#cheers to the tin man

[quaint-ignorant]

me at 2am before a school day bawling my eyes out tears wetting my pillow hands shaking and heart hurting after re-reading "cheers to the tin man" for the hundredth time

[totallyfluxd]

feels like something of a dick move to make kids do hardcore exercise in a building with no air conditioning and a tin roof when it's gonna be pushing 30C (86F) outside tbh, but no sign yet that this cheerleading school are gonna stop their show on saturday so ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[roastedoatmilk]

Lunch Box Scandal

Kento Nanami x Gn! Reader

Summary: Someone seems to be packing Nanami’s lunch for him and Gojo is determined to figure out who it is.

Word Count: 1.2k

Tags: the most tooth rotting fluff, mentions of satosugu, gojo needs a hug he's also a little shit in this, nanami being insanely whipped for his partner

This is also on ao3 !!

Little Things Masterlist here

Kento Nanami sighs as he walks into the faculty room, lunch box in hand, Gojo had been on his nerves all day pestering him over the smallest things. Sitting down at the farthest table from the door Kento sets his lunch box onto the table wondering what you had prepared for him for his lunch that day. Unlatching the buckle holding the tin box closed Kento hears the door to the room open and then quickly close again, he inwardly groans knowing exactly who had just entered the room.

“Nanamin!” Gojo cheered, “not having lunch by yourself, are you?” Making his way over to the table that the blond man was at and plopping down into the seat closest to him.

Kento tries his hardest to ignore the 6 '3 man child and opens the lid to his lunch box finally getting a view of what you had packed for him that morning. A small smile comes to the man’s face when he sees the effort you put into his lunch. The rice balls molded to be shaped like penguins each one having a different little face, the sausages cut to be shaped like octopuses, the eggs made out to be a duck with little faces, and a star shaped carrot placed over his peas. Taped to the lid of the box is a little note in your handwriting that says “You’re my Honey Bee” with a tiny drawing of two bees underneath it. As he was reading the note he could feel the gaze of a certain blindfolded man on him.

Sighing, Kento turns to the white haired man and asks, “Yes Satoru?” trying his hardest to make it look like your note didn’t affect him.

Gojo didn’t buy it for one second, a wicked grin on his face. Snatching the note from the top of the lunch box before he could say anything, Gojo brings the note closer to him and reads it before laughing, Kento just groans knowing what’s coming next.

“Awwww Nanami I didn’t realize you were the type to like being called such sweet pet names, I always took you for the type to hate them.” Gojo commented before continuing with “Maybe I should start calling you Honey Bun.”

Kento glared at the white haired man while he angrily munched on one of the rice balls that you had packed him, it was delicious as usual. You always insisted on waking up early to pack his lunch for him even though he has told you countless times that it isn't necessary. Gojo eyes the food curiously taking in the presentation of it.

“Hold on now Nanamin, who exactly packed this lunch for you?” The white haired man questions noticing how much effort was put into the lunch.

Gojo likes to think that he knows Nanami well enough at this point and he is certain that the stoic man wouldn’t put this much effort into his own lunch instead opting to buy a sandwich from a local convenience store and call it a day. Kento sighs not really wanting to tell Gojo about you, not because he was ashamed of you, that's not the case at all. Instead, it’s because he knew that the second the special grade sorcerer knew of your existence, he would never hear the end of it. Popping one of the sausages in his mouth the blond chews as slow as he possibly could to avoid answering the question.

Gojo groans at this before chirping “Come on now Nanami you can tell me anything.” to prove his point Gojo props up his head with the palms of his hands to signal that he’s paying attention.

Kento exhaled heavily before wiping his mouth with a spare napkin, turning his head away from Gojo he finally mumbles “Mypartnermakesmylunchforme.” saying it so quietly that Gojo wasn’t able to catch it.

“Nanamiiiii speak up. I may have six eyes, but my hearing isn't the best in my old age.” Gojo retorts, chuckling at his own joke.

Kento turns his head to face the lanky white haired man, a bright red painting his freckled face and his ears. Taking a deep breath the blond finally says, “My partner makes my lunch for me, now that’s quite enough Satoru I’d like to finish my lunch in peace.”

The second Gojo hears the word partner he perks up immediately, questions racing through his head. He takes in the look on his junior’s face, the red painting his cheeks and ears, the look in his eye as he reads the note you left him over again. In all of his years knowing the man, not once had Gojo seen him look like this. Instead of teasing the blond Gojo nods his head in understanding.

“They must be a really great person to have you looking like this.” Gojo says softly remembering the only person to ever make him look like the blond did now, causing Kento to look up at him.

“They’re the best person I know, they make me a better man.” Kento stated as if it was a fact, the love the man had for you was obvious.

Kento reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, opening it up and turning it towards the special grade sorcerer. Inside one of the main parts was a photo of a person looking directly into the camera, a bright smile lighting up their face. Flour covering their entire being smeared all across their face and clothes, some of it even making it into their hair. Kento smiles fondly at the photo remembering how you both had attempted to try a new recipe which ended in the both of you covered in the ingredients barely any of it making it into the bowl. The blond takes the photo out of the wallet and hands it to Gojo.

“This was the result of the first and last time the two of us tried to bake something together,” Kento explained “We came to realize that we don’t make a good team in the kitchen, more flour ended up on us than in the bowl.” The smile on his freckled face grew the longer he looked at the photo.

Gojo could feel the beginnings of tears welling up in his eyes, thankfully hidden behind his blindfold. The white haired man felt so happy that his junior had found his person, thinking about when he lost his own person all those years ago. Clearing his throat Gojo composes himself and says to the man next to him “Your secret is safe with me, don’t worry.”

Hearing the man say this briefly shocked Kento before he nods his head in thanks, placing the photo of you back in its rightful place in his wallet. Reaching for one of the rice balls he breaks it in half and gives a piece to Gojo, not saying a word as he does so. The two men sit in silence as they eat, a mutual understanding between them.

When Kento returns home that night he asks if it would be too much trouble for you to pack a sweet in his lunch for the future. You nod with a small smile on your face knowing that your lover isn’t a sweets fan but that a certain white haired sorcerer is.

A/N hiya !!! this is part one of a mini series that i’m working on i hope y’all enjoy :3 reader will be having a bigger appearance in the later parts !!!

[avocado-writing]

Omg i love your poly Deadpool and Wolverine fics !! I especially love that reader is totally a sunshine ! Could you do any fic with them and that trope ? 😍

vague sequel to this

Your bad day has been utterly forgotten. 

It’s not incredibly hard for them to cheer you up, Logan and Wade have learned. You’re so rarely sad that it’s hardly an issue anyway, but all they really need to do is redirect your energy into something else. A distraction to take your mind off of whatever’s gotten under your skin.  

There’s a little carnival that’s set up near the apartment. One of those ones which is constantly on the move, overcharges for everything, and is exactly the kind of place you love. So it was a no-brainer to take you there for the evening. 

Logan bought you a necklace made of hard candies, Wade took you on all the rollercoasters which were definitely not safe but you screamed with joy while riding. You’d insisted all three of you squeezed into a boat through the tunnel of love, and they’d come out the other side with your lipstick all over their faces, you smugly sandwiched between them. 

And through the evening you’ve been fucking jubilant. Your laughter rolls like thunder, but the kind which means a storm is going to clear out the oppressive atmosphere of a muggy day. A sweet, loud kind of laughter which peals from your very soul. Wade and Logan catch each other’s eye as you absolutely decimate a stick of neon blue cotton candy: they’ve done well. 

The three of you are preparing to go home when something catches your eye, slowing you to a stop as you stare. It’s a prize booth - the kind where you have to knock over a tower of tin cans to win. Hanging from the rafters are huge plushies of your favourite animal. 

“C’mon baby, you know these games are rigged,” Logan sighs, aware he’s marching into a losing battle. You lick the sugar off of your fingers and dump the wooden stick into a garbage bin, eyes wide in the fluorescent lights of the bumper cars nearby. 

“Aww… but they’re so cute…” you sigh, looking really disappointed. 

Well, neither of them are ones to let that happen, so Logan and Wade find themselves speaking in unison when they say: “I’ll win you one.”

They exchange a look and you grin. Oh. This has become a challenge, and both are too stubborn to back down. Together they step up to the counter, each slamming five dollars down and making the poor teenager manning the booth jump. 

“Uh, okay, you have two balls and need to knock the whole tower—”

The teen doesn’t even get a chance to finish their explanation before Logan has launched one of the pathetic beanbags at the cans with such force that it crumples a couple of them in half. They’re cleared off completely in one hit. The attendant can only gawp as he smugly points to one of the huge plushies which is dutifully fetched. You let out a little woop of joy as he passes it into your arms, giving Wade a look which says beat that. 

Wade hums, throwing the beanbag up and down in his hand, testing its weight. 

“Okay, well, not all of us are barbarians who need to use brute strength to compensate for our advanced age. It’s all about the finesse, pookie.”

Wade angles his throw so it bounces off the side wall, clearing all of the cans but one. Logan lets out a smug huff. Wade frowns. 

“Hey, look, is that Spiderman doing full-frontal nudity?” he says, pointing into the distance, distracting the teen with one hand while he whips out a knife with the other and skewers the can to the back of the booth. 

“Prize please!” he says when they turn back, turning pale at the sight of what’s been done to their game. They pass him another plushie from the roof with shaking hands, and Wade presents it to you with a flourish. 

“That was cheating,” Logan states as the three of you walk away.

“Uh, I cleared the cans, old man. No cheating about it.”

“You had a second ball to throw,” you point out, and Wade pauses. 

“Do you want the toy or not, sweetcheeks?”

And that is how you find yourself more stuffed animal than human, waddling out of the carnival with a huge smile and arms full of polyester. The whole thing is sort of ridiculous but, honestly, if you’re smiling? Logan and Wade can agree it’s totally worth it. 

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk @starfleetteddybear

[laurenairay]

Baking traditions - Q.Hughes

Summary: Noticing that you’re homesick, Quinn makes sure to include some of your autumn traditions.

The second of my Autumn & Halloween blurbs! How could I resist this slice of domestic life with Quinn?

Word Count: 778 words

Tagging: @fallinallincurls @starshine-hockey-girl @lam-ila @kurlyteuvo @tonyspep

@cixrosie

~

“Babe? What’s all this?”

When you’d gotten home from work that evening, you hadn’t expected your kitchen counters to be covered with ingredients.

Your boyfriend just smiled a little sheepishly, but shrugged innocently.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Quinn said simply.

“When congratulations, I’m surprised,” you mused.

Quinn just laughed, cheeks a little pink with blush as he leaned down to kiss you in greeting.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey yourself,” you murmured back.

He smiled sweetly, pecking your lips in another kiss before standing upright again.

“I know you’ve been missing home…”

Well that was blunt. Quinn wasn’t wrong though. You’d moved to Vancouver to live with Quinn and take your relationship to the next level only six months ago – and while everything had been fairytale-levels of amazing, that didn’t mean there weren’t stumbling blocks. Like your homesickness, that you’d thought you’d done a good job of hiding.

“…and I just wanted to do something to cheer you up. I called your mom, and she said that you love baking in the Autumn, like all the spices and stuff are your favourite, so I thought maybe we could bake together?”

His voice trailed off in a hopeful embarrassment, but it was all you could do not to cry. This man. How were you gifted a man like this? Quinn noticed the tears in your eyes and immediately groaned.

“You hate it. This is making your homesickness even worse. I’m so dumb, I’m sorry, I-”

“Quinn, no, you’re not dumb at all. You’re the sweetest man ever. I love this idea,” you interrupted, laughing a little watery with a big smile.

The relief that spread across his face was immediate and dramatic.

“Really?” he asked.

“Really really,” you nodded, “What are we making?”

“I thought we’d try something easy? Chocolate chip pumpkin banana bread?” he said, “I found a recipe online that looked okay and I double checked with your mom too.”

So sweet.

“That sounds amazing, Quinn. Are we baking now?”

