#he put on his nicest apron for this

[eurydia]

fake romance scenes (6/?) - morning after - Raphael edition 🔥 based on this: (x)

[milkteahood]

unmasked

Thomas Hewitt x fem!reader

Warning: smut! minors dni!!!

Summary: more smut. But with a plot. This wasn't supposed to be a smut, but of course it is. Because that's just how I am as a person.

Living with the Hewitt family wasn’t always easy, but it sure had its nice parts, and the nicest part was Thomas. Oh yes, the reason you were still alive today was simply being a decent person to Thomas. Which slowly progressed to more, finding yourself in this limbo of having a huge crush on him, while he was still keeping you at arm’s length.

It was very strange to fall in love with a man whose face you never saw. Yet here you were, catching yourself staring at him again. Even though he warmed up to you, Thomas was still caught off guard whenever he saw you staring, so you tried to do your best to avoid him seeing you. That of course didn’t always work and today was one of those days.

A couple of seconds passed before you realized he was looking back at you.

“O-oh! Sorry” you said, smiling at him.

He’s been around you long enough to know you weren’t being malicious, but he still didn’t know what to make of it, so he just nodded and turned back to what he was doing.

You mentally cursed yourself for making him feel awkward, not that you could’ve helped it. Your heart ached whenever he walked into the room, yet the fear of being rejected was enough to put you back in place.

I can’t just keep living like this you thought to yourself once you resumed to cleaning the potatoes Luda Mae told you to.

Be thankful you’re even alive.

***

At supper you tried your best to keep your eyes off of Thomas, only making small conversation here and there. He would listen, and nod, occasionally tilting his head to the side. Each time, making your heart skip a beat and your cheeks turn red. You blamed it on the weather and the soup.

After supper, you helped Luda Mae with cleaning the table.

“You know sweetheart, my Tommy might be naive, but I am not” she said.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to play dumb.

“Oh hush girl. I can see how red you get when you look at my Tommy. And I can tell he feels a certain way about you too”

You were so thankful she was old, because otherwise it would’ve been impossible not to hear your heart beat out of your chest.

“Just don’t break his heart”

“No. Never!” you protested before you realized what you just admitted to.

Luda Mae just smiled at you “you’re a very sweet girl. Go on now. I will finish here”.

And with that, you were rushing out to see what Thomas was up to.

You found him sitting on the staircase in front of the house.

“Hey Thomas!” you said, sitting down next to him.

He nodded to you, eyes softening at your sight.

“Did you have a good day?” you asked, earning yourself another nod. Thomas didn’t talk, but you did not mind. You’ve been around long enough to understand him.

“I can tell he feels a certain way about you too”. Luda Mae’s words echoed in your head, making you blush. Thomas tilted his head and pointed at your now very flushed cheek.

“I’m ok!” you tried to keep your cool “it’s just really hot still outside” you continued smiling. He seemed to take that.

“And since it’s so hot… say Thomas. Would you want to go hang out by the pond? I’m done with my chores”.

He just smiled at you from behind his mask and nodded his head.

***

“Oh come on Tommy! The water is amazing” you said, dress all wet because you didn’t care to take anything off.

Thomas tried to avoid your gaze, simply because his mama raised him better, and your dress became pretty see-through.

“Tommy? Are you alright?” you started to approach him.

Thomas lifted his hand, pointing at your dress. It took you a little to realize what he was trying to say, but once you looked down, a blush crept on your face. “Oh goodness”.

After he sighed, he took off his apron and handed it to you. You were swimming in it, and it was enough to cover yourself.

You knew Thomas wasn’t going to swim, he always preferred to hang out at the shore.

“It’s fine now Thomas” you chucked when he finally turned to face you. Both of you lay down on the grass, with you turning towards him. He was looking up at the sky, not seeming to notice you were looking at him.

“This is nice”

He glanced at you and grunted. This one meant yes.

“Isn’t it hard to always wear that mask Tommy? It’s so hot today”

He didn’t answer. But you could see him clenching his fists.

“I-I mean”

He turned his head to you, frowning.

“Sorry” you said and turned on your back. He turned away from you too.

“I just” just shut up. Don’t say it. Just don’t.

You looked at him. He was looking away.

With a sigh you decided that now was the moment.

“Whatever’s underneath that mask… it won’t change how I feel about you” you almost whispered the last part, but it was enough for him to hear.

Thomas turned his head towards you, eyes widen, looking confused and a little scared.

You just smiled and placed your hand over his. He tensed, but not for long.

“Even mama noticed” you said with a chuckle.

He looked at you for a while, and you were staring to get worried that you said something wrong, until he stood up, just enough to undo his leather mask. Yet he didn’t take it off, and he was no longer looking at you.

“Tommy?”

He didn’t respond, and while he was holding his mask up with one hand and his other was clenched in a fist, you were worried you might’ve upset him by pushing him into this.

“Thomas. It’s alright” you said, taking his hand in both yours “you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to”.

When his eyes finally met yours, you could clearly see the pain in them, and something else. You could see a little bit of hope.

He sighed and finally let go of his mask. He was looking down, completely avoiding your gaze. You could swear his eyes almost popped out of his head when you cupped his face, got on his lap, smiled and called him handsome. His whole body tensed up at your words, almost not wanting to believe you.

“You’re so beautiful Thomas Hewitt” you repeated yourself, this time with an even bigger smile.

Meanwhile, Thomas was completely frozen. Were you making fun of him? But you looked so genuine. How could you be? Did it really matter? No. Not when your touch was so soft and you were smiling at him like that.

He finally snapped out of his trance when you kissed him.

He didn’t know what to do, but it didn’t take long for him to start kissing you back. It was inexperienced and needy and full of buildup emotions on both sides. His hands shyly rested on your waist, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, hands tugging at his hair as the kiss got more and more intense.

He started feeling your back up and down, while you pressed against him harder, earning yourself a moan when you brushed yourself against the bulge in his pants.

Both of you pulled away and just looked at the other for a while. Then, with a confidence you didn’t think you’d see with him, he pulled you into another kiss, holding the back of your head.

He worked on your clothes while you worked on his, neither wanting to break the kiss more than you needed to.

He then flipped you over and once he was on top, he stopped again, just looking and admiring you. Your hands exploded his chest while you kissed his neck, turning him into a moaning mess. He was intoxicated by your every touch.

Feeling his erection against your inner thigh made you moan.

“You can do whatever you want to me Tommy” you said while wrapping your arms around his neck.

He just whimpered, nuzzling your neck.

“It’s alright Thomas, I want you” you said gently stroking his hair.

He nodded against your neck before kissing you again.

You helped him adjust himself and before you knew it, he was sliding inside, both of you moaning into the other’s mouth.

The pace started slow, Thomas was holding your waist with one hand and using the other to support himself.

“Oh fuck… just like that” you moaned, nails digging into his back now.

The more you moaned, the more he slammed harder and faster into you. His face was buried in your hair, taking in your scent which was slowly driving him off the edge.

He was hitting all the right places, slamming into you so hard you knew you would have trouble walking afterward.

You knew he was getting closer because his pace became more and more erratic.

“Oh fuck Tommy, cum with me, please please cum with me”.

That was enough to drive him over the edge and with a few more deep thrusts he came, making your eyes roll back while you chased your own high.

Both of you stayed like that for a while, neither wanting to move. Thomas made sure not to let his entire weight over you, while you ran your fingers through his hair and planted kisses on his forehead.

“I love you Tommy”.

His eyes widened, and he looked like he just saw a ghost. The sight was endearing and it caused you to chuckle.

“I really do” you continued.

His lower lip twitched, and he immediately squeezed you close to him, making you smile even more. You knew he felt the same. There was no need for him to say anything.

***

The sky was full of stars as you made your way back to the house. Slowly, making sure not to disturb anyone, you made your way towards Tommy’s room. You gave him another kiss in the doorway before waking in, and finally getting to sleep in the arms of your now lover.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

the albatross - m. murdock

a/n: hi everyone! so this is that weird and off putting reader i was mentioning earlier! she's not that weird but she's sort of odd so yeah. also i know bucky is the winter soldier but idk how else to tag this so oh well! i do have lore and stuff for readers time as a soldier so i'll include that in later installments! i was kind of in a writers block and this pushed me out of that. so enjoy! please please tell me what you thought and if you want more! warnings: cursing, mentions of death, war, torture, pain, people being dead, reader having horrible people skills and ptsd, mentions of sex maybe? uhmmm in general reader is just sort of strange and this is her and matt's early relationship, so sorry if i missed anything ! word count: 3.6k summary: you have spent the past ninety (give or take) years tortured and in pain. then, a handsome stranger comes into your life and changes everything. pairing: matt murdock x winter soldier!fem!reader now playing: the albatross - taylor swift "i'm the albatross/i swept in at the rescue/the devil that you know/looks now more like an angel/i'm the life you chose/and all this terrible danger"

You’re working a morning shift at the bakery when he comes in. The pastries in the case are laid out just so, and you have been meticulously working on this sign for your fall specials. You are determined to focus on something that is not how poorly you slept, your hair tied up in a braid behind you as you work.

You’re determined to get these pumpkin stems drawn correctly; a green marker clenched in your hand. Your knuckles are white with the tension you are holding in your fingers. It’s around eight in the god damn morning, and you have been awake since around three a.m.

You don’t even hear the bell ring, nor do you hear the click-clacking of a cane on the tiled floors, you only hear an awkward clearing of the throat, to which you spin around, about to throw the marker at the customer, but stopping when you realize what you’re doing.

The customer smiles awkwardly at you, and you recognize instantly that between his glasses and cane, he is most definitely blind. You almost feel silly, until you remember everything, and you wish that there was more moments where you think you’re silly for being paranoid.

And there’s something else, too. You look at this man for a few moments, before realizing that he is so god damn hot. Which, is weird, because you have not felt anything for any man or woman in years, too busy focusing on other things, too busy thinking about everything that’s happened. But god, the stubble tracing his face, the way his dark hair falls, and the way his hand wraps around his cane..

But what gets you really is his lips. Maybe you’re staring, maybe you don’t care. But his lips are this pretty pink, and you find yourself getting lost in the nicest daydream you’ve had in a very long time..

And then, you snap out of that fantasy to remind yourself that you are working and don’t even know his name.

“Hi, sorry,” You cough awkwardly, “Was just focused,” You tell him, approaching the counter. You wipe your sweaty hands on your apron, before putting on your best ‘I’m a friendly bakery worker who just wants to sell you pastries, also tip me please!’ smile on. “What can I get you?” You ask.

“Do you guys have apple turnovers?” It is the first time this fall that is under 65 degrees, so you understand that there is some cravings for autumn snacks.

“Yeah, yeah,” You move towards the case to get some, “Just the one?”

“Three, actually. For the office.” He hums.

“Some big office,” Your voice is a sarcastic mumble, not really for the an to hear but he chuckles at it, and you almost think it’s weird that he an hear you but your brain tells you not to judge, since there is a whole lot the handsome stranger could judge you for.

“We’re a small business. Very friendly, very personable.”

You cannot help yourself, and you find yourself asking, “What sort of business are you in?” What the handsome stranger does not know is that you are insatiably angry at yourself for asking that because you had pretty much promised yourself that you were never going to have any sort of relationship—it wouldn’t be fair to them, it wouldn’t be fair to you. And as previously established, that wasn’t a problem, because you weren’t really attracted to anyone before this handsome stranger waltzed on into the bakery.

“I’m a lawyer.” He smiles. A lawyer.

“Well, Mr. Lawyer, your total is 10.75.” He pulls out a twenty and when you hand him change, he asks, “Which one is the five?” and you wordlessly pull out the five from the stack you handed him, before he puts the rest of the change in his wallet, dropping a five and a small card into your tip jar. “You have a good day now.” He hums, before making his way out of the bakery.

You watch intently, maybe a little too intently, and you hear the voice of your best friend from your teenage years in your head saying, ‘You hate to see him go, but you love to watch him leave.’ And a small smile finds its way to your face.

Then, you notice the card he dropped in the jar before fishing it out. On the front, it reads,

‘Matthew M. Murdock, Attorney at Law.’ On the back, you read,

‘Nelson, Murdock & Page, Attorneys at Law,

Hell’s Kitchen’

Accompanied by this is a phone number and an address.

You pocket the card, and before you know it, costumers are flooding in, and you ease into the day, forgetting about the handsome stranger until you leave the bakery at around six o’clock that night. You finish cleaning up from the day before letting the woman who works to prep for the next day. Then you leave, heading home to the too quiet, too small apartment.

You don’t have much in your apartment. You sleep with a gun under your pillow and you have a cheap TV on your dresser. You spend most of your time catching up on books or movies. You make yourself box mac and cheese before eating it right out of the pot, sitting on your kitchen floor.

As you cook the mac and cheese, you say his name over and over again, letting it sit on your tongue and escape your lips, thinking about him intently. You glance at your watch and decide that maybe it’s early enough that he might still be at his office.

You fish your tiny flip phone out of your pocket, dialing the number on the card and waiting. You’re holding your breath as the phone rings. A thought runs through your brain that maybe he gave you a wrong number and then your brain immediately reminds you that no man is ever going to give you his card, printed out, just to fuck with you.

“Nelson, Murdock & Page, how can I help you?” A voice asks, and you blink, hesitating for a minute.

“Uh, I’m looking for Matthew.” You say, and there’s some light shuffling, and again, this regret shoots over you until you hear a very smooth, very familiar voice,

“Hey,” His voice is like honey and you long to hear it clearer—The first time you’ve desired a better phone. “I was hoping you’d call.”

“Yeah, well, Maybe I just like the sound of your voice.”

“You know usually, that’s my line.”

“Wait, that works on people?” You hear his laugh on the other side of the phone and a shiver runs down your spine as you itch to make him laugh more.

“Telling people they’re beautiful doesn’t hit the same when you’re blind.”

“I guess not..” There’s a silence on his end of the phone, before he says,

“I never got your name.” For a moment, you consider giving him a fake name, but you find yourself giving him your name, the one that your parents gave you all those years ago. It’s foreign on your lips, a rare gem that you do not often give out. He repeats it and you swear you could almost die right then and there. “What are you doing tonight?” 

You’re taken back by his forwardness, not anticipating that maybe this handsome stranger, Matthew, wants to be around you just as bad as you want to be around him. And then you look around at your dingy apartment, with your boxy TV, the gun under your pillow, and you, sitting on the floor of your kitchen, having just finished eating box mac and cheese with a wooden spoon that just for a second tastes like the one your mother used to cook with, the one you’d get tastes of sauces, soups, anything you could get your hands on.

And then you remember everything that happened after those days sneaking tastes of your mom’s cooking and you feel guilty for pursuing handsome Matthew, because he has no idea what he is getting into.

“Just finished dinner. Was planning on just relaxing.” Reading until around midnight and then getting an hour or two of sleep.

“Well, how about we go do something?” You detect a bit of hopefulness in his voice. You find yourself asking before you can stop yourself,

“Like, like a date?” And he laughs again.

“Yes, like a date.”

“I don’t know,” You start, “Usually I have to ask my father’s permission before I go out on the town with a boy.” You want to slap your hand over your mouth because you sound your age. Oh god.

“Really?”

“..No.” You hope he finds your weird, totally not a cover up, joke funny. And he laughs again, telling you,

“You’re funny.”

Yeah, really fucking hilarious.

“So, a date?”

“A date.” You consider this for a moment. A date might lead somewhere real. Somewhere dangerous. Somewhere you haven’t been in.. years. Years might be an understatement. Your heart thuds against your chest, and you find yourself full of that nostalgic thing you call desire.

“What would we do?”

“Anything you want.” He tells you.

“Anything? That’s dangerous.” Because this whole thing is dangerous, you want to tell him, maybe you should mention the whole age thing, the whole assassin thing, the whole brainwashing thing, the whole thing.

“Yeah? What dangerous things do you have in mind, doll?” You have to hold the phone away from your ear to breathe, because it feels like someone just took the winds out of your sails. Suddenly it is 1940 something and a boy is flirting with you, and you have to act like a lady in hopes that he will treat you right.

Odd thing to think about today, but you’re an odd person.

“What about ice cream and a bookstore?” You ask, and for a moment you want to hit yourself for not suggesting something cool like a club or something and then you realize that you have no idea what counts as a cool date in this day and age.

Did you know when you were a teenager and had the world at your fingertips, eighty (give or take) years ago?

But to your surprise, handsome Matthew just responds,

“That sounds nice. Do you want me to pick you up at your apartment?”

The idea of handsome Matthew being at your tiny apartment that is not suitable for a date makes your heart race.

“I’ll meet you at the ice cream place in an hour. You know the one near the bakery?”

“Yeah. See you then.”

“Yeah. See you.” And when you hang up, you realize just what has happened. For the first time since 1944, You have landed yourself a date with a handsome man that is genuinely interested in you and in your infinite wisdom decided that ice cream and books were the best way to impress him.. Books.. Blind man.

You lightly bang your head against the counter behind you, muttering to yourself how stupid that was. But you an only dwell on it for a moment before you are standing up and making your way over to your room to get ready.

You’re still in your work uniform. And you look like an idiot. So, you clean yourself up and pull on something presentable, something comfortable. There is no confusion as to the nature of this meet up, you two are going on a date and you asked a blind man to go to a bookstore. You feel like an asshole. And you’re aware that you’re putting emphasis on that, but still!

You go through outfits and outfits, trying to figure out what an appropriate outfit is for this first date. You end up in something casual, and you hope you’re not underdressed. Honestly, you know you’re making a fuss over something as standard as a date, but you are genuinely desperate to have this go well.

You finally decide on an outfit and make your way out the door, grabbing your jacket and stepping out of the apartment. You stop outside of your door before turning around and going back into your room to change your top.

