#as he’s running to take the pasta off the burner i went

[aridiculouslylongreceipt]

i rushed over here with my feet

[kat-thepoet]

Veins of Violet

Logan Howlett X Fem!Reader

Part 6: Gem bracelet

A/N: Hi all! Hope you guys are enjoying the story! Make sure to comment to be added to my tag list if you want to get notified when I post. Enjoy! 💜🩵

Previous Chapters ☞ HERE ☜

5.6k words

Wade had talked to his boss about what the guy running one of the drug warehouses had said. They assured him they'd keep us in the loop with any updates, but days had passed, and we hadn't heard anything. It was frustrating, but we knew this kind of waiting game was part of the deal. So, we went on with our lives, trying not to let the uncertainty hang over us.

I was still working at the flower shop with Laura, who had been under the weather lately. Wade and Logan had been going on missions without me since I had to cover some of Laura's shifts this week. I didn't mind, though—I enjoyed the quiet of the shop and the routine of arranging flowers, even if it meant missing out on the action. Logan and I had settled into a routine of our own. We made it a habit to have dinner together every evening, a small but comforting ritual that kept us connected despite our different schedules. Logan was always gone early in the morning, and I usually didn't come home until late afternoon after my shift. But no matter how busy the day had been, we always made time for dinner.

As I chopped vegetables for tonight's meal, my mind wandered to my upcoming birthday. It felt strange to think about, like crossing some invisible line into a new chapter of my life. I wasn't sure how I felt about it—excited, nervous, maybe a bit of both. 

Logan had been acting a little different lately, too—more attentive, more present. It felt as if we were becoming friends. The thought of it made me smile as I continued preparing dinner, the scent of garlic and herbs filling the kitchen.

In a few days, I'll be thirty. It felt like a milestone, and despite everything that had happened, I was looking forward to it. Maybe it was because, for the first time in a long while, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be—working a job I enjoyed, living with people I cared about, and sharing dinners with someone who had become more important to me than I ever expected.

Logan stepped out of the shower, steam trailing behind him as he walked into the hallway, a towel slung low around his waist. His hair was damp, the droplets catching the light as they clung to the ends, and his muscles rippled subtly with each movement.

 I glanced up from the stove as he entered the kitchen, offering him a small smile. "Dinner's almost ready," I said, my voice casual, but I couldn't help but let my eyes linger on him for a moment longer than usual.

Logan nodded, his expression softening as he approached the counter. "Smells good," he murmured, his deep voice carrying a note of appreciation.

I turned back to the stove, giving the pasta one last stir before switching off the burner. "I hope you're hungry," I said, reaching for a pair of plates.

"Always," Logan replied, and though his tone was light, there was something in his eyes that made my heart skip a beat. He walked back to his room and came out with a black shirt and pajama pants that I bought for him at the store when I went shopping with Vanessa. 

As I plated the food, the comfortable silence between us was almost tangible. We'd grown used to these quiet moments—the kind where no words were needed; just the simple act of being together was enough. But tonight, there was something else—a subtle undercurrent that made the air feel charged, like we were both waiting for something, though neither of us knew exactly what.

I handed Logan his plate, and our fingers brushed briefly, sending a small jolt of electricity through me. 

"Here you go," I said, trying to ignore the flutter in my chest. 

"Thanks bub," Logan said, taking the plate from me, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. His gaze met mine, and for a second, it felt like the world around us had quieted, leaving just the two of us in this small, shared space. But then the moment passed, and Logan turned to take his seat at the table, leaving me to follow. As I sat down across from him, I couldn't help but wonder what exactly was brewing beneath the surface. 

After we finished eating, Logan got up to wash the dishes, which had become part of our routine—he'd clean up whenever I cooked. I appreciated it more than he probably knew; it was one of those small gestures that made our arrangement feel less like just two people sharing a space and more like... something else. As he stood at the sink, his broad shoulders flexing slightly under his t-shirt, I decided to set up a movie for us to watch. I'd been slowly introducing Logan to pop culture, with Wade chipping in occasionally, and tonight felt like the perfect time to share one of my favorites from childhood: It, the 1990s version. It was one of those films that had both terrified and fascinated me as a kid, and I was curious to see how Logan would react to it. I popped in the DVD, the familiar logo flickering on the screen, and adjusted the pillows on the couch, making it as cozy as possible. Logan finished up in the kitchen and joined me, drying his hands on a towel before tossing it aside.

"What's this one about?" he asked, eyeing the screen as he settled in next to me, the warmth of his presence immediately noticeable.

"It's a horror film," I replied, a small smile playing on my lips. "About a creepy clown named Pennywise. It scared the hell out of me when I was younger, but it's a classic. Thought it'd be a good one to show you since you missed out on all the pop culture stuff."

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "A clown, huh? Can't say I've ever found them particularly scary."

I chuckled, leaning back into the couch. "Yeah, well, let's see if this one changes your mind."

As the movie played, the familiar eerie music filling the room, I found myself occasionally glancing over at Logan to see his reaction. It was subtle, just a quick look here and there, but I was curious if he was enjoying it or if he found the whole thing ridiculous. Logan sat with his usual stoic expression, his eyes focused on the screen. He didn't flinch during the jump scares, and I couldn't quite tell if he was genuinely interested or just being polite. But every now and then, I noticed the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth or the way his fingers drummed lightly against his leg during tense moments. It was clear he was engaged, even if he wasn't showing it in the typical way. I smiled to myself, finding a quiet comfort in the fact that we could share this moment. It wasn't just about introducing him to a part of my childhood; it was about seeing how our worlds could blend together, even in something as simple as watching a movie.

As the long three-hour movie hit the two-hour mark, the room's atmosphere had settled into a cozy lull. The tension of the film's earlier scenes had passed, leaving behind a quieter, more introspective part of the story. My eyelids began to feel heavy, the day's exhaustion finally catching up with me. Without realizing it, I leaned against Logan, my head finding a comfortable spot on his shoulder. The warmth from his body, combined with the steady rise and fall of his breathing, was soothing. It was a stark contrast to the eerie ambiance of the movie playing on the screen. My consciousness drifted, the lines between the film and reality blurring as I succumbed to sleep. 

Logan, feeling the sudden weight against his shoulder, glanced down at Violet. His expression softened as he noticed she had fallen asleep. He stayed perfectly still, not wanting to disturb her, though the unexpected closeness caught him off guard. There was something protective in the way he sat there, allowing her to rest against him, his usual guarded demeanor giving way to a rare moment of tenderness. As the movie continued to play, Logan kept his eyes on the screen, but his attention was divided. He was acutely aware of the soft rhythm of her breathing, the way her hair brushed against his arm, and the undeniable warmth of the moment that had quietly formed between them.

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A few days had passed since that movie night with Logan, and now, it was my birthday—the big thirty. I woke up late, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, promising a beautiful day ahead. There was a quiet excitement in the air, a feeling that today would be special. As I stretched and reached for my phone, I saw that it was already noon. Two notifications caught my eye, both simple but sweet reminders that people were thinking of me today. The first was from Vanessa, a bright "Happy Birthday!" with a string of emojis. The second was from Wade, in typical Wade fashion, a slightly more chaotic but equally heartfelt birthday message. I smiled to myself, feeling a warmth in my chest. Wade and Logan were out on a mission, so I had the apartment all to myself. It was unusual for me to wake up so late, but today, it felt right to indulge in a slow morning. I had the whole day ahead of me, and the possibilities felt endless. As I got out of bed and made my way to the kitchen, I couldn't help but wonder what the day would bring. There was something about birthdays that made everything seem a little brighter, a little more magical.

I put on my music and blasted it in my room while I sipped on my homemade iced coffee. The familiar beats filled the space, setting a vibrant tone for the day. As I got ready, I couldn't help but reflect on how much had changed over the past year. Life had taken unexpected turns, some challenging and others surprisingly wonderful. 

Logan's presence in my life was one of those surprises. He had entered my world in a way I hadn't anticipated, and now, looking back, I realized how much I appreciated having him around. He wasn't the type to openly admit it, but I knew we had become close. There was a comfort in our routine, in the way we shared meals and moments of quiet together. 

I decided to take my time getting dressed, choosing something that made me feel good—comfortable yet pretty. I slipped into a soft blue pastel mini dress that hugged my curves in all the right places, making me feel confident and effortlessly chic. The color complemented my skin tone, and the fit was just right, accentuating my figure without being too over the top. I let my hair fall naturally, the soft waves framing my face in a way that felt relaxed and authentic. For makeup, I kept it light and fresh, just a touch of mascara to bring out my eyes and a hint of blush to give my cheeks a natural glow. I finished it off with a swipe of lip gloss, nothing too bold, just enough to make me feel put together. It was my day, and I wanted to feel at ease—comfortable in my skin, enjoying the simple pleasures of the moment.

Vanessa had planned a girls' day out since she had the day off today, and we agreed that 2 o'clock would be the perfect time to meet up. To start my birthday right, I made myself a special breakfast—two pancakes topped with whipped cream and sprinkles. It was a tradition my grandparents had started, making this exact breakfast for me every year on my birthday. It's a tradition I will never break, no matter what.

As I sat at the kitchen table, the sweet scent of pancakes filling the room, memories of my grandparents flooded my mind. They had always made my birthdays special, and even though they were gone, their love and warmth still lingered in these small, cherished moments. Tears welled up in my eyes, the ache of missing them sharper on days like this. But I quickly took a deep breath, reminding myself that today was supposed to be a fun day, not one filled with sorrow. Wiping away the tears, I focused on the joy they would have wanted me to feel, determined to make the most of this day and honor their memory by celebrating the way they always had—with love, laughter, and a little bit of sweetness.

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It was finally 2 o'clock when I heard a knock on my door. I was in the middle of washing my dishes, so I used my powers to unlock the door, yelling, "Come in!"

Vanessa walked in with a big smile on her face, her energy contagious as she practically ran over to me, wrapping me in a tight hug.

"Happy birthday, Vi!" she exclaimed, squeezing me like she hadn't seen me in years, even though it had only been a few days.

I laughed, returning the hug just as tightly. "Thanks, Nessa. You're in a good mood!"

"Of course I am! It's your big day, and we're going to make it amazing!" she said, finally pulling back but keeping her hands on my shoulders, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I've got the whole day planned, and trust me, you're going to love it."

Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I couldn't help but smile back at her. "Alright, alright. I'm ready for whatever you've got in store."

"Good," she said, giving me one last squeeze before letting go. "Now, let's get going. The day's not going to celebrate itself!"

I grabbed my purse, and with one last glance at my cozy apartment, we headed out the door, ready to take on whatever adventures Vanessa had planned for my special day.

As we walked in the hallway, Vanessa kept the conversation lively, talking about all the fun things we were going to do. We laughed and joked as we walked, the day already feeling special with just the two of us together.

But as we were heading down the street, Vanessa suddenly stopped and snapped her fingers. 

"Oh shoot, I forgot my bag at my place. We need to swing by and grab it real quick."

I smiled, shaking my head. "No problem. You and that bag, I swear."

She laughed, looping her arm through mine as we changed direction toward her apartment. "Hey, a girl's got to be prepared, right?"

It didn't take long to reach her place, and as we approached the door, Vanessa seemed a little more excited than usual. She fumbled with her keys, her hands practically shaking with anticipation, which I found a bit odd but didn't think much of Finally, she swung the door open, and I stepped inside, expecting the usual cozy vibe of her place. But instead, I was greeted by the sight of streamers, balloons, and a huge "Happy Birthday, Violet!" banner hanging across the living room.

"Surprise!" a chorus of voices shouted, startling me as a crowd of our friends, including Wade and even Logan, who I thought was on a mission, popped out from behind furniture and decorations.

I stood there, completely stunned, my mouth hanging open in shock. "Oh my God," I whispered, taking in the scene. "You guys..."

Vanessa beamed, her eyes shining with happiness as she grabbed my hand. "Happy Birthday, Vi! We couldn't let you celebrate this big day without throwing you a party!"

Wade was the first to rush over, pulling me into a dramatic bear hug. "You're growing up so fast, sugar plum," he said in a mockingly sentimental tone, his voice dripping with exaggerated emotion. He even pretended to wipe away a tear, adding to the theatrics.

I couldn't help but laugh, playfully shoving him away. "Oh, shut up, Wade," I said, rolling my eyes but smiling at his antics. "You're impossible."

Wade grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "But you love me anyway, don't you, birthday girl?" he teased, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as we both looked around at the party in full swing.

I laughed, still in disbelief. "I honestly had no idea... This is amazing!" Logan stepped forward, a small, almost shy smile on his face. "Happy Birthday, Violet," he said, his voice gruff but sincere.I felt a warmth spread through me at his words, a smile tugging at my lips as I met his gaze. "Thank you, Logan," I replied softly, appreciating the genuine sentiment behind his simple words.There was a brief moment of silence, and in that pause, I could feel the connection between us, something unspoken but understood. It was a small, quiet moment in the midst of the party, but it meant the world to me. Vanessa squeezed my hand, pulling me back into the moment. "Come on, let's get this party started! We've got food, drinks, and plenty of surprises left."

As the music kicked in and everyone started to mingle, I found myself smiling from ear to ear. This was more than I could have ever asked for—a day surrounded by the people I cared about, feeling loved and appreciated. It was the perfect start to a new chapter in my life.

After hours of drinking and laughter, I felt the fatigue creeping in, and I quietly slipped away from the crowd, finding solace on the couch. The noise from the back of the apartment seemed distant as I sank into the cushions, taking a moment to breathe.

Not long after, Logan appeared, walking over to me with his usual calm demeanor. He sat down next to me—not too close, but close enough that I could catch the faint scent of beer on his breath as he leaned in slightly.

"I didn't want to give you this in front of everyone else," he began, his voice low and a bit hesitant. "But I got this bracelet for you. I thought you might like it... I don't know, if you don't like it, it's okay."

He held out a small box, his expression a mix of uncertainty and hope. I could tell he wasn't used to giving gifts, especially something as personal as this, and it made the gesture all the more meaningful.

I took the box from him, feeling the weight of the moment as I opened it. Inside was a delicate bracelet, simple yet beautiful, with a small charm that caught the light just right. It was understated, something that could be worn every day, and I could tell he had put thought into choosing it.

"It's perfect," I said softly, my fingers brushing over the charm as I looked up at him. "Thank you, Logan. I love it."

Relief washed over his face, and he gave a small nod, his gaze softening. "I'm glad," he replied, his voice carrying that familiar gruffness, but with a warmth that made my heart flutter.

I smiled, feeling a surge of affection for this man who had become such an important part of my life. "It means a lot that you thought of me."

Logan didn't say anything, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. We sat there in comfortable silence for a while, the party noise fading into the background, both of us content to share this quiet, intimate moment. 

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It was around nine o'clock when the party started winding down, and people began to filter out. Vanessa, still full of energy, suggested we should all head to the club just a short walk from here to keep the celebration going. Everyone agreed enthusiastically, and the idea of dancing and letting loose sounded perfect after the night we'd had. But as I glanced down at the pastel blue dress I was wearing, I realized it wasn't exactly club material.

"I'm going to head back to my apartment to change first," I said, and Vanessa nodded with understanding.

"Good idea," she said with a grin. "You've got that black mini dress I got you for Christmas, right? It's perfect for tonight."

"Exactly what I was thinking," I replied with a smile.

We all decided to meet back at the club once I was ready. As I made my way to my apartment, I felt a wave of excitement wash over me. It had been a while since I'd had a night out like this, and I was looking forward to letting loose. Once I got home, I quickly changed into the black mini dress. It was sleek and fitted, hugging my curves in all the right places. The fabric shimmered slightly under the light, and as I looked at myself in the mirror, I couldn't help but feel a surge of confidence. This was definitely more fitting for a night out. With a final touch-up to my makeup and a spritz of perfume, I grabbed my purse and headed out the door, ready to rejoin the others and make this birthday one to remember.

As I made my way back to Vanessa's apartment, i could feel the excitement bubbling up again. The night was young, and the promise of dancing and fun with my friends had my spirits lifted. When I  walked into Vanessa's place, everyone was already gathered, ready to head out.

Wade immediately greeted me with his usual flair. "Well, well, if it isn't the belle of the ball! That dress—now that's what I call club material," he said with an exaggerated wink, making everyone laugh. I smiled, giving a playful twirl. "Thanks, Wade. Nessa picked it out." 

Wade grinned, clearly pleased. "Nessa's got good taste, no doubt about that. You're gonna be the center of attention tonight, Vi!"

As the group started to chat and gather their things, Logan's gaze never left Violet. He stood a little apart from the others, his eyes following her every move. The way the dress hugged her figure, the way her hair fell just right—it all captivated him in a way he couldn't quite explain. There was something about seeing her so confident and radiant that made it impossible for him to look away. But, as usual, Violet was blissfully unaware of the attention she was receiving from Logan. She was caught up in the excitement of the evening, laughing with Vanessa and Wade, and completely oblivious to the way Logan's gaze lingered on her, filled with an intensity that only he understood. Vanessa, on the other hand, wasn't oblivious at all. She noticed the way Logan's eyes stayed fixed on Violet, the way his expression softened when he looked at her. A knowing smile tugged at Vanessa's lips as she exchanged a quick glance with Wade, who raised an eyebrow in response. There was definitely something more between those two, even if Violet didn't see it yet. With everyone ready to go, they headed out into the night, Logan walking close to Violet, as if unconsciously drawn to her. She, still completely unaware of the effect she was having on him, continued to chat with Vanessa, her laughter echoing down the hallway as they made their way to the club, ready to dance the night away.

Vanessa led the way, confidently striding up to the bouncer at the front of the long line. With a quick exchange of smiles and a nod, he unhooked the velvet rope, letting us bypass the waiting crowd. We walked in, greeted by the thumping bass of the music and the flashing lights that turned the club into a vibrant blur of color and sound. The energy inside was electric. The dance floor was packed with people moving to the beat, their bodies swaying in sync with the rhythm. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, perfume, and the faint tang of alcohol. It was the perfect atmosphere for a night of celebration. Vanessa and Wade immediately headed for the bar, eager to get the night started with a round of drinks. I followed, feeling the infectious energy of the place start to seep into my veins. Logan stayed close by, his presence grounding me amidst the chaos of the club.

As we reached the bar, Vanessa turned to me with a grin. "What's your poison tonight, birthday girl?"

I laughed, feeling the excitement bubble up inside me. "Surprise me," I said, trusting her to pick something good.

Wade leaned in, his voice barely audible over the music. "Something strong for the lady—she deserves it."

Vanessa nodded at the bartender, who quickly mixed up a colorful concoction and slid it over to me. I took a sip, the sweet yet potent flavors dancing on my tongue. 

"Perfect," I said, raising my glass to them.

"To Violet's big night out!" Wade declared, lifting his drink high.

We all clinked glasses, the sound of the toast lost in the booming music but the sentiment clear. After a few more sips, Vanessa grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the dance floor, eager to get moving.

"Come on, Vi! Let's show them how it's done!" she shouted over the music, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

I couldn't help but laugh as Vanessa dragged me into the sea of dancers, the music pulsing through my body. "Rock Your Body" by Justin Timberlake blasted through the speakers, the infectious rhythm driving everyone on the dance floor into a frenzy. The lights flickered and flashed, casting everything in a surreal, almost dreamlike glow. It felt like we were in another world, one where nothing mattered except the beat of the music and the joy of the moment.

As we danced, I caught a glimpse of Logan watching from the edge of the dance floor, his eyes locked on me. Even in the dim light, I could see the intensity in his gaze, a mix of emotions swirling just beneath the surface. But I was too wrapped up in the moment, too caught up in the euphoria of the night to dwell on it.

Tonight was about fun, about letting go and enjoying myself, and I was determined to make the most of it.

After dancing to five songs straight, my energy began to wane, and I decided it was time for a break. The heat from the dance floor clung to my skin, and I could feel the light sheen of sweat forming on my forehead. I made my way through the dance floor leaving Wade and Vanessa in the crowd, dodging groups of dancers and squeezing past clusters of people. Finally, I spotted Logan sitting at the bar, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he nursed a drink. I walked over to him, feeling the cool air by the bar providing a much-needed respite from the intensity of the dance floor. As I approached, Logan looked up, his eyes meeting mine. There was something in his gaze—something deeper, more intense than I was used to seeing.

"Taking a break?" he asked, his voice low, almost a rumble.

"Yeah," I replied, sliding onto the stool next to him. "Five songs in a row is my limit, I think. I needed to cool off."

He nodded, his eyes flicking over me for a moment, lingering just a bit longer than usual. "You looked like you were having fun out there."

"I was," I said with a smile. "It's been a while since I've let loose like that."

Logan took a sip of his drink, his gaze still fixed on me. There was a pause, a brief moment of silence between us that felt charged, like there was something unspoken lingering in the air.

"You want something to drink?" he finally asked, breaking the tension.

"Sure, I'll have a soda," I replied, still catching my breath.

Logan signaled the bartender, ordering my drink before turning back to me. As I waited, I couldn't help but notice how he seemed more relaxed here, away from the noise and chaos of the dance floor. But there was also that intensity in his eyes, the same one I'd seen earlier. It made me wonder what was going on behind that stoic exterior of his.

-

Logan and I had been talking for a while, the conversation flowing naturally between us despite the noise of the club. The energy in the room was electric, with the bass vibrating through the floor and the lights casting everyone in a kaleidoscope of colors. We shared a few laughs, occasionally letting the silence settle comfortably between us, a silence that felt more like understanding than anything else. But then, as if on cue, a guy appeared next to me. He slid in smoothly, cutting through the crowd with a kind of effortless confidence that immediately drew attention. He was tall, well-built, and his smile held that practiced charm that suggested he was no stranger to approaching women in places like this.

"Hey there," he said, leaning in close so I could hear him over the pounding music. His voice was smooth, almost too smooth, and it carried that easygoing assurance that made it clear he was used to getting what he wanted. "You look like you're having a good time. Mind if I join you?"