“It takes an hour to bake in the oven so I figured we could order take out now and eat dinner while we wait for the banana bread to cook?” he suggested.

Your man with a plan.

“That sounds great to me, baby, thank you. I’ll get changed out of my work clothes and we can start?”

“I’ll order dinner while you get changed,” he added, smiling.

In no time at all you were back in the kitchen in comfy sweats and an old t-shirt, take-out order being processed, while Quinn scrolled through his ipad for the recipe he saved.

“Okay, so first off, we’ve got to mash all these bananas. Shall I do that while you measure out the dry ingredients?”

You nodded, smiling up at him as you reached for a mixing bowl he’d already put on the kitchen counter. You whisked together the flour, pumpkin pie spice, cinnamon, dark chocolate chips, baking soda, baking powder & salt, and after mashing the bananas, in a separate mixing bowl Quinn whisked together the oil, sugars, eggs & vanilla extract until no lumps remained.

“That’s lump free, right?” he frowned, peering down into his bowl.

You glanced over and nodded. “Yeah that looks great baby.”

Quinn beamed back at you.

“Now we’ve just to combine the bananas into my bowl with a cup of pumpkin puree, before carefully stirring your dry ingredients mix into my bowl too,” he explained.

Somehow the two of you managed all of that without making too much mess.

“Last step is pouring it into the lined loaf cake tin and baking it for an hour. I already pre-heated the oven so we should be good to go?”

After you’d combined all the ingredients, Quinn’s face was as serious as you’d ever seen it as he carefully carried the loaf tin over to your oven, and you tried to hide your smile as you opened the oven for him.

He really cared, didn’t he? He cared so much.

“I’ll set a timer for an hour. I don’t want it to get burnt,” he frowned.

“It’s going to be amazing, I already know,” you said softly, resting a hand on his chest.

His frown softened to a sweet smile. “I just want this to be good for you.”

“The fact that we did this together is what made this good for me. The cake itself is an added bonus,” you said, smiling up at him.

A light blush spread across his cheeks and he nodded, sliding his arms around your waist to hold you closer to him.

“As long as you’re happy, I’m happy,” he said warmly.

“With you, how can I not be?”

[whateveriwant]

could i request sumn real quick..

TF141 with a s/o who does archery, with those Japanese longbows (they’re called yumis, i think😭) ??

This was completely foreign to me so I hope I at least kinda did it justice 😭

Gaz

When you first told him about your hobby of choice, admittedly, he was unfamiliar with it

Archery as a whole was nothing new to him, but knowledge about your discipline in particular had entirely evaded him up until now

However, after learning more about it from you as well as researching on his own, he's now become your biggest cheerleader, literally and figuratively cheering you on from the sidelines

Whether you do it just for recreation or you do it for competition, he's always there to support you with 110% enthusiasm

He's like a proud dad whenever he gets to watch you in your element, always pulling out his phone to record you so he can show off to his mates later

Major cheeseball that he is, he's even gotten custom decals on his car to brag of your accomplishments, so that everyone can know about you and your unique skill

Soap

His interest was immediately piqued when you first brought up your incredibly specialized sport

You see, he used to do a little archery himself back in secondary school, and (not to brag) but he was actually pretty good at it

Of course, that confession gets your interest piqued, so you invite him to take some shots with your bow, which he readily accepts

He's positively preening as he nocks an arrow, confidence oozing from him as he takes aim… only to turn a shade of red just shy of tomato as he misses his shot by about 10 feet

He tries again and again, somehow getting worse with each shot, the frustration and embarrassment coming from him clearly palpable

Though you try to encourage him to keep going (after all, no one’s good at anything their first try), eventually, he timidly hands the bow back, saying he thinks he’s better off just leaving it to you

Price

He's a very physically active man himself, so learning that you're involved in a martial art was a major turn on for him

And him being in the military and thus heavily trained in all sorts of weaponry, the fact that it's a weapons-focused discipline was doubly appealing to him

From the first moment you brought your hobby up, he was practically begging to watch you shoot

It didn't matter if you had all the bells and whistles ready or not; hell, you could’ve been dressed in a flour sack aiming at tin cans in his backyard and he’d have still been over the moon

Wanting some privacy though, he took you to a range where you could show off your skills without distraction or disruption

And when he saw you take that first shot, hitting your target dead center, he would never tell you, but his pants got a little tighter after that

Ghost

While he finds what you do very intriguing, he wishes there was a more “real life” application to your sport

He knows how dismissive that might sound, but just think about it. In an emergency, are you going to whip out your two meter long bow to defend yourself? Exactly.

Ideally, he'd like to teach you how to use a gun. And you'll agree to let him… only if you can teach him how to use a bow

You might have some lighthearted bickering where he stubbornly insists that a gun is much more useful when it comes to personal protection

But well wouldn't you know it when one night he's awoken by the sound of someone trying to break into your flat, and what object should his fingers find in the dark? Yeah, I think you know

To you, your bow seemed like a perfectly good weapon when he used it to whack the would-be thief over the head…

Yeesh, now that earned you the side-eye of the century. But alright, he eventually conceded, maybe it does have its merits

[riaki]

after party | satoru gojo x reader

gojo wanted to help you prepare a friendsgiving dinner, but he's a little tired n a lot tipsy.

cw: non curse au, everyones alive, shoko typical smoking, drinking, you’re married to gojo wc: 3.3k

this was supposed to be short but it just spiraled n i kind of hate it b i technically posted on the 23rd so it counts !! not proofread!

business dinners with satoru are exhausting, to say the least—you start the day early to the scent of coffee through a filter and a fresh breeze through your open window, sending your husband off to work with a hug and a kiss—maybe a promise of more if he pulls the 'five more minutes!' on you.

this one is special, though; old friends from freely youthful highschool days gathered around your dinner table on the mats of your living room floor catching up over cans of beer cold with condensation, the sound of can tabs popping and the fizzling of bubbly spirits over tables of warm food in tin containers.

geto, the tall man with dark hair and gauges, talks about how his two daughters are adjusting to city life, occasionally interrupted by cheerful brightness never dampened by adult years from haibara, an apprenticing entrepeneur under nanami who's got a thing for girls with big appetites. shoko and utahime are having a drinking contest, and mei mei's too occupied with her phone; checking stocks as her tacky nails click against the glass screen.

satoru can't cook. there's a reason why he always buys takeout when you're too busy to provide or you've already gone to sleep— he should be the picture perfect husband, because you deserve that and everything more. his only (self-perceived) flaws are his lack of alcohol tolerance and his inability to master the frying pan.

you always tell him he doesn't have to be a michelin chef— but with the way he's constantly sneaking a chocolate graham cracker from your muji snack bag or snagging the sour gummy between your teeth from your lips, he feels like he should compensate. so on this special november evening, when the hum of the city life outside your balcony gets drowned out by the cheerful mirth of a warm dinner table, he had decided to help you.

the warm kitchen had become a foodstained disaster— but with tearful round eyes and a hand tugging on your shirt, you'd resigned to helping him conquer the task of simple packaged noodles and soft-boiled eggs. he'd cut his finger— even the most capable teacher found his shortcomings against a blunt kitchen knife. needless to say you'd peppered it with kisses before wrapping a rainbow hello kitty bandaid around it.

and that brings you to the present: the result of your extensively hard work; a few soggy noodles collected at the bottom of porcelain bowls painted red on the insides in a lukewarm puddle of soup, full stomachs and a loose and welcoming atmosphere. you wouldn't trade it for the world.

you're fishing a pickled radish slice out of your bowl when satoru leans over, removing the arm that was snaked around your shoulder to drape himself on your lap, lying down on the floor with his knees propped up and his soft cloud-white hair sprawled over your thighs. geto makes a distasteful face when satoru's black socks brush against his leg. across the table, shoko knocks shoulders with utahime as she lights a cigarette; the latter's face flushes as smoke drifts past her lightly flushed face into the open window city night air overhead.

"hey, you. what's up?" you asked softly, chuckling to yourself as you set your chopsticks atop the rim of your bowl, leaning back on your arms to look down at him. he adjusts himself a little, wiggling on your lap as you caught a whiff of his beer breath and scrunch your nose.

"hiii, baby," he drawls, giggling a little to himself. his smooth, usually playful voice took on that deep tone he used whenever he was being serious, and it sent an involuntary shiver down your spine, so you hugged him closer and ran a hand through his soft white hair, brushing your fingers against the black cloth of his blindfold. "what'cha doing?"

"i was eating. you put too much pepper in the broth, 'toru." you smiled softly, tracing the line of his jaw slowly with one finger in the way you knew he liked so much; it was obvious from the way he sighed contentedly and tilted his head into your palm. whether it be from that unfathomably sweet smile or the tender way you held his face in your delicate hands, that was up to him to ponder. next to you, haibara makes a joke— something about mei mei's stocks, and she quips a snarky retort that has him laughing raucously while nanami makes a face.

"i tried!" he protests, almost a whine as he sighs; a hand sneaks up to lift the edge of his blindfold up so his eyes meet yours, and you're left breathless. it catches you off guard every time— those endless pools of swirling blue that stare straight through you, sifting through your thoughts like a scholar annotating an open book, all heart-shaped sticky notes and bright highlighters when it came to thinking about him.

"not hard enough, clearly. but it's okay; we'll do better next time."

he just frowns again at that, sticking out his lower lip in a little pout that makes your heart squeeze. your stomach is full with noodles and broth; you don't think you could stomach another bite if you tried, and you're not one to drink especially if everyone else is. so, you let yourself indulge a little— snake a hand on the back of satoru's neck and tilt him up until he's sitting halfway up and you can easily meet his lips in a kiss.

he reciprocates immediately, hungry like he was waiting for you; you notice that he hasn't eaten much of his food yet, so maybe he was. or maybe he knows how bad it is. either way, his tongue darts out from his parted lips to flick against your own for a moment, before he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip and draws out a teasing whine that you have to stifle because "we have company, 'toru," you have to breath as a reminder. he just laughs breathily against your lips, tasting like bitter beer and buttery vanilla as he shifts to practically sit on top of you, hands on your shoulders as his thumbs brush over your collarbone where the edge of your shirt fails to cover tantalizing skin; he's taller and eventually ends up bringing the both of you toppling down onto the mats.

your back hits the floor and a little gasp leaves your winded lungs— but satoru eagerly catches it with his lips and swallows it, like he's intent on getting drunken off his ass from you (as if he wasn't already tipsy) when he smashes his swollen lips to yours again. your hair is splayed out against the tatami mats like you're trapped in some marine watercolor painting, and for a split second satoru thinks if mermaids were real you'd be the most angelic he'd ever seen as his calloused fingers curl into the strands.

you're about to hook a leg around his waist when a shout catches your ear and you part lips with a gasp, sucking in greedy breaths as satoru promptly sits on your stomach. you let out a stuffed oomph from his weight, and watch as he slides his blindfold back on to look over at the rest of the table who're staring at the two of you like they're watching some forbidden steamy movie scene that's meant to be shielded from children's eyes.

“don’t kiss him while he’s drunk. it’s like rewarding a brat for bad behavior,” shoko says. you sit up with much effort, straining under satoru’s weight as you reach up to grab his shoulders. you miss, but he takes your hands and pulls you up, wrapping his arms around you to keep you from falling back down as you rest your head on his shoulder. utahime has her arms lazily draped over shoko; you assume she’s drunk from that, but if you were to inspect her for long enough you’d notice her can of beer was almost completely full.

“oh, i guess you’re right.” you remarked, frowning a little and biting the inside of your cheek as you pull away from satoru and glance at him. all of the sudden he looks like he’s ready to keel over; the shadows beneath his eyes are reinforced by the alcohol in his system and it looks like he’ll need to tape his eyes open lest he passes out right on top of you. you want to avoid that, so you gently push him off, sighing to yourself.