But eventually, you do get to the ice cream place Matt and you had discussed on the phone. And there he is, in all his glory, wearing the same outfit he wore when you saw him in the bakery that morning, only, without his tie, and he looks more disheveled. Somehow it’s more charming to see him like this, more exhilarating to imagine a life with such a low stakes man (You’ll look back on this thought later and laugh)

“Hi,” You greet, and Matt smiles in your direction.

“Hi.” He hums, and again, you feel nervous! So, before he can say much else, you blurt out,

“So, This is my first date in a while.. So. Sorry about that.” You say awkwardly.

“A while?” He asks, tilting his head like a curious dog. You’re struck by the fact that he is around 70 years younger than you. “Like, a few months?”

A beat.

Handsome Matthew is much busier than you are, it seems.

“More like a couple of years.” And by ‘a couple’ you mean eighty some odd years, but Matt doesn’t need to know all of that right now. But he just hums and nods, before answering,

“That’s alright, I’ll be gentle.” Your face flushes, and with a nervous laugh, you ask,

“You mean we’ll take it slow?”

“Sure. Whatever. We’ll figure out the details of it all later.” His hand finds yours, and before you can protest he pulls you into the ice cream shop. Handsome Matthew orders chocolate chip cookie dough because he is perfect in every way, and you order..

“Butter pecan, please.” You get odd glances from Matthew and the seventeen year old minimum wage worker behind the counter, but neither of them say anything. You manage to beat Matthew to paying for the ice cream, and as you walk, he asks,

“Butter pecan? Really?” And you roll your eyes. Young people today, always judging.

“You’re lucky they didn’t have butterscotch, that’s my real favorite.” You respond, before taking a lick of the ice cream. Your handsome date, gives you another bizarre look.

“Okay, what’s your third favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Mm..” You take a few minutes to think about it, before deciding on your answer. “A tie between pistachio and coffee.” And at your answer, Matt laughs at you. You let out an offended gasp, although you’re not being serious, before asking, “what’s so horrible about that?”

“You have the ice cream preferences of an eighty year old,” He laughs and you laugh too, because oh, if only he knew.

“Sorry, my pallet is straight from the 40’s.” It’s a joke. That’s a joke. Not at all based in facts or actuality. You continue working through eating your ice cream and talking to your handsome date. “So, does the handsome lawyer have any family I should know about?”

“You think I’m handsome?” He grins, and your face flushes.

“Answer the question.”

“No siblings. My dad died when I was young and It’s only recently that I’ve been talking to my mother.” Interesting, you think, and then this dawning realization happens where you realize that the next thing out of his mouth will be the inevitable question, “How about your family?”

You consider lying but you decide against it. If this is going to lead anywhere good, you don’t want to base it off lies.

“Not much to say. I’m the sole survivor.” You shrug, keeping it vague. He frowns a bit before squeezing your hand.

“A couple of orphans, huh?”

You squeeze his back.

“Seems like it.”

You kind of aren’t over the death of your parents and your siblings and quite literally everyone you knew as a teenager and young adult—You’re not over so many fucking things that if you went through it all, you’d probably keep poor Handsome Matthew up all night.

But instead of talking about that, Matt finds himself walking with you to the bookstore. You hold the door open for him and begin to wander. You quickly move past the books on World War II, as if faced with an ex you want nothing to do with them.

You begin to look at the romance books, scrunching your nose at how cheesy and surface level so many of these young adult novels are. But then you remind yourself that you are a hundred years old. But you look like you’re in your late twenties, early thirties. As you’re looking at the books, Matthew makes his way to the aisle next to yours, and talks to you through the stacks.

“So, what’s your favorite book?”

“That’s like asking a mother her favorite child.” You answer quickly, and you hear him laugh. Your face flushes.

“Try for me.”

“Uh, I really love Great Gatsby. I’m kind of fascinated with the zombie genre, too, it’s sort of new and interesting, and uh, oh, I read this Neil Gaiman novel, uh, Stardust? I really liked that.” You confess. Matt listens as you fumble through novels, both of you making your way towards the end of the aisle.

“And movies?”

“Why is everything about me? I didn’t hear your favorite novel.”

“The Outsiders.” He responds, and you make a mental note to try and find it in the bookstore. “So, movies?”

You’ve had autonomy for around three years now, so.. Your movie knowledge has been kind of stunted, so you wrack your brain to try and come up with something impressive.

“I really like the Indiana Jones series, uh, oh, The Matrix, and..” You ponder your brain. “Oh! And King Kong!” You saw that one in the theatres for your thirteenth birthday.

“Like, the one that came out in 2017?” He asks, and again, you consider lying, because you actually have seen that one because when you looked up ‘King Kong’ it came out, and it really blew your mind how far CGI had come.

“No, the one that came out in ’33.” As if it is the most normal thing in the entire world.

“One of your favorite movies is one from 1933?” And the old woman in you wants to insist that you loved the decades you grew up in, and that seeing King Kong in the theatres was a marvelous thing because you could barely afford rent. And then you remember you shouldn’t reveal your history with the Great Depression to a man you’re on your first date with.

“Yup.” You assert, and ask, “You?”

“Star Wars, any of them, and the Princess Bride.” Again, you make a note to add it to your list.

“Interesting.” You hum, and you find The Outsiders, wanting to read it, to consume it, to consume him, and every thought he has. The two of you meet at the end of the aisle, too close to be platonic as his hands come to find your arms, and you shudder at the affection.

“Touch starved, huh?” He grins. You flush and roll your eyes.

“You’re so mean.” You huff, and he laughs. His hand moves up your arms and cups your jaw, enjoying the feeling of your warm cheeks.

“Well, you’re odd.”

“Odd?”

“Everything about you. Your movie tastes, your jokes, your ice cream flavors.” He hums, with a soft shrug. “It’s not a bad thing, I’m just.. Trying to figure you out.”

“You’d be the first to accomplish such a feat.”

He laughs at that, and he’s so beautiful.. That you cannot help yourself when you lean up and gently press a soft kiss to those beautiful pretty pink lips that had caught your attention that morning. He kisses you back, without hesitation.

You feel at peace for the first time in years, as if everything you had gone through, every moment of torture and pain, has been worth it because it leads you to this. To Handsome Matthew, who kisses you so tenderly that no matter how simple it is, you are left breathless and desperate for more. You lean into him, deepening the kiss, pushing him back a bit, his back pressed against the stacks. The book in your hands is crumpled, and eventually, Matthew pulls away, before pushing you back a bit.

“Easy,” He says breathlessly, and you need the reminder, because you try to catch your breath. Holy shit. “Easy, easy..” he repeats, his hands rubbing up and down your arms a bit. “I’ve got you, just breath.” He laughs, and you lean your forehead against your shoulder. Fuck.

“When can I see you again?” Is your only thought, and he chuckles gently.

“Whenever you want.” He promises, and you nod, before leaning up to kiss him again.

One day you’ll tell him everything. You’ll tell him all of the horrible things you’ve done and have had done to you, and you’ll tell him why the nightmares came, and why they won’t ever go away. One day, you’ll tell handsome Matthew why you sleep with a gun under your pillow and why you have no family and why you are so odd.

For now, you decide that you deserve a few nice things.

And when he kisses back, you realize that maybe he is just as infatuated with you as you are with him. Maybe. Maybe he is full of secrets and his own horrors that plague him while he sleeps, and maybe that’s the unspoken reason you are so deeply fascinated with one another.

Maybe.

Maybe you’ve spent the past ninety years going from fight to fight, to nightmare to nightmare. Maybe you’re owed some time in the sun with Handsome Matthew.

Maybe.

[arcanesea]

chocolate-covered love | lee felix x reader | 496 w. GENRE: established relationship, pure fluff WARNINGS: none !!

"What kind of chocolate should I get?" you speak to the phone. You're in the middle of buying all the ingredients to make brownies with Felix. He told you to wait until he got home, but you insisted to go first and reduce the preparation time.

"We can work with any kind of chocolate, babe. Just don't get the flavored one in case it'll taste weird," Felix answered. You're always so eager when he offers to cook you something and he finds it adorable. It's not like you can't cook, hell, you're a better cook than him, but dessert? That's his specialty and you humbly admit your defeat in that specific area.

You ended up getting a pack of dark chocolate (Felix said it works well to complement the coffee, making it richer in taste), a pack of sea salt chocolate for the same reason, and also a pack of rainbow choco chips.

You were just cooking the spaghetti when he walked inside your apartment. He called your name before locating you in the kitchen with your duck apron.

"Hi," you greeted him. Trying to focus on mincing the onion and keeping an eye out for the pasta. He walked over to you before placing his hands on your waist and urging a kiss on your cheek.

"How can I help, babe?" he asked before washing his hands in the sink.

"I'm all set, lix, thank you." You said as you put aside the cooked spaghetti.

"Okay," he said before getting to his things.

Every week, in this exact space, you and Felix have your own stuff to handle. It's never silence because the both of you do a little catching up on each other's lives while cooking for dinner. You enjoy cooking for him, and in the meantime, you also enjoy watching him cook for you. After all, you completed each other's full course menu.

"Oh, you get the sea salt chocolate," Felix announced. "This is the best one."

He chopped them up, before taking one and feeding it to you.

To your surprise, it already tastes so good by itself.

"Babe." Felix laughed at your expression. "It tastes good, right?" You agree. It's probably the best chocolate, and it's addicting.

By the time Felix's brownies get into the oven, you are already plating out the spaghetti.

"Perfect timing," Felix said, helping you to tidy up the kitchen a bit before walking to the dining table.

Both of you eat slowly, exchanging words here and there, and suddenly you're left with empty plates.

"I love you," you said suddenly, seconds before the timer went off. Felix stood up with his sweetest smile, cupping your face and planting a kiss. You smile at the kiss, feeling unbelievably cheesy.

"I love you more," Felix said, pecking you once again before walking to take the brownies out.

Love, you think. Though it's not always tooth-achingly sweet, it gives you the nicest treat, making life a little more bearable.

a/n. you don't know how much i love sea-salt chocolate bar like that shit is the best out there also idk what is this i just need the sweet

[berry-club]

- Hot & cold -

Minors dni

Contains: afab reader x wonbin, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, 1.5k words

You've found a job as a barista in a coffee shop inside a prestigious hotel. It was a renowned hotel so of course working here wouldn't be easy but the pay made up for it. On your first day, you were so happy to see that you had a colleague your age, but you quickly realised he was gonna be your nightmare. Everytime you made a mistake he was basically telling you how dumb you were, and how you should just quit if you were just gonna mess up everything. He had the face of an angel, so it was no surprise clients loved him, especially women, and he knew that well. He always used his charm on the clients to make sure they buy more than they should, but despise that, Wonbin was very diligent about his work. Always working seriously, making every cup of coffee with the most care. After a week, you became much better at your job, but you still made some mistakes and you still had a lot to learn. This time, a client ordered an intricate latte art, one that you still struggled with, but you decided to do your best anyway. You prepare everything and before you start pouring the cream, the client speaks to you.

"You're really pretty you know, which time do you get off work?"

"Sorry it's against the hotel policy to keep contacts with customers."

That was obviously a lie but you needed to be the nicest possible to the clients.

"They don't need to know honey."

Obviously the middle aged man wouldn't get a clue. You try to think of something to say while you stare at the cup of coffe that you desperately want to throw at him, when you hear a set of footsteps behind you. Wonbin gently pushes you to the side and smiles at the client.

"Excuse me mister, I heard your order and I must say, my colleague just started working here and can't do that order yet, let me do it for you."

The client agrees and Wonbin starts skillfully making the latte art. Sure you hated how he scolded you, but something about the way he made the coffe, in his white buttoned shirt and black apron was mesmerizing. Even the client was in awe, Wonbin puts the cup in front of the man while tilting his head showing you to get away from his sight while he's distracted. You go in the kitchen to wait for a bit, after some times Wonbin comes back to you.

"He left, now get back to work."

Of course, Wonbin was still the same as usual.

"Yes, thank you."

After some time passes, you ended up being really good at your job, Wonbin had no more reasons to yell at you, but somehow he always had something bad to tell you. Even with that terrible personality, you've often found yourself looking at him, sometimes even making awkward eye contacts. Most of the times when you looked at him, you saw him flirting with the clients in full prince charming mode. This time when he came back to the bar after flirting, you wanted to get back at him for all the hard time he puts you through.

"I wonder what those women would say if they knew you were a jerk." His eyesbrows frowned and he looked visibly pissed.

"If you have time talking it means you don't do your job correctly."

You let out a chuckle seeing him so annoyed by your comment, later the boss came to ask you two stay late to close the shop which you both agreed on. When everyone left you decided to eat in the kitchen before leaving, to your surprise, wonbin said he would cook.

"Are you gonna do a vendetta on me for calling you a jerk and poison my food?"

"Trust me if I wanted to kill you, you would already be dead."

"I don't know if that's a good thing or not."

He smirks as he takes all the ingredients and starts chopping some vegetables. You sit at the counter behind him and watch his back, his long hair was falling gracefully on his shoulders, his apron was hugging his waist, making his shoulders look even larger. The back of his apron was open making you see his perfect ass in his tight pants, it's a sight you couldn't get sick of even if you tried. You could probably watch him cook for hours, every one of his mouvements was perfect and full of convidence. You could definitely see why so many costumers were head over heels for him. While you're lost in thoughts, you hear the clink of his knife being put down and you see him turn around, closing the distance between you and leaning over you until his face is just a few centimeters away from yours.

"I can feel your gaze, why do you stare so much for?"

"N-nothing." Your voice came out way higher then you wanted it to be, but seeing his plump pink lips from so close was making your head spin, thinking about how good they must feel on yours.

"I wanted to keep you for dessert but, oh well."

Wonbin grabs your head, exposing your neck before kissing it.

"What are you doing!?"

"Come on, you've been looking at me everyday like I'm a piece of meat."

Ugh, busted, Wonbin grabs you with ease and puts your ass on the iron counter.

"Eeeek! it's cold."

"Trust me, you won't be cold for too long."

Wonbin puts his tongue in your mouth without  even a warning, things went so fast, your mind goes blank. His actions are so rough you don't have time to anticipate anything, but somehow you liked that. As he told you before, your body was already boiling hot and you already didn't felt the cold of the counter anymore. He rolls his tongue deep in your mouth, not even giving you time to breath. You feel his hands all over you, your breast, your waist, your thigh before you feel him lifting your skirt and sliding his hand in your panty,

"You're already soaked."

"Shut up" you try your best to sound mean, but your voice just sounds pleading.

You put your hands around his neck as he slides a finger in while putting his thumb on your clit. You always wondered if he was skillful in bed just as much as he was in the kitchen, and now you got your answer. The man you despised for yelling at you was making you fold under his touch like it was nothing. Wonbin looks at you as he slides a second finger in, you close your eyes and he starts going back and forth, when you suddenly feel a sharp pain in your neck.

"OUCH! Don't bite me!"

"It's your fault for looking so apetizing."

Maybe you would be more mad at him if he didn't look this good right now. The kitchen lights would make anyone look bad but somehow, he could still pull that off. He keeps moving his fingers in and out, sometimes bending them, making all sorts of sloppy noises while he watches your face blush, as you try so hard to hold back your voice. He looks at you like an hungry beast, the prince charming was long gone, but you liked this wonbin more anyway. He slows down the pace and you take this opportunity to put your hands on his back, untying the knot of his apron before unzipping his pants. He suddenly grabs your shoulders and turns you around, making you lie on your stomack before you could even take a look at his cock. In the blink of an eye you feel the cold air on your ass, realising your skirt was now resting on your ankles. His hands were grabbing your waist firmly, his hard dick was playfully running over your pussy and slapping your ass cheeks, he clearly knew how to make you eager for him.

"Do it already."

"I can't understand what you want if you don't tell me clearly."

You could hear his cocky smile in his voice.

"Put it in."

"Good enough."

His whole dick slides right in with ease like you were made for him. He thrusts inside you quickly making it now impossible to even think about holding back your voice. Your whole body slides back and forth over the counter. He grabs your arms and pulls them making you arch your back as he keeps thrusting deep inside you. Your vision gets blurry and your back pushes against his body, he drops your arms to cup your breast in his hands. He wished he could just rip out your shirt to touch them bare, but you would have trouble explaining to your boss what happened to your uniform. You weren't the type to be loud in bed, and yet wonbin has you screaming his name and beg for him. You grab the side of the counter as he keeps pounding hard making you gasp for air while he doesn't even break a sweat. His body presses harder against your back and you feel his dick throbbing against your clenching walls. You hear his groans until you feel his hot cum releasing in you, he moves his hips slowly but deeply before removing himself from you. You feel his cum seep out from your slit, while he casualy puts his clothes back on before he calmly says.

"I can focus on making dinner now."

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under the Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Domestic violence mentions, hints at child abuse, child abuse mentions violence, phantom pains

MINORS DNI: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Again, none of this is beta read. We die like the younglings Anakin snuffed in the Jedi Temple

Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @bad4amficideas

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Chapter 3:

The Victims

You sighed, checking the little egg timer in your apron pocket to see how long until the scones you were baking had left in the oven. Fifteen minutes. Ugh.

It had been a few days since Steven had come in and purchased his pillar of books. The two of you would make small talk, him thumbing through books and rambling about a subject on ancient Egypt that he knew. The moment you brought up your own obscure facts you have memorized from the things your father would read to you as a little girl, Steven’s eyes lit up and he got the biggest grin on his face, and launched himself headlong into info-dump mode. It was kinda cute, really, how excitable he got. You could tell the poor guy probably didn’t have many friends, aside from his brothers, whom he’d told you about, and a friend named Layla. You also found it endearing how his messy, bed-raggled curls would flop over his face, or how animated he’d seem when he would interrupt himself to bring up another fun fact…

But, it had been a day or two since he’d come in last. And to be honest, you kinda miss the guy. He was probably the nicest most engaging customer you had. He even admitted that he didn’t come in just for the books. He told you he liked your teas and treats, and he loved the comfortable atmosphere of your shop over a crowded cafe. But one day, he just had to ask:

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” He started, looking at the muffin in his hand.