His eyes met mine, his gaze lingering just a bit too long as if to make sure he had my attention. I couldn't help but smile back, caught off guard but not entirely opposed to the idea. After all, it was my birthday, and a little harmless flirting wasn't going to hurt anyone.

"Sure," I replied, my voice light, matching his tone. "Why not?"

Logan's posture stiffened almost imperceptibly beside me, but I was too focused on the conversation with this new guy to notice. The stranger took it as a sign to move in closer, resting his arm casually on the back of my chair, his body angled toward me in a way that clearly marked his interest.

"What's your name?" he asked, his smile never wavering.

"Violet," I replied, still smiling. "And yours?"

"Mark," he said, offering his hand for a shake. His grip was firm, his touch lingering just a bit longer than necessary. "So, Violet, what brings you out here tonight? Celebrating something special?"

"Actually, yeah. It's my birthday," I said, feeling a bit of pride in the declaration.

"Birthday girl, huh?" Mark's smile widened, and he leaned in even closer. "Well, happy birthday, Violet. How about I buy you a drink to celebrate?"

I glanced at Logan, who was watching the exchange with an expression I couldn't quite read. His eyes were darker than usual, a storm brewing behind them, but he said nothing. It was as if he was trying to keep his composure, but the tension in his body was palpable.

"I'm good, thanks," I replied to Mark, still smiling but feeling a strange undercurrent of tension between Logan and me.

Mark, undeterred, simply shrugged. "Suit yourself. But let me know if you change your mind."He stayed close, continuing the small talk, his eyes never leaving mine. I could feel the weight of Logan's gaze on me, heavy and intense, but I brushed it off, assuming he was just being his usual stoic self.

As the conversation with Mark carried on, I noticed Logan's hand clench around his glass, his knuckles turning white. He was holding back, clearly, but from what? The realization that something deeper was going on hit me, but before I could say anything, Mark reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers grazing my skin.

Logan  set his drink down with a thud, the sound barely audible over the music but enough to catch my attention. "We need to talk," he said, his voice tight, almost a growl, as he stared at me with an intensity that made my breath catch.

Startled by the sudden change in his tone, I blinked at him, momentarily confused. "Now?"

"Yeah," Logan said, his eyes flicking to Mark for a brief moment before settling back on me. "Now."I hesitated, unsure of what had caused this sudden shift in his mood. But something in Logan's gaze told me this wasn't something to brush off. I turned back to Mark, giving him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I have to go."

Mark looked between us, clearly sensing the tension but not entirely understanding it. "No worries. Maybe I'll catch you later?"

I nodded, though I knew there wouldn't be a later. I turned to Logan, whose eyes hadn't left me, and allowed him to lead me away from the bar, leaving the flashing lights and pounding music behind as we found a quieter corner of the club. The entire time, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to change, something that had been building for a long time.

Logan finally stopped, turning to face me, his expression a mix of frustration and something else I couldn't quite place. "What's going on?" I asked, still confused by the sudden shift in his mood.

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my heart race. For a moment, he seemed like he was about to say something, but then, as if he couldn't find the right words, he just shook his head.

"Forget it," Logan muttered, his voice rough, like he was fighting to keep something buried deep inside. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me standing there, stunned and alone.

I watched him disappear into the crowd, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind racing with confusion and frustration. What had just happened? Why had he pulled me aside if he wasn't going to say anything?

The music continued to throb around me, but I felt disconnected from it, from the entire scene. Logan had left me standing there with a million questions and no answers, and all I could do was watch as he vanished into the throng of people, leaving me wondering what the Fuck had just happened.

Part 7: I feel like i'm drowning

[fruitcoops]

Clean Slate

Ah, the passage of time. If anyone has been here since the first phone call, you may be entitled to financial compensation (or an AARP membership). Character credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

“Reg?”

On the first ring, as always. “Hey.”

“…hi?”

“I was thinking about going back to Gryff for Christmas.”

“Oh.” Surprise, but pleasant surprise. Regulus shook his pan of sausage. “Yeah, sounds good. You always have a room here. Or were you staying with the cubs?”

“With you.” He stretched his neck from side-to-side. Tension bled out of his forehead and shoulders at the familiar roll of French on his tongue. “If that’s okay.”

“Always,” Sirius answered immediately, almost hasty. Regulus wasn’t sure they’d ever get past that. Ah, well. The damage was done.

The line remained quiet for a moment. Sausage sizzled, and he turned to the pile of green beans on the cutting board. Leo had taught him how to snap the ends off with his fingernails, and though he was better now about not chewing them to the quick, he still didn’t like the feeling of stuff stuck beneath them. Regulus had really only called to clarify plans.

“How—how are your friends?”

“Good.” Sirius liked to talk, even if he wasn’t very good at it. “Jax and Kris set up the living room last night.”

“Do they still have that stupid poster?”

Regulus snorted under his breath and carefully sliced the tip off another bean. “They tried to hang it in the window.”

Sirius groaned.

Regulus grinned. He supposed he could have a little mercy. “Don’t worry, it’s under my bed.”

“Somehow, that’s worse.”

“I can’t get rid of it. It’s their favorite possession. They have a thing for your long hair and the murder face. Jax is still waiting for the day you spontaneously get divorced and need a hot young college student to rebound.”

He wasn’t sure whether the gagging sound Sirius made was real or exaggerated. As long as he was in mild torment, Regulus was happy. A simple, ever-amusing perk of long-distance communication.

“I hope your classmates are less in tune with pop culture.”

“Hockey, yes. Pop culture, no.” Regulus eyed the pan, then added another knob of butter to be safe. There was nothing worse than a burnt vegetable. “And my classes are going well, thank you for asking.”

“You’re welcome.”

He rolled his eyes. It didn’t matter that Sirius couldn’t see it; the message would certainly get through.

“Don’t make that face at me.”

“I’m not making a face.”

“You always make faces.”

Regulus stuck his tongue out at the microwave above the stove.

“I can feel you doing it again.”

“That was a different one. I’m taking physics 3 this year and it’s making me want to eat a doorknob already.”

“You’re anemic enough that it would probably help.”

“I take my supplements!” Regulus argued, shaking his pan. “Not my fault we were force-fed protein in fucking sun-less Canada.”

“We had sun, you just never went outside,” Sirius countered, like it was some sort of argument. “I don’t have to take supplements.”

“Well, you’re perfect and bulletproof, as everyone knows.”

“Exactly.”

Regulus angled his face at the dark phone screen when he pulled a face this time. It was a good one. Pity that Sirius couldn’t see it. He should’ve gone for FaceTime.

“Are you starting a fire?”

“I’m making dinner.”

“So…yes?”

“Not all of us have a home cook.”

“I can cook now.”

“Oh, you’ve been housebroken.” Regulus blew out a mouthful of steam as he tested a piece of sausage. “How thrilling for Lupin.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Takes one to know one. I learned that last week.”

He could feel Sirius shaking his head. “Knutty is formally banned from teaching you new slang.”

“You’ve never said ‘no’ to him in his entire career.” Regulus let the line hang silent for another half-minute as he turned the burner off and began scraping his dinner into a bowl. It still bore a faint orange tinge from last year’s finals-week spaghetti run. He fished a piece of pasta out of the water and popped it in his mouth, grimacing at the heat on his tongue. It was cooked well enough—at least, he was hungry enough to forgive a more al dente texture.

“By the way,” he started, as if his stomach wasn’t stuttering. “I think I’ll be back in time for family skate.”

The shuffling sounds on Sirius’ end came to an abrupt halt. “That’s nice,” came the faux-casual answer.

Anxiety made a valiant effort to claw up and silence his tongue. “I was thinking about going.”

“Well,” Sirius began, then paused. Regulus swallowed a few times to clear the block in his throat while Sirius pondered. “I—yeah, sounds good.”

“I want to.”

“Good.” Sirius’ relief was audible. “Okay, good. You can change your mind.”

“Don’t be weird about it,” Regulus ordered as he toed his slippers on and made his way to the apartment’s tiny coffee table. They’d get chairs at some point, but for now three pillows sat on the floor beside it.

“I’m never weird.”

“Boo, liar.”

“Freak.”

“I’m telling Lupin.”

“Do it. He likes me better. I can cook.”

“I’m—” Regulus caught himself at the last second and felt Sirius’ breath hitch on the other end of the line in anticipation. “—not joking, I actually want to go and play stupid ice fetch with your irritating friends, and nobody is making me feel pressured.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t sound so…” He wrinkled his nose and stuffed a mouthful of pasta into his mouth. “Smiley.”

“It’ll be good to have you home.”

“If you’re weird, I’m staying with Leo,” Regulus threatened. “For real, this time.”

“Right, because you love being around people who are engaged and anywhere near a holiday, or mistletoe, or the magic of Christmas—”

His loud groan silenced Sirius’ words, but not his laughter. “Get your laughs in now, before I whoop your ass on the ice.”

“Would love to see you try.”

“Don’t sound so thrilled.”

“Everyone else is going to underestimate you. I won’t be nice like that.”

“You’re never nice,” Regulus lied.

Sirius let him eat in peace until he was scraping the last bits of cheese from the bottom of the bowl. He heard the faint beeping of the dishwasher buttons in the background and glanced at his own sink, nearly overflowing with haphazard dishes from the first chaotic weeks of their senior year. The apartment was a pleasant change from living on campus, such as it was. Jax and Kris had offered to pay rent—tried to strongarm him, really—but a few withering looks had finally made them relent. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was his. Theirs.

The string lights lining the ceiling weren’t strictly allowed, but Regulus liked their gentle blue cast. The blanket Remus and Sirius had sent as a housewarming gift sat cozily on the back of their couch. Curtains from Jax’s mother let in just the right amount of light in the mornings.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?”

The sound of Sirius’ voice in his earbuds startled him. “Yeah,” Regulus said. “Yeah, sure.”

“Even for laundry.” Sirius tried for wry, and it made Regulus crack a small smile, but it was gentler than either of them intended. “Don’t shrink your clothes. Check the tags.”

Always do, he thought, but kept it down. “Good advice. No centipedes here, yet.”

Sirius’ laugh was a little weak. “You’re just not looking hard enough.”

“Eugh, don’t say that.” Regulus blinked fast, tipping his head toward the ceiling. “Hey, this washer even has a ‘normal’ setting, if you can believe it.”

“Oh, wow. Lucky you.”

Picking up the phone on the first ring, always. For four years straight. “I’ll see you at Christmas.”

“We can come up in October, if you want.”

Of course Sirius had the academic calendar on-hand. “I’ll be gone that weekend with the guys. We didn’t want to be around all the new parents. They’re very damp.”

“And you melt when water touches you, of course.”

“Of course.”

Sirius let out a quiet breath. “See you at Christmas, Reg. Call me when you have flights.”

“Mhm.”

“Stay safe.”

“Always do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do here,” he corrected.

“Fine.”

“Miss you.” The streetlights down the road were just starting to come on. “Say hi to Lupin for me.”

“He’s in the other room,” Sirius offered. “You can say it yourself.”

“I’ll talk to you both enough at Christmas.”

“Call any time. And let us know when you hear back about graduation tickets.”

What a terrifying thought to leave for the end of the call. “I’ll forward it to you.”

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Okay. Bye.” And before he could second-guess himself—“I’ll be home soon.”

“Don’t talk to strangers,” Sirius answered. Regulus heard the truth under it. “And do your laundry.”

[thehusbandoden]

Comfort- Aizawa Shota x Reader

You have a stressful day and your husband Shota is here to help.

Fluff/Comfort

You were having a pretty bad day. You woke up late for work, you haven't eaten anything all day, your husband left early again, oh, not to mention you just started your period.

You weren't trying to hide your boiling irritation either. Even your boss stayed clear of you when you were this irritated. After a long boring day of work you went grocery shopping, grumbling about how nothing gets done in your house. After putting away all your groceries you noticed your husband's lunch on the counter.

Trying to calm your explosive nerves you took a deep breath before snatching up the bento. Grabbing your keys you stormed out of your house and into your car. Starting the engine, you aggressively buckled your seat belt and started driving to UA high.

When you got there you rushed toward Class 1A's classroom, basically throwing the door open you were met with terrified stares, puzzled looks, and even a glare from some cocky blonde boy. Searching for your beloved you were met with the sight of him rambling about some project that his students were assigned to do.

"Shota." You growl, stepping into the classroom and slamming the door shut. "(Y/n). What are you doing here?" Shota asked, eyes lit up at your angry form. "You forgot your lunch, Love." You growled the pet name, showing Shota just how pissy you were.

"Oh. I don't need i-" at your harsh glare he quickly grabbed the wrapped up bento out of your hands. "D-do we need to talk?" Shota asked, tired eyes running over your face, trying to figure out what was wrong.

"No. Enjoy your class." You reply, storming out the door. As you walked away you couldn't help but smile, yet get more irritated as the students giggled, teasing your Shota. Rolling your eyes you quickly left the building and made your way home.

Grumbling you stirred the sauce as you turned off the neighboring burner before the noodles could burn. After the sauce was mixed you strained the noodles and started on setting your small table for one. Shota rarely came home for dinner, but you still lovingly made food for the both of you, packing his portion for his bento the next day.

Grumbling, you were startled as the door slid open and your tired husband announced his presence. "I'm home." Shota called, setting down his sleeping bag before slipping off his shoes. "Shota?" You call, poking your head out of the kitchen.

"Mhm." Smiling fondly you quickly made your way over to wrap your arms around your husband, sighing as you rested your head against his chest. "Looks like someone had a hard day." Shota whispered, leaning down to kiss the back of your ear. "Mm."

"Dinner smells good, let's go eat." Trailing behind Shota, I blushed as I looked down at the basic pasta I made. "I-I was tired and didn't want to make a lot..." Shota just smiled before kissing my temple and pulling out my chair. "Just relax Kitten. You deserve a break." "But you-" "No buts. Let me take care of my sweet wife."

Sighing, you nodded as Shota served you your pasta before grabbing his own plate. Setting his plate in the place in front of you, he grabbed (f/d) for you, and a glass of water for himself. Though Shota loved his coffee, he didn't drink any at night so he could actually sleep with you.

"So. Want to talk about it? Or would you rather not?" You just sighed before unboxing everything, spilling out every detail, every little annoyance, until your dinner was finished and you were in Shota's lap on your couch.

As you finished Shota just cradled your head, rocking you back and forth. "I'm sorry Kitten. How about you take a day off with me tomorrow?" At your nod Shota smiled before continuing to rock you to sleep.

Masterlist

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

[buckys-little-belle]

Hello, I hope you're having a good day!

So, a couple of days ago I accidently burned myself while making Mac and cheese (don't worry just a 1st degree burn and made sure to apply cold water and wrapped the burn) and just wanted to know if you could write what the avengers would do if their little one accidently burned themselves. (But only if you want to!)

Hot Hot Hot

Avengers (Steve, Carol, Bucky, Nat, Tony) x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns)

Warnings - Reader has a small burn on their finger, use of bandaids, bandages, cold water, lots of fluff and love, talks of eating food (sandwich and mac and cheese)

Note : (I am so sorry this took so long to write bubba!) So sorry you burnt yourself! Burns suck! I have also burnt myself while making Mac and Cheese, it sucks, but it is nice to have noodles after at least. I hope your burns are doing okay!! (Each person has a slightly different type of reader, each reader insert has slightly different personality traits!)

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post and this blog SFW

- - - - - -

You were big, and you were making noodles, the mac and cheese package in the cupboard calling your name, that is until some water splashed out of the pot and onto your finger. At first you were just in shock, the pain not settling in, your headspace the same, mac and cheese still very much all you were thinking about. That is until the pain finally hit, your finger finally swollen and beginning to take over your thoughts. Your little space took over the second the first tear slipped, you were hoping your little space that had been begging to come out all day could wait until after the pasta was made, but here you were, boiling water and burnt finger.

Steve

Steve heard the moment your first sob began, he was in his office doing paperwork when you had told him you were making some noodles.

He sprung into action, knowing it wouldn’t be long before you slipped, you had been fighting all day long, hoping to find some comfort a little later.

“Little one?” He called out as he walked into the kitchen, trying to figure out exactly where you were.

“Daddy!” You cried, immediately running towards him and instantly snuggling into his chest. “Hurts.” You cried, now holding your finger up to Steve so he could see the damage done.

“Oh no.” He sympathized, he knew it wasn’t as life threatening as it may feel, but he wanted you to know you were right in showing him the injury. “Let’s run it under some cold water hm?” He asked, slowly walking himself and you towards the kitchen sink, turning the water onto cold and placing your finger under the stream. “Feels better?” He asked, leaving you at the sink as he went to turn the burner off.

“Yah.” You whispered, fascinated by the running water and how it fell over your finger. “Are my noodles otay?” You asked, looking over at Steve as he assessed the danger.

“Yes little one, the noodles are okay.” He chuckled, happy that you were at least still interested in any type of hat, if not just warm, food after your current ordeal. He walked over and turned the water off, grabbing a paper towel and dabbing it dry. “How about you go watch some tv, i’ll make some noodles and bring you some ice okay?”

You nodded, running towards the living room, sure your finger hurt, but your daddy was going to do the hard part and make the noodles, all you had to do was sit and watch some tv, sounds like a fair, but painful trade to you.

Carol

You admired your mama, she was strong and could defeat bad guys, so you didn’t want to worry her over your burn. But as the minutes passed it began to hurt more, your finger growing warm and uncomfortable. So you placed it in your mouth, sucking your thumb soothed your feelings so maybe sucking your finger would sooth the physical pain.

“Baby?” Carol called out as she entered the kitchen. The sight in front of her was definitely interesting, you sat on the floor with a finger in your mouth, the pot water overflowing and a few tears descending down your face. “Did you get hurt?” She asked, turning off the stove and walking towards you.

“Nope.” You said as best you could, your finger still lodged in your mouth.

Carol wasn’t having any of the excuses or lies, she simply pulled your finger out of your mouth. “That’s a burn Baby.” She said, pointing to the mark on your finger. “Come on.” She smiled, trying to be as sweet as possible in your time of need. She turned the sink on, guiding your hand under the water and allowing the water to fun over it. “See, not so bad.” She cooed.

“‘m sorry I didn’t say somfin.” You whispered, your voice quiet and your expression embarrassed.

“It’s okay baby.” She said, kissing the top of your head. “Just tell me next time okay?” You nodded, your finger and feeling now both feeling much better.

Bucky

Bucky, being the mother hen he is was sitting at the dinning table as you made your noodles. He could tell you were putting off slipping into little space all day and wanted to make sure he was there to assist if you slipped during your noodle adventure.

Of course, his overprotectiveness was needed. He immediately sprung into action the moment he heard the water splash. “It’s okay.” He said soothingly, moving you to the sink to run your hand under it, when he was satisfied you would stand there he went and turned the stove off, moving the noodles from the burner and whipping up the spilt water.

“I don’ like this daddy.” You murmured, taking your finger out from under the water and holding it up to him. He sighed, of course you didn’t, you never liked the first solution he offered so why would this be any different.

“Let’s try some ice.” He suggested, walking towards the fridge and grabbing an ice cube, placing it in a baggie and handing it to you. “Just put it on top of your finger.” He explained, showing you what he meant by helping you do it to him.

“Oh! Otay.” You beamed. “Dis is much betters daddy!” You said, sitting at the table where he once sat, a smile on your face as you moved the ice around, watching it melt. “Tanks.”

“Of course my love.” He chuckled. “How about a sandwich for lunch hm?” He offered, getting the bread out of the cupboard and beginning to make your favourite. You nodded your head, not really paying attention to what he was asking, but he knew you would enjoy a sandwich so he made you one.

Nat

Nat was training in the home gym in he basement when your burn occurred. You were no stranger to interrupting her workout, in fact she was surprised it took you so long to call down. “Mommy?” You called from the top of the stairs, Nat immediately putting down the weights she was using. “‘m I hurt my finger.” You said, hearing her shuffle downstairs and then walk towards the stairs.

“Oh my love!” She called, walking up the stairs, slightly sweaty and exhausted, but ready to take care of you. “Did you put it under cold water?” She asked, this wasn’t her or your first rodeo, you made noodles often, and were clumsy, so burns were common occurrence. You shook your head no, looking at the floor as she began to walk to the kitchen, you following behind. “Love you know what to do. You put it under cold water and then call for help right?” She asked, knowing the answer to her question was ‘yes’ as she had taught you this months ago.

“I forgot.” You whispered. Immediately running to the sink to put your own finger under some cold water. “I didn’t mean to forget I jus’.”

“It’s okay love, I know you didn’t mean to, just try to remember for next time okay?” Nat gave your cheek a quick reassuring peck as she passed you to go towards the freezer. “Do you want the fish ice pack? Or the frog?” She questioned, looking at the two ice packs you had picked out at the grocery store for a weekly prize. You were a weird little one, finding much joy in cute ice packs, but she loved that about you.

“‘m, da frog.” You said, slowly turning the water off and walking towards her. “Tanks mommy.” You said, giving her a peck on the cheek and running away, hoping that maybe if you left she would clean up the scary hot water. Which she did, of course she did, she’s your mommy, she would always do the scary things for you.

Tony

Tony had you always wear a watch, it was programmed to report to Jarvis, and then Tony, if your vitals spiked or if you were in pain, danger, or lost. “Sir.” Jarvis called out over Tony’s workspace. “It seems the baby has a burn.” He said, making Tony stop what he was doing immediately.

“Bookworm?” Tony called out, he had rushed up to the kitchen just moments after Jarvis had alerted him.

“‘m okay daddy!” You called back, standing at the kitchen sink, your eyes glued to the watch as your finger sat in a stream of cold water. “Doin’ what da watch says, just like you taught me!” You exclaimed, showing Tony the watch face which had pictures of what to do when burned.

Tony sighed, sure the watch was a pain to make but clearly it was worth it. “Good job bookworm.” He praised, placing his hand on your back as he too looked at the watch. “What can I do to help?” He asked, you liked problem solving and he didn’t want to take over.

“Can you turn da stove off?” You asked, turning towards him to see if he nodded or not. As he went to the stove and made sure everything was put away you looked back at the watch. “Otay now I need a hug.”