“don’t listen to her, sweetheart. you can kiss me all you want,” he smirks, a flash of pearly white teeth that would’ve been on your neck a moment ago if not for the interruption. you just shake your head with a breathless laugh, giving him a quick flick to the forehead. before you can pull away, though— he catches your hand, bringing your wrist to his glossy pink lips and giving your pulse a quick peck. “no, she has a point.” you hummed. overhead, the light flickers a little; a moth that had flown in through the window danced about the bulb. the faint sound of car horns filters through the window along with the breeze, recycled laughter and lively chatter from bars a few stories down carried in the cool wind.

you mill about for another twenty minutes or so, content to just listen in as old friends shared anecdotes and funny stories from separate paths of life; you soon learned that nanami was planning on moving to malaysia, and shoko was due to renew her medical license this year. the beer cans built up, mixed in with crumpled napkins that had penned doodles on the rough surface and paper chopstick wrappers. somewhere along the line, satoru had fallen asleep— you had to push his unfinished ramen bowl out of the way before he knocked his head against the wooden table and spilt his meal. you frowned a little at the sight of it— you knew he'd complain about his soaked noodles and limp seaweed sheets later on. you found yourself slinging one of your jackets over his shoulders, fingers lingering over his neck, where the scratchy hair of his undercut met soft warm skin.

soon enough, dishes are piling up in the sink and calling your name; the kids see themselves home via train station, spouting something about a late night pit stop in sendai for the mochi that 'our teacher likes so much'. you consider asking them to bring some back for satoru, but you decide you'll enjoy a laugh when he tells you about how he went to school the next morning to find out for himself, and the stab of hurt that will pierce his full heart in two when he hears the news. even then, you have to shush them as they show themselves out; you can tell from the way satoru's eyebrows knit together beneath his blindfold and the pinch of his jaw that he doesn't appreciate the noise, no matter how blacked out.

the conversation dies down a little, and soon enough, everyone takes their leave one by one. it's only when you settle back down after cleaning up the bowls and putting away the cups that satoru stirs, waking up with a mumble and a huff. his hair is a disheveled mess, and there are sleep lines on his face, but he's still handsome as ever.

"baby?" his voice is hoarse with sleep and dehydration. there's a dull ache between his eyes, feeling like he'd just ran a circle around the world. you answer from the kitchen, calling his name. it's late; past midnight now. the window's still open and satoru's can of beer is still on the table, almost completely empty.

"how long did i sleep? shit, did everyone go home? 'm sorry," he groans, standing up and stretching his arms out. his shirt rides up on his shoulders, exposing the arch of his hip just above the edge of his pants. "don't worry, 'toru." you hummed, washing your hands in the sink as you look over at him. he just nods, grabbing the can and crumpling it in his hands before tossing it in the trash.

"you okay? got a headache?" you asked as he walked over to you, careful not to hit his head on the arch that connected the living room to the kitchen. when you'd first moved in with him, you had to pin a strip of bright yellow caution tape to remind him to duck his head. you smiled as you reminisced over late nights, tucked in his arms as he mused about demolishing the wall there just so he could be rid of the bruise on his temple. then again, as long as you were waiting for him to kiss it better at the end of his nine to five, he didn't mind.

he nods, and watches as an easy smile stretches across your lips; they look infuriatingly kissable under the warm glow of the hazy kitchen light, shining off the porcelain cups in the sink. he leans against the kitchen counter, cold marble feeling through the thin fabric of his shirt as you take his leftovers from the fridge and heat them up in the microwave, standing before the black glass as you watch the little plate spin inside.

there's something about moments like these; so sweet and easy with you after everyone's taken the last train home and all that's left are empty beer cans and extra bowls in the dishwasher for two people with matching rings on their fingers to take care of.

he walks up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your chin. he smiles when he feels your hand cup his cheek, and he turns his head instinctively to meet your lips in a slow, sweet kiss; a muscle memory tango between familiar lovers. when he pulls away to catch his breath, tongue swiping across his bottom lip, you're already there with your fingers, pulling his blindfold down to rest around his neck and gently rubbing the spot beside his eyes, alleviating the tension behind them. it's unspoken moments like these that he loves the most in your relationship. making a mess in your kitchen is a close second.

it's a slow, easy night after a special get-together when the microwave beeps and you take his noodles out, bringing them to the table as you sit down next to him and rest your head on his shoulder, letting him tuck you into his side as he gets a bit of breaded tonkotsu crumbs on his cheek and insists you wipe them off for him like he's some oversized baby. you wash some cherries in a green plastic bowl, competing to see who can spit the pits into the trashcan without missing. in the end, he lost the game of rock paper scissor and was resigned to pick up the missed pits on the floor.

he's still wearing your jacket like a cape and even though it's far too small for him, he insists on keeping it with him when you go out onto your balcony to finish the last of a bottle of sake together, listening to the melody of the wind in the trees that line the sidewalk and the permeating hustle and bustle of the city, even when it's so late at night it could be considered early morning.

he swipes the cold bottle from your hands, finishing the last drops from the matte glass before letting it dangle between your fingers. and you're expecting it when he catches your arm to pull you into another kiss; he tastes like peaches and wine and a little bit of soup broth. it's slow, and easy, because being with him has always felt as natural as breathing, and being with you has made it easier for him to breathe, like the iron weight on his lungs melts away in the face of your unconditional warmth and care. the cool wind blows your hair in front of your face, and he laughs that charming boyish giggle as he tucks it behind your ears and scoops you up in his arms.

"i don't like sharing you with a sake bottle," you said, pointedly looking at the glass in his hand. he just grins, looking down at you for a moment. he can almost see it again; you, in that gorgeous white wedding cloth. he was carrying you bridal style in the same way now, when you'd decided to grow old together and host special business dinners as a couple in your shared apartment.

"don't worry, love. you're sweeter than any spritz," he laughs, stepping inside again and closing the door behind him.

it's routine, and it's easy, getting ready for bed with him, laughing when he pushes his hair back with a headband, looking like a pretty little princess. you suggest him getting a mullet, and he shushes you by shoving your toothbrush on your tongue, getting a mouthful of mint. the warm water rushes over your fingers before you dry yourself off, wiping your face and putting the towel away only to be met with the equal warmth of his lips on your forehead, peppering you with kisses.

you slip into the covers, still pleasantly cold as you watch satoru sit up and take his shirt off. he lets you peel the rainbow bandaid on his finger off, tossing it in the trash before pulling you into his arms, right where you belong the closest to his heart. "don't cut yourself like that again, okay?"

"it was an accident, baby." he chuckles, and you just roll your eyes. he reaches over to ruffle your hair affectionately and makes a joke about having you suck his blood like a vampire, tooting about how sweet it would be. "besides, i don't need to be careful if you're there to patch me up, pretty. shoko has nothing on you!"

he plays with your hair as you catch him up to the conversations he'd slept away; mei mei had left early when you'd given him your jacket to envelope him in your scent, muttering something about cheap perfume and worthless soggy noodles. he likes to play with your jewelry, you notice— fiddles with the ring on your finger, cupping your hands in his palm as he tucks his face into the back of your neck.

at one point, he asks you to do his hair, so you oblige, rolling him over onto his stomach and clambering on top of his waist. you braid his white strands into cute little pigtails best as you could manage as he tells you about his dream; something about harassing nanami in malaysia and a sunset kiss under crystal clear beach water. it sounds nice, and when you're done with his hair you find it easier to just massage his shoulders and listen to the smooth droning of his voice.

soon enough, you're both warmer than the lukewarm buzz of beer in your veins, and he doesn't remember if he fell asleep first or not, but the gentle melody of your voice haunts him in his dazed sleep as he curls around you.

business dinners really are exhausting— he's left wondering how you pull it off the morning after when he's hungover and the cut on his finger is infected— clearly, the hello kitty bandaid wasn't enough to cut it. the only reasoning that he explains to you as you take your morning shower together, fingers running through your hair, is that you didn't kiss it enough. maybe that's why his soup had too much pepper and he didn't know how to cut the cucumbers.

he's still an amateur, so he'll leave the cooking to you. maybe next time he'll pretend the takeout he grabbed on his way home from school was handmade, though he doubts his friends will ever believe him, or his students after he demands they buy him kikufuku as compensation for leaving him out the night before.

ignore the ep that came out today! everyone’s alive and well. trust my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

[newfoundstateof]

but she fell in love with an english man | b.b. x reader

summary: Academy friends drag Benedict to a tavern to watch Irish fiddle player!reader perform. He buys her a drink. But who can play a fiddle and drink a pint at the same time?

word count: 1.2k

warnings: suggestive but none

a/n: definitely not inspired by those tiktoks of dirty talk bar maids at ren faires, who said that???

“They are spectacular,” Rupert Norton declared with an arm slung over Benedict’s shoulder.

The rest of the Royal Academy students hummed in agreement. Already drunk from the party they left minutes ago, a small group of them stumbled down the cobbled streets of Soho. Earlier that night, news broke that a band that visited a few weeks before Benedict enrolled at the Academy had returned to much anticipation. In an instant, pipes were dropped, coats were gathered, and boots were marching to The Intrepid Fox tavern.

“They’re from Ireland,” someone said.

“I’ve never danced so much in my life,” another added.

“And the fiddle player is quite easy on the eyes,” Rupert slurred into Benedict’s ear. “Try and buy her a drink if you can. That usually gets her attention.”

Benedict laughed. “I’m just here to enjoy the music. As should all of you scoundrels.”

Once inside the tavern, a few of the men beelined to the bar to order whiskey shots for the fiddle player despite the empty stage in the corner. Benedict simply took a seat at the bar, observing the growing crowd. The band’s reputation must have preceded them, as he was soon shoulder to shoulder with the eager fans. But for the next twenty minutes, only chatter filled the room.

“They always like to keep you waiting,” Rupert grumbled into his ale. “But it’s worth it, I promise.”

“I don’t mind,” Benedict smiled. “It’s good people watch-”

The room erupted into cheering, and he turned toward the stage. Sure enough, two men climbed the small wooden platform. One carried a fiddle, the other a flute. The room roared even louder when you emerged with your fiddle, waving a good-natured hand to the audience. Your smile was wide and disarming. Your gaze was equally piercing. Looking at the gleam in your eyes, Benedict knew just how aware you were of your control over the room. Soon the clapping died down, and every soul waited with bated breath to what you would say.

A scrawny kitchen hand hurried up to you and set a tray of shots down on a small barrel.

“Wow,” you breathed. “All this for little old me?”

Benedict found himself chuckling with everyone. As you threw a shot back, his stomach dropped. You were certainly not like the young ladies of the ton. 

“This crowd is mighty impressive, isn’t it, boys?” you asked your bandmates as you all started tuning your instruments. “We appreciate you for coming out. If you don’t know us already, the lad on the flute is Johnny. My fellow friend on the fiddle is Patrick. And I’m Y/N. I have a favor to ask of you all… From now until the last of you sorry lot leave this building, I hereby decree this an Irish pub! That means we will be clapping along to the songs, singing if you know the words, and if you are so inclined, I would love to see some dancing tonight.”

Someone in the audience whistled, evoking more cheers.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” you grinned.

The trio launched into Seven Drunken Nights, a popular jig even Benedict knew. Though his classmates were rowdily singing along, he could only stare at you. Johnny and Patrick generally kept to their places on stage, but you swayed across, drawing your bow theatrically compared to Patrick’s controlled movements. He was the main vocalist, but during the wife’s lines in the song, you sang with the crowd. 

“Ah, you’re drunk, you’re drunk, you silly ol’ fool. Still, you cannot see, that’s a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me!”

Benedict couldn’t decide if you were a better fiddle player or singer, you were impeccable at both. But without a doubt, you were the best at simply putting on a show. You encouraged people to dance along as you skipped across the stage. Benedict could only imagine how taxing it was for you. Dancing, singing, and playing an instrument all while not breaking a sweat. He eyed the tray of shots, turned to the nearest bartender, and ordered something more refreshing for you.

As you strung out the last note of Seven Drunken Nights, the same kitchen hand ran the mug of beer up to your tray. You sighed to yourself.

“Which one of you did this?” you cried out, lifting the mug high.