“Hm?” You hummed as you stocked shelves.

“Are these… vegan?” He seemed hesitant to touch the muffine now, as if it were poisoned.

You giggle softly. “Yes, actually. I try to use recipes that everyone can enjoy. Vegan, gluten-free…”

“Oh! Wonderful!” He scarfed the muffin down rather quickly after that, his nose buried in the textbook on archaeology he had in his hands.

You set your phone down as you sipped your spiced tea. It was a rather cold and gloomy day today, not uncommon this late in the year, but still, it sucked. It reminded you of where you grew up in Maine, off the coast. Storms blew in all the time, you’d remember as a little girl getting up in the morning, wanting to run outside and play, just to be met with a dark and angry sky, blistering winds, and pelting rain.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Your poor little six-year-old heart was crushed one day when a particularly bad squall blew into town, and you were trapped within the confines of your house, arms crossed, feet firmly planted as you glared out the window, lip wobbling.

How dare the weather ruin your plans for the day? You were going to play in your treehouse! Now the stupid wind was gonna blow it away! And if it did, your father would have to build another one, and that would take forever!

“Hey, there, Lil’ Bit.” Your dad said, kneeling behind you, as you stubbornly looked out the window in a seething rage. So, so angry for a little girl. You inherited your temper from your mother, surely. Though you personally never saw her mad, of course. Ever. But then again, she worked so much…

Your mom was what your dad told you was a “breadwinner”, which was a term you found dumb. You mom never entered contests and she certainly never won bread as a prize. It was so dumb! Why did adults have to use such dumb words for things?

“Hey, kiddo.” Your dad sang, leaning forward from where he was crouched to put his chin on your tiny shoulder.

“No, daddy, ‘m angy.” You mumbled, trying to shrug him off as lightning flashed in the distance.

He chuckled, his voice warm, much like your favorite pair of fuzzy socks after they were just taken out of the dryer. “Come on, princess. It’ll pass. They always do.”

“But why did it have t’ do it today!” You whined, not budging.

“Dunno, kid. The sky just felt like dumping buckets, I guess.” He said, humoring you.

“Daddy...” You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Clouds don’t use buckets!”

“Sure they do!” He grinned, waggling his eyebrows at you. “You just never see em!”

“You’re silly.” You scoff.

“You’re silly!” Your dad laughed, scooping you up and spinning you around, finally getting a smile out of you as you shriek in laughter.

He tucked you against his chest and kissed you on your forehead. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you some sna–”

His eyes went wide and he gasped when you writhed, crying out and wincing like you’d just been struck.

“Babygirl, what’s wrong?” He asked, hurriedly sitting you on the couch as you curled in on yourself. He could see the welts start to peek out from beneath the sleeves of your little pink shirt.

It was happening again.

The pain in his heart gripped him like ice, knowing he couldn’t do anything to ease the pain his daughter was feeling. His poor, poor baby girl, whose soulmate was constantly being inflicted with whatever horrors they faced with.

He would curse it, sometimes. Your mark. Your bond. You were already enduring abuse that wasn’t directed at you. Or maybe it was in a way… Given that it was happening to your other half. Who you would one day meet. Maybe things will be better, when you had. Maybe.

But one thing was for sure, he hated whomever was inflicting those injuries on your soulmate more. Not only were they hurting your soulmate, they were hurting you. He’d imagined that you were close in age. If so, who the hell would abuse a child in such a way? The concept was completely foreign to him.

He rubbed your back, murmuring sweet and loving things to you.

He noticed something odd about your mark about a few years ago, right when the welts and bruises started to show and you would recoil in phantom pain... There was a new addition to your mark. At first it was one crescent moon. But then one became two, and two became three.

Right now, the bottom right moon was full.

He wasn’t sure what it meant… But he noticed your crying slow to soft little hiccups and sniffles as you sit up, rubbing your eyes.

He rested his forehead against yours. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart. I promise.”

“I jus’ wanna know why it hurts so much, daddy.” You sniffle.

“Trust me, I know. Me and your mom are similar. I remember when we were kids, before we met… She fell from a tree and broke her leg. Man, it hurt so bad…”

You looked up at him, your big beautiful eyes glistened with tears. Your mother’s eyes. Little gems of hers that you would always have.

“Really?” You peeped.

“Really.” He stood and walked over to the bookshelf above the living room fireplace, and plucked a book off of it. He turned back to you and sat next to you, pulling you into his lap and kissing the top of your head.

“This book came from your great auntie over in London. You remember her, yeah?” He hummed.

Your fingers grazed the cover, old and worn, obviously well-read and well-loved. It had a picture of a woman with wings and a pretty dress on it. You couldn’t read the other words on it just yet, you were still learning how to read the bigger ones.

“Want me to read you some of the stories in it?” He inquired.

“Uh-huh.” You nod.

Your father flipped the pages open, and hummed again, softer.

“Now, let’s start with the tale of Isis and the Seven Scorpions…”

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You jumped, almost dropping the egg timer you had in your hand when your shop’s door dinged and swung open. A frantic young woman rushed inside, her sunken and baggy eyes looking at you, wide with fright.

You skipped the usual welcome and regarded her with a confused expression.

“I… Can I help you–”

“Please, I just need to–to hide!” She said, rushing over to you and gripping your hand, pulling you behind her and further into the winding shelves that made up your bookstore.

“Hey, Hey.” You say, putting your hands on her shoulders. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“My–my boyfriend. He… He’s… I messed up and burned lunch and…” She looked to the side trying to check if he somehow didn’t materialize out of thin air over her shoulder when she wasn’t looking; and when she did… you saw them.

The already darkening bruises on her delicate throat.

Immediately you went into protector mode. You gently urge her towards the door leading to the stairwell that went up to your flat above.

“You hide up there, and call 999, okay?” You say to her. “You can stay here until the police arrive. If it makes you feel safer, there’s a deadbolt to the door up there. If your boyfriend comes in I’ll act like I didn’t see anything.”

You rush to the oven when you hear the timer go off, and pull out the scones (after slipping on your mitts), when the bell to your store dings.

You curse under your breath and say to the girl quietly. “Stay quiet, honey. I’ll be up when the police get here.”

You carefully slip the tasty treats onto a plastic tray and toss the pan into the sink with a clang; instantly regretting it when the young woman flinched and curled into herself, her arms instinctively reaching to cover her head.

You muttered and apology and balanced the pan on your hand as you hastily make your way down the stairs, to see whomever was incessantly dinging your “ring me!” button at the register.

When you finally break free of the labyrinthine bookshelves, you spot a rather large and angry looking man.

This had to be the boyfriend.

“Hello, one moment, please.” You say tersely, sliding the scones into the small display case showcasing the fresh treats of the day.

“Oi, you seen somebody come in here?” He demanded gruffly.

You take another visual sweep of his appearance. Rather big build, probably abuses the gym too much. He looks like he exclusively dines on protein shakes more than food… He could be trouble, if he got violent. The only upside is that you knew the layout of your little shop by heart, he didn’t. You really wished you had a gun under the counter, right about now.

You made a mental note to sign up for the courses and get the certificate from the police..

“Other than you, no, you’d be my first customer of the day.” You force the cheer into your tone as you bring a box of books and begin to half-assedly place them, hoping to look normal.

“Ain’t no fuckin’ customer.” He growled. “Don’ want no books.”

“Well, I also offer a variety of coffees, teas, and snacks–”

“I ain’t no fuckin’ customer!” He barked, getting in your face.

You could smell the alcohol on his breath. That explains the slurred speech.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask that you please back away, you’re a little too close…” You say, your hands up in a submissive gesture, hoping to appear as non-threatening as possible.

"Does it look like I giv' a fuck? Ya fuckin' muppet?" He hissed at you, his eyes dilated and glassy.

"Look, I don't want to cause trouble, but–"

He seized your arm and gripped it painfully tight, you could feel the crunch of your radiocarpal joint being squeezed under his rough and indelicate fingers. "Did ya hear me, ya fuckin' cunt? I'm lookin' for my girl, I know she came in here! Don't lie t' me!"

"Sir, people come into my store all the time, and it's not really my business why unless they buy a book or a muffin. Let me go!" You retort, trying to pry his fingers from around you with your free hand.

"Shut th' fuck up!" He snarled, pushing you back against the bookshelf so hard the back of your head cracked on one of the shelves. Great, another pain.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" An unmistakably American accent called from the door of your shop.

How had you missed the bell? How did you not notice the sound of the door opening?

The drunken man holding you turned, still gripping you. "Great, another fuckin' yank? Can't you fucks stick to ya own country?"

You felt your pulse quicken, and your eyes widened at the man who stood in the door; dark, honey-tinted eyes aflame with anger. But the man the eyes belonged to?

Dead ringer for Steven. But he carried himself entirely differently, he even had his hair styled back in a different way. He wore a white hoodie, faded blue jeans, and some steel-toe boots.

"None o' ya fuckin' busniess, you dick." The man sneered, looking back down at you.

"It is if you're hurting the lady." He said gruffly.

"Oi, you got a listening problem?"

The man turned again, but he was met with the knuckles of the American man who just came to your aid; straight to his jaw, knocking him back against a cart you had full of discount books, sending them to the floor with a clatter.

The man cracked his knuckles, before gently grabbing you by the shoulder and moving you behind him for cover.

At this distance you could just barely catch a whiff of sandalwood and some kind of spice. A hint of aftershave wafted into your senses in accompany.

"You fuckin' dick!" The man grunted, shaking his head in an attempt to reorient his brain.

"You need a better repertoire of insults, buddy. Or stop hitting the sauce." The other man sneered. "Probably both."

The drunk lunged at him, and this guy was one step ahead, intercepting him by grabbing his wrists.

The crunch of bone was enough to make you squeeze your eyes shut, and when you dared to peek again, the drunk was clutching at his now bleeding and broken nose. Your savior on the other hand?

Barely broke a sweat. He headbutted him with the hardest part of his head, crunching bone and cartilage.

"Stay down, asshole." He growled. You spun on your heels to look at the door when two clothed officers came in, hands on their pepper spray.

"Everybody just calm down!" One of them shouted.

Ugh. Now you had a headache…

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

By the time the officers, the battered girl, and her boyfriend all left, it was just you and your knight in shining hoodie. Who looked way too much like Steven.

You sat him down at one of the reading nooks and shakily wring your hands out to calm down. "Uh… Yeah, so…" You try.

"My name's Marc. Marc Spector." He said. "You, uh… met my brother, already. Steven."

You gasp. "The heathen!"

He choked out a startled laugh. "What?"

"Oh! Uhhhhhh…" You clear your throat awkwardly trying to change the subject. "You and Steven have different last names!"

Marc huffed through his nose. "It's uh… a long story."

"What, were you guys separated at birth or something? He speaks with a typical Londoner accent, you're full-blown American." You smile.

"Or something." Marc murmured, unable to meet your eyes.

"God, and Steven and I joked about my life being a setup for a book." You giggle softly. "You guys sound like you're straight out of a Dickens novel!"

Marc kind of squirmed in his seat. "Yeah…"

"So, uh… what brings you here today? From what Steven told me, you don't exactly pick up books all the time like he does." You say to him, tilting his head.

Marc wiped at his face with a groan, "Ugh. Don't get me started on Steven's books! He has too goddamn many–"

"Ah!" You say, flicking a stray curl. You weren't sure why your brain told you that was okay to do. It just felt right. The look he gave you afterwards sent your heart leaping into your throat.

Raw confusion, maybe some surprise?

"Uh… No talking like that is allowed in my store, there, pal…" You stammer out. "So… why are you here?"

"Steven said you had coffee. Didn't feel like dealing with a lot of people today." He kind of mumbled.

"Oh, I get that." You sighed softly in sympathy. Already, Marc struck you as the kinda guy who didn't like dealing with people unless he had to.

And honestly, you kinda felt for the guy. Something about him made your heart twinge in a funny little way.

"Tell you what, as a thanks for helping take care of that asshat, coffee is on the house, and I'll even give you a cup of my personal blend instead of the stuff on the menu."

"Uh, you don't have to–"

"Ah!" You say, wagging a finger at him as you walk away. "None of that in my store!"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You sat and talked for a while. Hours, really. Whereas Steven loved to babble about things he knew, and was rather energetic about it, Marc was… reserved. Shy, almost. He was content to let you lead the conversations, piping in here or there on a subject.

He told you some about his time in the Marines, and how something happened to him mentally that got him discharged early. He was vague about what he did after that, but he mentioned moving to London after he and his wife ran into problems.

At first you almost asked a rather impertinent question, "Why did you guys split up?" But decided that was far too rude of a thing to ask. Even if you wondered why he married outside of a soulmate bond. Even if a marriage like that wasn't entirely uncommon…

"I'm sorry." You say softly, sitting across from him, your coffee long finished, the mug cold. "You've been through… a lot..."

"Yeah, you can certainly say that." Marc sighed, turning his mug in his hands for probably the hundredth time.

"So… Thanks again. For y'know. Helping me." You smile.

"No problem, easy enough to deal with a drunk." He shrugged. "And he looked like he was about to hurt you, so I had to do... something."

"Well I'm glad you did that something." You chuckle.

Marc cleared his throat and smiled back, a soft thing on his face, really. But it was nice to see.

He moved to stand, "I should, ah… go. Thanks for the coffee." He reached out to hand you a few notes from his wallet, and you declined, gathering the mugs to go wash them.

"Nope, I already said it was on the house." You tell him.

"But–"

"No buts!" You called out as you vanished into the expanse of bookshelves.

When you came back, you noticed that, stacked neatly on the counter, was a bundle of notes, your egg timer sitting neatly atop it, with a post-it note simply saying:

"Tell me your life story next time. Thanks. -Marc."

Chapter 4: Link

[barbiecrocs]

Handle or Handled

Nanami Kento

tags! brief choking, piv, a mean Nanami, slutty reader, brief mention of masturbation, car sex, degradation (use of slut), orgasm denial, mention of food kink (kinda)

WC. 1651

Barbie's note... Yall, I was kinda lazy with this one, but that don't mean its bad. I like it so that says smth yk. Anyway have fun yall!! kiss kiss

You have no idea what you do to him. Turning on his sadistic switch when you step out of the house in nothing, but a two-piece lingerie set with a sheer cover-up just to water your plants and collect the mail. Your slutty and unassuming look is what makes him want to break you so badly. Did you have no acknowledgment of the corrupt people in the world? The people like him who want to break that pretty face into bits and then make you clean it up naked on your hands and knees. But hey, he wasn’t exactly the nicest guy so why would it matter to him? 

 You prance around in summer wear all year long. Tiny shorts in the winter, then swimsuits in the summer. Did you never get cold? He had to do a double-take when he looked across the street and saw you washing cars for unneeded money. He was sure you just wanted the attention and he was willing to give it to you, pulling up a chair on his balcony with a nice cold beer and taking in the view. Shirt see-through, jean cut-offs up your ass, and these plastic platform sandals that went clickety-clackety up his porch stairs when you came around to bring him cookies. He never ate them, the only thing he ever did was jerk off to them, his grown imagination running wild in hopes that he could just simply bring the cum-clad cookies back over to you and watch you gulp them down with seconds in mind. Seconds that he would gladly serve to you hot and ready.

 Just then the doorbell rang and the suddenness almost made him cum in his pants. He had been holding it back for a while, telling himself that he wouldn't tend to that type of thing right now. If only he knew what the day held for him. 

 He frantically looked around his living room before finding an apron that lay across his sofa. He swung the door open only to find no one, then directed his eyeline a bit lower. You, in a black tank top, jean mini skirt, and your signature black Chuck Taylors, panting as if you were coming down from a high. Your hand rests next to his head on the door frame, your other hand on your hip, and your body covered in a thin sheet of sweat. "Thank god you answered. I desperately need your help. I would've asked the other neighbors, but they either don't like me or are too old. Plus, I think you're the fittest guy here." You stared at him for a second until you realized you hadn't told him what you needed help with. "Oh, right. I kinda need you to help me push start my car." You give him a sheepish smile, that drops when he wipes his forehead in what you assume is frustration and annoyance but is actually him trying to hide a very mischievous and impish grin. "I'm sorry. It's wrong of me to bother my neighbors with my problems. Please forgive me." You begin to turn away for a graceful exit before he puts a hand on your shoulder. "It's fine. I can do it." You quietly cheer as you lead him to your car which was only at the beginning of the block. 

  You hand him a pair of rubber gloves and before you can say a word, he rolls up his sleeves and gets to pushing. A gasp drops out of your mouth from seeing the muscly arms you dreamed about. His strong arms wrapped around your waist as you rode him on your couch. Or him putting you into a choke hold while fucking you from behind and degrading you. You nearly drooled then snapped yourself out of your daydream for being so silly.

 You realize that he was already more than halfway to your house and you get in the car to direct it all the way.

 "Wow Mr. Nanami, you've got big muscles." You yell, driving into your driveway. "Want to touch them?" He flexes, his playfulness catching you off guard. You never suspected him to return your energy or anything of the sort so you lay it on even thicker, trying to see how far you could take it. "Don't think I won't." You both smirk as he puts a hand on the top of your car. "You don't know what you would be getting yourself into if you took that next step." You pull him closer by the pocket of his apron, "I'm a big girl. I think I can handle myself, hop in."