“What?” Tony asked.

“‘s what da watch says!” You exclaimed, showing the picture of two people hugging to Tony before you held your arms out. “Please?” You whispered.

“Of course.” He chuckled, engulfing you in a big and warm hug. He was proud of you for taking charge and making sure you did what you needed to, and he was proud you also asked for and accepted help when you needed it.

[squarehammersupremacy]

[Chapter Three]

(Before the chapter starts, I want to thank everyone for the support!! The request for this one was a dinner date gone wrong between Sister and Papa :))

WARNING: Mention of stepping on glass!!

*Sidenote, I listened to Mary on a Cross while writing this, which is entirely out of the blue but yeah, enjoy!*

----------------------------------

Nihil knew he was in trouble when he fell in love with the fiesty fire known as Sister Imperator; hell, she gave him a run for his money. That made it more worth it because if Nihil was honest, he liked bossiness in a woman. That, and a strong leader. So, he was preparing a nice dinner for her because the kids were on a trip to the Aquarium, and he would never finish if they were there. Thankfully, he had all the ingredients to make a beautiful meal of shrimp scampi because that shit was good. As well as he had already done the pasta before now because he knew it would take a long ass time to make it homemade. He had a time crunch because the missus would arrive around 8 o'clock. 

Before starting, he pulled his hair back to a half-up half-down look, smiling as he cracked his knuckles. Going with the recipe, he melted butter with olive oil in a skillet, humming along with the tune of a song on the radio he had turned on. Then he added garlic and sauteed it, swishing his hips to the rhythm. It sat for about a minute, and then, when it was done, he pulled a bottle of wine from the secret cabinet and sat it down. He pulled a corkscrew out and opened the bottle, shrugging as he took a sip directly from the bottle. 

He then poured half a cup of it, and then, from the spice rack, he grabbed salt, red pepper flakes, and black pepper. He brought that to a simmer and then took another sip from the bottle when--

"Squeak!" Nihil spit the wine from his mouth everywhere; currently, three rats were on the kitchen counter, peering at him with their beady eyes. 

"AI! WHO LET YOU OUT!?" Nihil rushed to get the rats, but they scattered in different directions. He began to curse loudly, hands delving into his hair as he let out an angry groan. "Fucking rats, I knew it was a bad idea to let Copia have the damn things. Ai, it's 7:40!" he started hearing squeaks left and right. Then his eyes landed on the treats they had for them, and he grabbed the bag, rattling the goodies in them. Nihil opened the bag and took one out, looking at the treat. It looked disgusting, and he threw it on the ground in front of him, waiting for one of them to come upon it. 

One rat scattered out once it saw the treat, and much to Nihil's amusement, it was Dickhead, or Big D, thanks to Sister yelling at him. His poor ear was still red from where she pulled it. The rat stood on its back legs with the treat in its paws and looked up at Nihil. Nihil leaned down slowly, placing another treat in his hand. Nihil set his hand to the floor, and the rat climbed on, accepting the treat with a squeak. 

He sighed with relief, walked to Copia's room with Dickhead in his hand, and set him in the large cage, the rat squeaking again as he looked up at Nihil. Nihil smiled at the rat and then waved, walking back into the kitchen to see the other two rats delving into the treat bag. 'Perfect, now I can put them back in, and then voila, finish cooking the pasta!' it was not that easy, for these two rats were brighter than the other. They both climbed out quickly and began to run on the counter, hitting the open wine bottle as they ran out of the kitchen. The wine bottle crashed to the ground, breaking right next to Nihil's feet. 

"SHIT!" Nihil jolted out of the short stupor and grabbed the broom, running the way the rats went. Luckily, they did run into Copia's room and right into the cage. He sighed and closed it, cursing the rats out as he walked back, setting the broom against the wall. Nihil's face dropped as he saw the mess, and the skillet was now on fire, "OH FUCK!" Nihil grabbed the skillet's cover and placed it on, turning off the burner as he set it aside. 

Nihil then hissed as he looked down, his foot currently stepping on the glass on the ground. He hopped and fell, holding his foot as he cried out, his eyes squeezed shut. The man rolled onto his side, clutching his foot as he groaned, and it was at this moment the clacking of heels announced her arrival. 

"What a mess--are you alright, dear?" Sister rushed over to Nihil, cupping the side of his face with a snide smirk and a brow quirked up. 

"I have-I tried to surprise you with a fancy dinner, and then the three rats got out. Then I burned the sauce and broke a wine bottle--I just wanted today to be special for us." Sister's face softened as she tsked, looking down at his foot. 

"How very kind of you, love." Sister stood to grab the first-aid kit, kneeling back down as she pulled out tweezers, antibacterial ointment, and a bandage, "now, let's clean this up, and then we'll order in some food. Your choice." Nihil grinned and nodded, and she went to work. 

When the procedure was done, and Nihil was on the couch, Sister cleaned up the skillet. 

"How was work, angel?" Sister smiled from her place in the kitchen, perfecting the pan from the sauce. 

"It was alright. I missed you, though," Sister set the pan in the sink and walked back into the living room, sliding off her heels. Sister put the shoes into the cubby and sat on the couch next to him, leaning her head against his shoulder, "so what are you thinking for takeout, Master Chef?" Papa let out a pained 'ai,' and she giggled. 

"I'm thinking of a burger; what do you think?" Sister shrugged and nodded, pulling her legs up under her body. 

"That sounds fine to me," they looked at each other, and he cupped her face, leaning in to place a tender kiss on her lips, "then we can watch Legally Blonde and Legally Blonde Two as well." Sister kissed him again, smiling into it. 

With that, they ordered takeout and enjoyed it while watching the masterful work by Reese Witherspoon (Sister's favorite actress, but that was a secret). Then she fell asleep in his arms, a soft smile on his face as he looked down at her. He was pleased, and for once, he was glad that he had fucked up. Suddenly his phone dinged, and he looked at it with displeasure because it had broken him from his lovesick ramblings.  

'Hope you're having fun, Pop!' with a picture of the three older brothers posing for a selfie with a sleeping Copia. Papa smiled at this and typed back a reply, saving the photo onto his phone under the folder 'My Family' in Italian. 

(As always, lemme know if you wanna see something else with this wacky family!)

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

The Perfect Life

Part Four

Summary- 4.1k Dark!Steve x You x Dark!Bucky. Steve is gone on a mission, leaving just You and Bucky. The situation is becoming easier to handle and that alone really bothers you. You shouldn't be feeling okay with either of these men. With only one watching you, your chances might be better this time to escape. 

Warnings- Non Con, Fingering, Smut, Violence. This is an 18+ Blog. 

Part Three

Bucky did just as he promised, he read until it was later in the evening, and then when he checked the time, he snapped the book shut and set it aside. The book snapping shut had surprised you, making you jump a bit and he shushed you with a kiss to your shoulder. “Easy Doll, It’s late and about time for us to eat.” 

You shifted to a stand so he could as well, now your stomach rumbled in protest, probing that he was right. It really was that time. In his pants pocket, Bucky dug out a phone. “While I'm making us something, how about you talk to Steve?” He opened with his thumb print and pulled up a screen. “I know he will want to say goodnight.” You bit your lip looking at the phone, and then masked your face when Bucky glanced at you, giving you a smile that seemed so genuine it went to the pit of your stomach. Just maybe, you could gain access to someone other than Steve and Bucky. The Police? FBI? They should be able to track cell phones and get you out of here. It was one of the few chances you could see where you would be able to escape. 

If only he would trust you to be alone with it. 

“Come sit at the table to chat with Steve while I make dinner.” He started to pull up a video chat and you couldn't help but feel the disappointment fall in your stomach. Bucky wouldn’t just leave you alone with the phone. Following him in, you settled in a seat and Bucky paused behind you, his heavy vibranium hand rubbing the back of your neck while waiting for Steve to answer. Your head tilted forward, letting yourself just relax under the wave of disappointment and frustration at being close to a way of communicating and yet unable to take hold of the moment. 

Steve’s voice rang out over the device and you shuddered enough for the vibranium finger to dig into the back of your neck in a warning. Straightening under his touch, you smiled softly into the phone, which Steve smiled back at you in a way a lover should, which made your stomach twist. 

“Ahh Babygirl, you look rested. What have you and Bucky been up to?” Bucky gave a wave over your shoulder before retreating towards the stove and the fridge, still within’ ear shot and started to pull things out to prepare. 

“Bucky had brought me a book, and we read together all afternoon till just now actually. Well, Bucky read to me since my throat hurt.” You swallowed a bit to emphasize and Steve actually looked ashamed from the night before. Seeing his shame, you felt a second of happiness at knowing that he actually felt shame for how he used you. Steve cleared his throat and asked you with sincerity, probably the first you could really remember. 

“Are you drinking tea and honey to help it? I can bring back some hard candy or cough drops.” 

“That would be nice Steve.” you nodded with a smile, and then the both of you started talking about the chapters you read. Steve asked engaging questions that you really had to think about answering, and all with genuine interest from him. During your conversation, Bucky started cussing while something sizzled on the stove. 

“Sounds like Bucky needs your help Babydoll.” Steve said and you had to chuckle, for the first time with him. It just slipped out in the easy going moment. “Fuck I love hearing that. If Tony doesn't have me out in the field all day I will call you tomorrow evening same time. Love you.” He didn't seem to expect you to answer it back because he hung up on you. You glanced over at Bucky and gasped when you saw the smoking pan, springing up from the table to grab a hand towel while Bucky held up the sizzling pan. 

“Watch out Y/N” his words hurried from him and you tossed the towel down on the counter for him to set it on, and you flicked off the stove to turn off the heat. The grilled cheeses he started were starting to smoke on the back burner and he was quick to flip them, one side charred. “Fuck, Doll. I'm not the best of cooks as you can tell.” 

You looked at the mess of the stove, and wiggled the tip of your nose. “Well I would say let's just order a pizza, but that isn't happening.” You attempt to joke, and reach for a cloth in the sink to wipe at the mess. “How about we make something together instead Bucky?” You offer, and open the fridge to see what is in there instead. Pulling out some fresh vegetables, and cheese. You spread them out on the counter while Bucky finished cleaning up the counter while you dug out a pot and saute pan. 

“Okay Doll, what would you like me to do?” He offered once he got it all cleaned up and his attempt at soup and sandwich ditched in the garbage can. 

“Drizzle some olive oil in the pan and I will start chopping vegetables.” You spread out the vegetables and reach for a knife to start chopping. Your fingers flexed around the handle for a moment, staring at the knife for a second. Holding your breath a moment, the fleeting thought crossed your mind that you could use the knife against Bucky, could possibly sink it into his back and make a run for it. Then amid these thoughts, Bucky's voice cut through. “Y/N? Doll what's next?” 

You jumped slightly to glance his way, and those thoughts escaped in a quick fleeting moment. Returning to chopping. “Umm, perhaps some pasta? Linguine if we have any.” Bucky went searching and you were quick with the vegetables to saute. 

“Hmmm, I know Steve bought some.” Searching through the cupboard till he found a box and showed it to you. Taking a look, you nodded. “Perfect.” You grabbed a wooden spoon to stir the sizzling veggies and Bucky started a pan of water on the stove to cook the pasta. 

You tossed in a dash of salt while the water was heating and Bucky stood to the side to watch you do your thing. So far one of them had always watched from the table while doing paperwork for the Avengers. But this time Bucky got to watch you up close while you cook. The way you would scan the cupboard beside the stove to find a certain spice, how you would pluck it down and open it to sniff, a dash of this, a dash of that. You would hum when you stirred the veggies and go to tip toes to peek at the pot in the back to see if it was boiling. Using the wooden spoon, you scooped out a piece of sauteed tomato and blew on it, side eying Bucky and holding it up for him to try. “Let me know what you think?” 

Bucky stepped forward and let his mouth open for you to drop the veggie in, and chewed slowly. Somehow for you, this moment was almost more intimate then all the times he's been with you, his touch reaching for your waist, allowing him to lead you in closer so that a hand pressed against his chest, some attempt to keep a small bit of space between you two. Since you weren't supposed to enjoy this intimate moment between you two, even though it felt as genuine as a date. 

“Tastes really good Doll.” You gave a smile, and eased back to the stove, stirring the vegetables. 

“Uh, you can go ahead and add the pasta.” you worked on distracting Bucky, which worked while he did just as you asked, and soon were adding the vegetables and pasta together, which he plated some for both of you. Bucky even made the effort by putting candles out, which you set the plates down, and both of you sat down. 

“This is really good Doll.” Bucky started and you took your own bite, smiling at the praise. You gave a shrug with a smile. 

“It's nothing, simple and easy. Especially with your help.” you returned the compliment best you could, and his hand reached over to grasp your knee, squeezing lightly. 

Dinner continued till you both were pushing your plates away, exclaiming ‘not another bite, I can’t.’ Surprising the whole dinner was fun for you, easy going. You could almost forget that this was a normal situation. 

Bucky seemed relaxed in this moment with you, praising your cooking with a swipe of his finger along his plate to stick the tip in his mouth. 

“So good, really Doll you are perfect.” 

That made you look down, pull at your fingers in your lap. It was all so easy to forget you were a hostage in these moments and you felt shamed with yourself that you temporarily let it slide and enjoy your time with Bucky, the whole afternoon in fact. You should be trying to get away again, the knowledge of that bubbling in your chest and settling like a stone in your gut. It must have all shown on your face when Bucky spoke up. 

“Y/N, what's wrong?”  

Your face screwed up hearing him. It was so sincere him asking what was wrong and that was what hurt the most about it. What was wrong? All of it, him and Steve forcing themselves on you and pretending that this was a perfect life, as well as you getting comfortable with it. 

Comfortable at being there hostage. How easily had you gone to your knees last night to make Steve happy so he wouldn't be mad at you? At the way you were right now making dinner with Bucky and enjoying an everyday meal with him? 

“All of this James, can't you see that?” You cried out suddenly at him with tears brimming your eyes and you shove yourself away from the table. Bucky's face went from concern to frustration, moving to a stand when you shoved the table. 

“I see nothing wrong at all. We are having a nice evening, a good dinner and we are connecting. I don't get it Doll.” He fisted a hand through his hair as he circled around the table and you backed up a few times, but he was quick to close in the space, his hands coming to grasp your upper arms to pin you between him and the counter. Your world narrowed to just the angry man in front of you, his hazel eyes snapping in frustration. “We gave you everything, a nice home, food, you no longer have to worry about anything. I know we have had a few moments, but haven’t we treated you good Doll.” 

Your hands fisted in his henley, trying to push him back but it was pointless. You were never going to be able to move him away, get away, none of it. He easily lifted you to perch on the counter, grasping your chin to look at him. “Answer me right now. Are we so awful to be with?” 

You tried wrenching your face away, but you gasped as his vibranium fingers bit into your cheeks and your jaw popped open a bit. “Y-yes Buck. I’m sorry, i'm so sorry I just want to go home.” 

He shoved his thumb to press against your tongue in your mouth to quiet you, his face melding from anger to almost a silent pleading despair. “Doll this is home, you got to accept this.” He stepped in closer, making your thighs spread and his other hand braced against your back to pull you to the edge of the counter so your legs circled around his waist, flush against him. 

Blinking back at him through watery tears, he loosened his thumb on your tongue and dragged it along your bottom lip before dropping his lips to chase the salty tears creating tracks down your face before filling your mouth. His taste was tinged with your sorrow and fear. 

He still thought this was okay, dragging you through this madness and you gave in once more, because why fight it? Right now you were helpless and it would happen regardless. Your hands flattened in his shirt and wrapped around the back of his neck, tilting your head to kiss deeper, fist your hand in his hair and tug slightly. He groaned against your lips and hurriedly worked your pants open to slip his hand in between your thighs, pressing his fingers into your heat to rub against your clit. 

“Isn't this better Doll?” He circled slowly, dragging his fingertips to pull across it and make you shudder, dropping your head to his shoulder while he dragged teeth against your neck, still a bit of despair in his tone. “We can treat you so well if you let us. It's all we want to do, love you, take care of you, give you children.” 

You turned your head away from him while you squeezed your eyes shut, too bad you weren't able to ignore his words. They dug in deep as his fingers were inside you, stroking fluttering velvet walls that couldn't deny what he was capable of doing to you. 

“See Sweetheart, you want this. You're just sucking me in and trying to hold me. It will always be like this with me, with Steve.” He pulled you up to a sit, the metal gears whirring as his hand circled your throat to squeeze lightly while he stroked your faster. Making you face him so he could watch your face slack and your eyelids flutter as you gasped out a whine, closer. So close, you were fighting it now because you didn’t want to want this feeling with him.

Bucky smirked as he squeezed a bit more. “Come on Doll, if you don't let me have it, I will take it. Either way I'm going to get what I want and that is for you to feel good.” It wasn’t hard for him to drag it out of you, maybe you just gave in, you weren't sure right now. “Thatta girl.” he praised with a kiss to your forehead as you cried out, pleasure making you lose your inhibition as you moaned out Bucky’s name, your hand clenching in his shirt to hold onto something.  

You felt him pull his fingers from you, clenching at the loss while you still were breathing through your orgasm. He worked your pants down till your ass was bare on the counter and you dragged his shirt over his head, your fingers trailing along his shoulder and along the crease of his metallic arm and skin where it melded together. “Did it hurt?” you ask and he shrugged. 

“Pain is simply a part of my life.” He said almost with no emotion, removing your shirt to drop it aside and cup your bare breasts, pulling lightly on your nipples, watching them pebble under his touch, smiling a bit at your reaction as your pulse picked up. “And you are my reward for a lifetime of pain Doll. Cause you make me so happy seeing you like this.” 

His mouth lowered to take over his fingers teasing your breasts, sucking and making your chest heave in a gasp, leaning back slightly to give him room while you arched, rubbing yourself against his pants, the rough fabric and zipper rubbing against your clit and Bucky was sure to rut his hips, bring out more of those mewls of yours till he was having to hold onto your hip while kissing across your chest and teasing you, trying to keep you still. 

“Tell me you want it Doll.” He lifted his head, his lips swollen from playing with you, and you grabbed at the back of his head to pull him forward, now kissing him desperately, hoping that was answer enough. 

Quick he was undoing his pants and stroking his throbbing cock. It wasn't even a slow stretch, he just pushed into you, inhaling the surprised squeal from you as he rutted himself deeper. “So good baby.” He muttered at your mouth with every demanding thrust. You grasped at his back while he drove himself deeper, sure to continue taking you apart. 

“I knew you would be perfect as soon as Steve showed you to me.” He grunted into your mouth, frantic now to drive you to an end and as he dragged himself through your pussy, held your body still for himself, you came again, crying out while scratching at his back and he pulled out, his cock slapping against his abdomen while yanking you off the counter and turning to bend you flat against the surface that was now slick from your arousal, sliding himself back into place. 

“Watching you run around that apartment in those cute little panties, and knowing all this was underneath them.” He palmed your ass cheeks, splitting them apart to see your weeping core made him groan. You let your forehead go to the cool counter top when he pressed himself back into you, this time pounding into you hard, his hand pressed against the back of your head to keep it in place, and other to holding your hip, pulling you back to meet him. The counter thumped with every hit he gave you, jerking you forward. 

“Bucky- Please!” you cried out, squelching loudly around his cock, as he grunted behind you. 

“I got you, just… fuck.” He groaned out and his hips were slapping sharply against you almost savagely when he finally let himself fill you, harsh thrusts pushed his cum to paint you, fill you till you were dripping around him and he sagged heavily against your back, hot breaths further flaming your sweaty skin. He stroked your hair back and kissed behind your ear while you muffled a sob of despair for yourself. 

“You are so damn pretty everytime you fall apart for us.” 

Fuck your life. You had to get away from them. 

It was late when Bucky finally brought the two of you to bed, he let you shower alone and get dressed in your sunflower yellow room while he did the same. Sure to have the light off and in bed when he came out with a towel loosely hanging over his shoulders and a pair of sweats hanging low on his hips, you were relieved when he just slipped in behind you. 

He kept them on, his intention was to fall asleep tonight. After earlier, the front of your hips and apex in your thighs was a bit tender, being slammed into over and over again. 

His arm loosely fell over you as he spooned behind you, nudging his groin against your ass so you could still feel him, and his chest to your back, mummering against your ear. “G’night Doll. Love you.” He nudged against you with his nose and you whispered it back, trying to make it convincing. 

You must have because he didn't push it further. Instead his breathing evened out and you waited, patiently listening. 

He was sound asleep. You shifted from his hold and sat at the end of the bed, waiting to see if he would waken. When he shifted to his stomach and hugged a pillow to him, you made your way to the bathroom, grabbing your clothes from earlier and tugging them on, you peek out once more to see Bucky still facing away from you. His shoulders rising and falling steadily asleep. 

This is it. There is just one of them here and for whatever reason Bucky didn't scare you as much as Steve did. But you don't fool yourself. 

He was just as dangerous as Steve was.

Quietly you crept out of the room, your socks keeping your footfalls quiet while going down the stairs and in the kitchen you grabbed the knife you had used earlier to chop vegetables. Going into the main area, you stuffed your feet in your sneakers and laced them up tight so you wouldn't lose them while sprinting across the field. As soon as you opened the door and stepped out, quick to shut it quietly, you bolted. 

Right off the porch steps and into the sunflowers, heading right for the forest just barely in sight. Who knows, maybe there was a road you couldn't see. You got a few steps when the house lit up and you heard Bucky holler your name. 

“Shit.” You panicked and started running blindly through the field, getting slapped with the giant flowers that were as tall as you were. They slowed you down, but you had no choice. Bucky would be easily able to follow your trail through the field. That knowledge just put on a burst of frightened speed, slapping the flowers away from you. 

Get beyond the field, hide in the woods. The thought screamed through your mind as the flowers started to thin out and you stumbled out the other side to crash into the pitch black tree line. 

You stumbled and fall against harsh tree trunks that cut at your face and tripped over roots that slammed you into the ground till you were scrambling back up, holding your hands in front of you to try to feel your way, ignoring the cuts and bruises you've given yourself, your fear making the adrenaline rush, your heart pound and shadows turned into menacing figures ready to grab you. 

