what she actually wanted to be for Halloween, so she went as a princess,” Mark couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of Delilah.

“Then Matt kept telling people she was the princess from the princess and the pea. How would warm the people who handed out candy that Delilah was cranky because she didn’t get a lot of sleep the night prior because of a pea under her mattress,” Mark and Beth’s laughter once again filled the room before heading onto the next photo.

After 20 more minutes of reminiscing on other photos, Mark guided Beth towards a room filled with even more flower petals and a candle. Beth smiled as the smell of roses engulfed the room. The small room had a table and some tables and chairs pushed against the walls with a large mirror in the center. Beth could tell that he tried to hide what the room actually was, but she recognized it. This is the room where Matt, Mark, Delilah, and her would hang out every day.

“Mark, I know you didn’t intend for this to be creepy, but I’m getting horror movie vibes,” Beth half joked as she looked around the room.

“Where is the photo?” Beth added while continuing to look around the room.

“Come,” he held both of Beth’s hands and stood in front of the mirror. Beth was hesitant, but let him guide her out of curiosity.

“Beth, from the moment I met you I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my days with you. Whether it was getting in trouble for attempting to make cookies or just spending time with you on that ugly floral couch, I love spending every moment with you. I feel like I can be my true self when I’m with you,” Mark felt the nerves come back as he spoke.

“I love you too,” Beth smiled as she squeezed his hands tight.

“Beth Marie Jacob,” Beth gasped as she watched him get down on one knee.

“This afternoon we reminisced over some of my favorite memories for every year I have known you,” Mark pauses as he watched tears of happiness slowly flow down Beth’s face.

“Will you make one more memory with me tonight?” Mark pulled out the small box he had kept in his pocket for the past month.

“Will you Beth Marie Jacob marry me?” Mark’s heart stopped as the words escaped his lips. A sliver of fear slipped into his thoughts that she would laugh at him or say no.

“Yes! Ohh God yes, I love you,” The tears now began to stream down her face as Mark put the ring on her finger, and kissed her.

“I love you too!” Mark spun her around causing her to fill the room with her giggles and screams of joy.

Once they let go of each other they turned and stared into the mirror.

“I think this is my favorite memory too,” Beth smiled as she continued to look at her and Mark.

Mark watched as a frown quickly formed on her face.

“What?” Mark pulled Beth in close attempting to comfort her.

“I just...I wish Delilah was here to share this memory with us,” Beth spoke no louder than a whisper.

In that moment, Mark kissed Beth’s forehead and made up his mind. He was going to go to Sunset Strip and bring Delilah home, no matter what.

#the dare fanfic #gnr fanfic #gnr fanfiction #gnr imagine #guns and roses fanfic #guns and roses imagine #guns and roses fanfiction #guns n’ roses imagin #guns n’ roses fanfic #guns n’ roses imagine #guns n’ roses fanfiction #duff mckagan / oc #duff mckagan imagine #duff mckagan fanfic #duff mckagan fanfiction #axl rose fic #axl rose fanfic #axl rose fanfiction #the dare

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bigbrotherlouis · 5 years ago

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for @1000-directions - winterhawk sickfic // bonus appearances of nat and sam // gratuitous projection of my slavic upbringing on characters (as usual) // ~2k

(forgive me if my characterizations are off, i don’t really go here. unbeta’d.)

it starts with a sniffle. clint sneezes once and then again, in quick succession. it’s loud and bucky looks at him with wide eyes.

“allergies,” clint tells him, wiping his nose on his sleeve. he sneezes again. “they get bad this time of year.”

“okay,” bucky says uncertainly. “do you need… something?”

clint sniffs, a gross, wet sound and looks at bucky pleadingly, a miserable expression on his face. “nope. just a tissue.”

“get your own damn tissue,” bucky mumbles but gets up anyway, dropping the whole box in clint’s lap. clint pats him on the thigh as thanks.

except, the next morning, clint wakes up with even more of a sniffle and a voice like sandpaper. he winces the first couple times he talks and then shakes his head, patiently signing whatever he needs to say instead of saying it out loud.