 It's all a haze of bottoms coming off until he's in between your legs with the bottom half of his face soaked from your teased cunt. He had been denying you of your orgasm for the longest, trying to make this encounter last for hours to get you to crumble in his hands. Even five minutes would be enough, but he wants to drag everything out of you for as long as he can. "Nanami..." You groan, taking a while to finish your sentence since you lost your train of thought in the last wave of pleasure. 

 “Please let me cum!” Breaths of air continuously push out your mouth as you grip any and everything closest to you with your eyes shut tight. He shakes his head between your legs, but it goes unnoticed so he nips at your inner thigh, “Look at me, slut.” A gasp leaves your mouth at the drop of his pet name and you lock eyes with him immediately. “That got your attention, huh?” You nod slowly, scared that if you take too much attention away from holding your orgasm, you’ll explode. You almost can’t hold it in even while crossing your legs, "Nanami please, fuck! Let me cum!" Your gaze into his eyes deepens, but he still shakes his head, “I want you to work for it.”

—

 You look back at him from your position on his lap with an unsure and teary expression, only to see him checking out the view of your ass. He scoots the front seat up to tip you forward and catch a glimpse of your wet pussy from behind. "Well, what are you waiting for? Put it in yourself." Your tears are painfully close to spilling out of your eyes. "But Nanami, this position is kinda embarrassing-" You cut yourself off when he spanks your ass, "Did I ask for your input? If it wasn't a question, then I expect you to follow my orders to the T. Embarrassment should be the last thing on your mind when you flaunt around in tiny skirts and tight shirts all year long." Your eyebrows raise vividly and a dopey smile etches onto your face, “So you noticed? Glad to see that my efforts haven’t been overlooked.” A deep and unholy-sounding chuckle erupts from his throat and heads straight to your cunt which now has its own heartbeat. “God, you’re such a fucking attention whore.” He begins to line himself up with your entrance since you stalled on the idea.

 "Nanami, you're so mean." You pout, completely oblivious to his current actions. "I know. You can handle it though." He slams himself into you and you cum instantly with a roar of his name. Your core goes tight, heat rushes over your body, and your legs spazz while your toes bend and flex themselves to take away from your built-up orgasm. The look that Nanami gives you is a mix of disappointment and dissatisfaction and his hand slides up to your neck, “Didn’t I tell you to hold it?” You nod and the hand on your throat makes its presence known with a firm squeeze. ”Fuck. Did you just get tighter?” You hadn’t even noticed it, but another orgasm was starting to build and just as your body was starting to relax into him, you started moving again. The thought of another world-shattering orgasm being around the corner was enough encouragement for you to get moving unlike before. You catch Nanami by surprise with your sudden enthusiasm, but he easily picks up his sadistic and impish demeanor again. Asserting dominance and supremacy by grabbing you by the hips when he feels you tighten even more and working you down onto him faster. Bumpy moans of his name drag out of your mouth as you get worked closer to your release. You open your mouth to beg, but before the words can come out he grants you permission to cum. Heat spreads over your body once more and your fingers dig into the back of your driver seat almost to the point of tearing through the leather. You would’ve screamed his name if not the tightening grip on your neck as he cums with you.

 You both decompress and his hands uncuff your throat and hips. Your hand comes up to your neck and you can’t help but wonder if he left a beautiful bruise for you to wake up to. He sees your caressing and takes it as concern, “Come on, I’ll take you inside and get you cleaned up.” You almost accept his offer and start to gather your clothes until you realize that you still have more juice left in you and wouldn’t mind going for another round. You get back onto his lap and start to grind down on him which instantly provokes a boner. “Oh? Done so soon?” He smirks “Don’t tell me that you’re older than you seem, old man.” Just in that sentence, you unlocked another side of him, apparently, he doesn’t like being called an old man. “You’re making it very hard to be nice.” You show a small smirk and turn around on his lap to where you are facing him, “That’s fine. I can handle it, remember?”

[thedelicatearcher]

finnick odair alphabet fluff

d - dates

finnick odair prefers modest and simple dates. 

one of finnick’s favorite dates is when he invites you over for dinner at his place. he puts on an emerald green apron that makes his eyes pop and begins preparing dinner. as he focuses completely on cooking, a slight frown forms on his face. he smooths it away and rubs his brows once he realizes his unconscious expression. it’s a miracle he hasn’t accidentally cut himself, as his mind wanders and he imagines the pretty outfit you will be wearing that night while he chops the vegetables.

saying finnick always has everything under control might be a bit of a stretch. after years of being together, finnick has perfected the art of dinner dates. however, there have been several mishaps along the way. once, time flew by, and by the time you knocked on his door all dressed up and excited to see him, he was still in his apron and his lazy-day shorts, having not yet showered. on another occasion, he managed to burn the steak he had spent hours preparing and had to beg mags to please bring some of her delicious leftovers. unfortunately, you arrived at finnick’s place just as mags did. and better yet, there was the time he completely misunderstood a recipe. the cookbook he borrowed from mags was so old, and the words were so blurry he accidentally used vinegar instead of vanilla. the look of mortification on his face when you nearly gagged after the first time is something you’ll never forget.

his heart leaps at the sight of you standing at his doorstep in a pretty sundress. as a true gentleman, he doesn’t waste a minute before inviting you in, giving you a quick yet adoring kiss before guiding you to the kitchen. there, he presents the warm, delectable meal that would be delighting your taste buds that night. the endless conversations flow and drive the night as his hand caresses yours, his gaze never leaving yours. he considers the night a success when he hears your delighted hums after taking your first bite. after chatting the night away, he lends you some of his clothes and cuddles you to sleep.

nonetheless, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t pamper you. finnick loves to take you out as well. he takes you to cozy seaside restaurants, where he’s on friendly terms with the owners and can ask for a table with the nicest views. the breathtaking beach and his tender sea-green eyes are two sights you will never grow tired of.

finnick never misses a chance to take you to the annual district four fair. he watches with a warm smile as little kids run around, laughing and shouting with joy at the fun, and maybe tricked, fair games. he also loves picnics with you. his eyes crinkle with pure happiness when he sees you carrying the picnic basket. in the days leading up to your picnic date, he goes to the market to pick out little snacks and fruits to surprise you with. however, his favorite dates are when you both get together at your place to prepare the snacks and meals for your picnic in the park. 

finnick has never sneaked you into the capitol for a date at its fancy restaurants or exotic museums. the capitol is a part of the world he prays you’ll never have to find yourself in, and he does everything in his power for them to never know of the existence of you.

[flamingwordsinthesky]

So this took a while but I finally finished my entry for this SpideyTorch bingo! Honestly it wasn't one at first but seeing as how I was writing a roommate fic (I know, how original) I decided to throw this into the ring. Anyway I also did a little collage for the fic as well.

So please enjoy this fic about Johnny trying to pretend that everything is okay.

***

When Johnny jolted awake he was surrounded by darkness. For a moment, he couldn’t focus on anything other than the feeling of steel cutting through his abdomen, screaming crowds at his fall, and the piles of bodies beneath his feet. Johnny rubbed his wet hands on the bed sheets before realizing that it wasn’t blood, it was cold sweat. He breathed heavily as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. 

The outline of his dresser, the scattered clothes across his bedroom floor that Johnny hadn’t bothered to clean up. Then he looked at the shadow of his outline in the mirror. The moon shone in bathing Johnny in light that showed his thinner figure, his taunt face, the blonde hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. 

How frail he looked in that moment, less strong, barely visible scars hidden in the darkness. 

Johnny flipped the covers over and got out of bed, cleaning up his clothes, and then falling to the floor to do push-ups. For every push-up, he imagined every horrifying image falling out and disappearing into the floor. Not keeping track of how many he can do before his arms begin to shake and he collapses onto the floor. 

Once he gets a second wind, he gets up from the floor and into the rest of the apartment. Silence, just like when he went to bed. Peter was out doing the Spider-Man thing but Johnny stayed behind. Lying and saying he was going to a party. Really he just wanted to be home alone.

Alone to clean, alone to shower, and alone so he could sleep. But that didn’t help the ache that sat in his chest and stomach. The feeling of sharp steel against his skin, a strong punch against his jaw, the way his neck tingles awaiting a sharp pain, and the squirming of bugs underneath his skin. 

Even as he walks around the dark and quiet apartment, apart from the hustle and bustle of the city outside. What used to bring him some comfort brings a sense of the world continuing. Just like it continued without him. 

With that thought, Johnny walks into the living room to see the form of a body sleeping on the couch. Johnny stopped before noticing the webbed lining of red spandex and a discarded mask on the side of the couch. There was a shuffle and a snort before the body moved then stilled again. 

He could have just left Peter to sleep on the couch for the 4th time that week. Johnny had no real reason to linger, but he did. As he walked closer to the couch, Peter’s peaceful face was illuminated by the street lights outside and the moon. 

It always annoyed Johnny how handsome Peter was. Even with a busted lip and a nose that had been broken more than three times, Peter still looked effortlessly handsome and peaceful in his sleep. There was a strand of brown hair that Johnny wished to brush out of his way but his hand stayed at his side. Peter’s breathing was slow and peaceful, his lips parted slightly as he slept.

Johnny put away the thought to kiss those parted, busted lips. 

The sight of the blood on Peter’s lip made Johnny’s fingers twitch with a forgotten feeling.

Johnny went to grab a blanket from the linen closet, haphazardly drape it over Peter’s body and head, then went to take a shower. 

After his shower, he looked to see it just turning to 7:00 am. The usual time he would be getting up. Instead he got his nicest and cleanest black boxers, one of his many aprons, and put them on. 

For breakfast Johnny used the last of their eggs and milk to make simple scrambled eggs with some toast. As he got the pan and ingredients ready, he kept an eye on Peter on the couch, still sleeping, still snoring slightly.

He could have gotten Peter up himself, but where was the fun in that? There was a part of Johnny that enjoyed seeing Peter stumble and fall. The way his eyebrows furrowed and his lips went thin and downturned. Johnny couldn’t help but find it cute. Johnny used to imagine kissing that frown away alone, sometimes he’d just annoy Peter to get him to make that face.

And Johnny found out quickly that getting dressed in his apron and boxers while cooking breakfast was the new annoying thing he could do. Then again Peter never asked Johnny to put on clothes. Even when he shrieked the first time he caught Johnny doing just that. In truth he just didn’t feel like wearing clothes that day. It was muggy and all his clothes felt too heavy to wear. 

Peter made a noise from the other room and Johnny bit down his smile. 

“Mornin’ Sunshine!” Johnny called as he heard a loud yawn. Some smacking of lips. A whispered swear. And then scrambling of feet into the other room. Johnny tried not to laugh.

Peter almost flew out of his bedroom, tie still undone, suit still slightly wrinkled, and spidey suit still visible underneath the suit. Peter tried to brush past Johnny and out the door but instead turned around and ran back to the kitchen table where the food had been just set. 

He looked at Johnny, eyeing him up briefly before sitting down and eating his breakfast.

“What? No ‘Good morning sweetheart?’ not even a morning kiss?” Johnny joked as he sat down at the table. He got a glare from Peter then.

“I don’t kiss people who make me late for work.” Peter said in between a mouthful of eggs. As if Peter would ever kiss him. Johnny rolled his eyes as he began to dig into his own breakfast. Even before Johnny’s coffee was half way empty, Peter was done and wiping the crumbs off his suit.

“You’re not gonna be late. Can’t you just swing your way to work? You did say it’s faster than the subway.”

“I don’t have time for this. I’ll see you later.” Peter said, his eyes avoiding Johnny’s direction. His face looked slightly flush and his lips doing the thin downward turn. Johnny smiled as he sipped his coffee.

“We need milk and eggs.” Johnny yelled at Peter who was out the door the second his plate was in the sink. Not even bothering to clean it up. 

Typical Parker Johnny thought as he continued to eat his breakfast. 

Once Johnny was done, he cleaned up, got dressed, and realized he had nothing to do that day. He didn’t really have anything to do. The Future Foundation was still working out if they should bring back the Fantastic Four.

But even if they did, Johnny still was unsure if he should join. He knew his family would accept him back with open arms. But even then he was two years older, even coming back made him closer in age to all of them. But it still didn’t feel like he was on their level. At least not like it used to be. 

Instead of dwelling on that feeling, Johnny distracted himself with chores. Cleaning the apartment was done within two hours and he started playing video games. Once the games got too repetitive and unengaging. He went out for a walk. 

The city of New York welcomed Johnny back with open arms, but outside a few fans stopping him to get pictures, another store scrambling to get rid of their spidey merch in favor of Johnny’s return, it didn’t feel right. 

He was right back where he started. Just the flashy golden boy of New York City. Another celebrity superhero with more tabloids than Tony Stark. It was almost as if no one seemed to care that he had spent years of his life fighting, surviving, and overthrowing a tyrant. 

Two months for them. He was only gone for two months. It was hard to remind himself about that. 

Johnny returned home without the milk and eggs. Leaving that chore to Peter. He texted Peter quickly and saw that no one had messaged him. Not any of his old buddies, not Wyatt, not even Sue. 

Johnny pulled up Sue’s messages and was tempted to just check in. But her last message was a simple “Good night and stay safe” from the other night. 

He sighed, sent the message to Peter, and shucked his clothes off. 

Johnny crawled into bed, not tired but unwilling to stay awake. He surrounded himself in the blanket as if the room was freezing, despite that having not been an issue for him since the cosmic radiation. He laid there for what felt like hours before Johnny’s eyes grew heavy and he closed them. 

Wishing for a dreamless nap.

In the arena the screaming crowds chant and cheer as Johnny watches another fighter fall to the ground. Burned to a crisp. Johnny remembers the smell of burning flesh and it makes him want to hurl. But he held it in. He’s a champion, he needs to show it. No fear. No mercy. Even if he can never unsee the piles of bodies at his feet. 

He looks up to see the bug tyrant himself, Annihilus, staring down at him, unamused. Johnny flipped him off, a gesture Annihilus learned was rude and snapped his fingers. There was a clanking of chains and rumble steel against steel. Johnny looked behind him as the large metal door slid up to reveal the darkness. Darkness he knew contained Annihilus’ abomination. A creature of arms, legs, stitched together and lumbering. Its shape large and imposing, it was almost like a dragon as its multiple yellow eyes set their sights on Johnny. It’s multiple hands opening like a flower to reveal the skull of a once living lizard like creature that still opened it’s only mouth to growl at Johnny

Johnny backed away as the creature dragged itself out with large claws of alien creatures he couldn’t even begin to explain. Reed always had a better way to describe things than Johnny. He missed Reed so much and his ready explanations for everything. Not this creature that Johnny could barely comprehend just by looking at it.  It had no mouth yet it could still speak. 

Johnny hated when it spoke. 

Because it had no voice of its own. The voices that came out of the creature were various harsh imitations of his friends, family, and past lovers. Johnny could barely think of shooting his fire at it. A large claw slammed close to him and he shouted “FLAME ON!”

He fought the creature, even as it spoke insults with its stolen voices. 

“Worthless brat” Ben’s voice growled out of it. Johnny aimed for one of the creature's eyes.

“Ungrateful!”  Sue’s voice screamed as the creature backed away after having some of their eyes burned out. 

“Useless” Reed’s voice came out like he was so disappointed. That made Johnny falter for a moment before he remember what it was doing. 

More insults emanate from the creature, every person Johnny had ever loved called him worse and worse things before finally his flame flickered out. The creature took its large claws to capture Johnny and bring it to his face. 

The final voice that emanated made Johnny shake, his eyes wide and he wished that the creature would just eat him already.

“You were never worthy of love” Peter’s voice was cold. Johnny knew it was true, but he screamed anyway as the creature tore him apart.

“JOHNNY!” Peter’s shout woke him up as he shot up awake. Johnny tried to find his bearing, feeling his body still intact. No bugs, not gore, no left over blood. Just Johnny’s beating heart and a strong grip on his shoulders. 

As Johnny calmed down, he noticed that Peter was holding him, on his bed, and looking like he found Johnny dead. His brown eyes filled with worry yet relief as he told Johnny to breathe. Comforting him with words of It’s okay. You’re alright. You’re okay. 

But the nightmare’s final words are ringing in his head. It was so perfectly Peter’s voice that it almost scared him. He couldn’t shake how easy it was for him to believe the words of a monster he never fought said to him. 

He can still feel sharp claws digging and tearing his flesh apart. 

“Y’good?” Peter asked as Johnny finally began to breathe again.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m good. Just….a nightmare. That’s all.” Johnny said with a half-hearted smile. 

Peter was silent as he eyed Johnny. Rubbing his shoulders and looking at him with such an intense look. Johnny could not distinguish what he must have been thinking. 

Another moment before Peter responded. 

“You’ve been having a lot of nightmares lately.”

“Great observation, Sherlock.” Johnny said with more bite than intended. Peter let go and Johnny removed himself from the bed to get up.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Peter asked, his voice unsure and cautious. Johnny simply scoffed at the question.

“Just a nightmare Peter. Nothing to talk about.”

“Nothing to talk about? This is the fifth time this week I’ve heard you screaming. You party, come home, then I have to hear you scream late at night.”

“Oh? You sure I wasn’t screaming for a different reason?” Johnny asked with anger, looking at a standing Peter, his tie undone and his dress shirt unbuttoned a little at the top. He must have just gotten home.

“Johnny that’s not funny. I’m worried about you.” Peter said but Johnny’s annoyance didn’t falter.

Peter took a deep breath as he walked over to Johnny’s side of the room. But Johnny didn’t feel like talking. He didn’t feel like sharing a pain Peter could never understand. No one could ever understand what he had to do. If he told Peter everything he did while in the Negative Zone, Peter just might not like him anymore. 