Heads spun every which way. Benedict froze. Was liquor the only appropriate drink to tip a musician? He wasn’t sure, he’d never been to something like this. Awkwardly, he coughed and raised his hand.

Your eyes found him in the sea of faces, and you smirked. “Don’t be shy, come here!”

 Rupert clapped Benedict on the back. “Don’t screw this up, Bridgerton. She might go home with you tonight.”

Though he had been with many women and dangerously close with a few men, you still intimidated him somehow. Nothing intimate had been on his mind before Rupert’s comment, but now his heart skipped a few beats at just the thought of it. Benedict snaked through the crowd, trying to read the expression on your face. But all you looked was smug, and he wouldn’t be surprised if you poured the ale on his head. 

“Finally,” you breathed as he stood before you. “One of you buys a lady a real drink!”

He exhaled in relief.

“I’m afraid I’m quite thirsty though,” you pout, getting down on one knee. The stage was barely a foot off the ground, putting your face directly in front of Benedict’s wide shoulders. “And we need to get on with the next song, but I don’t have enough hands. Would you help me, good sir?”

Without waiting for his response, you shoved the drink in his hands and looked up to the ceiling. Before Benedict could blink, you were poising your instrument and drawing out a note with your bandmates following suit.

“We’re lucky I don’t sing in this one,” you smile, giving him a pointed look. “Get on with it, now. I’m parched.”

Never one to argue with a lady, Benedict slowly tilted the rim of the glass to your lips and poured the liquid steadily down your throat. You looked up through your lashes at him, daring him to look away. But he didn’t. Only when some of the ale dripped down your chin and onto your bodice did his gaze break yours.

“Should I stop?” he asked.

You shook your head, “No,” as much as you could with your lips around the glass.

As you neared the last dregs, your head tilted back more and more to get it all. The eroticism of it all was not lost on Benedict, especially as you swallowed the last gulp and moaned audibly. The growing friction in the front of his pants was no help. But once the glass was finished, you rose to your feet and sent him off with a wink. As you spun to the other side of the stage, the hem of your skirt brushed his groin and he mindlessly reached for the fabric. But you were gone. In a trance, Benedict walked backward to his friends at the bar, adjusting himself. 

“Has she done that before,” he coughed.

“I’ve never seen that before,” Rupert crowed. “And I’ve seen them perform at least five times since I started at the Academy.”

“You’ve got to talk to her after, Bridgerton,” someone urged.

“Can I come along?” a voice teased.

“You’re the luckiest bastard on earth right now,” another sighed.

Across the room, you caught him starring and blew him a quick kiss.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Luckiest bastard on earth.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To a Tea 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc. 

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU 

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk. 

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 

Summary:  A demanding customer grows increasingly needy.

Character:  Raymond Smith

The title is a pun, don't @ me.

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved. 

“He’s here,” Jenna’s warning brings you attention away from siphoning what’s left off the peppermint leaves into the fresh tin. 

You glance over without any other directive. He always waits in that same spot. Even if the table’s empty, he doesn’t sit right away. You give you co-worker a look and smile as you put the lid on the tin and slide it out of the way. 

You wash your hands thoroughly before you grab the cylinder of disinfecting wipes and sweep around the end of the counter. You step out onto the tea room floor as his eyes find you, expecting you. You’ve adjusted to his ritual, almost compelled to it. 

“Hello, Raymond,” you great as you approach the empty table for two where he sits with his back to the wall and his eyes towards the door. 

“Miss,” he greets in his way. 

He’s a bit uptight. Others might say worse but once you learn his quirks, he’s very human. Even if everything else about him is mysterious. 

Sometimes you build stories about him in his head. His glasses, his neatly styled hair, and his combed beard suggest a man with an eye for his appearance. His suits might be better fit to library or a professor’s podium. Not sleek enough for a board room. Then you think he might be a writer of sorts but you’ve never seen him with a laptop or pen and most of the local authors don’t show up without one or the other. 

You take out a wipe and take your time in getting every inch of the table. You back up as he removes his jacket and you back out of his way. He sidles around the and sits, shoulders set as he grips the table and straightens it. 

Whoever he is, he’s very precise. 

“Usual?” You ask with a smile. 

He looks at you and reaches to pinch the arm of his glasses. The first time he came in, you remember you could’ve melted at his gaze. So stony and unyielding, you wondered why he was even there. Now, there is an ease to it. He prefers the familiar and you have become that. 

“Yes, usual,” he agrees. 

You nod and swiftly turn on your heel. You go back behind the counter as Jenna snoops from behind the cookie display. You shake your head at her as you wash your hands a second time. He will certainly note that as well.  

You go to steep his cup of English Breakfast as the other woman nears and watches the steaming water at your side. 

“Don’t know how you do it. He should just have tea at home.” 

“Can’t complain for business,” you shrug. 

“Why bother? All that fuss for a cuppa.” 

“Maybe he likes the ambience?” You suggest. 

“He said the lights give him headaches.” 

“Oh?” 

“Well, he pays his bill. That’s all I ask for,” you add a teaspoon of milk, measuring it out exactly and you move the tab of the bag to hang to the left of the handle. 

“Mm, and he sures asks a lot of you, don’t he?” She crosses her arms. 

“Jenna,” you look towards the till where a customer waits. 

“Ugh, you’re such a bore,” she chides. 

You go back into the tea room and cross to Raymond’s table. You set the cup and saucer before him. 

“Enjoy,” you insist. 

“Cheers,” he hooks his finger into the handle and turns the cup to an exact angle. 

You lean back on your heel and he raises his palm, “do you... have any suggestions?” 

“For?” You wonder. 

“I thought to try something with my tea today. What do you recommend?” 

“Well, were we thinking something savoury or sweet?” You reply breezily, “our cheese scones are delicious, and there is the chives and onion bake. I sneak one every Friday. Erm, there are the white chocolate shortbread on special and I think we’ve sold out of the cherry tarts. Oh, if you’d like a combination, there is the cranberry cheddar scone. I don’t mind it but I hate the crumbles.” 

He considers you thoughtfully and crosses his arms. He mills the decision with his lips clamped. His blues eyes narrow behind his lenses. 

“Do you have plain shortbread?” 

“Of course,” you chime, “two for a pound.” 

“Two will do,” he agrees. 

You hold your smile and once more set off on your mission. He might be stringent, a bit repressed, but you’ve dealt with worse customers. More demanding, sometimes outrightt rude.  

You dip behind the counter and grab a plate. You use the tongs to take two of the shortbread biscuit and place them on a clean plate. You take a napkin with you and once more emerge from behind the displays. 

You approach Raymond as he sips his tea. You put the plate and serviette before him. He thanks you and adjusts his tie, letting his hand drift down his vest. 

“Is that it, sir? Tea alright?” 

“That’s it,” he affirms. 

“Great, you know where I’ll be,” you chirp and spin.  

You stop before you can bring your foot down as he calls your name. He’s only ever said it once. The first time you met. It’s always ‘miss’. 

You turn to face him, “yes?” 

“Your apron strings are uneven...” he says. “Just figured... I’d warn you.” 

You nearly laugh. What an odd thing to worry about. You reach back behind your waist and feels the lengths. Sure enough, you’ve tied them entirely off kilter. You suppose you don’t pay too much attention to that. 

“Thanks for letting me know.” 

He nods and examines one of the cookies. Then his eyes flick up and keep you from another retreat, “I could fix it.” 

“Oh, er, that’s fine,” you wave him off, “not a big deal.” 

“It doesn’t bother you?” He wonders. 

“Not really,” you shrug, “does it bother you?” 

His brows raise slightly and he taps the cookie, shaking off the crumbs as much as he can. He leans forward and nibbles over the plate, making certain not to litter over the edge. He puts the biscuit down and wipes his fingers on the napkin. 

“It does,” he says. 

You won’t laugh at him. It would truly be at his expense, it’s just a very unexpected offer. You put your arms straight, “if you want.” 

You near and turn your back to him. You sense him leaning forward as you stand stalk straight and watch the tea room. The smell of cinnamon and cloves fills the warm space, the shades giving an orangish hue to the din. There are low tables near the center with pillow seats, and the high tables along the walls. You know all the creaks and cracks better than your own home. 

You feel him tug the knot loose and his fingers work agilely to tie a new knot. He lets it hang but just as quickly looses it again. You try not to move as he does it several times before he relents. 

“There, ears and tails match,” he declares. 

You step away and turn to send him a smile, “thanks.” 

He doesn’t say anything, only raises his cup and doffs it in a kind gesture before he sips. You twist away again. You should help Jenna before the rush begins. That’s the only thing about Raymond, he does take up a lot of time. 

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

I hate myself for this but... sigh, I can't help it. At least this one is soft and not angsty

Aaron Hitch x Dad Male Reader

Hotch has been having trouble moving on from Haley (maybe divorce?) Despite it being 2 years. Garcia decides to talk him into going on a few blind dates, one of which is a friend of hers from an online RPG. Hotch is reluctant but agrees, trusting Garcia with her taste in friends.

When Hotch arrives at the small restaurant and stares hes there for a reservation that Garcia set up, he's lead to Reader already waiting at a table. Garvia failed to mention that Hotch's blind date was a man and so he's caught off guard. Through the date, it's obvious Hotch and Reader are awkward until Hotch mentions his son. As it turns out, Reader is a single dad as well after his fiance walked out

They bond over being parents and agree to meet up again. So they do, multiple times. They even set up little get togethers between the kids

Hiya, sorry this has take me so long (actually I'm sorry all of my requests are taking me so long aha) but I hope you enjoy it, it was a really cute request! :)

Description: What is says on the tin, really aha

You watch a man approach you and you know its him. Garcia knows your taste in men well and you have no doubt she would have ensured that the date she picked out for you would be perfect.

He approached you awkwardly, seeing that you were the only individual who was on their own. "Are you here for a blind date?" He asked, cheeks tinting pink.

"Yeah, I'm (Y/N), are you Aaron?"

The man, Aaron, nods. He's awkward, which makes you awkward. He sits down, "I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting a-"

"Man?"

"Yeah,"

"I see... We, er, we don't have to do this, if you don't want to-" You rush out, already standing up.

"No, no, it's okay," He said, giving a small smile, sitting in the chair opposite you. "So, how do you know Garcia?"

"We play the same RPG, but we started talking on the forums and then eventually met up," You nod.

"RPG?" Aaron tilted his head, "That's role playing game, isn't it?"

You nod, grinning, "Yeah." Man, he was just too cute.

He nods as well, with a small smile.

Another minute passed in awkward silence. "So... Garcia mentioned you had a son?" You asked.

Aaron nods, a small smile already painting his face, "Yeah, Jack. He's just turned six."

"Oh, wow, my son's five," You nodded.

"You have a son?" Aaron asked, eyes widening slightly.

"Yeah, Ethan," You grinned. "His favourite thing at the minute is cars,"

"Jack's the same," Aaron said with a small laugh, "Cars and trains,"

"See, Ethan's not hopped on the train trend just yet," You laugh, "He's definitely on the dinosaur trend though,"

"Jack's not gone through that phase just yet,"

"Oh, cars and dinosaurs are all Ethan talks about," You smile.

After that, the rest of the meeting (*cough* date *cough*) went rather well, the initial awkwardness has dissolved and the pair of you stayed out late, talking about anything and everything. He now knew that Ethan's mother had left when he was still a baby, and you knew about the nasty divorce with his ex-wife Haley. You had even arranged a second meeting (read: 'date - sort of') where Jack and Ethan could meet each other the following week.

It was next week before you knew it. Ethan was so excited, practically bouncing off the walls.

"Are they here yet?!" Ethan asked, running in again.

"Bud, I've told you, I'll let you know when they're here-" You said with a small laugh, getting cut off by the doorbell ringing. "And it looks like they're now here,"

"Wooo!" Ethan cheered. "I can't wait to meet them,"

Ethan babbled as he followed you to the front door. "I'm sure Jack's just as excited to meet you," You grin. You really hoped the pair of them got along, you thought as you opened the front door.

"Hi," You breathed, seeing Aaron (that polo shirt on him? Damn).