“feel gross,” he signs. bucky’s eyebrows furrow.

“still allergies?” he signs back, slowly, making sure every motion is crisp.

“don’t know.”

“can i get you anything?”

clint shakes his head and then rolls over, shoves his head back into the pillow, groaning slightly. bucky’s hand, the human one, hovers over clint’s back where it’s pushed up over his spine and he spreads his fingers, an inch from his skin. people like physical touch when they’re not feeling well, right? it won’t hurt clint if bucky touches him when he’s sick?

he can’t remember. he can’t remember and he can’t bear the thought of hurting clint, even accidentally so he pulls his hand away, tucking both his arms behind his back. it’s better to be safe than sorry.

he startles when clint coughs, a sharp sound in the sun-warmed room, a deep thing that comes from his belly and wracks his shoulders. he groans when it’s done, sinking further into the pillows, and bucky flees into the common area before he does anything he can’t take back.

“‘sup, bro,” natasha says from where she’s perched on the counter, cross-legged. she’s got a bowl balanced on her knee and a coffee cup in her hand. “you look like you’ve just seen baba yaga.”

“clint is sick,” bucky tells her, still frowning, and goes to look through their fruit drawer. there’s a variety there, accommodating everyone’s needs.

“oh, that sucks.” she pauses. “well, i think it does. i don’t think i’ve been sick.”

“me either,” he says, a smidge of relief seeping through him, as it always does when nat’s experienced something similar. “not with a cold.”

nat laughs. “we weren’t allowed. neither assassins nor ballerinas get sick, dyevochka. ras, dva, tri, padyom.” she makes a face. “no sickness. what are you doing?”

“looking for a lemon.”

“a lemon?”

“yeah,” he says as his fingers wrap around said fruit and he brings it out, carefully held. “do we have honey?”

something sparks in her eyes. “ah, for the tea. yeah, i think there’s some above the stove.”

he nods and rummages around in the cabinet, frowning when he pulls out the bear-shaped container. “this is not good honey.”

“tell me about it,” nat says, snorting into her coffee. “you would think with the food budget we’re allotted tony would splurge on the good stuff, but nope. he keeps buying that.”

“there’s none of the comb.” he touches his finger to the top and tastes a drop, his frown getting deeper. “it tastes like plastic.”

“it sucks.”

“it doesn’t do anything, for sickness or allergies. we should get some more.”

“be my guest. i think the corner store carries some.” she swings her legs out and stretches them, pointing her toes as gracefully as a ballerina. “we used to buy great big jars of the good honey off the side of the road in bulgaria. cheap as dirt and it lasted forever. tasted real good, too.”

bucky can imagine it, the way the gold spreads over your tongue as you eat it off a spoon, the pieces of beeswax squeaking against your teeth as you chew the honeycomb. it’s so vivid it feels like a memory. it might be a memory. he’s not good at figuring out what is real past when steve confronted him on that overpass.

“does he have a fever?”

“hmm?” he says, pulling himself out of his puzzling. natasha tips her head to the side, like she’s thinking.

“clint. is he running a fever at all.”

“oh. i, uh, don’t know. how do you know if someone has a fever?”

“usually, you can feel it with your hands.”

he flexes the joints on his metal hand, almost unconsciously. “i didn’t check. i didn’t-- can you touch someone when they’re sick?”

“yeah, usually. same rules apply as when they’re healthy, though,” she says as she launches herself from the counter, landing quietly on the balls of her feet. bucky nods. he knows the touching rules: only with permission, and only carefully. steve had sat them all down when bucky had moved in and made sure everyone in the tower was aware that touching was okay (for bucky) but not if it was a surprise (for clint).

“i think he might’ve fallen asleep.”

“that’s good, sleeping is good when you don’t feel well.”