“Johnny.”

“It’s fine. It was just a nightmare. Nothing to worry about.” Johnny reassured Peter, but the worry didn’t leave his eyes.

“Johnny.” Peter’s voice was firm and a hand reached to touch Johnny. 

“It’s fine! How many times do I have to say it? I’m fine! 100 percent! I’m the golden boy of New York City! There’s nothing to worry about!” Johnny’s defensiveness even shocked him for a moment. Peter retracted his hand but didn’t stop looking worried about Johnny. 

He hated how worried Peter looked. 

“Don’t lie to me.” Peter said, his voice a slight wobble to it. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying! I’m fine! What is this? An interrogation? You're gonna ask where I was yesterday at a certain time? I was out! I was having fun! I even made out with a few people! See! I’m the good ol’ Johnny Storm again!” Johnny was flailing his arms and stepped away from Peter. 

“Johnny please. Just tell me what’s going on. What happened? What are these nightmares?” Peter tried to touch him again but Johnny brushed past him.

Peter tried to talk to Johnny as he got dressed, he couldn’t be here. Not right now. He couldn’t stand to see Peter worry about him. It hurt when Sue asked about the nightmares. But he can’t let anyone know. Johnny needed everyone to stop worrying. It's clear they just want things to go back to normal.

Or maybe, he just wants things to go back to normal. 

“Johnny! Stop ignoring me! Tell me what’s going on!” Peter shouted as Johnny started putting his shoes on. 

“There’s nothing to talk about webhead.” Johnny’s voice was firm and devoid of feeling. 

“There’s plenty to talk about!” Peter said as he tried to grab Johnny’s arm but he pulled away.

“I said there’s nothing to talk about. You’re making a big deal out of nothing! I’m fine!” Johnny said as he slammed the door in Peter’s face as he left. Once outside the apartment building, Johnny turned on his flames and flew. 

He flew and flew and flew across the sky of New York City. No destination in mind. He wanted to feel the air and wind rush past him. Ignoring the phantom pains of steel, claws, large hands breaking his neck. So much pain that his skin itched. 

His powers were beginning to fade and soon Johnny landed on the side of a random skyscraper. He didn’t know where he was but the sight of the Baxter Building in the far distance made him huff. He hadn’t seen any of the four in a few days. They text him from time to time. But even they knew to leave him alone.

Yet he didn’t want to be alone. But alone seemed safe, seemed comfy. 

He convinced himself it’s where he needed to be. 

Johnny turned to face away from the building to watch the sun sink into the horizon. He remembers the first time he saw the sun rise when he returned home. He was awake from another nightmare and refused to go back to sleep. So he watched the sunrise alone on top of the Baxter Building. He remembered the tears that fell from his face and the great relief that he could see such a sight. Something he missed desperately for two years. 

That morning Ben made breakfast. Sue helped catch up with what Johnny had missed during the two months. And Reed smiled at him and patted his shoulder as he gave Johnny coffee. 

It was a warm and friendly feeling. 

But the dread never went away. 

The dread that none of it was real, that he would blink and Johnny would wake up back in the Negative Zone, the last few months being nothing more than a peaceful dream for an undying champion. It never came, he was still on Earth, in his home. 

But that dread clings to him, clings to his soul and turns his stomach at the very possibility that none of this was real. 

Thwip. 

Thud

“Johnny?” 

Johnny didn’t turn around. He knew who it was but he didn’t want to see his friend.He didn’t want to see anyone. There were footsteps that crunched against the rooftop before Spider-Man placed himself over the same building edge as Johnny then and there.

The last of the sun’s rays set over the river as the city lights slowly came to life. 

They sat there in silence, listening to the sounds of the city with the lights illuminated underneath them. Car horns and laughing chorus underneath their feet. Johnny let the silence embrace him, Trying to ignore the body heat of Spider-Man close to him. His pinky just inches away from touching Johnny’s own. 

Johnny did take a glance at Spider-Man at his side and saw Peter remove his mask. The other man took a deep breath before exhaling, then glanced at Johnny. Catching his eye for a moment before looking out into the city. 

“When Gwen died, I used to have nightmares about it,” Peter said suddenly “It was like replaying that moment over and over again.” Peter said, solemnly and Johnny gripped the side of the half wall, his hands and fingers getting scratched by gravel.

 “Then the nightmares kept getting worse. Sometimes Gwen would come back, and ask me why I let her die? Why didn’t I try something else?” 

“Pete-”

“I realized, all she was doing was asking questions I ask myself every time I think of her.” Peter said as he leaned forward slightly, “But Gwen, My Gwen, the Gwen I remember? She wouldn’t have done that. I had to remind myself that she wouldn’t have blamed me for what happened. Even if I do from time to time.” 

Silence again. Johnny watched as Peter’s eyes glazed over, as if he was focusing on a memory. He knew Gwen was a touchy subject. Johnny had only seen Gwen from time to time, even tried to hit on her once. She slapped him and walked away and Johnny never met a more beautiful girl. 

He knew then how lucky Peter was to have someone like Gwen in his life. One night Peter had even told Johnny he was going to marry her. 

Then she was gone. 

Then Peter was Spider-Man.

And suddenly it all made sense. 

“It’s funny. I don’t really have those nightmares anymore.” Peter said suddenly to break Johnny out of his own head. “I usually have the usual nightmares. Naked in front of the Avengers. Being late for High School even though I’m almost 30. Y’know. Typical stuff.”

“But the Gwen nightmares?” Johnny asked. 

“I don’t have them as much.” Peter said with a sigh, sitting up straight and looking to the sky. 

 That’s when Johnny felt the groves of Peter’s webbed gloved hand cover then held his hand.

“I know it’s really cheesy to say, but it does get better. Yes, there are somethings in this life that we'll never get over. But we can still find good reasons to stay alive. We have our family, friends, and the people we love.” Peter squeezed Johnny’s hand. “And I just want you to know, I care about you. A lot. So I hate seeing you like this.”

“Peter?” Johnny’s voice cracked out, As Peter leaned in closer, Brown eyes on the verge of tears. Johnny's free hand reacted by holding the side of Peter’s face, his left thumb rubbing against flushed cheek. Peter leaned into his touch and Johnny couldn’t believe this was real.

“I can free up my schedule tomorrow. We can do whatever you want, racing, pick out a car, go visit the Four, you name it. Except maybe going clubbing. You know what? Screw it, we can go clubbing if you want.” Peter rambled with a dopey smile only reserved for Black Cat and when he was talking about Mary Jane Watson. But this one was for Johnny.

“You talk too much,” Johnny said as he leaned in closer. 

“I’ve been told.” Peter retorted as he closed his eyes.

That's when a bomb downtown went off.

Ah. New York. Home of more supervillains than cops. They both let out a large and begrudged sigh. Peter putting on the mask and Johnny summoning his rejuvenated flames. The Human Torch and Spider-Man, together again. Off to fight a criminal and save the people. 

When Peter sent their apartment door flying, Johnny knew Peter was panicking. One lucky stab wound on his side and Peter was acting as if Johnny was dying. It would be amusing if he could get the webslinger to calm down a little. 

As Johnny laid out on the couch and held his side, blood seeped through the fabric of a spare t-shirt Peter had on hand. He watched as Peter disappeared to find the First aid kit. Johnny just rolled his eyes and removed the shirt and used his heat to help close the wound, blood boiling away removed the shirt to take off the top part of his suit before Peter came back in. 

With a first aid kit in hand, Peter started cleaning and taking care of Johnny’s stab wound. All Johnny could do was watch as Peter took his time cleaning, stitching, then bandaging the wound. Yet Johnny couldn’t ignore how Peter was touching him far more than he needed to. His cool hands tracing Johnny’s abs and sides. Johnny almost forgot how to breath as Peter finished the bandaging and looked at him, with sad brown eyes but a relieved smile.

“Good as new.” Johnny joked as Peter laughed slightly. 

“Any other pain I should know about?” Peter asks, his hand still on Johnny’s chest, right where his heart should be. Johnny just hoped that Peter didn’t feel how fast it was going. 

Johnny shook his head.

“You healed me nurse. Maybe you should kiss it better too.” Johnny joked again and Peter simply rolled his eyes. What Johnny had expected was Peter to get up and leave now that he was okay. 

What Peter did shocked him more than the stab wound to his side. Peter leaned up and kissed Johnny’s forehead, then placed his own forehead against Johnny’s. He stayed like that for a moment, long enough to make Johnny forget how to breathe.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Was all Peter said before leaving Johnny’s side. The lack of another’s body heat made Johnny shiver for only a moment. As Peter was about to disappear into his room, Johnny got up from the couch and made a mad dash to Peter. 

Thinking about the -almost- kiss before the fight. How soft Peter looked at him in that moment before the bomb went off. How the feeling of Peter’s lips lingered on Johnny’s skin. Before Peter could say anything, Johnny grabbed Peter’s suit and pulled him for a quick but aggressive kiss. One that Johnny had been holding back for far too long. 

Once Johnny pulled away, Peter looked dazed but there was a smile on his face.  Johnny kept him close as he wrapped his arms around Peter’s neck. 

“Now that’s a thank you I can get used to.” Peter said before kissing Johnny again. Peter kissed Johnny like he missed him, like he cared for him, and almost as if he loved him. But Johnny put that thought away and kissed Peter back with as much devotion as he could. 

“I don’t want to sleep alone tonight” Johnny confessed as Peter held him close and kissed his neck. Soon Peter pulled Johnny into his bedroom, where they stayed the rest of the night. 

In the morning Johnny woke up to Peter, lying next to him, still in his spidey suit, his arms wrapped around Johnny’s naked torso. They’d cuddled most of the night, talking about nothing and simply holding each other until they both fell asleep. It was more than Johnny could ask for, he had no nightmares that night, just a simple dream of riding the coastline in his nicest Impala, with Peter at his side, standing and shouting to the wind. Without a care in the world. 

When he woke up, Peter was still asleep, his face could almost be described as peaceful. Were it not for the slight frown on Peter’s face. Johnny couldn’t help but giggle, actually giggle, at the sight. Only Peter could still look a little mad in his sleep. 

There were strands of brown hair that curled at the ends along Peter’s forehead. So Johnny brushed them gently out of Peter’s face, before leaning up to kiss his cheek. Peter made a noise and moved slightly before pulling in Johnny closer. Close enough that Johnny’s nose was almost touching Peter’s own. 

He leaned up to kiss Peter on his lips, chaste but loving. It was enough to wake Peter who kissed him back. With a simple push Johnny was on his back as Peter continued to kiss Johnny’s face. From his forehead, to his chin, and even his eyelid. Johnny laughed before Peter finally kissed his lips. 

When Peter pulled away, Johnny let out a simple sigh, keeping his eyes closed as graceful fingers traced the outside of Johnny’s face. 

“How’s that for a morning kiss?” Peter asked while letting his fingers comb through Johnny’s hair. 

“Hmm. It’s okay.” Johnny said with a wide grin that made Peter roll his eyes. “Maybe give me another one?” 

So Peter did, better than their first and the ones they shared now. Each kiss feeling like Johnny could float off into space and be at peace. Someone who made him feel safe, and someone who could kiss away the nightmares. It was all Johnny wanted.

[sorrowfulrosebud]

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙: Yandere Cassie with an Accepting Darling (not Stockholm syndrome)

𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: Yandere

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: Yandere behaviours, possessiveness. Tbf you can’t even tell this is yandere

𝕬/𝕹: these mortal kombat requests are for @ludwig1380’s birthday, so happy belated birthday!!

“Baaaaaaabe.”

“Baaaaaaaaaaaabe.”

“Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaabe!” Cassie shouted from the kitchen as she stirred the pasta sauce that was simmering in the pan. The pasta had long been cooked, slowly cooling in the bowls you had set aside whilst you took a shower.

“Whaaaaaaaat?” You laughed back, wrapping your arms around her waist and kissing her cheek. You rested your head against her shoulder and swayed you both slowly. The damp towel you were using to mop your hair hung over your neck.

“Leave the towel in the bathroom, dumbass. You know how my mom gets,” she murmurs back, stirring the sauce. You laugh, before squeezing her sides.

“Anyway, how is the sauce looking? Nearly done?” You ask, looking at the sauce intently. She lifted up the spoon before blowing on it, and lifting it to your lips. The sauce was incredibly spiced, well rounded and delicious.

“I think it’s missing something though, I just don’t know what,” Cassie pondered. You reach over her shoulder and grab a shaker of oregano with a smirk. You sprinkle some in, before taking the spoon feeding her some sauce.

She turns the pan off, putting it to one side before turning around to pull you into a kiss.

“How’s it taste now?” She murmurs, bumping her nose against yours.

“Exactly like the family recipe. Now, you set the table, and I’ll dish everything up. I want to really impress your parents tongue,” you tell her, removing her apron and kissing the tip of her nose.

“Sure thing babe, but don’t worry. My mom is a hard nut but she really likes you. You’re aware of my dad’s feelings of you, considering he puts you in a headlock every time he sees you,” she laughs, tapping your ass as she starts preparing the table.

“I know, Cass. It’s just a lot of pressure considering we’re cooking their anniversary dinner,” you smile nervously. “It’s even more knowing we’ll be eating with them.”

You dish out the meal, making sure everything is perfect. The pasta was slightly al dente, the sauce was beautiful and the garlic bread was golden brown. Cassie used the nicest tablecloth to cover the table, as well as light some candles to bask the dining room in a warm glow.

Cassie had phoned her parents to let them know you had finished, both of you wearing slightly formal get up. Johnny entered the dining room first, a happy exclamation and a headlock your response to your hello. Sonya followed afterwards as you politely salute her as a sign of respect.

“Thank you, (Y/N). This is certainly a large spread of food! You didn’t have to do this for our anniversary,” she smiles very slightly, hand cocked on her waist. You gave her a polite smile back and wrap your arm around Cassie.

“Well, Cassie insisted I come back over for dinner and make you my family recipe spaghetti. It was Mr Cage who asked me to cook for your anniversary,” you smile. Johnny’s grin widened as he ruffled your hair.

“Hell yeah, kiddo! Plus it’s free food, Sonya. Who’s gonna say no to a nice home-cooked meal,” he said boisterously. You roll your eyes playfully, pulling out Cassie’s chair as she adjusts herself. Everyone digs in, sounds of appreciation leaving Johnny everyone.

“Wow, this is incredible (Y/N). Is this really a family recipe?” Sonya asked, looking at you. You lower your fork and smile.

“Yup! Been in the family as long as I can remember. I remember eating this as a kid, and it never fails to make me happy,” you explain happily. Cassie smiles at you.

“This is fan-fucking-tastic kiddo! See Son, I told you it was a good idea to have them come for dinner!” Johnny boasts proudly, sauce staining his white shirt. Sonya has to hold back a smile as she rolls her eyes.

“Language at the table, Johnny. I must say Cassie, you’ve found yourself a very capable partner,” Sonya comments. Cassie nudges you and whispers.

“She’s basically saying for you to move in,” she giggles as her mother glares at her before looking back to you.

“You have clearly demonstrated that you can take excellent care of my daughter. She cares for you and trusts you in return. You have my blessing to continue seeing Cassie,” she finishes as she eats a meatball. You can feel yourself smile widely as Johnny laughs.

“Oh please Son, you were basically gushing over them the first day Cassie brought ‘em here. She’s just trying to intimidate you kid, our Sonya over here is as scary as a kitten when you get to know her,” he teases, holding Sonya’s hand as she tuts.

“Why don’t you two go upstairs and watch a movie. Your father and I can tackle these dishes since you cooked,” Sonya offered, shushing your protests.

“Don’t worry about it, you two go and have fun.”

The two of you flopped on the bed, laughing at each other.

“God I’m soooooo full. I doubt I’ll be able to eat for a week after this,” Cassie groans, weaving her fingers with yours.

“Ugh I know. We always have leftovers though,” you smile as you nuzzle her head. Cassie breathily laughs back, throwing you a set of pyjamas as she starts getting ready for bed.

“Get changed so we can watch the movie, babe,” she prompts. You get ready quickly, getting ready for optimal spooning conditions. Cassie slots herself in front of you, getting comfortable as you kiss her hair. She’s out like a light in minutes, giving you plenty of time to grab her phone.

And take a loving selfie of you both.

[separatist-apologist]

What A Time To Be Alive

I just need someone to hold me, even though you don't even know me

Summary: The prompt was: Modern AU where Lucien is a tiktoker who posts POVs and Elain always wants to duet them to be the love interest he’s talking to but she doesn’t bc how could he ever be interested in a girl like her… UNTIL SHE DOES

Note: Big thanks AND dedicated to @ablogofbipanic who thought she could give me unwritable prompts. I'll write anything.

Read on AO3

-

Elain Archeron recognized that deck. Recognized the parking lot below and, when the camera zoomed out for a moment, recognized the white coup sitting in a patch of hot California sun. That was her apartment complex broadcast to an audience of one point two million people. 

And her upstairs neighbor filming another tiktok. 

Jackinthefox. Everyone thought his name read Jack, but Elain knew his name was actually Lucien Vanserra given how often his mail was shoved into her slot. Mostly junk coupled with the occasional energy bill. Lucien, with his sun kissed, golden brown skin and auburn hair that fell past his shoulders. She’d caught him in the basement gym once, lifting weights in a shirt so loose she could see all the carved muscle just beneath. 

She’d started working out at night to avoid him. 

It seemed Elain couldn’t avoid him on tiktok, though. No matter how quickly she swiped through his videos on her feed, they always came back. Look at me, they seemed to demand. Look at how handsome I am.