"Hi," He replied. You grinned slightly, seeing the tips of his ears go pink.

"Hi! I'm Ethan!"

"I'm Jack!" Jack exclaims, equally excited.

"You wanna go play? My dad got me some new cars!"

"I love cars!" You smile as Ethan grabs Jack's hand and they both run off to go and play.

You turn to Aaron, "That looked like it went well,"

[urwifey333]

"Don't start something you can't finish." "And what makes you think I can't?"

AU // avenger!bucky x avenger!reader

Summary // Since you joined the avenger everything was going well, the avengers treated you with respect and kindness; except for one super soldier who seemed to want to tease you 24/7

Warnings // a bit NSFW, nothing much

Words // 1411

Bucky sits silently at the kitchen table sipping his coffee, watching you walk in with Steve and Sam after your run. When he speaks, his voice is low and deadpan.

"Looking a little winded there. How was the run? I'd offer you a juice box but I'm afraid you'd have trouble reaching it."

Natasha rolls her eyes at Bucky's teasing from where she's perched on the counter. "Cut her some slack, Barnes. She's still learning."

Clint laughs from the living room where he's sprawled on the couch. "Yeah, give the kid a break, Tin Man."

Ignoring them all, Steve smiles kindly at you. "Don't let Bucky get to you. Good work this morning. I think you're improving every day." Sam nods in agreement as he grabs some water from the fridge.

Bucky just smirks, taking another drink of coffee as if waiting to see how you'll retaliate to his ribbing this time.

"Thanks Steve," you say then intentionally looking at Bucky then rolling your eyes at him.

Bucky continues to smirk at you, unfazed by your eye roll. "Aww, don't be like that doll. You know I'm just teasing. That little pout is cute though."

Steve sighs and opens his mouth like he wants to say something to Bucky, but is interrupted.

"Leave her alone, Barnes," Natasha says sternly. "Before she decides to put that training of hers to use and wipe that smirk off your face."

"Wouldn't mind seeing that," Clint chimes in from the other room.

Bucky looks unconcerned, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he replies,"I'd like to see her try, Natasha. I've yet to see anything from her that even comes close to even touching me."

The jab is clearly meant as another taunt, goading you to take the bait. The others watch silently, waiting to see if you'll rise to it or let it slide this time.

You meet Bucky's gaze with a sly smile, playing along with his game.

"Careful Barnes, all that ego's bound to knock you on your enhanced ass one of these days. Then who'll be wiping the smirk off whose face?"

Natasha laughs appreciatively at your retort while Steve looks on with mild concern, as if worried where this could lead.

Undeterred, Bucky leans back smugly in his chair. "Big words for such a little thing. You sure you can back it up, Sweetheart?"

His challenging tone is clear - he's itching for a reaction, wanting you to take a swing so he has an excuse for payback. The rest of the team watches silently.

You meet Bucky's gaze steadily, matching his confidence with a look that says you're not afraid to push back.

"Why don't you put that arm of yours to good use then, old man, and find out for yourself."

Nat snorts at the "old man" jab while Clint mutters "Oooh burn." Steve has a carefully neutral expression, likely trying to de-escalate without interfering.

Bucky narrows his eyes, clearly enjoying the challenge but not one to back down. He rises slowly from his chair with a predatory grin.

"Alright doll, you asked for it. Gym. Five minutes. And leave that pretty little face of yours intact if you know what's good for you."

With that he turns and strides out, leaving you smiling in the kitchen amid the cheers and groans of your teammates betting on the outcome. Game on.

.

.

.

A few minutes later you go to the training room, the avengers following behind you.

"Took you long enough, doll," he calls.

Ignoring him, you stretch slowly, arching your back in a show of flexibility that earns appreciative look from Natasha as she knows what you're doing. From the corner of your eye you notice Bucky's mouth twitch like he's fighting a smirk at your display.

All warmed up, you stride onto the mat to face him, rolling your shoulders loose. You match Bucky's predatory gaze with a playful smile, refusing to back down.

"See something you like, old man?" You taunt quietly. "Try not to get too distracted now."

To the side, Sam and Clint crack up at your jab while Steve sighs, ever the disapproving dad. Bucky's eyes flash, clearly taking the bait as his smirk turns dangerous.

"Cocky little thing aren't you? We'll see how pretty that face looks when I'm through with it."

He feints a jab that you dodge nimbly, countering with a kick aimed at his midsection that he blocks smoothly. The dance has begun. You continue to taunt and smirk, goading him into chasing you as Nat had advised while looking for an opening. It's time to see what tricks you've got up your sleeve.

You dance nimbly around Bucky, managing to land a few hits while avoiding his more powerful blows. But you can feel your stamina starting to flag under the fierce assault of the super soldier. He presses forward relentlessly, clearly sensing your tiring. Bucky aims a hook that almost connects before you roll away at the last second.

"Getting tired, sweetheart?" He taunts, not even winded.

Rather than answering, you give him a quick wink and smirk before seeming to stumble, dropping purposely into a position that gives Bucky the perfect view of your cleavage in your tight suit.

The momentary distraction works - Bucky's eyes flick down involuntarily before meeting your wicked grin. In an instant you've flipped back up and landed a kick glancing off his jaw, putting some distance between you once more.

"Eyes up here, soldier!" You call breathlessly, now it's his turn to be on defense.

You feint and spin, keeping just out of Bucky's reach as he rushes you. Each dodge is punctuated with a cheeky taunt.

"Getting slow in your old age, Barnes!"

He snarls in frustration and swings harder, the metal of his arm glinting. But still you evade, managing to land grazing hits that only further egg him on.

"Aw, did I strike a nerve? What's the matter, can't keep up?"

The avengers cheer and laugh from the sidelines, enjoying the show. Bucky's handsome face is reddening now beneath the teasing; whether from exertion or annoyance it's hard to tell.

"Keep running that pretty mouth, doll, and we'll see who can't keep up,"

You flip nimbly out of the way of another lunge, granting him a flashing grin over your shoulder.

"Then come and shut it for me, soldier!"

Then finally Bucky lands a hit on your lower stomach, tho maybe a bit hasher then intended.

You allow yourself to crumple from Bucky's solid hit, acting as if the wind has been knocked out of you. When he rushes in with a concerned look, you weakly wave him off - then make your move.

In a flash, you've grabbed his arm and flipped your legs around his neck, using your momentum to pin him on his back with you now straddling him victoriously. Caught completely by surprise, Bucky's eyes widen briefly before he realizes the trick.

"Gotcha," you smirk down at him, breathless from effort but riding the thrill of success.

Bucky gazes up at you with newfound respect mingled with something hotter, his firm sculpted body tense beneath you. "Well I'll be damned, doll," he rumbles. "You had me going there for a second."

From behind you come hoots of approval from Clint and whistles from Tony. But you have eyes only for the super soldier pinned beneath your triumphant form.

Still straddling Bucky's form, you direct a coy look over your shoulder at the watching Avengers.

"Well? Did I win?"

Natasha breaks into a smile. "I'd say our little spider has caught her prey this time."

"Damn right she did!" whoops Clint.

Still pinned beneath you, Bucky huffs out a defeated laugh. "Alright doll, you got me fair and square." His eyes gleam up at you, hands resting unthreateningly on your thighs.

Steve simply nods with a half smile, proud of your victory. Bruce relaxes, assured his equipment remains intact.

"You sure showed him a thing or two about strategizing," observes Sam with a wink.

Still resting on Bucky's lap, you lean down to shower him playfully with your words.

"Aww, do you need some cheering up?"

Your movement adjusts your position ever so slightly, causing unexpected friction that has Bucky swiftly masking a sharp intake of breath.

"Be careful, sweetheart," he growls low in warning, though his hands remain steady on your hips. "Don't start something you can't finish."

"And what makes you think I can't?"

AN // I might get on pt 2 if this gets hearts.. anyways hoped you liked it!! *<]:{)

[auras-moonstone]

Hii! Could you please write an ethan fic based off the ybwm music video but y/n and ethan are childhood bestfriends and but doesnt notice her until prom? ALSO IM LISTENING TO 1989 TV RN AND ITS SOOOO GOOD

been here all along — ethan landry

word count: 3,306

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: ethan and y/n had been best friends since they were little, but y/n, unbeknownst to ethan, has always been i love with him. it isn’t until prom night that he finds out.

warnings: none!

Y/N WAS STUDYING ON HER DESK WHEN SHE SAW HER BEST FRIEND’S SILHOUETTE THROUGH HER WINDOW. Ethan threw himself to the bed, lying on his back as he tiredly rubbed his face with the hand that wasn’t holding his phone to his ear. He felt eyes on him, so he turned around and saw the girl staring at him with a worried expression. He smiled instantly and, after hanging up the phone, he went to grab a small board and a marker.

hey, creep, he showed her the careless handwriting with a smirk.

Y/N stuck her tongue out before grabbing her own board. you okay?

i’m fine, he replied with a shrug and a forced smile.

Y/N arched an eyebrow, i know you better than that.

His shoulders slumped, can i hang out with you for a while?

always. back door is open!

Less than five minutes later Ethan entered her room and plopped down on her bed, resting his head on his hand. Y/N noticed his eyes were a bit red and had dark bags under them, and yet he continued to be he most gorgeous human she had laid her eyes on.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly, resisting the need to run her fingers through his wet brown hair.

“Coach killed us at practice today. My whole body hurts.” he mumbled.

“And…” she urged him to go on, knowing that was not it.

Ethan sighed. “I hate that you know me so well.” he groaned. “I fought with Mila.”

“Again.” she added, trying to hide her bitterness.

Mila and him had been dating for a couple of months, and she had managed to turn the ray of sunshine that Ethan used to be into a person who was always tired and in a gloomy mood. She had completely brought him down.

People at school loved the couple. And, on the outside, they seemed perfect. Ethan was the captain of the hockey team and the most good-looking boy at school, and Mila was the cheer captain and most good-looking girl at school—perfect pairing, right? On paper, yes.

But Y/N had the disgrace of witnessing most of their fights and the toxicity that filled the air whenever they were together. At the beginning, they had a normal relationship but eventually, the attention got the best of Mila and she turned into a controlling, jealous girlfriend who was also obsessed with painting the perfect image.

“Yeah… this time it was about prom.” he scoffed.

“What about it?”

“She came to practice and said we had to go buy her dress and my suit. Then she wants me to take fucking dancing classes because everything needs to be perfect and I can’t mess it up with my dance moves.”

“She’s going to have to buy tons of oil bottles for that. The Tin Man from Wizards of Oz can move better than you.”

Ethan laughed and threw her a pillow. “You’re such an asshole.”

Y/N smiled like the Cheshire cat. Ethan had no idea that his smile could practically light up the whole town, and it made her furious that Mila managed to take that away. Ever since they started dating, Ethan very rarely smiled around others.

“Anyways, the thing is I refused to do that. You know how tired I am after practice, and she got pissed and wouldn’t let me leave. I ended up holding back hockey practice and coach was furious.” he explained. “Then, after practice, she called and silly me thought—nice, she is going to apologize, but no. She wanted to see if I’d changed my mind. And that made me mad, so we started fighting about her interrupting practice and how furious she would be if I were to find her during cheer practice. Then she started yelling and I just hung up because my head fucking hurts.”

Y/N watched with sad eyes. What was he doing with a girl like that? She clearly didn’t care about him. “I’m sorry about your psycho of a girlfriend. You deserve better” she said, and he gave her a small smile. “There’s Tylenol on my drawer and the bottle is filled with water.”

“Thanks. You’re the best, did you know that? Being with you is lately the only thing that makes me feel at peace.”

“I love you, Eth, and I’ll always be here.”

The boy grabbed her hand and pulled her into his chest, hugging her tightly. “I love you, too.” he placed a kiss on the crown of her head. “Can I stay over?”

“Of course.”