“how do you know so much about this?” he asks uncertainly, following her back into clint’s bedroom. well, clint and bucky’s bedroom, now. “if you weren’t allowed to be sick?”

“i’ve been out longer than you have, bucky. most people get sick. sam does, and tony and pepper, and i think i saw nick fury sneeze once.” bucky blinks, shaking his head. nat laughs. “point is, i’ve been around it a little. chut’-chut’. how did you know to make lemon tea with honey?”

“just felt like it was the right thing.”

“see,” she says. “you know what to do, at some level.”

she nudges open the door and creeps into the room, the blackout blinds still pulled half down. clint hasn’t moved except to be able to breathe, flat on his belly. he coughs as they get close, cracking an eye to look at them both.

“what’re you doing?” he rumbles and bucky crouches down by the bed, pressing his finger to clint’s mouth so he’ll stop talking.

“nat wants to know if you have a fever,” he signs.

“maybe a little. achy.”

“he’s achy,” bucky repeats for nat’s benefit as she puts her palm on clint’s forehead. he makes an appreciative noise at the touch, turning his chin up into the feeling.

“figures, he’s hotter than normal. not enough to worry, but definitely hot.”

“nat says you’re hotter than normal,” bucky tells clint and smiles at the weak look in clint’s eyes. “didn’t mean it as a joke.”

“i am always hot,” he replies before coughing again, twisting onto his side so he can breathe better. nat rolls her eyes, patting him carefully on the head.

“sure, big guy. here, bucky and i will run you a bath, okay? it’ll make you feel better.”

“okay,” clint croaks when bucky translates, pushing himself up so he’s sitting. it makes him cough yet again, and he buries his face in his elbow, hacking. it sounds a little like a chainsaw.

“a hot bath,” says natasha, mostly to herself, and then makes for the bathroom.

sam walks in on them after his morning run (maybe his second morning run? bucky’s a little unclear on how many runs he goes on, exactly, in the morning but they’re either very long or he’s doing something else. bucky should look into that, once clint is feeling better.), his shirt damp with sweat and a question already on his lips.

“what the hell is going on here?”

“clint is sick,” bucky says, cutting onions into thin slices. clint groans from his seat at the table, wrapped in a comforter so only the top of his hair is visible. “we’re helping.”

“by making a salad?” sam asks, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead. bucky shakes his head.

“it helps with a fever if you put these on his feet,” explains bucky and he thinks sam’s eyes might bug out of his head.

“uh. what? how?”

bucky shrugs. “don’t know. it’s just what they told us to do.”

“they? who’s they?”

“they,” bucky says, because he can’t actually remember. “they.”

“oookay,” sam drawls out, his eyebrows still raised. clint sniffles pathetically. “you don't need to rub a red onion on clint's feet, bucky," he says. "we have fever reducers. you can buy them in tablets or syrup, even."

"red onion is for the cough,” natasha says, poking her head out from where she’s looking through the tower’s extensive pantry. “we're making him a vinegar bath for the fever.”

“a vinegar… bath?”

“it draws out the infection,” she says. sam pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“i don’t-- are we living in the fifties, perhaps? why the hell are we turning clint into a salad, just because he’s sick?”

“you already used salad,” bucky points out and sam glares.

“fine. why are we trying to make a hawkeye pickle in the bathtub?”

“because he’s sick,” natasha replies crossly, emerging with a bottle of apple cider vinegar in her hands. “keep up, wilson.”

“is this some kind of soviet thing?” sam asks after a minute. “like, are you against medication? or do you genuinely just forget it exists?”

“why would we buy medicine when we have vinegar and onions?” natasha says. bucky’s not certain if she’s joking or not, if he’s being honest.

“and whiskey and lemon and honey,” he adds. “also for the cough.”

“i-- you know what? i’m not going to argue any more about this. i’m just going to go down to the walgreens; text me if you need anything.”