Yeah, yeah. Lucien was absurdly good looking, a fact he must have been well aware of. To his credit, he didn’t react to the thirst comments people left for him like other tiktokkers. And he always kept his shirt on, which honestly was a crime. If the women following him learned what lurked beneath, they’d riot. 

Lucien did dance, occasionally, though always to 90’s boybands—Elain liked those videos best, not that she’d ever admit it. What Lucien did, primarily, were POV’s to popular television shows. Usually the Office, though he did a fair amount of New Girl, too. And women practically lined up to duet him, hoping to be the Jim to his Pam. 

While Lucien had exploded in popularity during quarantine, Elain had a more modest following of ten thousand people following her for her aesthetic baking videos. And while Elain had a good time baking bread in cute aprons in front of her window, what she secretly wanted was to duet Lucien back.

She didn’t have the guts. What was worse, she thought, was duetting him, being ignored, and having to give him his mail when it was inevitably put in her box again. He’d know she had a crush on him and probably laugh behind her back.

Or maybe not—but Elain didn’t dare risk it. Not when she had one of the last affordable and nice units left in California. Close to the beach, within walking distance of her favorite grocery store…and with the hot, upstairs neighbor. 

It was hot that day, which made going to the store a miserable venture. Elain was making lemon bars and had run out of nearly everything. If there was a hell, surely it was hauling massive canvas bags of flour, sugar, and lemons in the California heat. By the time she reached her building, Elain was drenched in sweat. In the distance, she could hear the screaming laughter of children in the pool, and the smell of chlorine blew in on a rubber and asphalt scented breeze. 

She just wanted to get inside the cold building, to park herself naked in front of a fan, and stay there until winter arrived.

Elain went to yank open the glass door and drag herself up the flight of stairs to her unit. She fumbled with the metal handle, hot beneath the sun and her sweaty fingers.

“I’ve got it,” called a familiar, masculine voice. Honeyed and deep, rich and warm like the day she was so desperate to flee, Lucien Vanserra must have had one of the nicest voices she’d ever heard. A moment later he’d wedged his towering frame in the door so she could slip past. Lucien’s russet colored eyes slid to the bags hanging from her shoulders.

“Want help?” he asked, reaching for one of the straps.

Elain tried to protest— “No, I’ve got it—”

But he’d already taken two bags in one hand like it was nothing to him. He reached for the other two and suddenly Elain was freed of her obligations. She knew he saw how she exhaled with relief, a smile quirking over his full lips. Lucien was in another loose tanktop and basketball shorts. 

Like herself, Lucien was slick with sweat, which made her feel a little better. They were both disgusting, which somehow put them on equal footing. 

“What are you baking today?” he asked with a sidelong glance. Elain’s eyebrows shot skyward. She followed him up the purple carpeted steps, a relic from some mythical time period in which purple carpet made sense. Though, it did add a certain charm to the otherwise beige, fingerprint stained walls. 

“What do you know about my baking?” Elain asked, hoping she sounded appropriately flirty and not breathless with wonder. 

“I know that I tried those cranberry bars you posted last week and they turned out like shit.”

“That sounds like user error,” she replied, trying so hard not to grin. He watched her videos? Elain could have died. 

“Oh, if definitely was,” he said cheerfully, keeping easy pace with her. “They tasted good, though. What are you making today?”

She swore those eyes of his looked hungry. “Lemon bars.”

Still, he grinned. “Can’t wait to fuck those up, too.”

She could have invited him in. As they reached the landing and her door a mere three steps away, Elain could have asked Lucien to help her bake. Lord knew he would have looked great on camera, even if no one ever saw her face on tiktok. They had to follow her on instagram for that. Still, Lucien’s hands were big and broad and her mostly female audience probably would have liked seeing them as much as Elain liked watching him hold her groceries. 

She didn’t invite him in. The words got tangled in her throat, jumbled so when she dug her keys out of her pocket, she heard herself say, “Well…thank you for the help.” “Anytime,” Lucien replied smoothly, handing her the bags without complaint. He didn’t look around her to try and get a glimpse of her apartment, nor did he offer to come in and help. Elain appreciated that so much, though it was truly a low bar in terms of not being pushy.

“Catch you around,” he said with a wink, turning back for the steps. Elain admired the shifting muscles of his back for a moment—just until he rounded the corner. His thundering steps seemed to clear her head, if only a little.

He was just being neighborly. Friendly.

He watched her videos. 

The first thing she did the second she got inside was whip out her phone. And sure enough, buried in her notifications, was Lucien Vanserra quietly liking months of baking videos. How many had he made? All those months of agonizing about dueting him while he was liking all her videos and making her recipes…Elain felt giddy.

She felt like pulling out her ring light, after showering and carefully applying her make up, and dueting his latest video.

New Girl.

Elain loved New Girl.

LUCIEN:

Flopped on his couch, phone on the coffee table, Lucien replayed the afternoon in his mind. He’d been looking for an excuse to talk to Elain for the better part of a year. Ever since her sourdough video popped up on his for you page. He’d been in a dark place then—a new transplant to California for grad school, lonely and now quarantined before he’d had the chance to make new friends. Lucien had never felt so isolated in his life. His whole life was on the east coast, and even if he’d wanted to drop out and go home, there were no flights to take him.

He sure as shit wasn’t making that drive, either. So Lucien did what everyone else did, and began mindlessly scrolling tiktok. He’d recognized the kitchen those delicate hands worked in, and though it made him feel a little creepy, he’d followed the link in her bio to her instagram page only to find the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his entire life living directly beneath him.

Lucien had tried to stage several run-ins with her. At the gym, in the parking lot, even at the pool though it was closed. Elain had never taken the bait. In fact, she barely looked at him at all. Lucien supposed, with a face as beautiful as hers, he simply didn’t register. That didn’t stop him from trying.

And when he couldn’t make conversation with her in person, Lucien turned back to the internet. He ordered a ring light off amazon and made his first video, hoping she’d see it like he’d seen hers. He’d heard her watching New Girl through the vents so he knew she liked it. 

After a year, though, Lucien was starting to think it was time to give up on Elain Archeron. Maybe she had a boyfriend. Maybe he wasn’t her type. Hell, maybe she didn’t even like men. They were still in lockdown, still only supposed to go out for essentials, and maybe Elain didn’t want to risk getting sick on his account.

Lucien had sworn he was going to give up. His titkok had blown up by that point—surely she must have seen him at least once. Must have realized he was her neighbor. She could have liked one of his videos if she’d wanted, and she hadn’t.

All that changed with a little ding of his phone. Lucien reached for it, replaying walking her up to her apartment. She’d looked so good, with her golden brown curls stuck to her sweaty forehead, and how the heat had caused the yellow of her strappy sundress to conform to her tan skin. Lucien had forced his eyes forward and his mind anywhere but how she might look beneath him, just as sweat soaked and flushed. How those little, panting breaths might feel against his neck and fuck he had been so close to asking if she wanted help baking before he’d retreated, half hard just from the nearness of her.

He needed to think about something else. Lucien picked up his phone, illuminated in the last pinky rays of daylight pouring through the sliding glass of his balcony doors. Flipping open his phone, Lucien’s heart leapt into his throat.

Areyoubreadyforit dueted your video!

Lucien’s hands all but shook as he watched. She’d changed into a pretty blue top—or dress, he couldn’t tell—and lipsynced through the words, talking to him. Gorgeous, like always, bright eyed and confessing her pretend feelings for him through the medium of a POV video. 

Be cool, he told himself even as he slipped on his shoes. Don’t do anything stupid.

Famous last words as Lucien went outside into the dry heat for the escape ladder that would take him straight down to the parking lot.

Or her deck, a floor below. 

This is charming, he told himself, well aware he was skirting the line of crazed upstairs stalker. Why not go down the hall and knock on her front door? It was too late—the minute his feet hit the wood, Elain Archeron looked up from the kitchen. Her eyes went wide when she saw him, cheeks covered in a light dusting of flour. 

Lucien raised his hand and mouthed, hey.

Elain came to the door, wiping her hands on a pretty pink and white dotted apron. “Hey,” she said, clearly surprised. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he lied. What Lucien really wanted to say was I like you, but that felt too much given he was standing on her deck like a maniac all because she’d dueted one video. “I ah—I came to see if you wanted any help. With your bars, I mean.”

“Oh,” she murmured, her eyes sweeping over his body. He’d showered after the gym, and still he felt self conscious as he pressed a hand to his stomach through the white fabric of his shirt. “I was actually about to make dinner.”

Lucien’s stomach fell for only a moment as Elain added, “Do you like chicken?”

“I love chicken,” he replied, unwilling to admit he would have eaten trash if she offered it. “Anything to watch the famous Elain Archeron cook.”

Pink stained her cheeks. “Hardly. I think it’s you who is famous, right?”

Lucien followed her into her apartment. The set up was the same—a living room that opened into a kitchen, and a hall that he knew would lead to both a bedroom and a bathroom. Every night, she laid just beneath him. 

Maybe tonight, too, if he was lucky. That seemed distinctly like pushing things and yet Lucien still hoped as he closed the door behind him. 

“Hardly,” he said, flashing her a smile. She didn’t realize all those followers were merely a monument to his crush on her. Elain glanced over her shoulder, still in the blue dress from the video. 

“I guess you saw my duet?” 

Her blush was so pretty. Lucien could do nothing but follow after her and try and keep his jaw off the floor. Did she know? Did Elain have any clue the effect she had on him merely by existing? That he wanted to wipe the flour off her face with his tongue? 

“It was cute,” he said, bracing his elbows against the counter so he could watch. She wasn’t lying about the chicken—she was currently tying twine around an entire bird she’d seasoned rather nicely. “What took you so long?”

She scoffed. “It was the first interesting video you’d made all year.”

So she had seen them. Lucien’s heart was pounding in his chest. Oh god, oh god, oh god— “Tell me what interests you so I can better curate your experience.”

“I liked the Backstreet Boys videos,” she said, the pretty menace.

“Yeah? And if I make them again, are you going to dance with me?”

Her whole face was flaming red. Elain ducked, sliding her pan into the oven as she said, “I don’t know the steps.”

“I can teach you.” Fuck, Lucien could teach her anything she wanted to know—the steps to cheesy 90’s boy band music, how he liked to be kissed— 

“I’ll bet you could,” she replied, those eyes cutting right through him. “Did you come down here to hit on me?”

“That depends,” Lucien grinned back, letting his gaze slide to her mouth. “Do you find it charming or creepy?”

Elain angled her chin as she contemplated. “Charming,” she declared with a pretty smile. Fuck Lucien had to fist his hands at his sides to keep himself casual and in place. 

Leaned against the laminate counter, Lucien didn’t dare let his eyes drift below her neck though he fucking wanted to really look at her. 

“Does it count as a date if you do all the cooking?”

Elain exhaled a puff of air. “Do you want this to be a date?”

God, Lucien wanted nothing else. He offered her what he prayed was a roguish smile. “Yeah, actually.”

She hesitated. “For…for content?”

“Because I’ve had a pathetic crush on you ever since I moved in,” he replied easily. There was no way in hell he was going to let her think his interest was about titkok fame. One day Lucien would be a lawyer, his tiktoks a blurry memory—his hobby when the world had shut down and nothing more. He had no interest in being an influencer or an actor. 

His interest was standing directly in front of him wearing a blue sundress and smeared in flour. 

“Oh,” she murmured, her face pink again. “I guess this could be a date. I do have some wine I got from Costco.”

“My favorite,” he lied—again, Lucien would have drank sewer water if she was offering. “I can plan the next date, make it more romantic.”

“Next date?” she teased, pulling out two wine glasses. “You’re awfully confident.”

Lucien only shrugged, at a loss for words. “Hedging my bets.”

Elain offered him a glass of red and when Lucien took a drink, he could hear his older brothers sneering words in his head—grape drink—Eris called anything under one hundred dollars that.

The alcohol took some of the edge off his nerves. Elain was closer than she’d ever been willingly, standing in front of him with that glass pressed to her lips. Lucien wanted to be it, wanted to know what it felt like to have her touch him like that. 

“That’s awfully bold,” she said, her voice light and breathless. Fuck fuck fuck.

Lucien set his glass to her nice, round table before he dared a step closer. She was so much shorter than him, would have to lean up on her tiptoes to kiss him if she wanted. God how he hoped she wanted to. 

“Isn’t the saying fortune favors the bold?” he murmured, brushing a curl from her cheek. Her skin was so soft, so warm beneath his fingertips. “Maybe it’ll favor me, too.”

Elain looked up through dark, thick lashes. “That was corny.”

He cocked his head as she dared a step toward him and oh my god, this was happening. Lucien didn’t dare breathe when she angled her chin, her thick cascade of hair falling down her shoulders. Eyes bright with invitation. All he had to do was not fuck this up. Just one kiss, which was more than he’d had for an entire year, despite wanting her that long. 

“All that matters is that my corny line worked,” he replied, reaching for her cheek. Lucien threaded his fingers through her hair before lowering himself to her. She surged upward, meeting him in the middle for what he thought was the most perfect first kiss in the history of first kisses. She smelled like rosemary and tasted like sugared lemon. Her mouth was soft, her fingers curling against his biceps as she reached for something to steady herself.

It was over far too quickly. Lucien wanted to yank her against him. To haul her up on the table and declare she was the only meal he was interested in. Already, his body was far tighter than he would have liked—all the blood he needed to form sentences was currently rushing to his cock. 

Elain smiled as she lowered herself back to the ground. “So uh…dinner?”

Lucien’s eyes nearly rolled back into his skull at the breathless way she said those words.

“I’m yours to command,” he said stupidly. “Tell me where you want me.”

He didn’t miss how her eyes darted toward the hall. He’d go, if she told him to. Lucien would lay flat on the bed and let her do every depraved thing she was thinking of—he’d thank her for it, even. Lucien didn’t care what it was, as long as they were both naked and— “Bread?” she was saying, though she, too, sounded far away.

“Yeah,” he replied, praying she didn’t look down at his shorts. “Whatever you want.”

ELAIN:

Whatever you want. 

What she wanted was for Lucien Vanserra to take off his shirt and let her lick the line between his abs straight to his— “How is this?” he asked, pulling out a loaf pan of bread he’d been working on.

“It’s good,” she lied. It was sagging in the middle, but not a bad first try given they were both distracted. It had been one polite kiss. One kiss. 

One kiss where he’d cupped her whole face in the palm of his hands. Now she knew he smelled like sunshine and woodsy smoke and how his arms felt beneath her fingers. It was too much knowledge for her small kitchen and her overactive imagination. Lucien was being perfectly polite, unaware that Elain was trying to figure out how to get him into her bedroom. 

Did she just ask? Did she say, hey Lucien, do you want to have sex with me—

What happened if he said no? Elain didn’t think she could stand the rejection after that kiss. She wouldn't just have to move out of her building, but the whole state if she wanted to escape him. While she carved the chicken, Lucien refilled their wine glasses and set the table, glancing over at her surreptitiously. Likely wondering why she was acting so strange. 

Lucien had a talent for keeping the conversation going which Elain immensely appreciated. She didn’t have to think about what to say—not when he so effortlessly had a comeback for everything she said. He maintained eye contact and somehow managed to be funny and laid back and charming.

She should have sent him home. He was dangerous. Elain had the distinct feeling that a man like Lucien Vanserra could very easily ruin her life. Which was why, when dinner was over and a third glass of wine seemed ruinous, Elain meant to say, You should probably go home.

But what she actually said was, “Do you want to stay and watch a movie?”

Lucien’s eyes gleamed. “Of course.”

God, he knew. He knew what she was trying to do when he slid off his tennis shoes and padded to the couch, one strong arm slung over the back of the white sofa. “Something scary,” he told her when she began scrolling, so close her arm was brushing his chest.

“Subtle,” she joked, daring to look up at him. That was a mistake. Lucien’s expression seemed to burn, lips parted as though that were the only way for him to get in enough oxygen. She felt the same—worse, maybe, when his fingers gripped her chin gently, tilting her face toward him.

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle,” he said, his mouth brushing hers. “In fact, I’d like to be a lot less subtle. Skip the movie and ask me to stay with you tonight.”

“What about the second date?” she asked, afraid if she slept with him, he’d go back to ignoring her.

“We’ll start when we wake up. I was thinking a picnic,” he panted, his thick, long hair forming a curtain around them. 

“You’re just saying that so I’ll invite you into the bedroom.”

Lucien smiled, his eyes fluttering shut. “You have no idea, Elain. Absolutely no idea how long I’ve been trying to get your attention.”

“How long?” she challenged, wondering why she was still dragging this out. All she wanted was to kiss him again. Longer, this time. Long enough all her good sense evaporated beneath the heat of his body. 

“When did I create that account, again?” he asked. She opened her mouth to call him a liar and Lucien pressed his advantage. This kiss was not like before. There was no hesitance, not tentative, polite pressing of the lips. Lucien knew he had her—or, perhaps he was afraid she’d come to her senses and he needed to take what he could before that happened.

All Elain knew was one moment she’d been about to speak and the next his mouth was slanted against her own. One of his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his lap before Elain could protest.

As if she would have. Elain was too quick to straddle his waist, well aware she was in a dress and the only thing keeping her from being fully bare against him was a thin strip of cotton already wet from the kiss before. Not that Lucien seemed to be faring much better given the moment she was seated against him, she could feel his own erection poking up through his shorts. 

Good, she thought with delight. Arms wrapped around his neck, Elain kissed him like she, too, was never going to get another shot at him. His tongue swept into her mouth, pulling the most embarrassing, unexpected moan from her throat.

Beneath her, Lucien seemed to buck unintentionally. He held her tighter, pushing her against him until his straining cock was lined up with her perfectly. It was experimental, to roll her hips against his shorts. Just to see what would happen if she did. 