Ethan fell asleep quickly, contrary to Y/N, whose thoughts kept her brain working like crazy. Ethan’s sweet words about her making him feel at peace should be heartwarming, but instead it made her heart hurt. Why couldn’t he see her the way she saw him? The way he saw Mila. Why couldn’t Ethan see that she was dying to be in Mila’s place and that he deserved so much better than her?

Ethan deserved to be with someone who treated him like he hung the moon, and instead he was settling for someone who overwhelmed him and brought him down, someone who cared more about what other people said than about his feelings and happiness. It made Y/N both sad and angry, and she prayed he would wake up and see he was worth more.

ETHAN ENTERED HIS ROOM AND DRAGGED HIS FEET TOWARDS HIS BED. He wanted to take a long nap and disconnect from the world, ignoring all the things that were overwhelming him lately. He wanted those feelings to be gone, he needed a good sleep and a good cry. And as if God had heard his prayers, the problems evaporated once his eyes caught sight of his best friend dancing around her room without a care in the world. He crossed his arms and watched with a smile, waiting for her to notice.

The girl stopped as soon as she felt eyes on her. Frowning, she quickly scribbled something on her blackboard.

i don’t do shows for free, quit looking

Laughing, he wrote back, what kind of shows do you do? i’m interested.

Y/N pretended to throw up and replied, i’m calling 911 pervert. And as he shook his head, she quickly wrote something else. you look stressed. wanna talk about it?

And as every afternoon, Ethan ended up sprawled on his best friend’s bed with her lying beside him. “First of all, I broke up with Mila.” he started, and Y/N’s heart stopped.

She tried her best not to smile at that, and managed to mutter “I’m sorry about that.”

Ethan shrugged, “It’s fine. We both know we weren’t really invested in that relationship. I’m stressed because she was furious, screaming something about ruining her chances of being prom queen and disappointing the school by our break-up.”

“And you feel bad about it.” Y/N stated, knowing him like the back of her hand.

“A little bit. I mean, I don’t get it, but prom is important to her for some reason. And now she needs to find another date.”

“That won’t be a problem, though. She’s literally the most gorgeous girl in school.”

“She’s not the most gorgeous girl in school.” he said, but quickly shook his head and moved on. “But it’s us who they want. Ethan and Mila, not Mila and some other guy.”

“Well, if it makes you feel so bad, you should go with her.” Y/N said out loud as her inner voice called her stupid in different languages.

Ethan frowned. “I don’t want to get back with her. And I thought you hated her.”

“I don’t hate her.” she argued.

“I heard you said you’d like her to recreate Regina George’s bus scene.” Ethan said, trying not to laugh at the guilty face she made.

“Look, everyone has intrusive thoughts.” she defended herself and Ethan bursted out laughing. “I’m not proud of it. But, moving on, I’m not telling you to get back with her, but just be her date to prom and then go your separate ways. We’re leaving for college soon, anyways.”

“I suppose you’re right.” he nodded. “That’s another reason why I’m stressed, college.”

“What about it?”

“I’m scared.” he confessed

“Why? Eth, you’re an stellar player. Lots of colleges already told you they’re interested.”

“I’m not scared of not getting into any college. I’m scared that we won’t end up in the same one.” he explained. And his eyes got glossy by just thinking about Y/N not being part of his every day life.

They had known each other since forever. They grew up together and it was in his plans to continue to grow alongside her. She was his person, and he knew he was her person too. She was his other half, he wasn’t complete without her. He rolled his eyes everytime he heard someone say that ‘we are our own person and it was wrong to believe someone complemented you’. He thought that was bullshit. Him and Y/N complemented each other and their lives wouldn’t be the same if they didn’t have each other. A part of them would be missing.

“I’m positive we will both end up on the same college. But even if that doesn’t happen, there’s absolutely no way that will be the end of our friendship, Eth. Come on, you really think our bond is not strong enough to handle a little distance?”

“You’re right.” he said, wiping his tears with the heel of his palm. “It still would suck not to have you there to annoy me every minute of the day.”

“Fuck you, Ethan.” she pinched his side, making him squirm. “And bold of you to assume I wouldn’t call you and text every one second.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you.” he hugged her tightly to his chest, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.

“Love you, too.” she whispered. She wanted to kiss him so badly she had to hide her face on his chest to die down the temptation.

“Hey, I never asked you. Who are you going to prom with?”

“With no one.”

Ethan frowned. “I can’t have that. We are going together.”

Her heart started beating faster. “You’re going with Mila.”

“I haven’t told her we can still go together. And I’m not going to, we are going together.”

“No.” she shook her head. The inner voices screaming at her again. “It’s important to her. I really couldn’t care less about prom. Don’t worry about it.”

“All of your friends have dates, Y/N/N. I know you don’t care about prom, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have a good time.” Ethan said, and she shrugged. “I don’t understand, though. I heard, unfortunately, the guys talking in the locker room. A lot of them were planning to ask you.”

“And they did, I just said I was going alone.”

“But why?”

Because I don’t want anyone but you, and I just turned your offer down. “I just don’t want to. Really, don’t worry about me. I don’t like parties anyway, so I won’t stay long. You will have to dance with me at least once, though.”

“Obviously.” he replied softly as he run his fingers through her soft hair until he fell asleep.

Meanwhile, Y/N laid wide awake, picturing that moment. Him, looking like a daydream in a suit, with his big hands around her body and her head on his hard chest, listening to the beat of his heart, which clearly won’t be beating as fast as hers. Yes, she didn’t know how she was going to survive that.

ETHAN STOOD NEXT TO MILA AS THEY TALKED WITH THEIR FRIENDS. Well, Mila did the talking and he was just standing there, looking anxiously at the entrance door, waiting for his best friend to arrive. Ethan had offered to drive her, but she instantly turned him down because there’s no way she was going to share the confined space with Mila.

“Your break-up lasted less than I expected.” one of Mila’s friend said.

Sensing Mila’s intention of not denying the statement, Ethan spoke first. “We aren’t together, we came as friends.”

“We’re always breaking up and making up, we both know you’ll take me back in no time.” Mila laughed.

“Mila.” he sighed. “We talked about this. I told you that we can still be each other’s date, but as long as it was clear that we are over for real. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Wow.” Zach, Ethan’s friend, said. His eyes were wide and his jaw was practically on the floor. And following his gaze, he found out the reason behind his reaction.

Ethan’s body stiffened and felt the blood rushing to his cheeks. Y/N walked through the gym, making her way towards her friends. No one, expect for his group, was paying attention to her. Why was no one paying attention to her?

She looked absolutely beautiful. Breathtaking would be most accurate word, because she took Ethan’s ability to breath as soon as his eyes landed on her figure. She was wearing a long, satin green dress. Her hair was up in a tidy bun, making her look elegant. Fuck, he couldn’t get his eyes off her, nor did he want to.

“Green is not her color.” Mila said between gritted teeth.

Ethan frowned, but his brown eyes were still glued to the girl across the room. “Every color is her color.”

“I’m going to ask her to dance with me.” Zach said confidently.

“Dude, get a hint. She told you she didn’t want to come with you.” another of Ethan’s friend said.

With that, Ethan finally looked away and instead glared at his friend. “You asked her?”

“Well, yeah. Can you blame me?” No, he couldn’t. But still, for some reason, it bothered him. “I can’t believe she said no.”

“Oh, come on. It’s obvious she was going to reject every offer. Well, anyone but one.” Mila said, and the boys’ curious glances landed on her. “What?”

“What are you talking about?” Zach asked.

Mila rolled her eyes. “Really? Literally everyone figured it out”

“Figure out what?” Ethan asked impatiently.

“She’s been in love with the same person for years.”

Ethan’s fists clenched and he felt like his whole body was on fire. “No way, she would’ve told me. We tell each other everything.”

Mila laughed. “It’s you, dumbass. She’s always been in love with you.”

Ethan froze and shook his head. “No. I would’ve- she should’ve… No.”

“Yes, Ethan. Ask anyone. I swear boys are so oblivious” she rolled her eyes. “It’s obvious she didn’t tell you because she knew you’d reject her. I mean, she is out of your league and you’ve never given her any signs that you might feel the same.”

Well, in that she’s right. But only because he had never let his mind wonder about being more because he didn’t want to ruin anything. Besides, he hadn’t seen her signs either and he also started dating Mila. But now… he could see them together. Now he couldn’t understand how he hadn’t thought about it before. After all, Y/N had always been his person—the one that understood him unlike anyone else, the one that made him laugh harder than anyone else, the one he always wanted to have by his side, the one who he belong with.

“She’s not out of my league.” he said, glaring at Mila. “I’m the one out of her league, hell, I don’t think anyone is really deserving of her! You know, she was the one that suggested I still should bring you here, because it was important to you. I asked her to be my date, and she said no. Even though she probably wanted to say yes. She’s that amazing, and I never saw her. What the fuck is wrong with me?”

Before anyone could say anything, Ethan let his feet guide him towards her. Y/N saw his silhouette making his way to her and her mouth broke into a smile. He did look like a daydream and the smile she loved was present on his face, shinier than ever.

"Hi, Eth." she stood up to hug him.

How could he have been so blind to notice it? The way her cheeks turned a light shade of red, her shy smile and the sparks in her eyes. Y/N was in love with him. "Hi. You look... like a daydream."

That made her blush even more. "Thank you. You look very handsome." Ethan smiled like a little kid, which made Y/N laugh. "What is going on? You're acting odd."

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't know, you're looking different."

"Is that bad?" Ethan frowned.

"No, it's a good different. You look happy. But what is happening?" she laughed with uncertainty. Ethan shook his head, trying to wipe the smile off his face. "Come on, you're making me nervous."

my love was as cruel as the cities i lived in

"First we have to dance to your favorite song." Ethan said, grabbing her hand and guiding her to the dance floor.

Just like she had it pictured it in her mind, her best friend's arms were wrapped around her waist, her hands resting on his broad shoulders and her head lying on his chest. But, contrary to what she had thought, his heart was beating inexplicably fast.

i don't wanna look at anything else now that i saw you

"I love you, Y/N" Ethan whispered in her ear. He felt her shoulders tense and she slowly raised her head to look at him.

It wasn't like any other previous I love you's, there was something about the way he said it—so softly and vulnerable—that gave her the hope that there was another meaning, that it was another type of i love you.

"Ethan..."

been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night

"I do. I really do love you. I am in love with you, and I'm really sorry."

"What are you sorry for?"

and now i see daylight, i only see daylight

"For not realizing it earlier. For not seeing how you really felt."

Y/N widened her eyes. He knew. "Ethan... don't."

"Don't what?"

"You're confused. You don't love me like that, I don't want your sympathy. You just think you love me because you don't want to reject me." she said. He opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off. "I promise you that our friendship won't change. I've always known it wasn't reciprocated, and I've come in terms with it."

Ethan just smiled. "Are you done overthinking? Because you have two options—you can keep on trying to convince yourself I don't love you and that my heart hasn't been skipping since you walked into this room," he put her hand on his heart. "or you can accept the truth—that I love you and I want you more than anything in the world—and let me kiss you while your song is still playing." he tilted his head down, nose brushing hers. "What is it, Y/N? One or two?"

"Two" she whispered.

He smirked "Good girl."

The kiss stopped time. When they finally pulled away, they stared at each other completely awestruck. Taylor Swift wasn't playing anymore, and they truly didn't have a clue how much time they had spent tasting each other. What they did know is that nothing had ever felt more right.

"Okay, enough show. Let's get out of here, I want you all to myself." he said pressing kisses to her neck.

"I want ice cream first, then we can make out."

"Whatever my girlfriend wants, she gets." with one last kiss, they walked out of the room hand in hand. “By the way, I have always thought you were the most gorgeous girl in school.”

[emo-emu64]

The Princess's Favor

Knight! Zack X Princess!Reader

Isaac Foster was considered a monster by most, a threat by all. A dangerous beast of a man, cut-throat, and stone faced. A valiant soldier that quickly climbed the ranks of the palace's guards. Ruthless in his endeavors to protect the royal family. In his endeavors to protect you.

That was how everybody else saw him at least, you considered him a giant teddy bear.