“Doll get the fuck out here now.” You heard Bucky. But not the Bucky you knew, this sounded cold, menacing, a killer. Hearing him made you crash into another tree with a yelp, pushing off to get around it. “There's no use running.” You heard him coming closer. 

In your panic, all you could do was hide, anywhere. But the darkness was so overwhelming, not allowing you to find a place to go. You stood there, wildly panting while looking all around, your hand circling around the knife's handle when you spun around, raising the kitchen blade in front of you. “Stay back James.” Your eyes focused on the silhouette of your personal demon when your eyes finally focused on him. 

“This hurts Doll.” he hissed out as he came in closer, ignoring the blade you were threatening with, which you swung at him, catching him across his chest, but the pain of it didn't even seem to register. He easily caught your wrist, twisting it enough so a sharp pain in your wrist made you drop it to the forest floor, a cry escaping you. 

“Please don’t, you gave me no choice.” You sobbed as he pushed you back into a tree, his hand circling your throat and squeezing enough to choke the air from you. Rage filtered down at you, mixed with a version of his own pain at your actions. 

The irony of it, you hurt him by running away. If your heart wasn't about to slam from your chest, it would have made you giggle. Instead it bubbled up your throat as bile tasting fear. Your eyes matched his, rimming tears at the edge. 

“Gave you no choice?” He hissed out, his hand flexing with a whir of mechanics as his other hand trailed a couple knuckles along your cheek. “Doll you simply had to follow the rules and we would have taken care of you. Now you give me no choice.” 

You could feel the way his fingers thrummed against your neck, tightening slightly till you gasped out in a garbled plea. “James no… just let me go, please just let me go.” You dig in your heels into the soft ground and try twisting in his hold. It was impossible to break loose from him, no man should have this kind of strength. 

And you were stuck with two of them. 

Bucky carried you so effortlessly back through the field, following the trail you weaved earlier. When reaching the other end, you expected him to carry you back up the stairs and into the house. But he turned sharply, heading towards the barn. 

“No…” You whispered, tears springing back towards your eyes. “Please no, I will be good, I promise to be good.” you started pleading, instead of trying to break from his hold, you cling to him. “Whatever you want Bucky.” 

It didn’t stall him and the barns opened doors yawned open like a beast about to swallow you whole.

[workingforitallthetime]

omg! plz can we see the matt girl thom p0rn im sure its exceptional

i am both gratified and horrified by everyone's enthusiasm for those 2:30am tags. i did slap on a bit of setup so i'm not just hitting you with a blast of pure id, but i release this into the world with great trepidation. here, have the beginning of the scene mentioned in the end notes of i went to school and i got the big D.

“When are you going to do your dishes?” Thom’s boots sound angry as she thumps into the kitchen.

“When I’m done cooking.” Matty picks up the spatula next to the stove and gives the pasta sauce on the back burner a stir, just to prove that he is in fact cooking. Even if he’s playing Temple Run with his other hand.

“Not those.” Thom smacks her hand against the doorframe to get his attention. “The ones in the sink. The ones that have been in the sink for a fucking week.”

Matty scoops up a line of gold coins before he glances up from his phone. Thom’s leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, a furious expression on her face. This is not the greeting Matty deserves. He gestures at the stove: pasta water almost boiling, sauce heating, chicken already finished in the skillet. “I’m making dinner.” Thom ought to be grateful. Truss will be; he’ll probably clean up the kitchen without Matty even having to ask.

“Wash your fucking cereal bowls while it cooks.” Thom crosses her arms pugnaciously. Even buried under her oversized leather jacket, the stance makes her chest stick out. Matty pretends not to notice. He’s gotten good at that. It’s one of the great trials of his existence, that Thom’s tits live at his house and Matty has to constantly pretend he doesn’t notice them.

“I’ll get to it.” Matty looks back down at the game on his phone and swipes just in time to jump over a firepit.

“You will not,” Thom objects. She's probably right, but Matty ignores her and dodges a few demon monkeys. He’s the good guy here, making their household a home-cooked meal on their off day. Thom can live with the bowls in the sink until Matty gets around to them, or until Truss takes care of it.

He doesn’t even realize she’s striding across the kitchen until his phone’s knocked out of his hand. As it goes skittering across the counter, Matty catches a glimpse of his character falling into the water.

“Clean up your shit.” Thom’s right in his space, fists clenched at her sides, five feet of fury.

Matty’s not going to give her the satisfaction. It’s just a couple of cereal bowls. Well, and some plates. And a water glass or two. And also their only bread knife. And the dishes from dinner, but those don’t count because he’s not even done making dinner yet. He sanctimoniously reaches past Thom to crack the lid of the pasta pot. Maybe it’s time to put the noodles in.

Thom makes a frustrated noise through her gritted teeth and shoves him. The lid clatters down onto the pot as Matty stumbles back a step. “What the fuck?”

Thom shoves him again, hard, with both hands. “Do… your… fucking… dishes,” she spits, punctuating each word with a shove.

Matty puts his hands up and tries to dodge. What the fuck is he supposed to do? He can’t hit a girl, off the ice at least. But it’s not like he’s going to run away. He’s making dinner in his own kitchen. He’s allowed to stand his ground, or something. Thom shoves him again. Every time Matty backs up he gets closer to the sink, which is probably playing right into Thom’s hands.

He can’t hit her but surely he’s allowed to stop her from hitting him, right? Just before Thom can shove him straight into the sink, Matty bear-hugs her and backs her against the counter, pinning her arms to her sides. He leans his full weight into her, shoulders to knees, making sure she’s got no room to get a leg up. If he lets her, her next move will no doubt be kneeing him in the groin.

Matty’s got a few inches on her, but Thom’s all compact strength. It’s like trying to subdue a mad badger. She jerks to one side, testing Matty’s grip. When he doesn’t let go, she glares up at him, refusing to dignify him with any more of a struggle. “Let up.”

“Will you stop it?” Matty clenches his arms around her.

Thom’s glare gets even meaner. “Will you wash your dishes?”

Matty squeezes, pressing his advantage. “Fucking maybe.”

Thom bites him. She sinks her teeth right into the skin at the base of his neck, just at the edge of his collar, stunning Matty with a sharp flash of pain. Instinctively, he leans hard against Thom instead of flinching away. She might take a chunk of his flesh if he tries to pull back, grin up at him with his blood on her sharky smile after he rips himself out of her jaws. “Fuuuuu…” Matty starts, and never quite gets to the ck. His grip on Thom goes slack as Thom’s wet mouth and sharp teeth cross the line from pain into pleasure. He rolls his head back, baring his neck to her.

Okay, he’s definitely not pressing his body against Thom’s for the right reasons anymore. This is so fucked up, getting turned on over a shoving match about the dirty dishes. “Fuck, fine.” He braces his hands on the countertop and tries to ease away from Thom. “I’ll do the fucking dishes.”

Matty’s neck throbs when Thom lifts her face. Her hand darts into the small space that’s opened between them and closes around Matty’s belt. She holds him in place with her fingers tucked into his waistband.

Matty lets her. For a moment she looks up at him with an expression on her face that Matty can’t read, furious and determined. Then she licks her lips. 

Matty’s pulse, already humming from the struggle, kicks up one more gear. “Are we doing this?” Thom’s knuckles dig into his belly.

“If you want to.” Thom says with disdain. She makes it sound like wanting to fuck her is a character flaw.

It probably is. “Fuck yeah I want to.” Matty’s character is flawed and his dick is hard, and he’s not going to waste this once in a lifetime opportunity. He grabs Thom by the hips and hoists her up onto the counter, lets her make space for him between her legs.

The buckles of Thom's jacket clank against the granite as it fall to the countertop behind her. Shrugging it off her shoulders puts her tits practically right in Matty’s face. He hooks his index finger under the strap of Thom’s tank top and pulls it to the side. When she doesn’t stop him, he does the same with the red lingerie strap he finds underneath it, sliding both straps down her arm far enough to expose the lace edge of her bra and the swell of her breast above it. He traces a finger along the lace and across her collarbone and nudges down the straps over her other shoulder.

Thom rolls her eyes. “You’re so fucking predictable.”

“So what?” Matty waits with his fingers poised at the neckline of Thom’s tank top. It doesn’t take a fucking fortuneteller to predict that Matty wants to get at her tits. Anybody with eyes would want the same thing. Sorry that makes him predictable.

Thom inhales, pressing her chest up against his hands. Matty yanks down the front of her tank top and the bra underneath it and takes a split second to admire how good her tits look, all pushed up and out for him, before cupping his hands over them.

Thom sighs, and not in a good sexy way. More like she’s bored, like Matty’s predictability is deeply disappointing to her.

Matty rolls a nipple slowly between his thumb and forefinger, wanting Thom to feel it tighten under his touch. “I fucking hate that you have perfect tits.” He pinches down, harder than he has to.

Thom doesn’t sound so bored now. She narrows her eyes at Matty like she resents him for making her gasp. Matty holds the pressure between his fingertips and twists the tiniest little bit, and Thom tips her head back so she doesn’t have to look at him. It exposes her throat, and Matty could get her back, could leave a mark there the way there’s no doubt going to be a bruise on his own neck where Thom bit into him. He takes the opportunity to get his whole face further down instead, his hands firm on Thom’s tits and his mouth moving over them. He tongues at her nipples, and then he takes one between his teeth. See how Thom likes it when he bites.

She likes it well enough to lock her legs around him and twist her hand in his hand so tight it hurts. Matty very firmly sets aside the question of why Thom beating up on him feels so fucking exquisite; that’s a problem for another time. He slides his hands under her skirt, spreading his palms over her thighs and trying to find the top of the stockings that form a smooth impenetrable barrier against his hands. He gives up too fast, probably, and digs his fingers into the stretchy material to rip it open.

Thom smacks the side of his head. “Did you just rip my tights?”

“Yeah?” Matty works his hands through the hole he’s torn. The fabric parts satisfyingly around his wrists.

“You’re such a fucking idiot.” Thom’s tone is caustic, but she doesn’t resist when Matty presses her thighs wider.

The fabric of her panties is damp when he runs his thumb over it. “I’ll buy you another.” He’ll buy her whatever the fuck she wants. He’ll buy her anything in the goddamned world if she will let him sink his dick into her wet little pussy right fucking now.

[dork-empress]

Singing In The Dead Of Night Ch 2

Harley and Barman set up a playdate for their wards.

forgive the long post, i'll edit and clean it up when im home. chapter can also be found on my ao3, url in the description.

Harley made it back home, which was actually the manor of some billionaire who only really used the house for tax purposes. Harley had taken it over when Lucy came to live with her, deciding she needed more room, and they quickly changed it to suit their needs.

“Luuuucyyyy, I’m hooooome,” Harley called out to the manor, heading through the living room/gymnasium.

Lucy was balancing on the beam by her hands. “Never heard that one before.” She went into the splits and stayed on one hand.

Harley looked over her form. “Point your toes more...there ya go.” Lucy did as recommended. “I got candy for dinner!” She dumped her stolen lollipops on the table.

“I already ate, Aunt Harley,” she said, “I made extra pasta if you want.” She pointed over to the kitchen, before switching hands and flipping herself over.

“Oh,” Harley said, going over to make a plate, but feeling like ants were crawling in her skin. “You know, you don’t have to call me your aunt when it’s just the two of us,” She said, swirling her fork through the noodles.

Lucy shrugged, “Force of habit. Plus it’s a good idea in general, ya know, in case someone’s secretly listening in or we mess up some other time.”

Harley shrugged her shoulders. “Makes sense,” and it did, but it still kind of hurt. “You can have the lollipops for dessert though. You like cherry?” She tossed her the red candy.

Lucy looked down at the wrapper a second. “Can’t, I’m allergic to the red dye.”

“Oh,” Harley said, silently cursing herself. That was something that mothers should know about their kids, allergies and crap. “Well. Lemon then?”

“Sure!” They traded the lollipops, and Harley sucked on hers between bites of the pasta. Sweet and savory combined, delicious.

Lucy swung her legs as she sat on the beam. “Does...my father have any allergies?”

Harley blinked at her. Did Joker have any allergies? It was hard to say. Even now, Harley didn’t know a lot about the Joker. That’s how he liked it. “Best not to talk about it,” she said instead, “In case of those listening things or whatever.”

Lucy hummed, but didn’t seem satisfied. “Hey,” Harley said, trying to distract her from the ‘dad’ talk, “You wanna go out with me tomorrow?”

Lucy brightened, jumping a bit, “Where are you gonna go?”

“I dunno,” she said, “Go lookin’ for trouble. Let the trouble find me. Punch out a couple people but only if they REALLY deserve it!” And maybe if they only kinda deserved it, Harley thought.

Lucy hummed again, thinking. “I dunno. I think violence often begets further violence, and while it is occasionally necessary, efforts should focus more on the community building and personal improvement area.”

Harley blinked at her. Right, she was a reader, Delia had mentioned that. Not unlike Harley at her age, really, although Harley had focused on psychoanalysis instead of philosophy. “Ah, of course,” she said, “Well, what do you wanna do?”

Lucy thought for a second. “Well, there was this girl I wanted to go inspire to fight her eating disorder.”

“Oh,” Harley said nodding. It was a noble cause, really, but...also seemed really, really boring. “I...sure!” she smiled.

The truth was, when Lucy came out to live with Harley full time, she had really thought they would be a lady dynamic duo, a proper partnership mother/daughter team. But Lucy wasn’t much like Harley. Or, she was but, she was different, a goody two-shoes. Or, a goody tutu. Ha.

More than that, she followed a strange sense of logic that was oddly reminiscent of...Harley didn’t even finish the thought.

“You don’t want to go, do you?” Lucy asked.

“Hmm? Of course I do!” Harley said, “I’d do anything with you sweetheart,” she gave Lucy a wink, then went to the kitchen to hide her facial expression.

She didn’t see that Lucy had followed her until she was directly behind her. “Oh, Jesus!” She said, clutching her heart, “Gotta look out there, sweetie. Almost brained ya!”

“Is Dad like me at all?” she asked, head tilted to the side.

Harley blinked at her. She felt like her bones were shaking inside her skin. “Why would you ask a thing like that?”

Lucy spun a little in place making her tutu swish. “I’ve been reading about him. People think he’s crazy. I mean, he says it. But that’s not what your records say.”

Harley frowned, backing away as though physical distance would get her out of the conversation. “What’re you goin through my records for? What, are you a snoop?”

“They got published after one of your arrests,” Lucy said, “Other people were more interested in the little notes you left in the margins, but--”

“Alright, stop.” Harley said, hand clutching her lollipop stick so tight it might break. “Look, Mr...your father is mean and cruel and manipulative, and nothing like you! He wants to drive other people crazy, and for some people, self included, he succeded. But I grew out of it as best I could and now...you don’t need to worry about him, ok? He ain’t ever gonna know about ya, and he ain’t ever gonna find ya. Got it?”

Lucy hesitated a second and there was something strange in her eyes. Something familiar. “Got it,” she finally said.

Harley lightened, smiling at her. “Why don’t we play a game or somethin? You like Monopoly? I make up my own rules!”

Lucy smiled, “That sounds nice,” she said, all bright again. As they set up the game, Lucy said, “You don’t have to come with me tomorrow, by the way. I can take care of myself.”

“You sure?” Harley asked. Lucy nodded. For the rest of the evening, Harley felt like something was…off.

She slipped the burner phone out of her pocket. She typed, ‘Wanna set up a playdate?’

“She called it a WHAT?!” Damian said, nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Aww,” Tim said, over by the batcave computer, “Little Damian’s got a plaaayydaaate.”

“I will end you, Drake.” Damian snarled, fingers twitching for his sword.

“Enough,” Bruce interrupted the both of them. “Damian, if it helps you can think of it as a mission.”

“I thought I was forbidden from Robin duties for the next two months.” Damian said, arms crossed.

Bruce groaned. “Harley has taken in a ward, her niece Lucy. She has some petty crime charges, but from my recon, she’s not a villain. Harley wants her to spend time with someone her age, and I need someone who will watch over her.”

“Watch out for her, or watch out because of her?” Damian asked, scowling.

“Oooh, good question,” Tim said, still at the computer. “Hey, how come you didn’t set me up with vigilante kids?”

“Because you found them on your own,” Bruce shot back, “Look. Damian, you just have to spend the day with her. Follow her around, help her out as long as it’s not hurting anyone. Don’t let her get killed. Invite Jon if you want.”

“Uggh, Jon’s off world with his Dad,” Damian said.

“Oh right,” Bruce said, massaging his temple. “Why do interdimensional crises have to happen at the worst times?”

“Why is it we need a plural for interdimensional crisis?” Tim asked.

Bruce gave him a side glance to let him know he was coming up on the line that breached from ‘annoying’ to ‘problem Bruce will deal with.’ “Damian…”

“Fine, I’ll do it,” he said, “But I won’t be her friend by you forcing us.”

“Fine.”

They met up with Harley at a neutral location downtown on top of a party goods store. “Hiya Batsy, Hey Bird Boy!”

Despite himself, Damian liked Harley. She was usually of a like mind about which villains did or didn’t deserve to live, but he didn’t tell Batman that. “Harley,” Batman said, “Where’s your niece?”

“Just doin some high-wire practice.” Harley said, “Lucy-goosey!”

From the side of the building, a girl faulted up from where she was hanging on the flagpole. A girl wearing a tutu and white paint. “Nice to meet you, Batman,” Lucy said, “Aunt Harley’s told me….a lot of mixed things.”

“YOU!” Damian said, before he could stop himself, and all three of the others turned to him.

Lucy trotted forward on her tiptoes. “Have we met?” She asked, tilting her head, and looking him up and down.

Damian swallowed. “Uhh….”

“Blackbird!” Lucy said, and swooped him up into a hug, “Oh, I knew you were a Robin, why’d you lie to me?”

“Blackbird, huh?” Batman said, and he couldn’t see, but he knew there was a very pointed eyebrow being raised at him.

Damian, still being swung like a ragdoll by Lucy, tried to gain his balance. “I didn’t...I mean I wasn’t…”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Batman said, “You kids go on, I have something to talk about with Harley.”

“Kids?!” Damian said, offended, especially that he was going to be left out of whatever this conversation was. But in doing so, he left himself vulnerable as Lucy pulled on his cowl to the edge of the building.

“Come on, birdy, whatever color you are. The city awaits!” And she jumped from the roof, grappling on outcroppings to reach the street safely. Damian grumbled, but eventually followed.

Harley looked to Batman, and her face fell. “He’s out there, isn’t he?”

Batman gave one slow nod.

Lucy skipped everywhere. It was very irritating, because it was faster than walking, but slower than running, so hard to keep pace. Also,it was just very perky, which made it hard to sulk.

Lucy claimed she had deliveries to make around town. Something about girls who were bullies in high school and were treating others poorly, but it was only because of the societal pressures that were put on young girls of America and...and thats about where Damian lost interest.

She carried a cartfull of boxes like a damn girlscout, and left them on the girls doors. Damian could have followed in his sleep...except there was something about one of the boxes….

“What’s in that one?” Damian asked as she brought it to the next home.

“Huh?” Lucy said, “Same thing as in all of them, some cookies, a letter, balloons of course and--”

“It’s beeping,” Damian said.

“What?”

Damian didn’t wait any longer, he grabbed the box out of her arms and tossed it as high into the sky as he could, tackling her to the ground. The box then exploded.

Lucy gasped in excitement, clapping her hands together. “Birdy, look at it! It’s fireworks!”

Damian growled, jumping off of her and taking out his sword. “I knew it, I knew you were up to no good.”

Lucy tilted her head. “Whatcha talkin about, Birdy?”

“You--” He pointed to where the box was still smoldering. “You were going to put a BOMB on that girl’s doorstep!”

“I didn’t put that there,” Lucy said, getting up with no care of the sword pointed at her.

“You-” Damian stammered. “What?”

Lucy bent down and picked up a scrap of paper from the ruins. “Change of plans for the evening, Birdy!” Lucy said, “We’re going puzzling!”

She tossed the paper at him and he grabbed it quickly. It read ‘I’ve the tallest of trunks and thickest of stumps, a switch in the breeze, but I’m no tree. What am I?’”

They came quickly to the elephant pasture at the zoo. Damian couldn’t help it, he held out his hand for the elephant. She reached out her trunk and wrapped it around him. He couldn’t help but laugh.

Her baby came forward this time, trotting on new steps. He was already the size of a small horse, but he stole Damian’s heart all the same. He tried to bowl Damian over like a large puppy, and Damian couldn’t help but laugh. “Didn’t know you could laugh, Birdy,” Lucy said, kneeling over a shady patch in the enclosure.

Damian’s scowl returned. “Stop calling me ‘Birdy,’” he said, “You can just say ‘Robin,’ if you want.”

“But aren’t there other Robins?” Lucy said, fiddling with something, “I’d love to call you something unique to you.”

“There’s already a Blackbird, you know.” Damian said, continuing to pet the baby elephant.

“There is?” Lucy asked, “Picking a superhero name is HARD. I’m still trying to get Commedia to stick. You know, like, Commedia del arte? But I’ll end up getting called ‘Tutu girl’ or something if I don’t watch out.”

Damian gently pushed the elephant away, seeing what she was doing. She was hands deep in another box like the one they’d found in her cart. “Careful, it could be another bomb.”

“Fireworks,” Lucy corrected, “and I already diffused it.”

Damian leaned down, looking. She had indeed done so, quite efficiently. “How did you know to do that?”

Lucy smiled, “An uncle of mine taught me. You’ll meet him.” She dug further into the box. “I wouldn’t mind some more fireworks, but I don’t want to scare the elephants.” She pulled out another slip of paper.

“This has all the hallmarks of The Riddler,” Damian said, “We have to be careful. He might have bombs all over the city.”

“Fireworks!” Lucy corrected again, “And, probably. See, we already have the next clue!” She waved the paper and read out “Can you hear me make a sound, only when you are around.”

“Of course you can only hear things when you’re around.” Damian said, frowning.