Lucien groaned. Loud and sweet, right into her mouth, fingers digging into the fabric of her dress in an attempt to get her to do it again. It had been so long since Elain had kissed anyone—even before quarantine and the pandemic, Elain hadn’t been with anyone since she’d broken up with her ex. 

It was good, the taste of him in her mouth and his hands on her body. Knowing he wanted her, had wanted her maybe as long as she’d wanted him. That they were in this little hell together, desperate and needy. Elain arched again, rubbing herself against the hard slap of his body until Lucien pulled his mouth off her.

“Elain, Elain have mercy. Please,” he panted, sweeping his thumbs over her cheeks as he gulped down air. “You’re going to make me come if you keep that up.”

She didn’t believe him, rolling against his erection again. Lucien threw his head back, moaning while his back arched up off the couch. He was so absurdly hot, so ridiculously sexy. She yanked at his shirt, lifting it over his chest and throwing it to the floor.

“Maybe I want you to come,” she replied, hands gliding down the muscular planes of his body. 

Lucien’s dark eyes fell on her and in one smooth, fluid motion, he had them both on their feet.

Well, he was on his feet. She was in his arms while he strode purposefully through her apartment to her bedroom.

“How do you know where I sleep?” she asked when he tossed her to the rosy duvet. 

He angled his head toward the ceiling. “Same layout. How many nights have you laid just below me, touching that pretty pussy of yours, Elain?”

“Almost as many as I’ve touched myself thinking about you,” she dared to reply. Lucien doubled over, hands gripping the edge of the bed frame to steady himself. She gestured toward her nightstand, determined that her night with Lucien would live up to how she’d imagined it. “Would you like to see?”

He groaned again. “Yes. Show me.”

Elain sat up, eyes never leaving Lucien’s face as she reached behind her for the zipper. She had to stand to shimmy out of her dress, noting how white his knuckles were. He was clearly holding to the wood for dear life, which made stripping all the more fun. The wine helped with her nerves, leaving her own hands steady as she removed her bra and then so, so slowly, pulled her underwear to her ankles.

“Fucking christ,” he whispered, breathing through his nose like a wild, near feral animal. 

“Don’t move,” she reminded him as she laid herself back out on the bed. She’d get herself mostly there, she told herself. Spreading apart her thighs, Elain let Lucien see her fully unclothed just like she’d imagined.

“What’s in the drawer?” he asked when she raked her nails lightly over her parted legs.

“Things that vibrate. Do I need one?” she asked him, thinking she likely did.

“Not tonight,” he whispered, his gaze fully on her pussy. “I have other ideas.”

Elain’s fingers slid through the wetness coating her skin and Lucien whimpered. “What ideas?” she asked, rubbing slow circles over her clit. In truth, she rarely touched herself like this, preferring the ease of vibrating toys. It was fun to tease him, though. To see his obvious want written all over his face. To see the straining bulge in his shorts. 

Lucien, as if reading her mind, yanked them off over his hips, kicking them onto the floor without looking. It was Elain’s turn to whimper at the sight of his large, thick cock now held in his equally large hand. 

He pumped himself once, unaware of the thrill of arousal that spiked through her. She understood how a little grinding could bring him so close to the edge. If he kept stroking himself, she was likely to come, too. The sight of his muscular body, how his cock seemed big despite his hands, how hungry his eyes were was all too much. 

“What ideas, Lucien?” she asked again, still drawing lazy circles around that swollen nub of flesh. Lucien came closer and closer still, until he was at the side of the bed. Lifting his body onto the mattress with one powerful thigh, straddling her stomach so his cock nestled between her bare breasts.

“Fuck, Elain,” he whispered, thrusting up between the valley of skin. She pressed them together, using her fingers still sticky from her own arousal to tease the slick head of his erection. 

Their eyes met. “Do you have a condom, Lucien?”

He groaned. That was a no.

“Upstairs,” he said, thrusting again and again, slowly, clearly doing so for the view. She could have scooted a few inches and found his cock in her mouth. It was so tempting, and yet the moment she began to readjust herself, Lucien was swinging his body off of hers and throwing his shorts back on.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, his voice ragged.

A second later, he was gone. No shirt, no shoes. Her door slammed shut as he raced back upstairs. Elain heard him thudding inelegantly overhead, heard his door slam, and then a second later he was back.

“Hard to fucking run like this,” he panted, ripping his shorts off again. Elain reached for him, wanting to kiss him as he tossed several foiled packets to the bed but Lucien fell to his knees loud enough the people below her likely heard, grabbed her by the knees, and dragged her right to the edge.

Without preamble, his mouth was on her and Elain understood why he’d said no to the vibrating toys. “Oh, god,” she moaned, the sound echoed by his own appreciative groan. Elain had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep herself silent even as she pressed her thighs around her face, ankles crossed behind his head. 

Lucien’s tongue was far better than her fingers, than any toy she could possibly own. Lucien licked with expert, unyielding precision and when one of his fingers slid into her body, Elain was wrecked. Grinding into him with shameless abandon. She’d never been so easy like this, so unconcerned about being sexy versus just chasing pleasure. 

Lucien pumped one, and then two, before finally working a third finger into her. Stretching her open to take him, she knew, though in truth Elain didn’t care so long as he kept rubbing that spot just inside her body and kept licking her clit. 

Elain couldn’t remember the last time a man had gotten her off. Had one ever? Graysen hadn’t, which had necessitated the toys. She could use them while he fucked her, which Gray had preferred. And Elain didn’t mind that—really, she didn’t—but sometimes a little effort would have been nice. 

Maybe it was unfair to compare her ex to Lucien, but Gray had never eaten her out like this. There was a desperation to Lucien, like he needed to do this perfectly—like he’d never see her again and this was his only chance.

If he always ate pussy like this, he could see her whenever he wanted. 

There was nothing elegant about the way she came. Clamped tight around his fingers, riding his face as she split apart, her body arching so hard off the bed she heard her spine crack. Elain scrambled back, gulping down air while Lucien licked himself clean of her before chasing her up the bed.

Their mouths collided, messy and rough in a clash of teeth and tongues. She could feel him between her legs, torturing himself by rubbing the head of his cock through her slick arousal. All she had to do was spread herself a little wider and he’d be inside her. She wanted him in her, wanted to know what it was like to share a body, to have him. 

Elain shoved him, ignoring that the taste of her pussy was now in her own mouth.

“My turn,” she whispered. 

LUCIEN: 

He was dreaming. That was the only thing that made sense to him because otherwise he was living in a reality in which Elain Archeron was naked. Naked and pushing him to the bed, where he was also naked and hanging on a razors edge. A condom was going to do absolutely nothing to save him. The second he was buried in her, he knew it was all over. Lucien had been too close on the couch just kissing her.

Usually, going down on his partner tempered some of his arousal. With Elain, it has only made things worse. Flat on his back while Elain and licked and sucked her way down his chest, Lucien knew he was ruined.

He felt her reach across the bed, searching for one of the condoms he’d hastily grabbed. It was optimistic to take a handful and yet he’d gotten this far, hadn’t he? Why not hope he’d get to fuck her the entirety of the night. That maybe he hadn’t brought enough, even, and would make another trip upstairs. 

Maybe this time he’d bring her with him, just so he could go down on her in his own bed, too. Lucien was certain his sheets could be improved by her pussy smeared across the fabric. For now, Lucien was happy to watch Elain settle between his legs and rip the corner of the gold foil packet.

Lucien gathered up her hair. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby,” he whispered, thinking he ought to say something appreciative. Thank you for fucking me, I might be in love with you now didn’t seem like the right thing. 

Elain looked up at him just as her fingers curled around the base of his cock. Did he think he was somehow owning this experience? That he was exuding confidence? Lucien practically whimpered at her touch, his hips arching off the bed.

She smiled. “Do you taste as good as you look?” she asked in that sweet voice of hers. God, she had been sent to kill him.

What a way to go.

“Find out,” he said in a voice that was decidedly not his. Whoever that man was, he sounded like he had a modicum of control, which Lucien absolutely no longer possessed. Maybe it would be smart to come, he rationalized. Maybe he should have taken a minute upstairs and finished himself and come back with the kind of stamina women boasted about.

Maybe— “Holy shit,” he choked, gripping her hair tight without meaning to. Elain sucked him into her mouth, unnoticed as he agonized over what to do next. The sight was obscene, her pink lips wrapped around the skin of his throbbing erection. She slid nearly half way before she gagged, widening her jaw to take in a breath of air. Lucien nearly came from the sight of her tongue peeking from her lips, of her hand gripping him so tight she must have felt his erratic, pounding heart. 

“Baby,” he tried, unsure what he was even trying to accomplish. Lucien could die happy at the sight of Elain’s bobbing head, of her soft, wet mouth working over him with the kind of enthusiasm he had only once dreamed of. “It’s too much.”

That was true, at least. His whole body was so tight, was buzzing with anticipation. He was buzzing, practically electric. 

“You’re going to make me come,” he whispered, trying one last time to get her off him. It hadn’t been a minute and she was going to laugh and call all her friends and tell them how quickly he’d come in her mouth.

Elain hummed, pulling him back to the present. “Come,” she said. A trail of her own saliva connected those swollen lips to his cock and fuck he almost did. He quite liked her telling him what to do, now that he thought about it. Elain took him back in her mouth, squeezed her fingers tight. One, two—

Lucien came with a rough gasp of air. She’d ripped that orgasm out of him and when he jerked his ups upward, unable to avoid the instinctual desperation to bury himself deeper, Elain let him pour himself into her throat. 

Lucien groaned again when Elain wiped her chin with the back of her hand. 

“I think that makes us even,” she said primly, sitting up on her heels.

He gaped for a second, still leaking come onto his stomach. Was she serious? 

“Get on your hands and knees,” he growled. It was the only thing he could think to say that wasn’t thank you, I love you— which, again, seemed like the wrong thing to tell her. 

“Are you going to spank me?” she teased, though Elain did exactly as he asked. Lucien’s eyes rolled upward at the sight of her heart shaped ass wiggling right in front of him. 

He ignored the condom she’d begun to open, unsure if it was safe to use it. It took three seconds to roll it over his erection and another to bring his palm stinging against her ass cheek.

Elain gasped. She hadn’t expected him to do that. Lucien hadn’t either, but she’d put the idea in his head and Lucien couldn’t resist. 

“Are you going to be my good girl?” he asked her. Say yes, say yes, say yes—

“What if I’m not?” she replied. Lucien didn’t know, though he lined himself him up that pretty, wet pussy of hers and pushed himself in an inch. The soft, warm heat of her body nearly made him come again.

He was so fucked. “My good girl gets to come on my cock. And my bad girl gets her ass spanked until she’s raw.”

Elain didn’t hesitate. “I’m your good girl.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck— Lucien buried himself inside her with a mighty stroke, using her hip to pull her back roughly. Elain moaned, squeezed so tight around him she might have been his own skin. For the first time in his life, Lucien thanked God for the condom. It was the only thing that kept him from becoming a mindless, rutting animal behind her. 

“Are you going to come for me?” he asked, slowly pulling himself out. Lucien would remember this moment until he died. On his death bed, thinking not of a life well lived, but his hands on Elain Archeron’s ass, spreading her apart while his cock vanished into her perfect pussy. 

“Make me,” she replied, half challenge, half plea. Maybe he should have asked for one of the toys in her bedside table, just to ensure his success. This was fine, he told himself. He’d put her on his back if he had to, and if that failed, he’d just go back down on her.

Actually, that seemed like an incredible idea. He nearly proposed it when Elain moaned, shifting to her forearms and changing the angle. Lucien gasped, suddenly deeper than he’d been before. Fuuuuuuuuuuck. 

“Do you like that?” he asked. It was a genuine question. He thrust again, the head of his cock brushing against something distinctly soft. He knew that spot—he’d had his fingers on it not five minutes before.

“Yes,” she panted. Perfect, he told himself. Keep his strokes steady and deep and he’d have her shaking around him in no time.

Though, just to be sure, Lucien snaked a hand around them for her clit. That made her moan, made her pulse around him which Lucien liked more than he’d ever admit. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he said, unsure what he was even saying. His mind was repeating out a rhythm—stroke, rub, stroke, rub, stroke, rub— 

“My good girl takes my cock so well,” he continued, babbling out words as he tried to hold back his own desperate need to come. Again. It seemed important to call her his good girl, to plant that seed in her head so when they woke in the morning and he bypassed all the social niceties to ask her to be his girlfriend, it seemed normal.

Natural, even. 

Elain had her face buried in her pillows, her hands pulling at her sheets until she’d pulled the corners off.

“Come for me, baby,” Lucien ordered, praying she would. He wasn’t above begging if he had to. “Come on my cock, let me see—”

She was loud enough to disturb the neighbors, not that Lucien cared. The sound speared straight into his balls, breathless and high pitched and needy.

His name, he realized. She’d screamed his name like that.

“Fuck, Elain—”

He couldn’t get another word out, not when his own orgasm ripped through him. Lucien couldn’t think, his eyes blurred black at the edges. When he did manage to look around, his eyes landed on the clock.

He felt like he’d been fucking her for hours. He’d managed twenty solid minutes. She’d come both times, though, which felt like a win all the same.

Lucien discarded the condom gingerly in the bathroom trash, giving her a moment to process what had happened alone. If she wanted him to leave, he’d go though he might also get on his knees and beg. That was a very real possibility, too. 

When he padded back into the dark room, Elain was under the blankets. The corner was flopped to the side in what he hoped was invitation. She smiled when she saw him, pulling him toward her without a word. Lucien tumbled into the bed, gathering her into his arms. Her hair smelled like honey, her body like sweat and to his relief, Elain was naked beneath the covers. 

“Let's make lemon bars in the morning,” he whispered. Elain twisted to look at him. It was clear she expected him to take off. 

“Okay,” she agreed, her brown eyes wide and shining. “And then what?”

“We have our picnic, don’t we?” Lucien didn’t mention he fully intended to fuck her in the grass. That could be a fun little surprise for later, after he’d convinced her to put on another one of those strappy little sundresses. 

Elain burrowed her head in the crook of his arm. “Good.”

“I’m not done with you, you know,” he said, though in truth he could use some water and a thirty minute nap. 

“I know you’re not, Lucien,” she said, trailing her finger over his stomach. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Neither was he. 

[thornlock-obey-me]

Tales Through the Rose's Eyes: Her Garden

Word Count: 1548

Warning(s): None I think…

   My giggles ring through the warm air as I run between the garden beds. Basket of vegetables in hand— or more on my head. It surely gives away my position as I hear the laughter of the butler at my antics. He finds me amusing, more so when I’m enjoying myself; even if my enjoyment comes from stealing his harvest basket.

   “Ah-! Milady! There is no need for you to be carrying the basket—!” A groan escapes my mouth at the maid’s chastising. I’m sure she prefers I not be in the garden at all.

   “Nonsense, she wishes to aid me in the garden and have a bit of fun with it,” Vincent, the butler, argues back and I see the maid shake her head, but leave for the manor. A cheeky grin blossoms on my face as I run back to the butler. “Ah, and here I thought I’d need to carry the rest of the vegetables in my hands.”

   I laugh at his jest and carefully set the basket down so he may put the harvestables in it. “How do you know what’s ready to be harvested, Vincent?” I ask with genuine curiosity. Usually the maids usher me inside by now, so I’ve never had the chance to ask. Well, ask and actually have time to listen.

   “Depends on the plant. The herbs you look to the size of most of the leaves and the plant. It takes a lot of energy to grow if they have too many leaves, so you take the biggest as needed,” Vincent explains as he harvests various herbs from his kneeling position. He groups the same herbs together in his hand and pulls some string from his gardening apron. “Care to help me tie this bunch together?”

   I smile brightly and sit down in the grass, taking the string into my smaller hands. Wrapping it around the stems a few times, I tie off the herbs with a cute, but lopsided bow. They are put into the basket with a light laugh from the butler. “What about the vegetables? Oh– and the berries!?”

   “Size and colour, young lady. Once they are big enough and begin to change colour, or completely change colour, they are usually ready to harvest. Roots can be a bit hard to tell since you can’t see them until you dig them out, but the leaves are often the telltale sign.” He moves towards the tomatoes, many now big and red. With garden clippers, he cuts the stems to pull off the red vegetable. Each one he hands to me to put in the basket.

   “I rather like the garden,” I mutter as I look at the large tomato in my hands. I like playing outside while the butler tends the garden, I like when he hands me one of the water cans to help water the plants, I like the smell of the rich dirt, I like when my dress gets messy and the maids shake their heads when I come back into the manor. I may be the young lady of the house, but I want to help with the garden.

   “It is your garden, milady,” Vincent says with a chuckle. My garden? Surely he is jesting again, the maids dislike me in the garden. So why would it be mine?

   “How so? The maids rather I stay out of the garden, only you let me help.” I could list more reasons; a thousand more on why the ‘prim and proper’ young lady should leave the garden work to the servants.

   “Your father planted many of these for your benefit. He wishes you to eat the freshest foods and for you to learn the skills of maintaining the life of the plants. A valuable skill for anyone, milady.”

   “Then why do the maids keep me away?”

   “Your mother rather you improve different skills. Things that keep the mud off your dresses,” it’s a light chastise that makes me smile as there is already dirt on this dress too.

   “I don’t dirty my nicest dresses.”

   “Well, your mother thinks it is unbefitting for a young lady to be dirty at all.” He doesn’t need to tell me that for me to know. Mother prefers things be clean, neat.

   “Is it not also unbefitting that a young lady not take care of her garden then?”   “Oh yes, very unbefitting,” Vincent jest with me. “So long as you love this garden and express your interest in it and its care, I will always let you aid me in tending your garden.” His sincerity surprises me for a moment… but I understand and nod. I want to care for this garden, my garden. The garden being mine soothes something in my mind.