"Pretty please?"

It wasn't often that you were seen without your personal guard but, his patrols along the outside of the castle walls were supposed to be an exception. 

That became more and more of a rarity, however, as you asked him more often that not to accompany him. And he never quite figured out how to say no to you.

"Princess, it's not safe. Have you even asked your father?"

He avoided your gaze as he tended to his horse, knowing that he couldn't resist the big doe eyes that seemingly granted you everything you'd ever wished for.

He didn't mind though, not really, he'd conquer every kingdom this side of the sea if you looked at him like that.

"My father trusts you, I don't have to ask him about every little adventure. Besides, it's perfectly safe as long as I have you!"

He heaved a sigh as he finally met your gaze, big eyes and a hopeful smile, "Go get your bag."

You cheered, wrapping your arms around him briefly as you thanked him, then pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, running back to the stables where you had put your belongings.

A fortunate enough thing for Zack, as he was able to briefly stifle the smile that graced his lips.

Although, he couldn't say the same for when you came sprinting back, satchel slung over your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear.

Zack helped you up into the saddle first, like a true gentleman, before sliding comfortably in place behind you. 

You leaned back into his warmth, a comforting and familiar feeling. Safe, like home.

You brace yourself as the horse takes off like a shot into the woods. Zack weaves through trees and branches with ease, and his horse keeps a steady and sure footing on the mossy and mud-caked earth.

The wind in your hair is as exhilarating as always, and you raise your arms outward, throwing your head to the sky to cheer.

Zack pretends he doesn't find immeasurable joy in your joy by lightly flicking the back of your skull, leaning down closer to you so you can hear him over the rushing wind in your ears.

"Hands on the saddle, princess, gotta bring you back in one piece if I wanna keep my job."

You laugh as you bring your arms back down to your sides, keeping a firm hold to the horn of the saddle, simply because he asked you to. No matter how much danger he thought you may be in, you knew there was never any danger of you falling. Not with his strong arms on either side of you holding the reins. You felt invincible. 

Zack slows the horse to a stop as a clearing comes into view, filled with wildflowers and ferns of all kinds. You and Zack have found a plethora of spots during his patrols, but this one was by far your favorite. 

You often convinced Zack to eat lunch here. Bringing a basket of snacks from the kitchen, which was probably more sweets and pastries than an actual meal, but who's to say?

Zack dismounted in order to help you down, gently taking your hand.

As soon as your feet met the ground you quickly searched through your bag until you found the familiar feel of a small tin, opening to pick out a single sugar cube. You flattened your palm, holding the sweet treat out to the horse.The horse in question took your offering gratefully and gently.

The horse had an ashy coat, with a tail and mane of deep ebony. He was tall and strong, obedient from years of battle. His name was Mortifer, a fitting name considering his rider, meaning death bringer. Although, enemies of the kingdom often called him Pallidus Equus. 

The Pale Horse.

"You're going to make him fat," Zack chastised. 

"Zack, this is the most physically active horse in the kingdom, he's not going to get fat."

You turned back to the horse lifting you hand to stroke his neck, and he huffed gently nudging you with his nose, "You're not fat, huh? Zack's just a big meanie." You turned back to face your guard, "See? You made him sad."

Zack smirked and rolled his eyes, leaning down to kiss you gently, "Whatever you say, princess."

Zack became so much more comfortable outside the castle walls, he was convinced that if your relationship was confirmed and brought to light, the two of you would be separated.

Of course this wasn't the truth, Zack was a hero in the eyes of the kingdom, not some lowly knight trying to quickly climb the ranks, it would be fine, encouraged even for him to marry royal. Not to mention the two of you were the worst kept secret in the kingdom. You went everywhere together, he looked at you like you were the sun, and you looked at him like he put the stars in the sky. Even the castle's head baker, a very kind but also very blind old man, could see that.

You lower yourself to the grass, leaning against the largest oak you could find, pulling out your most recent cross stitch to occupy your hands. Zack soon joins you, sharpening his numerous blades with the whetstone he keeps on hand.

After a good while of simply enjoying each other's company, you decide to break the silence with the question that's been plaguing your mind since you first heard the rumor from your father's associates.

"Zack?"

"Hm?" He looks up from his knife, twirling it in his hands. When he finds your face, his brows crease, taking in the sad look in your eyes.

You put down your project and turn to face him, hands gently settling in your lap, you look downwards as you play with a blade of grass, "Is it true that you're being sent on that campaign that my father is planning?"

Zack's lips form a thin line, and he sighs, "Figured you'd heard about that."

He feels his heart crack wide open when your face saddens, your usual cheeriness completely drained, "So you're going?"

He nods, and frowns, gently cupping your face as he sees tears form in your eyes, "It won't be long, princess, I promise."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was going to, I just... hadn't thought of how yet, I don't like seein' ya sad like this."

"You got hurt really bad on the last one Zack, I didn't know if your were going to make it."

The tears rimming your eyes fall freely down your cheeks now, and he gently wipes them away with his thumb. 

"I always make it, pretty thing, can't go leavin' ya all by yourself can I? You'll make my horse all fat and slow."

He smiles down at you as you giggle, and wrap your arms around his neck. 

"Oh!"

You jump to your bag rooting through it for your gift.

You pull out an embroidered handkerchief, pushing it into his open hands.

He opens it and grins at the stitches, its a field filled with flowers and trees, Zack thinks it looks very much like the one the two of you were currently seated in.

"You have to live, in order to bring it back to me. It's my favor."

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "You'll have it back in no time, princess."

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 33: Alexander's Feeding

Masterlist

September 1925

TW: Captivity, mind control, blood drinking

His Master was staring him down with a look of haunted bliss, the way a starving man might regard a luxurious dinner spread, and Oliver realized that he still wasn't quite prepared for it. Even when he was being fawned over by vampires as a piece of merchandise, he hadn't felt quite so much like prey as he did right now.

"Oliver," Alexander said, visibly trying to regain his composure. "There... there you are. In my library."

"Yes, Master," he said simply, the awkwardness permeating though the fog in his mind.

"Very good, very good... I trust you slept well?"

"Yes, very much so, Master."

"Why don't I..." He cleared his throat loudly. "I need to be more awake for this. Would you like some coffee? I'll show you how I make it."

"Yes, sir," Oliver agreed easily, wondering if the "this" that his Master needed to be awake for was what he thought it might be. 

He followed his Master into the kitchen, lighting one of the gas lamps along the way. Alexander opened a cupboard and pulled out a small but delicate French vacuum pot, a hand-cranked grinder, and a cheerful red tin canister. He opened the canister and smelled the contents, inviting Oliver over. The scent nearly knocked him off his feet, much stronger than the milder coffee he favored.

"I prefer my coffee beans rich. My taste has diminished since... Well, I'm better off than many vampires in that regard," he said casually, pouring a generous amount of beans into the grinder. "Here, put this water on the stove to boil."

The domesticity of the coffee making process was an odd contrast to the intensity of the moment in the library, but not so much that Oliver could put it out of mind. It didn't help that Alexander was gazing longingly at his neck whenever he thought Oliver wasn't looking. Perhaps even when he was well aware Oliver was looking.

"I don't intend to impose much in the way of tasks on you," his Master explained. "But I certainly wouldn't mind if you were to prepare a pot of coffee for me around sundown."

"Yes, sir," said Oliver, flooded with obedient contentment at the thought of having such a straightforward way to please his new Master.

Before long, two perfect, steaming hot mugs of strong coffee had been procured, and they retired once more to the library. "Feel free to continue on with what you were doing before," said Alexander, waving Oliver off. "I'll call upon you shortly, if that's acceptable for you."

Of course it was. Oliver was in no position to refuse, and all of his former resistance was no more than the dimmest of sparks. "More than acceptable, Master."

The books held such fascination for him only an hour before, but now he felt as though he couldn't focus on any of them, the titles sliding from his mind as soon as he'd read them. He could barely even taste the rich, delicious coffee. All he could think about was his Master's gaze upon him, what his teeth would feel like grazing his neck, how it would feel to finally succumb. 

He was so lost in his reverie that he barely noticed when Alexander, reclined in a soft leather loveseat, began to sing gently under his breath.

Oliver's breath hitched with the realization that this was it, just before he was awash in a sea of calm relaxation. Alexander's sharp fangs glistened in the flickering gas lamp as he smiled at Oliver and beckoned him closer. Oliver took a few clumsy steps towards him, the intense vampiric aura stealing away what remained of his thoughts.

His Master's hunger weighed heavily upon him, and his hand reached up, slipping his frock off his shoulder and exposing his neck. His Master needed to feed, and Oliver would provide, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so sure of himself. He knew exactly what he needed to do, where he needed to be, sitting down next to his Master as docile as a lamb.

Oliver looked deep into his Master's eyes as he drew closer, realizing that his Master looked almost as spellbound as Oliver felt. He could feel his Master's desire through the vampiric aura, pulling him closer, drowning every thought from his mind but the feeding. In that moment, it seemed as if he had been put on the green Earth solely for this, to provide for this beautiful vampire.

Alexander took Oliver's chin and tilted his head further to the side, cold breath on his ear as he whispered into it. "Fall under my spell," he said. "Feel no pain. Only pleasure when I drink from you, Oliver."

"Only pleasure... yes, Master..."

Sharp teeth grazed his neck just long enough for Oliver's breath to hitch before twin pinpricks pierced his skin, and then...

Bliss.

He gasped as endorphins flooded his system, turning what remained of his mind to mush. His Master's lips were on his neck, drinking from the small wounds, and even after all of his conditioning, he couldn't imagine it would feel so good. 

Why had he ever resisted this? Why had he ever feared? This was everything he'd ever wanted: purpose, pleasure, and serenity all wrapped together. His head slumped against his Master, and he felt unexpectedly safe and cared for, secure in the knowledge that he was providing well, and that his Master would not hurt him.

And then, there was another sensation, one more foreign to him, but no less welcome. It was the feeling of hunger giving way, of finally being sated after an age of starvation, a dying man restored. Through the fog of blood loss and bliss, he understood what it was: his Master's thoughts, shared through a connection bound in blood. Through that connection, Oliver could tell how much he was truly appreciated, deepening his contentment even as he began to feel drowsy from blood loss and the vampiric spell.

Alexander gently kissed the wounds closed, finishing his meal, and ran his fingers through the hair on the back of Oliver's head. "You're all right, Oliver," he said, and it wasn't a command but an observation.

"That was..." Oliver trailed off, not having the words to even begin to describe what that was like.

"Mmm," said his Master, and Oliver could hear the smile in his voice. He could feel strength. He'd made his Master stronger. He'd done well.

"I think... I think I'd like to celebrate a little, after that," said Alexander after a moment. "Would you be willing to accompany me to the music room? It's been so long since I've played."

In his half-asleep daze, Oliver nodded. "Yes, Master."

He was being scooped up in strong arms and held to his Master's chest as they walked out of the library and into the exquisite music room. Oliver was laid out on a velvet couch, a pillow tucked behind his head, as Alexander surveyed the room like a king looking over his adoring subjects. He looked healthier, Oliver realized. His skin was less pallid, his eyes more awake.

After pondering his options, Alexander sat at the piano and began to play. Oliver didn't know much about music, but it sounded like an old classical tune, the kind you might hear at a symphony hall. His Master played expertly, hands flying over the keys, and the song had an air of joy about it.

Through the remnants of the connection, Oliver could sense how the smooth ivories felt under his fingers, follow the rhythm and weave of the music. His eyelids drooped despite himself; he was drowsy enough to desire sleep, but he didn't want this moment to end.

As he skimmed the surface of dreams, floating in and out of awareness, he felt himself getting lost in a memory. Another man lying on this couch, content after a feeding, as Alexander played for him. Fingers strumming a guitar, playing a sprightly tune as Lex looked on in appreciation. 

Nimble feet danced across the wooden floor. Lex was holding a young man with golden hair and smiling eyes. He laughed when Lex clumsily stepped on his foot.

"Really, Lex?" said the man with a smirk. "I thought a vampire might be better at this. How long have you had to practice?"