“But only when someone’s around does it make a...Oh!” Lucy said, jumping to her feet, “An echo! We have to go somewhere there’s an echo!”

Damian sighed, “I have an idea.”

Technically they weren’t IN the Bat cave. They were at a far entrance to it, another end of the cave system. So he wasn’t breaking any rules. “Hey, is that Wayne Manor?” Lucy asked. “I tried to break in there once, but they have some crazy rich person security system.”

“Funny that.” Damian said, trying to seem completely ordinary.

Lucy stood at the edge of the cave and yelled into it. “ECHO!” listening for the echo in return. She skipped into the cave, humming all the way, the sound bouncing off as she went.

“Lucy?” Damian said, following her, “Don’t go too far, there’s all sorts of--” He heard a squeal and rushed forward.

He stopped short, his flashlight falling on Lucy. She waved at him to put it down, squinting. “Look here!” She brushed aside some dirt to find some rusted over metal. “Isn’t it fascinating! This cave system must go on for miles! Maybe people hid treasure there!”

“It’s just the old mining system,” Damian said, truthfully. “It’s all blocked off.”

“That can’t be hard to undo,” Lucy said, intrigued by whatever lay beyond.

Damian grabbed her hand before she could continue. “We have to catch the Riddler. There has to be another package here.”

Lucy sighed, but nodded. She took his arm with the flashlight and swung him around the cave. “Ah! There.”

She took the package and skipped out of the cave. “Careful!” Damian urged. “Come on, just diffuse it.”

“Nope, not these ones.” She tossed the package high in the sky, and Damian saw the fireworks light up.

He felt his phone buzzing, no doubt Tim could hear an explosion out here, not to mention Alfred. They’d come investigating fast enough. He leaped up, grabbing the fallen slip of paper, and grabbed Lucy again to pull her along. He read it quickly and passed it to her as he made his way away. “Even in the city scape, nature comes to take its place.” Lucy read. “It must be the park!”

l,

“No,” Damian said, still pulling her, “I mean, yes, that is the answer to the riddle, but that’s not where we’re going.” He texted the police to inform them of the location of the hidden package so they could diffuse it, and dragged Lucy away.

The original Gotham Ice Cream shop was one of the oldest remaining buildings in Gotham, although was clearly closed for the night.

Damian saw a flash of green from the kitchens and rushed inside, finding none other than the Riddler standing there. “Stand down, Riddler,” Damian said, holding out his sword, “We’ve got you now!”

Riddler snarled, backing into a defensive stance. “Robin! How did you possibly find me?”

Damian smirked, “The beginning of each clue was clearly spelling out your final location. I-C-E. I didn’t need to follow 5 more clues to figure that out.”

Riddler cursed. “Those clues weren’t for you! They were for--!”

Lucy came skipping up to join Damian. “Hi, Uncle Eddy!”

“Lucille!” Riddler said, immediately warming. “I had so many sights around Gotham for you to see, why’d you go skipping to the end?”

Lucy skipped up to him, and Damian was once again left dumbfounded. “My friend Birdy here isn’t much for riddles, I think,” she said, “Although he enjoyed the elephants! And he knew about the mining carts in the caves, I want to explore those later.”

‘Uncle Eddy’ hugged Lucy, and Damian came to his senses, “THIS is your uncle?!”

Lucy shrugged, “I mean, that’s what I call him. I met him when I was visiting Aunt Harley a few years ago.”

“I heard you had moved to Gotham full time,” Riddler said, “I wanted to be sure you saw the sights. But the bat-brats have to ruin everything I suppose.” Riddler glared at him, and he glared right back.

“I don’t-” Damian started, but cut himself off, “You can’t just be leaving BOMBS around the city!”

“Fireworks!” Lucy and Riddler both corrected.

“Whatever! They’re explosive and they’re dangerous!” Damian hated having to be the safety one. It felt wrong.

Riddler rolled his eyes. “He’s just as much a barrel of laughs as the big one.”

“Aw, he’s sweet, really,” Lucy said, coming over to Damian and linking their arms. “Aunt Harley and Batman set us up on our own little playdate.”

“It is NOT!” Damian said, squirming away from her, “It is NOT a playdate.”

“Uncle Eddy, can my friend Birdy have some Ice Cream too?” Lucy asked, ignoring him.

Riddler and Damian glared again. “Fine.” He pushed his own bowl of ice cream towards Damian and went to get his own. “It’s MYSTERY flavor!”

Damian looked at it hesitantly as Lucy sat down to enjoy. Riddler went back to the kitchen. “It’s coconut,” Lucy said, “But Uncle Eddy likes to think it’s a mystery, so I let him.”

Damian frowned at her. “You’re really weird.”

“Thank you!” Lucy said, patting the seat beside her. “Come on, even you had to admit you had fun today.”

Damian thought about the elephants, and skipping around with Lucy, and watching the fireworks at the mouth of the cave, and seeing her all excited about mining carts for some reason. “Fine,” he said, “But it’s NOT a playdate.”

“Alright, alright,” Lucy said, digging into her ice cream. “Just a regular date then.”

“I--” Damian started, his head exploding with so many protests that he ended up just short circuiting. Lucy continued chowing down on ice cream like she didn’t say anything of importance. So, Damian just sat beside her, and ate his own.

[ocean-blue-whump]

▶️ Lorenzo, cook dinner for your lovely wife. You know what to wear.

Sara, thank you for making me cry laughing.

For those who don't know, this is for the AU where Lorenzo never went to WRU, never became Sunny, and married Danielle Hammond, @justplainwhump 's OC.

“Sway” by Michael Buble

CW: PG-13 related teasing/flirting, happiness, not whump.

***

The burner ignites with a faint whoosh. Lorenzo sets the pot of water down, tapping his wedding band against the plastic handle. He steps away from the pot, doing a little twirl so the bottom of his apron lifts up a little. 

He’s wearing nothing but a pair of tight boxer briefs, a black apron with “Kiss the Cook” written on it, and a thick leather collar, black with silver buckles. 

He hooks two fingers underneath the collar and snaps a picture, texting it to Dany with the caption, “Getting hot in here.” She won’t respond. That’s half the thrill, knowing she’s reading it and, presumably, getting very irritated. 

Lorenzo stands on his toes to reach a box of spaghetti from the cabinet. He salts the water and dumps the noodles in, humming happily. 

He leans over the counter to read the recipe again. He only briefly skims it before deciding to put on some music. “Play ‘Enzo’s Sexy Kitchen Music,’ please,” he says to the device. 

The screen flashes once before the song “Sway” by Michael Buble starts blaring. Lorenzo shakes his hips as he melts butter in a skillet and adds some shrimp. 

The oven beeps, and, still swaying his hips and shoulders, Lorenzo takes a detour on his way to lean his phone up on a nearby countertop. He sets a timer and rushes to position, opening the over door and bending over, arching his spine and smirking at the camera. Once that’s over, he slides the bread into the oven and sets another timer. 

Fuck. That picture…Dany’s going to flip. He’ll be pinned on the counter in seconds when Dany gets home, her fingers pulling on the collar and his hands in her hair… Lorenzo grins and presses send. 

He adds some chopped garlic and a sprinkle of sage to the shrimp and butter. He uncorks a bottle of white wine and pours some in, followed by a generous sip for himself. God, he wishes Dany would hurry home. He covers the pan and takes the pasta off the burner, draining the water. 

He runs his wet hands over the front of his apron, feeling his bare chest, his muscles underneath the thin fabric. He hopes Dany’s sitting in her office going wild right now. 

The thought spurs him on, and he twirls around the kitchen, dancing with an imaginary partner before coming to stop in front of the stove. He adds the shrimp mixture, whipping cream, and parmesan cheese to the spaghetti, mixing it until it’s perfectly combined. He tops it off with some lemon, salt, and pepper before sliding it to the side. Now all that’s left is the bread. 

And Lorenzo has a horribly wonderful idea. 

He grabs a spatula out of a drawer and leans over the counter, the marble digging into his hips and forcing him to stick his ass out. He sets up the phone so it captures his body from his knees up, his body bent at a 90 degree angle. 

He looks positively scandalous, his underwear tight over his well-built ass, the apron dropping to reveal his side, the collar, god, the fucking collar. The drama if someone were to see him would be explosive.

He clicks record on his phone. Stretching out languidly on the counter, he smiles lazily. “Hello, Danielle,” he purrs. “Hope work is going spectacularly.” He tilts his head so his diamond earring and the collar are on full display. “I have to say, I’m getting very needy.” With one hand, he pulls on the collar, and with the other, he brings the spatula down on his ass, hard enough that the sound echoes around the kitchen. A little moan escapes his parted lips. “See what you’re missing? I’m all collared up for you, I’m all yours.” He spanks himself again. “I’d hurry home if I were you, Danielle. I’d hate to have to get started without you.” With one final spank that pulls quite the sound out of him, he turns off the video and sends it to Dany. 

This time, he does receive an answer: three angry emojis and the note “from her assistant.”

Lorenzo laughs, spinning in a circle. He’s got her now. They’re going to have to reheat the pasta tonight. 

He’s a little sore from the hits, but in a good way, a way that makes him feel content and happy, ready to get on his knees for Dany or let her do it for him. 

Ever since that night on the yacht, he’s been hopelessly in love. He’s got his wedding ring and the collar and he loves being Dany’s more than anything. 

He shoots Dany a text, expecting her assistant to answer, but instead he gets an automated response. “I’m driving and can’t come to the phone now.”

Lorenzo cheers. He can’t wait to get out of this apron and get Dany on him. 

His timer for the bread goes off, and Lorenzo struts over to the oven, pulling the baguette out and settling it on a tray. 

The fresh aroma wafts up to him, he smiles and starts cutting it into slices, all of varying sizes. Hopefully Dany doesn’t get a speeding ticket on her way home. That would be horribly inconvenient. He hears the garage door rumbling open and his heart soars. She’s finally home. 

Lorenzo perches himself on the counter, pulling one leg up to his chest and to the side, resting on the counter, keeping his legs spread. He lets the other leg hang down, lets the apron cover him. He sticks out his chest a little bit, musing his hair with one hand. 

He hears the door open and his heart is racing. He spreads his legs a little more and tilts his head seductively so Dany can easily grab the collar and tug him around. 

He hears her voice before he sees her. 

“Diamond boy.”

A shiver runs down his spine. “Danielle. Welcome home.”

[lluvguts]

all better // reddie

pairing: teen!richie tozier / eddie kaspbrak

genre/warnings: fluff and angst, trauma, h/c

word count: 2111

summary:  Eddie has a bad day and Richie does his best to cheer him up.

check out my ao3

It’s just Richie’s front door.  

But no amount of convincing worked for Eddie’s mind as the sight of it warped into the small door in the sewer...With the grotesque face of the leper staring back at him. As he stared at the Tozier’s oak door he swore he saw a thick trickle of blood seep from the threshold and hear the sound of sickly, rasping breath from inside the hollow door. Just a few more moments and he’d be face to face with It..

It’s dark out, he told himself. That’s why I’m seeing things. But I’m here, Richie’s here. I’m safe. No need to be scared.

But that didn’t stop the nightmares that assailed him all night long—ever since they defeated It—keeping Eddie wide awake and strangled in worry for what could be lurking in the murky blackness outside. Eddie’s mother had caught on to his insomnia since the first week, making him take all sorts of supplements and medicine claiming to be a “sleep aid.” They did nothing to keep the images at bay. The noises. He only slept well on nights when Richie snuck over, or when Eddie drove to his house.

Richie could never know.

Eddie shook his head and knocked again. His eyes searched the window with its drawn curtains. I did tell him I’m coming, right?

But then the lock swung back and the door opened, showing the face that soothed all his worries. Richie grabbed Eddie’s arm and brought him in for a hug. He was suddenly pulled into Richie’s open chest and the familiar stink of cigarettes and black tea consumed him. It was a bold and comforting smell, one that Eddie loved. It made his nerves settle and for Eddie was unmistakably Richie Tozier.

“You look like shit, Eds,” Richie held him tightly, “On the phone you said it was a bad day, right?”

Eddie nodded against his shirt and they pulled away. I’m not entirely wrong. It was a bad day. He just doesn’t need to know exactly why. And that was the great thing about Richie: he didn’t need an explanation. He was more than happy to let his boyfriend curl up in his arms, his face still burning from fearful tears while Richie whispered little jokes or Voices in his ear until Eddie wiped his eyes and laughed. Most of the time they weren’t even funny.

“That’s alright, Eds. I’ll fix us some dinner, yeah?”

“You can cook?” Eddie followed Richie into the kitchen and sat on an island chair.

Richie pouted at him, his lower lip sticking out. “Don’t be hateful, sweetheart. Of course the Trashmouth can cook.”

“What’s on the menu then, Chef Tozier?”

“You’ll see.” Richie laughed and rummaged through the pantry.

Eddie glanced around the empty kitchen, not a single sound filled the house—except of course for Richie banging around looking for a stove pot.

“No parents?"

"Nope. My folks are out of town for the weekend, some family thing.” Richie said, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand.

“And they left you alone?” Eddie asked, unable to help the smile that drifted into his voice.

“I’m seventeen. I don’t need constant supervision.” Richie growled.

Eddie pointed to him. “Yet you were about to pour marinara sauce into a pasta strainer.”  

“Okay, scratch that. I’ll always need you, Eddie my love...Plus I promised them I wouldn’t burn the house down.”

“What on Earth are you doing with all that?” Eddie caught sight of two boxes of macaroni, lettuce, and red sauce.

He tried to stifle his giggling, but it was useless. “Rich, are you trying to make spaghetti?”

“Maybe.” He replied defiantly with an embarrassed blush.

“With iceberg lettuce?”  

Richie inspected his ingredients again with his eyebrows raised, his eyes looked more doubtful now from beneath his glasses. “..That’s a thing, right?”

Eddie sighed and joined him at the counter. “You’re hopeless, Richie. Give me that ladle,” He loosely gestured to the wooden spoon next to him while putting back the lettuce.

“This is the wrong type of noodle.” Eddie held up the box of pasta while the marinara sauce simmered on the stove—the one thing Richie had done correctly.

Richie snorted and put his hands on his hips. “Not everything can be perfect like you.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and let Richie’s arms snake around his waist. “Okay, fine. Macaroni it is.”

He waddled over to the sink—with Richie still attached from behind—to pour water into the pot. As he let the faucet run Richie bent down and kissed his bare neck softly, his glasses poking into his skin.

Eddie stiffened. “What was that for?”

“For helping me with dinner. For being cute. Why, can’t I kiss you just because?”

“Of course you can. You’re just..distracting.”

“Oh? You mean like this?” Richie laughed and placed a trail of teasing kisses up his neck, making Eddie grip the handles of the pot tighter while he fought to breathe. He knows just where to kiss me.

“Am I distracting you now?” His mouth rested just above the space between Eddie’s jaw and earlobe, his warm lips and breath tickling him. One of Richie’s hands drifted down toward his pants and Eddie stepped on his bare foot.

“Cut it out Richie,” Eddie gasped. He realized in his daze that the pot of water was about to overflow and quickly shut it off. He carried it to the stove and set it to boil, then poured in the macaroni noodles.

He turned to him. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days.”

Richie returned his hands to his sides and smirked. “Awe, shucks. To think I have that effect on people.”

“Only me, dipshit.”

“And that’s just fine,” Richie pecked his cheek and hugged him again.

“Feeling any better, Eds?”

“After some dinner I will be.” Eddie replied while wrestling out of the bear hug to set two plates on the tile counter. Richie drained the pasta and Eddie turned off the burners.

“Like mother, like son.” Richie said philosophically at the sink.

“Be quiet,” Eddie gave his chest a playful shove and handed him the food. They sat at the table on opposite sides, and just as he was about to eat Richie stuck his fork at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Letting you try some!” Richie pushed the fork further towards Eddie’s mouth.

“I have some right here,” He gestured to his own full plate, “And you’ve been eating off that already.”

Before he could pull his fork away a few stray pieces of macaroni slipped off the fork and fell across Eddie’s shirt, staining the front with oily red sauce. Richie’s eyes widened, and he drew the fork back guiltily.

“Gross!”

“Oh, shit. Sorry Eddie! I’ll go get one of mine!” He hopped off the chair and dashed up the stairs. Eddie took the chance to eat some of the “spaghetti” before Richie returned with a fresh shirt.

“I am not wearing that,” Eddie said firmly, picking the noodles off his lap and into his empty plate.

“Just take that off and put on mine. It’s mostly clean, don’t worry. I’ll wash yours.” Richie held his shirt out to him, waiting with closed eyes for the dirty one. Eddie diverted his eyes and pulled his shirt up over his head. He threw Richie’s on hurriedly, his face was red the whole time. God, it smells just like him.

“Okay, you’re good.” Eddie told him and he opened his eyes. Richie examined him wearing his own clothes then flashed a grin.

“Why do my clothes look better on you? And the Cutie Award goes to..”

Eddie thrust the stained shirt at him. “My ass.”

“He’s not wrong, folks!” Richie shouted into the empty hallway as he went back upstairs to the laundry room.

“You want me to clean this up?” Eddie called. Richie had left a trail of dirty dishes and stray pasta noodles in his wake as they had cooked, not caring to pick up.

“Just come up here! We’ll do it later.” came his reply. By “later,” Eddie knew he meant “tomorrow.”

Eddie headed up the stairs and sat on Richie’s bed, waiting for him. Even without him there—just for a few seconds—the thoughts came racing back, like a flip of a switch, no matter if things were happy and easygoing minutes before.

He was no longer in Richie’s room. He was on the burning asphalt with a broken arm, he was running through the yard of the Neibolt house, desperate and out of breath. He was staring directly in the face of Henry Bowers, his entire arm engulfed in flames as searing as a hot iron with Patrick’s spit stuck in his eyes. He was reliving every memory.

“...Eds? What is it? What happened?” Richie appeared in the doorway but Eddie could hardly see him through the haze; he only heard his footsteps thundering in his head as he came to his side, taking his face and forcing him to look into his chocolate brown eyes.

“Eddie? Talk to me, please,” Richie was pleading, sitting down next to Eddie and keeping his hands placed firmly on his shoulders, helping to relieve his staggered breathing.

“It hurts,” Eddie said weakly but his words got choked up in a fresh wave of tears.

“Where, baby? Where does it hurt?” He searched his face and scanned his body frantically.

“God, Richie. My head..the memories, it hurts so much. They never went away,” He cried, truly feeling every ounce of that childhood pain. Richie grabbed his sides and pulled him into his lap, his face set into a hard, serious frown that left Eddie startled.

He’s always been there for me.

“N-no,” Eddie tried moving away, “I’ve been crying..It’s gross, Rich. Let me go wash my face or something.” He sniffed loudly.

“Shhh,” Richie shook his head and held him more fiercely, Eddie could feel the beating of their hearts together against his chest. He closed his eyes and counted each rhythmic thump of Richie’s heartbeat until he could breathe again.

He brought his face to Eddie’s cheek, wet with tears, and kissed him.

“Let me make it better,” Richie whispered. He moved his lips to tenderly kiss every spot on Eddie’s face: each tear, his pink nose, his eyelids.

“It’s gone, we killed It, everything’s alright now,” He kept his lips pressed to Eddie’s temple, and as he did the ache there subsided, “You’re safe with me, Eds.”

Eddie let out a shaky laugh. “You’re such a sap, Richie.”

“Only for you.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes with Richie running his hands through Eddie’s hair. He loved when Richie did this, when his gentle fingers sent shivers down his spine. His comforting touch made different tears slide down Eddie’s face.

“Is it still there? Did the nightmares go away?” Richie asked with another twinge of concern when he felt Eddie crying quietly again into his shoulder.

Eddie tucked his face into the crook of his neck to hide the embarrassment and mumbled, “No, they w-went away.”

“What’s wrong? Why are you still crying, Eddie?” Richie leaned against the headboard so he could see the smaller boy’s face and he cradled the back of his hair.

“I’ve never had someone be so..kind to me before. Not like this. No one would ever do the things you’re always doing for me. I-I don’t think I deserve it.”

Richie lifted Eddie’s legs up higher so he was more comfortable and the smaller boy snuggled in. He spoke with his chin resting on top of his head, “I know I’m kind of an ass most of the time, but I don’t mean to be. I’m always looking out for you Eds, even when you think I’m not...It’s cause I love you.”

Those three words silenced everything and left Eddie blissfully calm—despite his frantic heart.

He loves me?  

Eddie questioned it as soon as he said it, but after thinking it over he knew Richie wasn’t lying.

Who else would clean me up after a panic attack, or wake me from a nightmare, even if I was covered in sweat and tears and who knows what else? Who else would hold me the rest of the night, even if it meant he didn’t sleep?  

“I love you too,” Eddie said against his neck. And then, after a thoughtful pause,

“But don’t call me Eds.”  

[abarbaricyalp]

prompt idea - sam/steve/bucky

bucky and steve start calling sam by 40s pet names as a joke but sam discovers he actually likes it but doesn’t know how to tell them.

Hello! Sorry this took so long (vampire anon, that's also taking so long but it is also being so long. I haven't forgotten about it. I just love vampires)

Read on AO3 under the same title by ElisabethMonroe

An Incomplete Dream

As with all things that vexed him, Sam Wilson’s newest problem was started by Bucky Barnes.

“Stevie, don’t he look like the most perfect picture of angelface?” Bucky asked, turning away from Sam, though his metal fingers didn’t loosen around Sam’s wrists, which he was holding over Sam’s head.

Steve looked over his shoulder with a wide grin, even without having to look at Sam. “He sure does, Buck,” he agreed and finished pulling his shirt off over his head.

“Angelface?” Sam asked, just to antagonize Bucky.

Bucky shifted over Sam, ground his thigh a little closer to Sam’s groin. Never close enough to give any real friction, just the teasing promise of more to come. It was about the only time Bucky had any self control, when Steve was around to tell them not to have too much fun without him. And Steve, unfortunately, managed to have the patience of a fucking saint when it meant it got Sam and Bucky harder than sin.