“dosvidanya, samuel,” nat sings and he halfheartedly waves over his shoulder. “now. i think we’re ready.”

they haul clint back into the bathroom and run the water hot, hot enough that clint hisses when he touches the water. nat’s dumped her vinegar in the tub as bucky quickly strips him down to his boxers. his skin is flushed, pink and warm, and bucky worries to himself as clint sinks into the water.

“feels good,” he says. he really must be stuffed up because he doesn’t even complain about the vinegar smell, just sighs deeply.

“i’m going to go text sam to bring back real honey,” says nat, pushing up from the floor. “you stay with him and make sure he doesn’t drown. that was a joke.”

“i know it was,” bucky grumbles, a moment too late, and nat’s chuckles bounce off the tile as she leaves. clint sighs again, his breath rasping a little, and stick his toes out of the bath to nudge bucky in the side.

“thank you,” he signs, the movements sloppy with exhaustion. “for taking care of me.”

“i don’t think i’m doing a good job.”

“i feel better, so you’re doing okay,” clint says and pokes where bucky’s eyebrows are furrowed. bucky’s fingers, the real ones, sneak into the water to check the temperature and then clint’s pulse when he breathes too fast.

“babe,” clint says aloud, a smile turning up his mouth. “it’s just a cold. i’m not dying.”

“colds kill people.”

“relax,” he insists and then pauses, licking a drop of water off his thumb. “is there… vinegar in this?”

“yes.”

“huh. that’s new. never had a vinegar bath before.”

“me and nat agreed it was good for you.”

clint laughs lowly, the sound rebounding around the room, and reaches out to comb his fingers through bucky’s hair, going frizzy from the humidity. “i think maybe living in eastern europe had a bigger effect on you both than you think.”

“sam’s getting you medicine, i think. the real kind.”

“nice of him. this bath isn’t bad, though. might even be helping.”

“you’ll drink tea after this,” bucky tells him. “and sleep some more.”

“okay,” clint says around a yawn. “i can do that.”

on an impulse, bucky leans forward to press his lips to clint’s forehead, smelling vinegar and feeling the fever under his mouth as clint hums.

“feels nice,” he says when bucky’s leaned back, tipping his chin up. “i think i heard somewhere that kissing has antibacterial properties.”

“you’re going to get me sick.”

“you’re a ninety year old assassin. i think you can handle a cold, if you can even get sick.”

it’s a fair point so bucky obliged, even though he was always going to oblige, slotting his mouth against clint’s and letting clint control the kiss. it doesn’t last long, barely a few seconds, as clint pulls away to cough, bending forward over his knees. bucky smooths a hand down his back and taps lightly, feeling the way his lungs expand as he breathes.

“ugh,” clint mumbles when he can form words. “ugh, i’m done in here, i think.”

“okay.”

bucky helps him up, carefully rinses the vinegar away, and towels him dry. ever so gently, he gets clint into clean clothes and then back into bed. the sheets are clean; sam or nat must’ve stripped the linens while they were busy.

clint sighs when he settles, catching hold of bucky’s metal arm before bucky can pull away.

“stay with me?” he asks quietly with his eyes half-lidded, tiredness pulling at every inch of his body. “please?”

“yeah,” bucky says without hesitating, climbing over him and onto the big bed. clint scoots closer before he’s even settled and sticks his cold feet on bucky’s legs, making him jerk and swear.

“you’re warm.”

“i know. “

“feels nice,” he mumbles, blinking heavily. he’s already halfway to sleep so bucky curls an arm around his shoulders and pulls him closer. he resumes his stroking as clint snores, fingers tangled in the hem of bucky’s shirt. bucky couldn’t leave if he tried, not that he would try.

clint sleeps through the afternoon, through the light changing in the bedroom and nat bringing in a cup of chicken soup and sam throwing a pack of nyquil at them both. bucky sits there, moving as little as he can, and smiles when clint tucks his face into his chest.

#winterhawk #hope it's okayyyy #marvel fic #marvel #clint barton #bucky barnes #mine #my fic #blehhh #love u steph #long post

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