"I haven't exactly had many people to practice with, you know," said Lex.

"Good thing I'm here. What would you even do without me?"

"Not dance, that's for certain."

A deep kiss. A deep longing. Loss. Fear. Regret.

Lose -- don't want to lose --

Oliver stirred in his sleep, the beautiful dream turning to a nightmare.

"It's okay, Oliver," said his Master's deep voice. "I didn't mean for you to see that. Put it out of your mind."

He felt his contentment returning to him as his Master's arms picked him up once again, carrying him out of the room and up the stairs, placing him in his comfortable bed and pulling up warm blankets.

"Pleasant dreams, Oliver," said his Master.

"You... too..." said Oliver. He felt safe. He felt fulfilled. He curled up in the luxurious bed and began to drift.

Part 32 >> Masterlist >> Part 34

Thank you for reading this story of a delectable treat for vampires.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king

[arlemangel7]

Gambit x blackfem!Mutantreader x rogue

First meet: Love in the club

When he met you he had three thought southern loud and sexy. You were a bartender that knew her way around the bar and how to entertain large crowds from the door all he could hear was loud woos and "come down on the left", "what can I getcha boys?", "alright alright two beers and six shots haha, guess we have a big night tonight huh 😁". He was alittle star struck almost to the point of drooling and had it not been for rogue nudging him out of his trants he'd still be standing at door mouth agap watching you twirl and dazzle the room as you shake cocktails all from behind the bar.

Rogue thought you were a raging fire but knew what she wanted soon as she seen you. She sauntered up to the bar through the sea of men sat right now in the center and said "hey sugar how's about me and you take a shot of your choice when you get a minute,hm?". You standing in her perfect line of sight say "well I hope you can shoot something sweeter than you accent darlin?" Without missing a beat she replies with "tell ya what, I'll take as many shots as it takes to get you to come home with me?" You, muddling limes into the bottom of the tin say "well, lucky for you I don't have any plans tonight and I get off in an hour. Soooooo if you can down ten shots of my choosing without throwing up or keeling over I'll take you...and your friend there up on your offer. And?" You place the muddler down grab a bottle and turns around to face her with the bottle still out of view "I'll tell you the name of your poison just cause im so nice." She place the bottle on the counter between yall "100 proof jack, so, do ya really wanna take me home?"

Five minutes later

Yall are down to the last shots of whiskey. Rogue takes her ninth shot and then you follow both your tummies are churning proof that both of you have CLEARLY over estimated the integrity of your stomachs, gambit is in the middle of yall already guessing the outcome if this battle is finished as intended "Listen ladies, I'd suggest we fold this round." both you and rogue say in unison "hush it Cajun!" Realizing yall both made a jinx burst into laughter before you say "you sure you wanna finish this?" She doesn't say anything accept "to our night together." She raises her shot glass up awaiting for you to do the same you chuckle raising your shot glass and doing your best to maintain eye contact through fuzzy vision "night ha *hiccup* try life" *clink* yall slam the glasses on counter and down them hearing the crowd roar in drunken cheers was the last thing you heard before blacking out.

The next morning.

You wake up to bright Sunrays shining through the window next to your bed..... only you don't have a window next your bed. It takes a few seconds to feel an arm squeeze around your tummy and a "mmm" in a slightly familiar voice. You softly and slowly turn to get a glimpse of your bed mates face when you realize you are naked, this makes you spring to a Sitting position trying desperately to remember what happened. "Well good morning cher, helluva night you had huh?" Surprised by the southern male voice coming from the fuzzy figure coming from the doorway. Squinting to get a better view of this person he says "your specks are on the night stand on ya right" you smile silently in thanks and retrieve your second eyes. After a few seconds your pink irises start to focus and you see the man from the bar "names remi but you may know me as 'cajun' I believed you called me last night" you nod "y/n". "Awh, a beautiful name for a beautiful lady. Your bedmate is.." "rogue?" You cut him off, you remember her saying that was her name on the way out of the bar.

"The very same, may I?" He gesters to the spot on the end of the bed trying to be careful with his movement not to frighten you you nod and he sits down before you ask "we didn't do..???" "No cher nothing like that, you two kissed alittle on the couch got naked because it was two hot in here wondered through the house to this very bedroom and watched TV until you both passed out on top of the covers. From there all I did was place a blanket atop both of you, remove your glasses shut the door and went to go sleep on the couch." Seeing the slight skepticism written on your face he says " listen i understand how it sounds but scouts honor im not made that way and There are security cameras in the living room and the hall if you wanna check for ya self."

For your own sanity you decide to take him up on his offer and Lou and behold he is telling the truth you both stumbled in the house threw your keys on the table near the door splayed on the couch where rogue atop of you where a make out session followed as yall are preoccupied with each other remi is seen in the back chuckles shaking his head taking his coat off, locking the door and going down the hall to the room where we ended up. Going back to the living room camera yall break from. The kiss turn on the TV say something in audible to each other and proceed to ditch clothes left right and center until nothing but skin remains yall cuddle on the couch for a sec before saying another sentence to rogue and her reply makes you rise from your position of your head on her belly to walk/stumble through the hall opening doors left and right until you found the bathroom following your departure rogue meets you in the hallway and guides you to the bed room as you both enter remi leaves shutting the door behind him and going to lay down on the couch.

"See a perfect gentlemen." He says in a matter of fact tone "alright I, ahhhh" you say feeling a sharp pang ring through your head "so you want Tylenol, ibuprofen or advil?, and what would you like for breakfast I got waffles eggs and sausage." (Insert medicine and breakfast of choice here) "That'd be great, thank you" he gives you one of his shirts to put on before breakfast is ready and points you to the hall closet with all the spare rag,towels, toothbrushes and etc are he tells you food will be ready in a second and to take all the time you need. Between that time rogue wakes up and is in the dining room where the food and remi are.

After this your relationship would start off and the rest would be history.

As always stories mine characters belong to who they belong to

Let me know your thoughts and ideas

Signing off for now sleep well yall💋💋

[wizzdot]

Sunshine

Chapter 2

Description: Ray finds out a little more about the 141’s current situation. You meet Johnny, and see Gaz in the infirmary..

What the fuck were you thinking following the Lieutenant that you barely even knew. You’d crossed paths with him, what, twice? And not even spoken a word to him either time. Christ, Y/n you really are a stupid bitch..

You stomp along behind Ghost for maybe 5 minutes before he rounds a corner and nods at a black, clearly military, jeep.

“Get in, we’re goin’ back to base”

You scowl at his commanding tone, and climb in the passenger seat, dumping your bags in the footwell between your legs and slumping in the seat, sticking to the chairs thanks to the absolutely soaking that the rain had given you.

The Lieutenant starts the engine and bounces it roughly off of the curb he had parked poorly on.

“Jeez Louise, LT.. you’ll give the lassie a concussion if you drive like ‘aht”

The tin of soup is held aloft ready to smash the stranger in the head until the Lieutenant’s huge paw smacks it from your hand.

“He’s friendly, drop your weapon, Ray” he jokes.

“Who the fuck are you and why are you hiding in the back of the car..?” You growl at the Scottish man, you already knew was ‘Soap’, a member of the 141. He didn’t need to know that you knew who he was though, and you could tell it hit him in the ego a bit when you pretended not to recognise him.

He recovers quickly though, you’ll give him that. He smiles brightly “name’s Johnny, or Soap, and I wisnae hiding. LT said you’d be more likely you come if we didn’t go in mob handed, so I stayed behind..”

“I can still open the door and roll myself into traffic.. don’t fuckin’ test me. I’m coming back to check Gaz, then I’m out. I’ve not agreed to anything or signed anything..” you threaten in a deadpan tone.

Soap gulps and his smile fades slightly. “LT, Cap said she was…. awkt, how’d he put it? Aye thats right.. a ray of sunshine.. you sure you got the right one..?”

“I’m sure Johnny. Now shut up. Don’t need her rolling herself into traffic…” the Lieutenant replies to the chatty Scot. You catch his reflection in the wing mirror and can tell that it physically pains the man to actually shut the fuck up. His eyes are dart in from object to object, his mouth dropping open only for his brain to kick in and remind himself to keep quiet.

The rest of the drive is silent. Perfect.

The truck pulls into base, and you aren’t even taken through security which you thought was strange. The Lieutenant lurches to a halt and cranks the handbrake on, climbing from the vehicle. You follow suit, donning your two rucksacks and your ratty plastic bag filled with your shitty groceries and wine.

“Here lass, I’ll get that for you..”

“Touch me, or anything that belongs to me, and you’ll lose your hand, Soap.”

He retracts his hand as if you’d given him an electric shock. The Lieutenant huffs a laugh.

“This way” the Lieutenant grunts. You follow, with soap trailing behind, kicking stones glumly.

You’re led to an office.

‘Captain J.Price’

‘TF-1-4-1’

Here we fuckin’ go you roll your eyes. The door is opened and you step through the threshold.

“Welcome back, Soldier” the Captain speaks, standing to shake your hand. You ignore him and turn away.

“Not coming back, and not a soldier. Just want to check Gaz ain’t dying” you reply stubbornly.

“He’s sitting up and chatting today. Took a fall from a chopper, poor lad. He cheered right up when I told him you were joining the team” - “seems cruel to give him false hope, does it not, Captain?”

“What did my Lieutenant tell you..?”

“Whoa whoa whoa. I’d like to start off by saying, firstly, I don’t appreciate being tracked down. I also don’t appreciate sending your fuckin’ guard dog to break into my flat and come and fetch me, I also don’t appreciate that fact that you’re just assuming I’ll fall back into the obedient soldier role. I’m not even your soldier, never was, Sir” you smile tauntingly.

“Now, you will take me to Gaz, I’ll have a quick chat with him, and I’ll be on my way - I’m not signing up for this shit again..”

You stare down the Captain who remains silent before the Lieutenant speaks up.

“This shit? What, like it’s worse than what you’ve been doing for the past coupla’ years? Your shitty, mouldy flat, getting groped by drunks at the Rose and Thorn, the tackiest pub in the East? Really? Like you’ve got anything whatsoever that’s better than this..” he huffs laughing.

You clench your jaw and try not to snap. Physically or emotionally. He was right. You’d been horrifically depressed for years. Considered ending it all a few times but you were too much of a coward for that.

“I’ll find the infirmary myself, and then see myself out..” you slam the door behind yourself and leave the three men behind.

Thankfully, you find signs for the infirmary and follow them, finding the correct place. The lady behind the front desk glares daggers at you. “Visitor for Kyle Garrick” you say monotonously.

“Room 3, you have ten minutes, he’s already had visiting time for the day” she whips sourly at you.

“Yeah, whatever” you spit back, storming to the correct door.

Kyle practically jumps out of his skin as you crash through the door. “Jeez, Ray.. you scared me half to death” he jokes, laughing.

“You don’t look as bad as I was expecting. They made it sound like you were on deaths door..” - “what? Nah, mate. Just some internal bruising and a chipped bone in my hand..”

“So I didn’t need to visit then?” You remark bluntly. Kyle’s smile drops slightly. “Well, it’s nice to see you.. I mean.. you left.. suddenly?” he tries.

“Yeah, and now your team are trying to get me to come back, using you as leverage. Know anything about that..?” you accuse.

Kyle looks guilty as sin.

He gulps before starting to attempt to explain.

“Well.. Cap’s been trying to get you since I joined. Laswell only gave him clearance to take on one rookie. He noticed your file remember..? And when I mentioned about my wallet.. and then I got hurt.. the plan sort of fell into place. We’d track you down and try and make an offer… we really need someone like you on our team, Ray..”

“Yeah, the wallet was a sneaky fuckin trick, Garrick. Not gonna forgive you for that one. And now that I’ve seen you’re not on death’s door…” you speak as you walk back towards the door.

“Y/n!”

No one calls me by my real name..

“Wait.. please..”

You don’t want to. You want to leave this god forsaken place and not look back. But I hesitate. And that hesitation changes everything..