“Yeah, doll,” Bucky purred, dropped his face to Sam’s neck to trail his mouth along his skin. Sam would pretend like that was what had his legs falling open. The kissing and not the words. “Means you look like somethin’ Heaven sent.”

“That’s heavy,” Steve said, reappearing from the bathroom in briefs that Sam was pretty sure he’d bought him. Or maybe they were just Sam’s. “But not wrong,” he added as he climbed into the bed and straddled Sam’s hips. Bucky shifted too, staying out of Steve’s way but continuing to hold Sam’s wrists down. Sam pouted up at him. Bucky ignored him and leaned over to kiss Steve instead.

“How ‘bout you give your angel something to work with?” Sam suggested eventually, pouting out his lower lip again. Steve leaned down to kiss it away.

“Good morning, dollface,” Bucky greeted the next morning. Steve looked up from his newspaper with a fond grin. Sam tilted his head to offer his cheek for their mandatory morning kisses. Bucky skipped his cheek and went for his neck, an arm draping over Sam’s shoulder to run his hand down Sam’s bare chest.

“You haven’t said dollface in a while,” Steve said and brought his coffee up to his lips.

“You ain’t got one no more,” Bucky said. Sam could feel him look up from his nook in Sam’s neck and Sam could only imagine the look he was throwing Steve.

“What happened to angelface?” Sam asked.

“Liked that one, huh?” Bucky said. He kissed Sam’s cheek and went off in search of breakfast.

“They’re all corny,” Sam said. It wasn’t really a lie. They were corny. He was allowed to like corny things.

Steve hooked his foot on the back of Sam’s ankle and it took all Sam had not to visibly react. It was insane that they could still have this effect on him. “Don’t be mean, dollface,” he drolled with the same easy grin he’d shot Bucky.

Sam sprawled over the breakfast bar, cheeks burning. He heard Bucky laugh.

“Steve!” Sam yelped and hurried to the stove to get a pot off the burner before all the water boiled over. “I gave you one job.”

Steve looked sheepish and he shrugged helplessly as he gestured to a bowl he was mixing some kind of cake batter in. “It was either the noodles or the cake. I know which one Bucky would prefer to get done.”

Sam rolled his eyes and bumped his hip into Steve's as he carried the pot to the sink to drain it. “He may say he wants the cake more, but we both know he puts carbs away like he’ll never eat again.”

For a second, the realization that it may very well be a survival instinct for him settled over the both of them. Then Steve shook his head and crammed himself into the corner, trying and failing very hard to be small.

“Hey, sugar, can you grab me the sugar?” he laughed.

Sam rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. “Corny, Rogers. So damn corny.” But he got the sugar and passed it over. He was not surprised when Steve caught him around the waist, spinning him in a lazy dance even though the oven and stove were both still on and he hadn’t so much as measured out his sugar.

“He's special ration,” Steve sang, twirling them around a kitchen not designed for it. “Funny, he never asks for my money. All that I give him is honey. And that he can spend any time.”

Sam looked up when the door opened, but Steve didn’t even stumble, so Sam got Bucky’s bemused expression all to himself.

“I'd make a million trips to his lips, if I were a bee. Because he's sweeter than chocolate candy to me. He's confectionery, that sugar baby of mine.”

“It’s my birthday but you’re serenading him?” Bucky asked, cutting in between them to wrap his arms around Sam’s waist, picking up on the dance like he’d started it.

“You don’t call me dollface anymore,” Steve said with a shrug. He turned back to his cake and Sam dropped his face to Bucky’s shoulder. They swayed slightly, taking small steps now and again, pasta forgotten for now.

“Yeah, Sam’s my new dollface and he gets to give me my gift first.”

“Do I, now? And you know what that gift is, I’m assuming.”

“Sure I do,” Bucky said. He reached for a red bow that had been left on the breakfast bar and smacked it onto Sam’s shoulder. Sam was just about to make a joke when Bucky peeled it off and put it on the waistband of Sam’s pants instead. “Sounds like you’ve got a little sweetness to spare, sugar,” he purred and pulled him back towards the couch.

Steve could handle pasta and cake at the same time, Sam decided. And if he couldn’t...at least they’d have dessert.

Sam turned over in bed and opened his eyes to find Bucky already looking at him, sleepy and only half awake. One of the best ways for him to be, Sam thought.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, reaching over to brush a curl back into the mop on Bucky’s head.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured back. Sam felt his stomach curl in on itself in elation. It was a little painful, but Sam was realizing most of his reactions to Bucky and Steve were adoration and pain in equal measure sometimes.

“Think Steve’s gonna be out of it all morning?” Sam asked.

Bucky’s mouth curled to the side. “He did take a robot to the side of the head,” he pointed out. “I ain’t seen him bruise like that since he was little.”

Sam grimaced in sympathy for Steve. He had been pretty banged up the night before. He really should’ve been with med, but of course he wasn’t. Of course he was in bed instead, having to sleep with his back to Sam and Bucky because he couldn’t sleep on his right side. Sam shifted over, supporting himself on his elbow, to look over his shoulder at Steve’s sleeping figure.

“The swelling’s already half down,” he said, turning back over in time for Bucky to kiss his forearm. “He better sleep until it’s almost all healed.”

“Hopefully,” Bucky agreed, kissing up his arm to his wrist. “You’re a sweetheart for worrying,” he said pointedly.

“I didn’t argue last time you said it,” Sam laughed softly. He freed his hand from where he’d tucked it under his pillow, and Bucky kissed his palm and then along his fingers.

“I just like saying it. Sweetheart. It was my favorite back in the day.”

“Back when you had game?” Sam asked.

Bucky growled playfully, leaning over to nip at Sam’s lips, sleep still making their movements and words slow and languid. “I’ve got plenty of game. I’ve got the two most beautiful men in the world in my bed every night. But, nah. I never used it on dames. Not like this. This is all yours and Steve’s.”

“Why not?” Sam asked, pushing his fingers through the hair curling around Bucky’s ear.

“‘Cause it’s what Sarah used to call me and Steve. I don’t wanna use it on anyone I don’t fully love,” Bucky said, like it was simple, obvious, not world shattering.

Sam fell into Bucky, kissing him between whispers of sweetheart.

The antiseptic of hospitals always set Sam on edge. When he was thirteen and his grandmother had gotten sick, he’d lost count of the nights he’d spent in hospital rooms and waiting areas. He still clearly remembered a doctor walking into one waiting room to talk to a family near Sam’s. He remembered the blood on the doctor’s pant leg and the sudden rush of mortality that hit him all at once.

Being in pararescue meant he spent a good chunk of his service time in and out of hospitals too. Not necessarily for himself or Riley, though that was a cause too, but just to do his job. Put people in beds, continue field triage, check in on patients who didn’t have anyone else. Even in the desert, that smell filled the air.

Tonight, it creeped beneath his skin too, even though he was half running through the halls, even though there were bandages around his head, even though he was pretty sure he had serious sinus damage under his broken nose. He knew what the hospital smelled like.

The only thing that stopped him was a thick arm around his chest, as gentle as could be given the circumstances, though it still hurt like a bitch. It didn’t stop him grasping for the door handle. “Bucky,” he gasped out, ribs and lung both protesting, fingernails scratching futilely at the arm around him.

“Hang on, Sam. Just wait a second,” Steve said, reaching for his waist instead of his chest with a muttered apology. Sam couldn’t remember reacting, giving himself away. Maybe Steve had just gotten his med eval.

“I need to see him. They wouldn’t say anything. I had him, I was holding him,” he insisted. “I didn’t drop him.”

“Sam,” Steve breathed and finally managed to turn Sam’s wild eyes from the door to his own face. “Do you have a concussion?” Probably, but Sam didn’t know for sure to say. “You were shot down. You didn’t let go of him.”

Sam blinked up at Steve and it felt like it took ten years. “No. I saw… I saw him fall…”

Steve shook his head, brought his hands up to either side of Sam’s face. When his eyes flickered over Sam’s shoulder, Sam finally clocked all of the doctors in the hall, people saying his name, someone reaching for his arm before Steve shooed them away gently.

“You both fell, Sam. You need to be in a hospital bed too. I can’t believe you’re walking, Jesus.”

“Just me,” Sam said weakly. “I hear the resemblance is uncanny.” It was Bucky’s joke and the fact that he wasn’t here to make it had terror clutching at Sam’s heart again. “Please let me see him. I can’t stand this image in my head.”

Steve’s hands were gentle on his face, but relentless. Sam couldn’t turn back to the door.

“What’s wrong with him? Why aren’t you letting me in? Why aren’t you by his side?” he whimpered, hands coming up to clutch at Steve’s wrists.

“He’s not awake,” Steve said.

“They knocked him out? How?”

Steve’s features seemed to all screw in pain. “No. He was in and out of consciousness himself. He hasn’t woken up since the last time.”

“Oh my God, is he dead?” Sam cried, then swayed on his feet with the sudden cold blood rush.

“No, no, Sam, no. He’s not dead,” Steve assured and pulled Sam into his chest to hug him as tightly as gentleness and care would allow. “He’s just unconscious.”

“Let me in. Let me see him,” Sam said again. “Even if he isn’t awake. I just need--” His face fell to Steve’s shoulder as exhaustion caught up to him.

“Can we get a bed…?” Steve asked quietly like his mouth wasn’t right next to Sam’s head. But maybe he had the right idea because there was an ensuing conversation that Sam missed entirely.

The next time he clocked in, Steve was laying him down in a hospital bed. There was a cloth divider, but Sam knew the sound of Bucky breathing. He was so close. Steve tucked Sam’s arm back under the blanket when Sam reached over.

“Hey, easy, angel. Just try to sleep, okay? They’ll get your IVs reset.”

“I had IVs?” Sam asked and hated how his voice slurred.

“Oh, yeah. You took them all out. Very well, by the way. You’re hardly bleeding.”

Sam had put enough of them into other people, he thought he should know how to get them back out. Even concussed.

“You’re just gonna have to settle for me for now,” Steve said when Sam looked over at Bucky’s side again. He settled in a chair that was too small for him and held onto the hand Sam had freed again, keeping it firmly on the bed.

“I don’t settle for you,” Sam muttered. “Just wanna see him.”

“I know, angel. Just go to sleep. You’ll see him in a few hours.”

A few hours was sixteen, as it turned out. “What the hell is this?” Sam heard as he fought against the grit behind his eyelids. “Even national icons--incredibly dangerous assassins even--can’t get their own room?”

Sam sat up, swayed, and had to put his hands on the bed to keep himself upright. At the end of the partition, Sam saw Steve see him, saw a grin pull at his tired face. “Nah, Buck. You just had a gentleman caller last night. I had to keep him in the living room for a while,” he joked. Sam didn’t get it. Well, maybe he did. But he didn’t want to fight through the pulsing stuffing in his head to figure it out.

Steve stepped over to him, helped him stand, offered a wheelchair. “I don’t need a damn wheelchair. I hit my head, not my legs,” Sam snapped, though it came out soft and whiny.

“You hit everything,” Steve said.

But it didn’t matter, because Sam could see the figure in the next bed over shoot upright too. “A gentleman caller?” Bucky said. “Was he handsome?”

“Well, I think so,” Steve said as he helped get Sam’s arm around his shoulders. “I’d take him home with me. You’re lucky I was so patient as to give you a chance to save your date.”

Bucky laughed and Sam just about collapsed at the sound. “Trust me, I could win any gentleman caller back from you.”

“Sure you could, Buck,” Steve said. Finally they started moving around the curtain partition and finally Sam got to see Bucky. They had matching head bandages and there were plenty more creeping out of the paper shirt he was in.

It was a good thing Steve was holding him up because Sam’s knees went out from under him. Steve gently deposited him on the bed and Bucky and he fell together, bandages pressed to bandages as foreheads found resting places together.

“Sammy,” Bucky breathed and brought taped fingers up to Sam’s cheek, his jaw, his lips, his chin. The metal arm was disconnected and Sam wondered if it had been damaged too. “I was so fucking scared. I saw you fall--”

“No,” Sam insisted again. “That’s what they said last night too. But I saw you--” he started.

“No, you fell first,” Bucky said. “You put yourself under me.”

Steve’s fingers rubbed at the back of Sam’s neck. “Told you. You didn’t drop him.”

“Nah,” Bucky agreed. The eye that wasn’t swollen shut was gleaming with fondness and adoration. “A perfect gentleman, you were. My gentleman caller.”

Sam let out a shaky breath and held his hand over Bucky’s chest, just to feel his heartbeat.

“Hey, doll, will you give me the controller?” Steve asked. Sam barely looked up from his phone, only adjusted his feet on the coffee table to give Bucky the room he’d need to hand over the remote.

Steve’s toes dug into Sam’s thigh and Sam lifted his leg enough to get Steve’s toes under him. But then he kept squirming until Sam finally looked up with an unheated glare. “Do you need something?” he asked.

“Yeah, the controller,” Steve said again. “Jeez, you mad at me for something, angel?” he asked.

“No? Why would I be?”

“I’ve asked you twice now for the controller and you haven’t moved.”

“You didn’t ask me. I figured Bucky was getting it.”

Steve’s face crumbled in confusion before a wry grin cut over it. “Where do you think Bucky is?”

Sam looked over at the weird egg shaped chair Bucky liked to curl up in. It was empty. So was the kitchen and the loveseat that was too short for any of them to actually lay on but Bucky liked to do it anyway.

“He left, like, an hour ago,” Steve said. “I asked you.”

“But...you said doll. You only ever call Bucky doll.”

“Do I?” Steve asked.

“Up until this moment, yeah,” Sam said, feeling a little embarrassed and heated.

Steve freed his feet so he could get his knees under him and lean over to Sam. “Well,” he said, kissing Sam’s jaw, “consider this me granting you the pet name too,” he murmured. “I like to use it when I’m undeniably happy. And you make me undeniably happy.”

“You’re full of shit,” Sam laughed, pushing Steve’s face away. “You call him doll in every argument you’ve ever had in front of me.”

Steve shrugged. “It wears him down faster than logic.”

Sam got the appeal. “Do it again.”

Steve grinned. “Make me, doll,” he breathed.

Sam leaned over to kiss him.

“Can we talk about something?” Sam asked finally. The words just fell out of his mouth. It was certainly not the ideal moment he was thinking about waiting for. Steve was reorganizing their colognes on the large chest-of-drawers, even though Bucky was just going to mess it all up again in the morning, and Bucky was doing situps on the floor in sweatpants that he kept taking out of the trash when Sam tried to throw them away.

“Sure, darlin’,” Bucky said, sounding like a sin all breathless and Brooklyn. He sat up and braced his elbow on the side of the bed. “What’s up?”

“Actually,” Sam started and rubbed at his elbow, “that’s what I wanted to talk about.” When Steve and Bucky pulled the same confused expression, Sam moved to the bed and sat down on it. His heart just about burst when both of them moved to sit by him. Steve took a hand in his and Bucky rubbed at his thigh.

“It’s stupid alright. You don’t have to worry like this,” he said and felt a little bit of the tension melt off of his partners. “It’s just...you know, when Bucky first started the whole pet name thing, it was a joke, right? You were just teasing me,” he said.

“Was I?” Bucky asked. Steve pinched his side behind Sam’s back.

“And that was fine,” Sam assured. “I liked it. I like seeing you two smile ‘cause of it. Like that you found a way to bring stuff from back then to now with you.”

“Does it...make you uncomfortable?” Steve asked. And Sam could almost see him try to figure out if there was something offensive in a name like angel.

“No, that’s not… I just… Recently it’s become...heavier, I guess? It feels like it means more.”

“Again, are we sure I was taking the piss out of you before?” Bucky repeated. Steve pinched him again.

“I just wanna know what it means, is all. Because...I really like it. I like it every time you say it. Every single one of them.”

“Angel,” Steve and Bucky said at the same time. Sam shuddered enough to jar his shoulder against Steve’s.

“Shit, you do like it,” Bucky said.

“Are you asking… Are you worried about more than just the pet names?” Steve asked. “Like...are you asking how serious we all are?”

Sam’s fingers tightened around Steve’s hand. He hoped he wasn’t hurting him because he wasn’t sure he could make his fingers unclasp at that point. “It’s this thing between the two of you. These names and stuff. I ain’t heard no one call someone doll since my friend’s great-grandparents renewed their vows when I was a kid. And don’t even get me started on darling. Not the way you two say it. You mean it.

“And I didn’t know how I fit into that. It felt like you were testing out how I fit with the two of you,” he finally admitted. He wanted the words to lift the constriction out of his chest. Instead, it just lifted it to his throat so he could barely keep on talking. “I thought maybe I liked it a lot more than the two of you did,” he said, not talking about the names anymore, not really. “And I was scared you’d give up. But then it got serious, right? And I had to try’n figure out what was going on. So...what is going on?”

“Oh, Sammy,” Bucky breathed and wrapped an arm around Sam’s middle to hug him. “It’s been dead-serious since the moment it started,” he said. “It’s not goin’ nowhere. Not the names and damn sure not me.”

“Of course it’s serious,” Steve agreed, pressing his forehead to Sam’s temple. “We haven’t ever tried to fit you into anything. You already do fit everywhere. It was something we were missing before you. Not a space we rearranged for you.”

“Fuck,” Sam breathed, tried to laugh it out but the tears were evident in it.

“And if you were gonna panic about pet names this much,” Bucky added, because he always knew how to make Sam laugh and break the tension. “You shoulda worked on not having such a perfect angelface.”

Sam did laugh.

“Lucky you got angelface,” Steve said on his other side, putting his arms around Sam’s waist too. “Apparently you can lose the dollface designation.”

Sam laughed again and clutched at the arms around him. “Alright, my loves,” he said and felt something tremor through both of the other men. This was a two way street. “You can call me anything you want as long as you kiss me right after.”

“Sure, angel,” Bucky said.

“Anything you want, doll,” Steve agreed.

He got a kiss on either cheek. And then many, many more afterwards.

[justthehiddleswrites]

Cutthroat Kitchen | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary:  You make an offhand remark about Tom’s Bolognese and now you are standing your kitchen ready to battle. Perhaps even to the death. Over pasta.

Warnings: Fluff

-

Tom was so engrossed with the pan he didn’t even notice the front door open or your keys clink in the ceramic dish in the foyer. He also didn’t hear you greet him as you reached the kitchen doorway.

“Tom!” you boomed as he lifted a spoon to sample his sauce.

He fumbled the spoon, sending sauce everywhere, mostly onto Tom’s glasses. The spoon clattered on the ground as Tom spun to face you, splattered face and all.

“Darling…” his voice terse as he removed his glasses to clean. “… a little warning would be nice.”

You covered your mouth to suppress the laughter bubbling up. “And miss the great Tom Hiddleston covered in…” you leaned in and kissed his cheek, getting some sauce on your lips. You licked your lips. “… Bolognese sauce. Not a chance. But for your information, I did announce myself, you just didn’t hear me, Gordon Ramsey.”

“You know I take my Bolognese seriously. I get into a zone. Now unless you have something else…” He gestured towards the pan.

You raised your hands in defeat. “I will leave you to work.” You gave him one more quick peck on the cheek, before snagging a piece of bread.

Tom swatted your butt with a towel as you hustled out of the kitchen. You busied yourself entertaining Bobby while Tom finished up dinner.

“It looks divine, darling.” you complimented as Tom placed a steaming plate of pasta in front of you.

“Thank you, dear. I love spoiling you.”

“Spoken like a good husband.” you smiled as you tucked in.

After too much wine and too much food, you cleaned up the mess in the kitchen.

“Must you always make such a mess when you cook?” you sighed as you scrubbed the third pan of the evening.

“We must never question the creative process.” Tom dried the plates, replacing them in the cupboard. “How was the Bolognese?”

“Passable.” you muttered, finishing up the last spoon, wiping your hands on a towel.

“Passable?!” Tom cried. “What happened to divine?”

“I said it looked divine.” you corrected him. “But I have made better.” You walked away, swaying your hips.

Tom used his long legs to his advantage to cut you off in the living room. You stopped in your tracks, smirking. Tom smiled back, knowing damn well what you were doing.

“Is that a challenge, darling?” His eyes twinkled.

“Perhaps?”

“How do you suggest we settle this?”

“I might have an idea or two.” You raise an eyebrow.

“By all means, let’s hear it.”

The two of you settled on the couch, Bobby under foot, to discuss the particulars.

-

Two Weeks Later

“Are the two of you really going to go through with this?” Benedict questioned as he faced the two of you.

You tighten the strings on your apron and glanced over at Tom, who cracked his knuckles.

“Positive, Ben.” Tom answered. “Now read what’s on the paper.”

Ben sighed. “How am I friends with two such ridiculously competitive people?”

“Sheer luck. Now read.”

“Fine. The two competitors shall have one hour to cook and plate their dishes. They are allowed to use anything in the fridge or pantry, including any previously prepared components. No stealing ingredients or components previously prepared by the competitor… Would either of you honestly steal from each other. You are married!”

“I wouldn’t.” You shot a knowing glare towards Tom. His eyes widened in mock shock.

“I have never—”

“Turks and Caicos, three years ago. Should I go into more details?” you countered.

“There’s a story I must find out about.” Sophie piped up.

“Et tu, Sophie?” Tom whined.

She only giggled in response.

“Can I continue with this ridiculous exercise?” Ben scoffed.

“Please.” Both of you responded.

“As I was saying… The finished dishes will be judged on taste and appearance via blind taste tasting by our two judges.” Ben gestured to himself and Sophie. “Any ties will result in a sudden death cook off.”

You made a “I’m watching you” motion towards Tom who pretended to slit his throat with his finger. Benedict rolled his eyes.

“Total drama queens, the lot of you. On your marks… get set… COOK!”

You threw your shoulder into Tom on the way to the fridge. He skidded off balance, and you opened it up first.

“No body checking!” Tom hollered, using his wingspan to reach over you.

“All’s fair in love and war, honey!”

You claimed a spot on the counter next to the stove and unwrapped your pasta dough.

Tom sneaked a glance on your side of the kitchen.

“Did you make your pasta dough?”

“I did.” You spied boxed pasta on his side. “Oh, you didn’t!” you feigned surprise. “Shame.”

Tom drew a breath in through his teeth, hissing. “Dirty pool.”

“Just taking every advantage. It isn’t my fault you have only three recipes in your repertoire.”

You ran the dough through the machine once, twice, and continued until a long thin strip of pasta dough formed. You tossed it on the floured counter. You filled a pot with water and turned it on while you heated another pan, placing a stick of butter in there.

Tom set about making some sort of red sauce.

“Making your stand by Bolognese? Predictable.”

“Keep your eyes…” Tom turned you to face your own food. “… to yourself, darling.” He kissed your cheek before returning to his sauce.

“Party pooper.”

“I want to win.”

“And I don’t?!”

“If you want to win, keep an eye on your butter.” Tom poked a spoon towards your pan.

“Shit!” You pulled it off the burner and were relieved to see the butter only browned and not burned. You turned the heat down and replaced the pan, adding some chopped garlic.

In a small bowl, you whipped up the cheese filling for your ravioli. You got the raviolis formed and dropped them into the water. You added some fresh sage leaves to the butter and turned the heat down. As you pulled the raviolis out of the water, you tossed them into the butter mixture. Tom cursed as he shook his hand.

“That pan is hot, honey.”

“Well aware, darling. My fingers can attest to that.”

“2 minutes!” Benedict yelled from the living room.

Both you and Tom picked up the speed, furiously plating up the dishes. You were just grating a bit of fresh nutmeg as Benedict yelled “Time!”

Tom moved to place the plate on the table behind the number 1.

“That’s not Bolognese?!” you exclaimed. “You only know how to make Bolognese!”

Tom smirked as you placed your own plate behind number 2. Both of you had previously typed out descriptions of your dishes. “I can be taught, darling. Bold of you to assume you were the only who prepared for this.”

“I’ll remember that you can be taught the next spring cleaning day and you are suddenly incapable of throwing away a single article of clothing.”

“Stay away from my running shorts.” Tom pointed a finger at you.

“Lover’s spat?” Benedict joked as him and Sophie walked in.

“She wants to throw away my favorite running shorts.” Tom explained.

“Good. They are ghastly. All those holes, you look like a bum.” Sophie piped up.

“Is that what happened to my favorite t-shirt?” Ben questioned, staring daggers at Sophie.

“When do we get to eat pasta?” Sophie changed the subject.

“We are not done with this.” Ben jabbed a finger towards his wife.

“First up, we have a Fra Diavolo with seafood.” Benedict recited from the piece of paper.

Sophie and him loaded up their forks with Tom’s pasta. They both chewed thoughtfully.

“Good spice.” Sophie commented in between bites. “But some of the seafood is not cooked all the way.”

You resisted the urge to smile. They moved on to your dish. “This is cheese ravioli with a browned butter sauce and frizzled sage.”

“Fancy.” Benedict commented.

“Show off.” Tom muttered.

“Shh!” you hushed him.

Sophie caught your eye and smiled. The ravioli sliced perfectly with their forks.

“The filling is smooth.” Benedict commented. “The browned butter tastes almost burned, however. And I am not much of a fan of sage.”

Tom stifled a chuckle, covering it with a cough. You noticed a knowing glance between Ben and Tom.

“Allow us to deliberate.” Sophie commented, and she pulled Benedict out of earshot.

With all your weight, you shoved Tom in the side. “Way to give it away!”

Tom punched you playfully in the arm. “You were not much better, my dear. And don’t think I didn’t see that look between you and Soph. Trying to influence the judges, you should be ashamed.”

“Hello pot, meet kettle! You and Ben were practically telegraphing your insidious plan to throw this competition in your favor.”

Tom clutched his chest. “You wound me to think I would stoop so low as to throw a contest.”

“I do think so. You hate to lose. Even in a cooking competition against your wife.”

Tom protested more, but Benedict cleared his throat.

“We have made a decision.”

Your stomach jumped into your throat.

And the winner is…” Sophie continued Ben’s thought, her hands hovered between both plates. “… number 2!”

You threw your hands in the air and jumped around.

“YES!! Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” you squealed.

Tom’s head dropped to his chest.

“Winner, winner, winner!” you chanted. “Loser!” you pointed towards Tom.

“Thanks a lot, Ben!” Tom groused. “I thought we had a deal!”

“You did cheat!”

“Tried to cheat. It didn’t work!”

“Sophie threatened me.” Ben deadpanned.

“Are you scared of your wife?” Tom questioned.

“Absolutely. I’m also scared of your wife. She punches.”

“Excellent point.” Tom turned to you, and smiled one of his killer smiles. “Now…” You glared down as his arm wrapped around your waist. “… about the terms of this contest?”

You smiled back up at him, running your hand across the stubble on his chin.

“Remember those running shorts?”

Tom’s eyes widened before his brows furrowed. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try and catch me!” you screamed as you went full speed towards the bedroom. Tom followed, gaining on you with each step.

“We’ll just see ourselves out!” Benedict called out as Sophie collapsed into giggles on the sofa. “Drama queens the lot of them.”

[snelbz]

The Ranch {5}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @tacmc x @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty

The air was thick in the kitchen as Nesta stirred the sauce she was simmering in the skillet on the stove top. It was her secret recipe, one that won her the hearts of many overseas.

Feyre was seated at the kitchen table, sipping a glass of wine, staring daggers into Nesta’s back.

Nesta could feel her sister’s stare and she didn’t want to turn around to meet it.

Elain was supposed to be there.

She was running late.

“So,” Nesta began, clearing her throat. “I’m glad you came.”

Feyre said nothing.

Nesta stared into the skillet. “I plan to have a reopening for the B&B. Hopefully near the end of the summer. I was hoping you and Lainy could help.”

Still nothing.

Nesta’s jaw clenched as she dumped a stack of noodles into a pot on the back burner before turning over the breaded chicken on a separate burner. 

She could keep trying, but she would only be wasting her breath. Feyre and her hadn’t talked for years, Nesta knew it would be rough. But, she couldn’t live in Velaris without trying to reconnect with the only family she had left, which was why she had invited her sisters over for dinner.

If only Elain would hurry the fuck up.

Nesta reached for her own glass of wine and took a full swallow, turning and staring out the window.

She’d taken to cooking in the main house with its gorgeous up-to-date kitchen. It was the best way for her to still have a little piece of her old life. But the only problem with that meant that she couldn’t get away from him.

And as she gazed out over the pastures, the sun setting on the other side of the farm, she caught sight of his tanned, inked, muscular back as he led his horse back down towards the stables.

He’d shown up at the main house the day after their conversation, asking to talk to her. He had been almost bashful and seemed apologetic, but she’d barely slept the night before.

The last thing he’d said before he’d walked out kept repeating in her mind.

And to think I thought your own sister was wrong about you.

Nesta sighed, not meaning for it to be quite as dramatic as it was, and took another drink of her wine.

“So what made you decide not to fuck him?”

Nesta stilled, wine glass still lingering in front of her open lips. She cleared her throat, “What?”

“Cassian’s more open with Rhys and Az than you are with your own sisters,” Feyre said, hostility lacing her tone. “And, contrary to popular belief, he’s not the best at keeping his feelings hidden.”

Nesta slowly turned to face her youngest sister. She was sitting at the table, golden-brown hair high in a pony-tail. Her arms were crossed, her chin raised high, those gray-blue eyes that mirrored her own full of distaste. 

“That’s none of your business,” Nesta replied, shortly.

Feyre scoffed, shaking her head. “You wanted me to come over so we could start over. Well, I’m here, and I’m asking questions. You’re not off to a very good start in mending our relationship.”

Nesta wanted so badly to tell Feyre to fuck off, to get out, but she knew it was just the sudden rise in emotion talking. As her body filled with discomfort, Nesta turned back to the stove, nodding slowly. 

She continued to stir her homemade sauce as it simmered.

“It wasn’t right,” Nesta said, simply, words clipped. “I was drunk and got carried away.”

Feyre snorted. “Blame it on the alcohol-.”

“I was as drunk as I was because my sister slapped me in front of a fucking bar full of people,” Nesta snapped.

Feyre kept silent, and Nesta didn’t dare look back over her shoulder. It was true - true enough, anyway. Nesta had deserved to get slapped, no matter what she had told herself up until that point. But, it didn’t erase the fact that it left her embarrassed in a room full of people and shamed among her own family and friends - if they could even be considered friends, which, Nesta was pretty sure they couldn’t. 

“I’m sorry I slapped you,” Feyre said, at last, “but, I’m not going to apologize for being pissed.”

Nesta nodded, curtly, staring into the skillet.

A minute passed before Feyre asked, “Wanna talk about it?”

This time, Nesta did look over her shoulder, brow raised.

With tight lips, Feyre shrugged. “I’m trying too.”

After a deep breath, Nesta decided that she should take the opportunity while it presented itself. If she didn’t, the opportunity might not come again. 

“He intrigued me,” Nesta began.

Feyre snorted. “Yeah, he has that effect on people.”  

Shaking her head, Nesta leaned back against the counter top. “It wasn’t just the alcohol. Maybe some of it, but he did….I was intrigued. He’s handsome, obviously, and he was being kind. And we were alone, and I haven’t been alone with a handsome man in a long time, Feyre. But, then it all started, and I… Everything came back to me.” Her voice had become hushed, and she was staring at her crossed arms, at her index finger drawing circles around a freckle on her elbow. “The last time I was with a man was in college, and everyone knows how that turned out - including, apparently, Cassian, judging by the self loathing in his eyes when he tried to come in here to talk to me this afternoon.”

To Nesta’s surprise, some of the tension faded from Feyre’s shoulders and her eyes softened. “Cassian is a good guy, Nesta.”

“I’m his boss,” Nesta said. “Nothing good ever comes from that.” 

“He does this work so he can keep his house and do something he loves,” Feyre began, cocking her head to the side as she watched her sister. Nesta felt bare and vulnerable beneath that gaze. “He makes the money he lives off of elsewhere. You’re hardly his boss.”

Nesta disagreed, but she kept the comment to herself. Instead, she asked, “What does he do?”

Feyre hesitated. “That’s not my information to give out.” There wasn’t any rudeness to her voice, just fact.

Nesta tried to keep the frustration from her tone, but the small laugh that left her sounded bitter even to her own ears. “Yeah, all I keep getting told is that it isn’t illegal, and with all the secrecy, I’m starting to wonder.”

Feyre sighed. “Does he seem like the type to sell drugs, Nes?”

Nes.

Hearing the familiar nickname from her baby sister’s lips melted whatever ice had hardened between them at the change in subject and Nesta turned, sitting down in the barstool next to Feyre.

“We should...talk,” Nesta said, carefully.

Feyre, eyes wary, took another drink of her wine. Nesta could practically see the shields raising again. “I thought that’s what we were doing.”

“I know, we are, but I just-.” Nesta sighed. “We need to talk about me leaving.” Feyre clearly wasn’t expecting her to bring it up so directly, because she physically flinched. Nesta pressed on. “We need to talk about why I left, and how you felt, and what exactly happened. It’s been almost ten years. We’re big girls now, and I-.” Nesta hesitated again. “I want my baby sister back…”

Feyre’s eyes, the twin to Nesta’s own, softened and she opened her mouth to reply, but the back door burst open.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Elain said, eyes darting between them both, a look of sheer panic on her face.

Feyre looked at Elain, at their sweet sister who was so concerned with their relationship, who just wanted to see her sisters back to normal, and turned back to Nesta. A soft smile graced her lips. “Let’s get coffee one day this week.”

Nesta nodded, a breath leaving her body as she said, “Okay.”

“What did I miss?” Elain asked, pulling out the stool next to Feyre’s.

“Everything,” Feyre assured her.

Elain frowned as she sat. “Even the Cassian thing?” she whispered, even though she was fully aware that Nesta was sitting right there and could hear perfectly clearly.

Feyre grinned as Nesta rolled her eyes. “Yes, and I’m not repeating any of it.”

Nesta pushed herself out of the chair and went back to the stovetop. Behind her, Feyre said, “We’ll blame Azriel, I assume it’s his fault you’re late.”

Elain’s cheeks had reddened when Nesta turned back around. “He came home on his break. He works late tonight.”

“Thought you both had the day off?” Nesta asked, reaching up into the cupboard for a mix of seasonings and spices.

Elain sighed. “Low man on the totem pole once more. They had two mechanics call out, so they needed him to come in and cover.” Feyre poured her a glass of wine and she nodded her thanks before taking a healthy sip. “On the plus side, it’s all overtime. So, we’ll take it.”

“Was Az hammered when he got home last night?” Feyre asked.

Elain snorted. “No, but he smelled like a frat house.”

“Rhys did, too!” Feyre laughed. “I made him shower before he could get back in bed.”

The two girls giggled and Nesta couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. At the familiarity, at the ease of conversation, not just about their relationships, but with each other.

All at once, Nesta was hit with just everything she’d missed.

She felt guilty, as she had a thousand times before, but it was different now, being with them as they chatted about their lives. Meanwhile, Nesta didn’t know Rhysand or Azriel, didn’t know anything about either of her sisters' relationships - just that they were in relationships with good men.

She cleared her throat and turned. She smiled and said, “Dinner is ready. Help yourselves and I hope you enjoy.” Both Feyre and Elain looked at her with their brows raised. “What?” She asked.

Elain said, “That was so…”

“Formal,” Feyre finished for her.

Nesta chuckled. “I’ve been cooking for prime ministers and dukes and millionaire CEOs. It’s a habit.”

Nesta felt a little lighter as her sisters grabbed a plate and filled them high. Once she had her own, Nesta sat with them at the table and asked, “So, tell me about Rhys. He proposed? How?”

“In our backyard,” Feyre said, chuckling as she swallowed a mouthful of pasta. “Holy shit, this is delicious.”

“Thanks,” Nesta said, grinning, “Now continue.”

“Right,” Feyre began, setting down her fork and clapping her hands together. “In our backyard, which may not seem very romantic, but I definitely sobbed. I got home from work and I could hear him playing in the backyard, he’s a musician. Well, in his free time, anyway. So, I follow the music to the backyard and he has the porch lit up with string lights. He was already down on one knee, playing his guitar, then he started singing. I was crying before the song was even finished, and it was a full on ugly cry by the time he asked me to marry him.”

Nesta chewed, slowly, eyebrows raised. “That’s incredibly romantic.”

Elain just rolled her eyes, but she was grinning. “That’s the story we all hear, anyway, but we’ve known Rhys for a long time….”

Feyre laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Azriel swears it’s all made up,” Elain said, piling her fork high with noodles. “He swears Rhys doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body.” 

“Either way,” Feyre went on, “it happened and Azriel and Cassian have given him shit since. They also beg to hear the song he wrote that he sang when he proposed, but that would only force them to give him more shit.”

Nesta laughed, quietly. “He sounds great. Rhys.”

“He is,” Feyre said, eyes growing soft as she took another bite.

“And Azriel?” Nesta asked, turning her attention to Elain.

“He’s great.” Elain said, smiling, repeating what Nesta had just said.

“I know he’s great, but tell me about him.” Nesta laughed. “I have ten years of things to catch up on.”

Feyre blinked a few times and said, “You really don’t remember any of them, do you?”

Nesta blushed. “I don’t. I feel awful, but…” She sighed. “You both know how I was in high school. I paid no attention to the people around me unless they were you two-.”

“Or Tomas Mandray?” Feyre cautiously asked.

Nesta’s teeth clacked together as her jaw hardened.

Before she could respond, Elain said, “I think there may be a few yearbooks in my closet. Let me look!”

“Please, don’t-.”

But Elain was already hurrying up the stairs, to her old bedroom, where her stuff was stored in a stack of tubs in the closet. Nesta let out a long breath as Feyre, completely humored, continued to eat her pasta. 

Elain had come back down the stairs a minute later, the yearbook from Nesta’s senior year held tightly against her chest.

“Okay,” she said, sitting back on her stool, plate forgotten for a moment. She flipped through the pages, to where the freshmen were listed, and displayed Feyre’s picture proudly.

Nesta laughed as Feyre groaned. “Bangs were not my thing.”

“I thought they looked cute,” Elain grinned, turning the page. “Ah, and here is Rhys, before he got all bulky and tattooed.” 

Nesta looked at the picture closely and huffed a laugh. “Ten years did him well.”

Feyre didn’t disagree.

Elain flipped through the book and a wide grin spread across her lips as she pointed to Azriel.

“He wears glasses?” Nesta asked.

“Contacts,” Elain said, nodding. “He doesn’t like his glasses.”

“I think they’re cute,” Feyre said, perching her chin on her fist atop the table as they all looked through the book. “Especially on prepubescent Az.” 

Nesta snorted as Elain flipped to the next page. “Ah, here’s Cassian.”

Nesta took a good look at the boy on the page. She could tell it was him, he was definitely familiar, but she didn’t remember him from then. His hair was a lot shorter, not at all close to the shoulder-length it was now. His face was clean, he probably couldn’t even grow facial hair then. But those hazel eyes were still full of mischief, even at seventeen as he stared into the camera. 

She didn’t remember any of them, though.

She had been too busy living in her own little world. 

The back door to the kitchen swung open, and as if he had known she’d been thinking of him, Cassian entered through the doorway.

He paused, hand still on the doorknob, as three sets of eyes shot his direction. Nesta’s heart began to thump wildly against her chest.

His chest, however, was bare, as Nesta assumed was the norm, and glistening with sweat. His hair was shoved back, tied behind his head. 

He blinked, and cleared his throat, “Uh, sorry. I just...was going to grab a bottle of water.”

“Do you ever wear a shirt?” Feyre asked, no doubt, Nesta assumed, trying to break the tension. 

She could hear the cheeky response before he said it, knew it would be something that would rag on her little sister as if she were his own. She’d bet, at this point, she practically was.

Instead of saying anything though, he pulled open the larger of the two fridge doors, and grabbed a couple of cold bottles of water. His eyes fell on the six pack in the door and as he turned, his eyes caught Nesta’s.

She couldn’t describe the emotions she saw roiling inside. Regret. Shame. Sadness. Anger. Frustration. Longing.

He looked like he wanted to say something, looked like he was going to ask her to talk. Nesta opened her mouth, to ask to do just that when he turned and said, “I’ll start on the stables tomorrow,” and left the kitchen without another word.

“So…” Elain said, sliding the yearbook to the middle of the kitchen table. “You want to tell me what’s going on between you two?”

Nesta stood, taking her still near full plate and scraping the contents into the trash, walking to the sink as she said, “Nothing. There’s nothing going on between us. He’s a ranch hand and I own the ranch.”

She didn’t turn as she turned on the water and began rinsing the plate.

There was a pause. “Doesn’t mean you two can’t be on friendly terms, right? I mean...that was…”

Elain’s words faded away, but then Feyre supplied, “Awkward as shit.” 

“Yeah…” Elain muttered.

“That’s not necessary,” Nesta said, opening the dishwasher and putting the plate inside. It was clear he didn’t want to talk to her, didn’t feel the need to discuss what happened that night, or the day before when she blew up at him in the kitchen.

Which, she shouldn’t have. She threatened to take away a job he loved, the home he lived in, and that wasn’t fair, no matter how pissed and mortified she was. 

“So, you’re just going to go along working together, and every time you’re in the same room, that’s going to happen?” Feyre asked. 

Nesta sighed, her face falling into her hands, her elbows leaning on the counter. “I don’t know,” she muttered.

Elain had hopped off her stool and was walking up behind her big sister. “Cassian’s a reasonable guy, Nesta. He obviously feels just as awkward about it all as you do. You should talk to him.”

She would rather stab herself in the eye.

Although, if she did that, she couldn’t see him riding through the pastures without a shirt on, and that would be a damned shame. 

“I don’t know,” Nesta sighed, leaning her hip against the counter and crossing her arms. “We both said some pretty bad stuff. I mean, sure, I want a civil relationship, especially if he’s going to work for me. Sure, I wish I could take some of the things I said back. Sure, I-.” Sure, I’d love to see if the rest of him is as delicious bare as his chest is.

The final thought slammed through her, and she cleared her throat before she could voice it out loud. “The point is, not only did I say some stuff out of line, but so did he and-.”

“And he came and apologized.” Feyre said, looking at her as she refilled her wine glass. “Can you say the same?”

Yes, she should apologize, but she really, really didn’t want to. “Apologizing has never been a strength of mine,” she muttered.

Neither sister said a word.

Nesta groaned, again. “I don’t know-.”

“Bring him a beer,” Feyre suggested, taking a sip from her wine glass. “Beer is his love language. Oh, or whiskey. Yeah. Do that if you’ve got it. A nice bottle of whiskey goes a long way with that one. But do that later, you’ve got the beer now.”

“I can’t-.”

“Come,” Elain said, pulling on Nesta’s hand, dragging her toward the backdoor.

“I can’t!” she yelled, trying to pull her hand away.

Elain rolled her eyes, but now Feyre was standing in front of the backdoor, arms crossed.

“Cassian is one of our closest friends, we can’t have the two of you bringing that shit into our circle,” Feyre grinned. “Lainy, fix her boobs.”

“My wh- Elain!” Nesta cried, as Elain fixed her bra so that her breasts were pushed up, peeking out from her tank top.

“What?” Feyre blinked. “Beer and boobs. Two things you’ll have that Cassian can’t stay mad at.”

“I’m not going out there,” Nesta protested.

“Yes, you are,” Elain went on, hands on her hips. “And you’re going to apologize, because you want to, and because you should. And, because we want you back in our lives, Nesta...and Cassian is a big part of our lives. He’s a good man. Things need to be set straight, and made right.”

Feyre held up a can of beer from the fridge, where she was slowly walking back from. “The beer of peace.”

Nesta decided that Feyre was a little tipsy if she was being this nice, no matter how much progress they had made that evening. Either that, or she knew Nesta apologizing would be a disaster and she wanted to watch the show. 

“This is a conversation the two of us need to have by ourselves, I’ll stop by his cabin later-.”

“No, I don’t trust that one bit,” Elain said. “I won’t believe it if I’m not here to witness.”

“I’m the oldest,” Nesta snapped. “I don’t need you two treating me like a fucking child!”

Feyre just grinned wider as Elain looked at her older sister with big, pleading eyes. 

“Fine,” Nesta said, the word clipped. “But if I make things worse, I’m coming in here to kick both of your asses.” 

“Oh, we’ll be waiting,” Feyre assured her, although Nesta didn’t feel reassurance, whatsoever.

She snatched the beer out of Feyre’s hand, half tempted to shake up the can as she walked out towards the round pen he'd headed for when left. As she approached the half open gate, she glanced down at her chest, and toward the vast expanse of skin, ink and back muscles in front of her as Cassian brushed down one of the horses.

She set the can down on top of one of the fence posts, and listening to Elain and Fayre’s advice, adjusted her bra, lifting her breasts until they were damn near falling out of her top.

She wanted to fix them, to stuff them back down into her tank top, put on a hoodie, go back to the house and crawl in her bed. But even without turning around, she knew that both of her nosy, couldn’t stay in their own business sisters were currently staring out the window at her. And Cassian had noticed her and was heading this way.

Nesta picked up the beer and cleared her throat, stepping through the gate and into the pen.

His boots kicked up the dirt of the pen as he walked towards her, stopping just a few feet away, and Nesta did her best not to watch the bead of sweat that ran between his pecs and towards his abdomen.

She held out the beer. “This is for you.”

Cassian blinked. “Is it cold?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Does it matter?”

He huffed a laugh, although it didn’t meet his eyes. He walked closer to her, then, and took the can from her outstretched hand, just as Nesta leaned into the railing.

As he popped the can open, his eyes had stopped on her overly-exposed breasts. They lingered, for a second too long, before he brought the can to his lips. 

“Thanks,” he said, after a minute.

He turned to walk away but Nesta blurted, “Do you need a hand?”

Cassian froze, one thick eyebrow raised. He slowly looked down at her feet. “You’re barefoot.”

She hadn’t had a second to put on her shoes before her sisters pushed her out the door.

Nesta shrugged. “Daisy’s calm enough.” She looked at the nearly all-white mare that Cassian was brushing. “I’ll be careful not to step in shit.”

Cassian chugged the rest of the can and set it back on the post before saying, “Why are you out here, Nesta? Have I done something else to make you disapprove of me?”

She rolled her eyes, frustration filling her. “I don’t even know why I came out here.” She turned to go back into the house.

“So you run?” Cassian asked, the volume of his voice raising slightly. “When something happens that you don’t like or you can’t control, you run.” Nesta paused where she’d been taking a step to go back to the house. The window where there’d been two nosy heads moments earlier was blessedly empty now. “Apparently you’re real good at it. This is the first time I’ve gotten to see it, you know, since you snuck out while my back was turned last time. But it seems to be your go to.”

Nesta had turned back to him, not speaking, just letting him get whatever this was off of his chest.

“What are you going to do when you decide you want to run from the ranch again, Nesta? Huh? Cause you’re coming out here, offering your help, tits out, no shoes, but I don’t even think you know the first thing about this place. What are you going to do when you have to help me bury a still born calf at four in the morning? What about when we have another year where we have to burn the entire field of crops?”

He grabbed the beer can and threw it across the pen. It bounced off the wooden fence with a ping!

“I’ve run this ranch on my own for the past four years. If you’re going to up and run out on me one day, I need you to go ahead and tell me now so I can decide whether or not this is the future for me.”

Nesta hesitated for a moment, unaware he was going to blow up on her like that. Although, she shouldn’t have been surprised. And she shouldn’t blame him. “And if I’m not?” 

Now it was Cassian’s turn to hesitate. “If you’re not what?”

“Going to leave,” she said, simply, chin raised. “Because I’m not leaving. My dad… Well, he left me this place and I intend to do my best to ensure that his legacy lives on. So, no, you giant ass, I’m not leaving. And, you’re right, I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never been iinterested in ranching, and now that I own this shithole, I suppose I should, shouldn’t I?”

Cassian was watching her, perfectly still, as the the words poured out of her.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” she continued, shaking her head, but she wasn’t looking at Cassian, not anymore. “I have no idea what I’m fucking doing!”

She knitted her fingers into her hair and leaned forward, groaning as she did. “I’m in so far above my head that it’s not even funny.”

Cassian stood there, watching as this woman who’d done nothing but plague his thoughts, day and night, proceeded to break down inside the round pen.

He didn’t know what to do. Whether he should leave her be or step forward and comfort her.

This strong, beautiful woman, who was more frustrating than any horse he’d tried to break and more confusing than them either.

He took a tentative step forward. “Look, we-,” he paused and scratched at the back of his neck. “Nesta, we got off on the wrong foot. Let’s- Can we start over? We’ll forget my stupidity and the other night and the times where you were a bit of a bitch…”

He looked at her to gauge her reaction to his joke. When her head snapped up and he saw a spark in those stormy eyes, he knew he’d struck home.

“When I was a bit of a bitch?” She laughed. “What about when you were a complete and utter dick?”

“I was going to leave that part out of my argument,” he murmured, but he was grinning, because the second she laughed, he couldn’t help himself. “You’re right. I was a dick, and I’m sorry.”

“I am, too,” she said, quietly, a small smile lingering on her mouth. “What I said out of anger and embarrassment….well, I said a lot that I shouldn’t have, and didn’t mean. I know you love this job, Cassian, and you’ve made a home here. I wouldn’t take that away from you. You know, unless you really piss me off.”

Cassian laughed, quietly, looking down at his boots. “Fair enough.” 

Nesta nodded, slowly, then looked back over her shoulder, where Elain and Feyre were once again watching through the kitchen window. She scowled.

Cassian noticed, too, once he looked back up, because he shook his head and laughed. “Alright, city girl,” he began, handing her a brush. “You wanna help? If your sisters are watching, at least give them a show.” 

She grabbed the brush from his outstretched hand and took a step toward Daisy, but Cassian was laughing, quietly, as he watched.

She froze. “What?”

Cassian just shook his head. “We’re going to have to get you some boots.”

[thadelightfulone]

All I Want... 25 Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 4

November 21st - Part 1

DeeDee stretched out her arms, hitting another warm body. Startled, she jumped up and almost fell out of the bed. She looked over to see Phyllis and Beverly laid askew on her bed still in their club clothes. She glanced down and saw that she was smart enough to take her jeans off. Rubbing her eyes, she headed to the bathroom to clean up. 

When she came out, neither one of them had moved. Just dead to the world, she shook her head. DeeDee really loved her girls, but remembered that this is why she rarely went out with them anymore. More often than not, she never remembered what happened, her body hurt the next day, or both. She threw on a tank top and some sweats, then pulled her long curls up into a messy bun.

She walked into her living room and decided to make some tea. As the water boiled, she stepped out of the small kitchen to do a few stretches and release the tension in her body. DeeDee stood with her legs shoulder width apart, then leaned over and just let her body hang down with the tips of her fingers brushing the floor. She swayed side-to-side before slowly rolling back up as soon as the kettle whistled.

DeeDee chose her favorite ginger and lavender loose leaf tea, added the tea ball to her mug, then poured the water over it. Since she was working on autopilot, she recited her morning affirmations. With her cup of tea prepared, she went out onto her patio and set it down. She popped back inside to grab her laptop from her desk. 

After her temporary work space was set up, DeeDee sat back on her wooden chaise lounger, then grabbed her mug and inhaled the calming aroma. She booted up her laptop and sipped on her tea. The blinking email icon drew her attention. 

DeeDee opened the application and saw a few emails regarding her inquiries into other tenure-track positions. When she saw the latest email to arrive, she inhaled too deeply and started to choke as the hot tea coated her throat. She set the mug down on the small table and waved her hands as she tried to catch her breath and allow cool air into her mouth. Once settled, DeeDee looked into her apartment to see if she woke Phyllis and Beverly and whether they were nearby. 

“Oh my god, he wrote back.” She whispered out and pulled the computer into her lap. 

DeeDee clicked on the link, took a deep breath and read his email. 

“Awww, so he remembers what he wrote all those years ago -- that’s so sweet. Wait, what!?! He wishes that kind of love for me?” DeeDee smiled and closed her eyes at that. “Oooop, okay why did he just say what Phyll said?” She chuckled at the thought.

“Who said what I did?” Phyllis slowly made her way over to DeeDee, who immediately slammed the laptop close. 

“No one. I was just reading a story.” She grabbed her tea to occupy her hands.

“Liar, what you hiding?” Beverly walked around and grabbed the computer from DeeDee’s lap. 

She sat at the end of the chaise and opened the laptop. Beverly waved Phyllis over and patted the area to the left of her. Phyllis looked over at DeeDee and smirked.

“He really wrote you back?” 

“Now that is a story.” Phyllis laughed, “Oh, he thought he sounded like a lame little virgin, too? Good to know.

“So, what are you writing back?” Beverly asked.

DeeDee sipped her tea, “Ummm --” 

“You may want to ask about him skipping over the biggest part of your original email.” Phyllis interjected. 

“I missed that. Do you think maybe he’s married?” Bev looked between the both of them.

“Hey, can I just answer the man’s question first before asking about his personal relationships?” DeeDee put her tea back on the table.

“Fine, what are you gonna say?” 

“Phyll, just stop.” DeeDee leaned forward and snatched the laptop. “I don’t know yet. Why are you so worried about it?”

Phyllis put her hands up, “Okay, my bad. Sorry.” She turned to Beverly, “I got work in a few hours. Do you need a ride home?”

“Yeah, let me grab my stuff.” Beverly ran back into the apartment. 

“Be careful, Dee. You know nothing about this man, and he could tell you anything.”

“I know, Phylly Phyll. It’s harmless, so I’ll be fine.” DeeDee shrugged at her. “I promise. I can handle it.”

Beverly came back out, “Gimme love. We gotta go.”

DeeDee stood up, gave out hugs and walked them to the door.

When they left, she walked back onto her patio and stood at the end of the chaise. She  knew Phyllis was right to warn her. But DeeDee figured if he did not acknowledge finding his parents’ love, then he already had it. Knowing that, there was nothing for her to be worried about, especially since she was never gonna meet him. She was gonna send him a response and call the whole thing done. 

DeeDee paced around her chaise while she thought over how to answer his question. When it finally came to her, she sat down and picked up the computer and started to type. 

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’ 

Hi Dr. Stevens,

To answer your question --  I am kind of nosey. After finding the note, I was curious about the kind of person who would write about finding a love like that. I just never expected to find out that the note predated my arrival to Southern. GO JAGUARS!!!  

Anyways, I guess I could ask you the same question -- why would you respond to some random stranger sending you an email about a long-forgotten note? 

Thank you. I hope you enjoy your weekend as well.

DeeDee

---

Erik usually ran 3 miles in the mornings before the sun rose, but decided to enjoy a lazy morning. It was Saturday and for once, he was not expected in the office. When he finally got up at 9, he changed into a compression tank and some workout shorts. He decided to go to the park up the block and run a few laps around the track since he knew it would be open by now. 

As Erik passed by the basketball courts, he saw a group of teenagers chilling on the benches.

“Yo, Mr. E!” A voice called out. 

He recognized most of them from the Center, when he actually ran some of the afterschool programs. Erik slowed up his pace and headed towards the courts. A couple of them looked up as he came over. He dapped them all up. 

“What up, Jax?”

“You want to play some ball?” The tallest kid in the group spoke up again.

Erik looked at his watch, “Yeah, I got some time to run a few games.”

It was early afternoon when Erik parted ways with the neighborhood boys, who all promised to drop by the Center. As he made his way back onto his street, he jogged backwards and waved towards his neighbors as he made his way back to the house. 

Erik went to the kitchen to grab some water. While he was drinking, the chime on his tablet went off. He walked to where it laid on his counter and then remembered that Marquis was supposed to send him the details for the Retirement party. He could look at it later, so he went upstairs to wash up.

After coming back downstairs in a hoodie and some sweats, Erik went to his fridge to figure out what to eat for lunch. He pulled out some chicken breasts, zucchini, squash, carrots and some red bell peppers. He went to his cabinets to get some penne. Roasted Pasta Primavera was calling his name. 

Erik started boiling the pasta and set everything else on the counter. He then turned on his favorite Spotify list before he chopped up and seasoned all the chicken and vegetables. He hummed along to Meshell Ndegeocello, and pulled out both a saute and sheet pan. Erik dropped the chicken into the hot pan, threw the vegetables in the oven and checked on the pasta when the music was interrupted by a text message coming through. 

Quis: Check your email. I just sent you the details.

Erik picked up the tablet and noticed he had 15 unread emails. Marquis’ email was on top, just sent within the last 10 minutes. He sat down at the counter, and noticed most were from work. He would look at those later. Before Erik set the tablet back down, he saw the now familiar subject line from DeeDee. He opened it to see how she responded to his question.

Erik smiled when she owned up to her nosiness. But he couldn’t blame her, it was the same reason he sent her a response. That and loneliness, but it’s not like he has to share that part.

“Oh, that’s cute.” He chuckled when she cheered for Southern. “And she got me.” 

He stared at the last part of her email and then set the tablet down. Erik needed a moment to figure out how to address the question she asked. He turned around to continue cooking.

Erik checked on the pasta, chicken, and vegetables. He flipped the chicken and took the pasta off the burner to drain. He grabbed a big bowl and added the pasta to it. The veggies needed a few more minutes, so he pulled out butter to build the sauce. 

With the chicken done, Erik added the butter, some fresh parsley and basil into the saute pan. He mixed everything together with the chicken and vegetables, and then added it to the pasta. He left everything to settle in the bowl.

Erik returned to where the tablet was on his island and began typing out his response. Happy with what he wrote, he sent the email and went to make a plate.

---

DeeDee just finished folding up her laundry when she heard a familiar chime. She went to her desk to see which device had an alert. She was waiting for her pizza to be delivered since didn’t feel like cooking. Nothing appeared on her phone, so she looked over at her computer. 

“Well, that was quick.” She smiled and brought the laptop to the couch. She sat down and read Erik’s latest email.

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Good afternoon DeeDee, 

Well, it can’t possibly be a long-forgotten note if I remember it and where I left it, right? 

But to answer your question - I was just as curious about the person who found my note and actually deciphered the key phrases I had randomly placed on the page. It says a lot about you.

Something tells me that besides tricking others into thinking that you read one of my articles, you must be a Chemistry or Biochemistry major. 

And now that you know who I am. If you actually ever need some help, I am a great resource.

E

Oh, and please call me Erik. I haven’t been called Dr. Stevens in years.

Just as DeeDee finished reading the email, her doorbell rang. She put the computer down and jumped up to answer the door. She put the pizza on her coffee table and went to the kitchen. She grabbed a glass and a chilled bottle of wine. 

She popped the cork and poured her first glass. DeeDee took a sip before she looked back at the email. 

“Call you Erik, huh?” Taking another sip, she set the glass down and picked up her laptop. “Well, Erik, it’s nice to meet you.” She giggled and tapped out her response.

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Good evening Erik, 

You have a point. We would not be chatting now if you didn’t know what I was talking about. 

And you are correct. I am actually a doctoral student focusing on Environmental Toxicology. So, I know why I needed the book, but what about you? That seems a little advanced for a Computer Science major.

Actually, there is something that you can help me with. Why did you leave the note in the book? And you never did say whether you found what you were looking for?

Sincerely, 

Curious DeeDee  

DeeDee read it over and hit ‘send.’ She opened up the pizza and pulled a piece out. She took a big bite and moaned around it. Her night is off to a great start.

Taglist: @teakturn @ghostfacekill-monger @shaekingshitup @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @woahitslucyylu @ladymac82 @bugngiz @eyeknowmywrites​ @ajspencer1892​ @arafatih​ @issimplyaamazinggg​ @tchallasbabymama​

[excelsi-or]

just a little sweeter (pt. 12)

I’m not going to lie, it’s very nice to be back. :) Was planning on posting this earlier today, but my end of semester lunch with my research group went longer than I expected. Enjoy~~

BIPOC rec: Roxanne Atienza is a Filipinx artist on IG. I enjoy her work. Some of its political, others were just great colourful portraits. 

w.c. 1k (fluff, lol this seems like significantly less after the last two which were pretty wordy. hope you enjoy!)

pt.1; pt.2; pt.3; pt.4; pt.5; pt.6; pt.7; pt.8; pt. 9; pt. 10; pt. 11

“Call me when you’re home,” Jihoon says. He hikes Eunha up a little higher. His little one fell asleep after playing with Seungcheol and Soonyoung in the practice room.

“Yeah, I will.” She pauses as she says something to one of her employees. “You bought the ingredients?”

“I got exactly what you texted me.”

“Okay, great.” Her voice is suddenly in a rush. “Afternoon rush is starting. I’ll talk to you later. Love you, bye.”

Jihoon opens his mouth to respond, but realizes she said the ‘L’ word. Before any sound comes out, she’s hung up already. He blinks in confusion, wondering if he’d even heard her right.

When he heads back to the practice room after the break, Eunha asleep on the couch with Bumzu watching her, Wonwoo comments on his dazed look.

“You seem lost,” Wonwoo laughs. He nudges Jihoon before Mingyu pounces on his back and drags him away.

Seungcheol wraps an arm around Jihoon’s shoulders as they move to stand in the center of the room. “You good?”

“Huh?” Jihoon nods. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” He meets Seungcheol’s eye. “Seriously. I’m good.”

“Something with Eunha?”

Jihoon shakes his head. “No, she’s fine. Bumzu hyung’s watching her.” He lightly taps Seungcheol’s bum. “Everything’s fine.”

There’s no real time for another break after that. But it’s when he checks his phone briefly, while Soonyoung and Chan go over choreography details, that he notices there are multiple messages. He can only skim them before they’re back to practicing again.

Jagi (13:02)

I said it over the phone.

I hope that didn’t scare you.

I didn’t even realize I said it.

I meant it.

Not really how I wanted to tell you,

But I do.

And if you have no idea what I’m talking about then please ignore all these messages.

There’s one last message before he clocks out for the day.

Jagi (16:03) I’m heading home now.

If you’re still coming for dinner.

“You’ve been distracted all afternoon,” Jeonghan says as they head out. He drapes an arm around Jihoon’s shoulders. “Things okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jihoon insists. “Just…”

“Just…?”

He sighs. “She said ‘I love you’ over the phone today.”

Jeonghan smiles. “That’s great!” He takes in Jihoon’s expression and his smile shifts. “Why do you look like it’s not great?”

“It is great.” Jihoon smiles. “I’m fine. Just surprised I guess.”

“You’re being weird.” Jeonghan squeezes his shoulder. “Go have dinner with your girlfriend who you already loved before she said it.”

Jihoon knocks on the door. Eunha is wide awake after sleeping and hanging out with Bumzu. When he’d buzzed her apartment, she’d let them in without saying anything.

Luckily, she opens the door for them. She coddles Eunha, who throws herself into her arms. When she finally releases Eunha to go and find the toys in the apartment, she addresses him.

“Hi.”

Jihoon opens his mouth to say something, but changes his mind. He holds the bag of groceries up between them. “I brought the food.”

She smiles a little and takes it from him. He follows her into the kitchen.

“Is this for me?” Eunha runs into the kitchen with a new colouring book in hand.

Her smile widens at Eunha. “Yes, it is. You two finished the other one that I had. Is that okay?”

“I love dinosaurs!” Eunha dashes out, nearly knocking right into her dad.

Jihoon waits until Eunha has settled in front of the TV, which was already on for her. “Are we… good?”

She looks over. She doesn’t respond right away as she puts the pot on the stove for the water to boil.

“I was busy at practice all afternoon when I got your texts.”

“I figured.”

Jihoon walks up behind her. “Are you mad I didn’t respond?”

“If I’m being honest,” she turns the element on and then turns to face him, her arms crossed over her chest, “I’m more embarrassed than anything else.”

“Embarrassed, why?”

She shrugs and Jihoon moves closer. He slips his arms around her waist and holds her at arms’ length. “Because that’s not…” She laughs a little. “When I imagined telling you, it wasn’t over the phone during a goodbye just before a café rush.”

Jihoon gently pulls her towards him, so she’s flush against him. “How did you imagine telling me?”

Her gaze is sweet when she meets his. “After you decided to tell me.”

This makes him laugh. He’s about to kiss her when Eunha comes running in.

“Look! It’s blue!” She shows them a picture of the stegosaurus coloured haphazardly in blue. The vegetation and sky are in various colours.

“Why is the sky orange?” Jihoon tips his head.

“Isn’t it during a sunset?”

Eunha shakes her head. “The meteor!”

She rests her cheek against Jihoon’s shoulder, turned away from Eunha so she doesn’t burst out laughing. Jihoon’s voice is amused. “You pictured this stegosaurus existing during the meteor that killed the dinosaurs?”

His daughter’s enthusiastic nod is adorable.

“It’s very cute, kiddo,” she giggles.

Eunha deems this high praise and runs off again.

She steps out of his hands to prepare their spaghetti dinner. He’s in charge of the pasta, because he won’t screw it up. She does everything else.

Jihoon stands in the corner, recounting his day, as she moves around the kitchen. He can tell her day’s been busy by her lack of commentary, so he fills some of the silence. While the meat is cooking in one pan, the vegetables in another, and Jihoon’s eye on the pot of pasta on the back burner, he wraps his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder.

“If I said it now, would it be too late?” Jihoon asks.

She laughs, leaning her head back against him as she pushes the meat around so that it cooks evenly. “Say what exactly?”

He turns his head, so his lips brush the shell of her ear. “I love you too.”

“Hmm?” she hums.

“I love you too,” he says a little louder.

She tips her head. “Didn’t hear you, my love.”

Jihoon chuckles and wiggles them from side to side. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

This outburst makes her laugh and she turns in his arms, leaving the wooden spatula in the pan for the time being. Her hands cup his cheeks and she studies his expression. He can’t stop smiling, feeling giddy from the stupidity of it all.

“Fuck you for being adorable,” she whispers before pecking his lips.

Jihoon swears his heart will burst.