   After we finished harvesting, and talking more about gardening, the butler let me carry the full basket. He opens the wooden gate and walks behind me as I walk across the gravel and stone pathway to the manor. The basket is huge and heavy with all the harvest, but I take pride in carrying it through the front door. My dress is messy, my hair has leaves in my curls, and my garden is beautiful.

   “Mammon, did you water the garden yesterday?!” Satan yells as he walks into the living room. Something tells me he already knows the answer, but my mind is quickly occupied by the new knowledge that the House of Lamentation has a garden.

   “Shit– I forgot!” Mammon rushes up from his previous place on the couch trying to avoid the brunt of Satan’s wrath.

   “Wait-” I run after the greed demon, giving no explanation to the other for my sudden departure. Luckily Mammon’s quick footsteps are loud and easy to follow even when I lose sight of him. He’s out the door just as fast, “Mammon, wait up!”

   “GAAHH—” His shout of distress gives me pause. Did he trip— oh… right, the pact. He’s frozen mid sprint and the sight is quite funny— “Oi! Don’t laugh ya human! And what was this for?!”

   I can’t stifle my laughter as I wave off the pact command, only for Mammon to fall face first into the ground. “I haha– apologise, I didn’t hehe– mean for that to happen—”

   “You damn right should be sorry!” He huffs as he gets up from the dirt and begins to walk towards the back of the house. My mouth opens to tell him to wait again, but I quickly stop myself by putting my hand over it.

   Jogging to catch up, I finally ask my question, “The House of Lamentation has a garden?”

   “What–? Oh yeah, it’s nothin’ like the Demon King’s garden. Kinda small, but we all grow a few things and take turns tending to the whole garden,” Mammon explains as we both walk. “Why are ya smiling like that?”

   I didn’t even notice I am smiling, but I can’t stop. “Oh– umm… I used to have a garden back in the human world,” Years ago… but I leave that part out, either way that seems to satisfy the demon’s question. He opens a gate under a hedge arch and I follow him into the garden area. I’ve only been in Devildom for a little over a week; many of the plants I don’t recognize but the sight alone makes me grin wildly. It’s beautiful and each bed is full of varios and full plants…. Except one? One garden bed is completely empty. “Why is this one empty?”

   Mammon looks up from where he is turning on the hose to see me standing next to the barren bed. I think he frowns, but he shakes his head quickly. “Just cus’... seven of us, seems unfair for one person to get two beds, right?” He sounds hesitant as he pulls the hose to start watering the thirsty plant; some which noticeably perk up at the raining drops of water.

   As I look at the empty garden bed, I feel a wave of sadness. It has been left empty for a reason, maybe a symbolism. I pull my eyes away and look over to where Mammon’s back is to me. “Which bed is yours?” I ask and walk over with my hands behind my back. The empty bed can be a later question, a much later question.

   The explanation of why Mammon grows the plants he does is long, but I listen to all of his reasons. Even if most of them have something to do with money. It also turns out the water in Devildom flows faster, so when he asks me to hold the hose for a minute… I can’t at all keep control. His clothes are soaked, my clothes are soaked and I think we watered each other more than the plants as we have a careless water fight. With each other and with the wild hose.

   My clothes are messy… Mammon laughs at the leaves and grass in my hair… and the garden looks beautiful with each and every plant having water droplets on all their leaves. And for a moment, I feel like I’m seven years old again, walking inside my home messy and full of joy. But it’s not my home and the joy is short lived once I’m alone in my room.

[sinfulwrites]

Halloween Festivities

Happy Halloween, everyone! I rise from the crypt to bring cute little Halloween themed drabbles. I hope you enjoy!

Costumes:

Bubba Sawyer

Your expectations were admittedly low when October came around this year. You were sure you would have to forgo celebration in the Sawyer home; did they even celebrate the holiday?

In a way, the answer was no. Sure, the bones littering the home as decor could pass as Halloween decorations, but there were no pumpkins or bats to be found in the home. No candy, no movies, not even any pie despite Drayton’s constant ramblings of a so-called “award winning” pumpkin pie. Then again, everything Drayton said had to be taken with a grain of salt.

One tradition seemed to reign supreme in the Sawyer home, however. Costumes. 

Waking up that morning you were greeted with the shocking sight of Drayton in a chef’s outfit. Roughly sewn together, and albeit missing the big hat, but you could tell what he was going for. Chop Top was sporting a new wig with a tie dye shirt and headband. Most likely taken by some unfortunate trespassers. Your lover, Bubba, was sporting a brand new mask he had made the night prior; one with black lipstick and an attempt at winged eyeliner on the eyeless lids, with some purple eye shadow to bring it all together. He was wearing a long black shawl over his nicest dress pants with the broom in his hands wherever he went. He was a beautiful witch, in your eyes. 

It was just you who was lacking a costume, though you had an idea quickly brewed into your mind. With some quick improvising, you were eagerly waddling over to your lover in the kitchen, one of his masks on your face with his chainsaw in your arms and one of his aprons on. You had underestimated the strength needed to hold it, but you somehow didn’t drop it. 

“Look baby, I’m you!”

Bubba let out an excited squeal when he saw you, holding your cheeks over the mask and taking in your quickly thrown together costume. His apron was like a dress on you! He thought it was adorable.

Just… Put the chainsaw down. He doesn’t want you getting hurt.

Jesse Cromeans

Extravagant holiday parties were the new norm after getting together with Jesse. Sure, he wasn’t exactly a social butterfly, so you never stayed long, but they were quite enjoyable for the time you did go. Besides, the after parties he always had waiting for you in bed were always more enjoyable. 

Halloween had Jesse showing a rare level of excitement. The man loved to dress up in costumes, one could argue his whole aesthetic was exactly that. He will gladly take a day of wearing a mask without getting weird looks for it. This year he got a custom ram skull mask made, painted in a black chrome with a red pentagram painted on along with a luxurious robe he wore over his classic dress shirt and pants, lined with various medallions and gems to go along with his theme of some kind of cult leader. Jesse was rather proud of it, and he looked incredible in it.

You were rather proud of your own costume too. You kept it a surprise from Jesse, so you were rather giddy to approach him at the front door in a pair of his own dress shirt and pants, in your size of course, with one of his chrome skull masks stuck to your face with the medical adhesive he used to put the mask on his own face. You had his briefcase in your gloved hands too, though you left it empty. Admittedly, you had no idea what he kept in the thing, it was always empty when you saw it in the closet. 

His expression was robbed from you by his mask, but you saw his shoulders shake in a chuckle at the sight of you. You puffed your chest out with pride and placed your hands on your hips so he could take in the sight, as well as teasingly mock his own attitude. If you’re gonna look the part, you’d better act it as well!

[Cute.] Was the message he flashed to you on his phone, and you grinned behind the mask.

“Thanks. Shall we go?”

Jesse nodded, and held the door open for you before the two of you left his pent house and made way to the garage to get his car. 

“By the way… Can you even see in that thing?”

[Kind of.]

“So… How are you gonna drive?”

Jesse had no response to that, he simply held the garage door open for you. He did shrug his shoulders after a while, though. Wonderful…

Movies:

Bo Sinclair

There were no trick or treaters around in Ambrose to entertain this time of year. While you could have driven to town for some festivities, you instead decided to indulge the Sinclair tradition of watching scary movies this time of year. Each of you got to pick a movie to watch; Lester chose Dawn of the Dead, Vincent chose The Exorcist, Bo chose The Shining, and you had picked Scream. The urge to choose Halloween was strong, though.

It would be a marathon, starting at 9pm and only finishing once everyone’s movies were watched. The third bowl of popcorn was being made around 1 am when The Shining was inserted into the old DVD player. The exhaustion was beginning to set in on you, Lester had already fallen asleep in the middle of Vincent’s movie in the recliner. Vincent himself put the next movie in, but was tapping out now. 

“I’m tired. Going to sleep.” Vincent signed to you on his way to the basement.

“Goodnight.” You responded through a yawn. 

The infamous shot of Jack Torrence peeking through the hole in the door stared you down for a couple minutes before Bo sat himself next to you, placing the bowl of popcorn in your lap. Bo took a glance around the room before chuckling to himself and wrapping an arm around you.

“Guess it’s just us.” He said before shrugging. “I ain’t surprised. I’m always the last man standing for these movie nights.”

You snuggled right into Bo’s side, wrapping an arm around his stomach while chuckling to yourself. Bo hit the start button for the movie, dropping the remote on the coffee table before snatching some popcorn. 

“Not this year, I’m still here.”

“Sure, darlin. You look ready to pass out any minute.”

Your attempt at a fake gasp was interrupted by a yawn.

“What? No, I’m fine…” Yet another yawn slipped past your lips.

Bo rubbed your arm as he just shook his head and focused on the movie. Even when tired though, you weren’t going to let him doubt you. 

“I am fine.” You reaffirmed. “Besides, I wanna watch Scream. I’m not going to sleep.”

“Mhm. Sure, darlin.”

Your stubbornness was prevalent, but the exhaustion was quickly overtaking you. It wasn’t long after the title card of the film before Bo heard soft snores under his arm. The man simply smiled down at you and stroked your cheek with his knuckle before placing a kiss on your head. 

Bo turned back to his film, deciding to finish his marathon before taking you to bed. 

Asa Emory

“Happy Halloween, bye bye now!” You finally shut the door on the latest batch of trick or treaters rolling through the neighborhood with a heavy sigh, the candy bowl in your hand gliding out of your grip and onto the table placed by the front door. The scent of an apple pie wafted through the antique cladded home, but you felt you didn’t have a moment to even enjoy it without having to get up and answer the door once again. Your feet dragged to the kitchen where Asa was, slicing into the finally cooled pie he had made for tonight.

“I’m sick of answering the door. I think I’m just going to put the bowl on the porch.” You planted yourself at the dining table, your head laying on the wood once your butt was planted.

“You told me not to do that because someone will take the entire bowl.” Asa pointed out while cutting into the pie. 

You sighed. “I know, and it’s true. I’m just complaining.”

The pie was finally cut and plated, and your eyes were finally able to behold it when Asa slid it in front of your face. He pet your head as it was laid on his table while shaking his head at your exhaustion. 

“Just put the bowl outside. We’ll cut the lights and watch a movie.”

The sight of the pie made it hard to continue refusing the easy method and give in to his suggestion. 

“Can you make a take one sign for me?” 

“No.” Asa answered before taking a slice of his own pie. “But I’ll put on a movie.” 

You groaned to yourself, but willed yourself up after taking a bite of the delicious pie slid in front of you. 

With your candy bowl and sign placed on the porch atop of Asa’s antique chair, you came back inside and cut the lights in the house. The only light illuminating the home was the TV beginning to play a movie. You came into the living room with your pie and sat beside Asa to watch the movie with him. The sound of whistling filled the room following the opening credits of the film, though it  wasn’t an opening you were familiar with.

“What are we watching?” You asked.

“Hostel.” 

You’d never seen this film, but you had heard some people talk about it before in the past. 

“Isn’t this just a gore porn movie?”

Asa shrugged his shoulders while eating a piece of his pie. “You’re not gonna wuss out because of some gore, are you?”

“N-No. I like gorey movies.” 

“Mhm.”

The movie was rather misleading at first, and you were about to write it off as a shameless boobfest, but when the plot really took off you realized where the movie had gotten its reputation. The gore had increasingly intensified until you were finally jumping and hiding into Asa’s arm. While he didn’t comfort you, he let you hide into his bicep as he watched his movie with a stone cold expression. 

You could have sworn you heard him chuckle, though. 

Pumpkin Carving:

Michael Myers (2018)

Halloween was always something to be feared in Haddonfield. With each year that passed, no one was certain if the Boogeyman would return and kill again. You were one of these people once. Your parents would scare you with stories of the Boogeyman to keep you in line. As a child, you were terrified of that story. Now as an adult, your parents would have a heart attack if they knew who you let into your more intimate life. 

The spooky holiday wasn’t as scary as it once was with the evil on your side; and only your side. The sad part of Halloween with Michael was the lonely night. He was gone for the entire night most years, and sometimes he is gone for an extra day or two after Halloween. Michael was around during the day, though, and you took advantage of it any way you could with your forbidden lover. This year, you chose to carve a pumpkin.

Michael was very intrigued by the pumpkin you brought home with you that morning. It was pleasantly round, and the perfect size for a big pattern. It also had a curly stem. 

Michael took the pumpkin from your hands, letting you show him the carving tools you had stashed under your arm.

“Want to carve a pumpkin with me?” 

The white mask moved briefly in a nod. 

A simple, traditional pumpkin design was chosen by the two of you, and Michael was already getting to work on the pumpkin. Instead of using the carving tools, Michael instead used your kitchen knife to begin cutting the hole around the stem for you. You peeled the lid off, and Michael immediately put his hand in the pumpkin to begin pulling the seeds and guts out. You took turns with him to gut the pumpkin until it was hollowed out for the pattern. You used the pick to add the pattern, and Michael used his knife to cut out the triangles and smile onto the pumpkin. The nose had an additional line on it, resembling a knife. You were sure it was on purpose.

A tea candle was placed into the pumpkin before it was put on your porch, to be lit once nightfall hit. Michael accompanied you on the porch, watching you angle it how you wished with a tilted head. His head straightened out when you stood back up and began shuffling closer to him.

“Will you say bye before you leave?” You asked Michael.

He didn’t answer you, but you didn’t expect an answer. You just smiled to yourself and laid your head on his shoulder. 

“... Just be careful, okay?” You whispered into his shoulder. “I don’t want to see you all beat up again…”

Your request was met with even more silence, but you did feel a stiff arm wrap around you and pat your back. That simple gesture was worth more than any words, especially coming from Michael. It was enough to make you teary eyed.

Vincent Sinclair

“Hey, will you remind Vincent to tell me what movie he picked?” 

You looked up from the bat decorations you were planning on hanging in the kitchen when Bo stepped in and made his request. 

“Oh sure. Ain’t busy or anything.” 

“Great. Thanks.”

You internally sighed. Even on Halloween, Bo was a dick. A loveable dick, but a dick nonetheless. 

Your paper bats were placed on the pool table before you made your way to the late Victor Sinclair’s office to make your way down the trapdoor to Vincent’s workshop. His various wax molds sculpted on the walls all fit the Halloween spirit in your mind, even if it wasn’t deliberate. Vincent’s art always tipped into the creepy, and you personally enjoyed how it all looked. He had a very creative mind, with the artist talent to execute it flawlessly. Even if he had his own doubts and insecurity about it.

You were excited to see your partner hunched over his work desk in his stool with a pumpkin. A closer look of the pumpkin made you realize he wasn’t carving a pumpkin; he was molding a pumpkin made of wax. There was a drawing beside him, showing a pumpkin with bulging teeth and realistic eyes that the wax made much easier to create. Though you were confident Vincent could pull it off with a real pumpkin as well.

“This is amazing, Vince.” You said to him.

Vincent jumped, nearly dropping his wax pumpkin and making you jump as well. 

“S-Sorry, sorry! I thought you heard me.” 

Vincent made sure his pumpkin was alright before he got out of his stool so he could stand by you and hold your hands. You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his back and stuffing your face into his chest. His soft hands ran along your head and down your back before returning the embrace. 

“Can I watch you make your pumpkin?” You asked into Vincent’s chest.

Gently pulling you off his chest, Vincent signed to you. “It will take a long time.”

You smiled at that. “So? That’s the opposite of a problem.”

Even this long into a relationship, Vincent was still flustered by your vocalizations of love. He could only nod in response before giving you a quick peck on the head over his mask. Vincent pulled away to bring his second stool over for you to sit on. You gladly took a seat next to him, and once he was settled in his seat, you placed a kiss on his wax cheek.

You couldn’t see it, but his face had erupted in red under the wax mask.

Eating Candy:

Jason Voorhees

Halloween was never a thing for Jason. His mother never got to take him trick or treating before the tragedy happened. The most he ever experienced of the holiday was random candies his mother would bring him this time of the year. That was years ago, though, and the holiday had long passed Jason’s mind. The concept of days and months have passed as well, he never knew what day it was, he didn’t have to.

You knew what day it was, though, and you wanted to celebrate it with Jason. He seemed indifferent, though. Not even a “Happy Halloween.” You figured he just didn’t celebrate it; understandably. What could you even do with him out here? Maybe he would like carving a pumpkin, but it was too last minute to get a pumpkin.

Instead, the answer lay in the small bag of candy you had in the backpack you had when you made a sudden permanent residence in Crystal Lake. There were only a handful of hard candies left, but it was plenty to share with Jason, who was wiping his machete clean after a hunt of a deer earlier that morning.

“Hey Jason?” 

Your large lover turned around to face you, the excitement to see you clear in his body language after he stuck his machete in the dirt and came over to you, his large hands cupping your cheeks and stroking them with his thumbs. A smile melted onto your lips, but you couldn’t let yourself melt into it since you had something to give him. Gently peeling one of his hands off, you place some of the candies into his hand. Jason eyed them curiously before tilting his head at you. You just smiled at him while unwrapping a candy for you to have. 

“Happy Halloween, Jason.” 

Jason blinked at you for a moment before looking back at the candies. The memories of his mother came flooding back after forgetting them all these years, and he couldn’t stop the tears from pricking at his eyes before he unwrapped a candy and stuck it under his mask to eat. 

“Happy Halloween.” Jason signed to you, before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a tight hug to hide his tears from you. 

But you knew. You simply rubbed his back and kissed his arm as you both sucked on the sugary sweets.

[webraciszekbastion]

Vivia Twilight x Baker!Reader

Good morning/good evening everyone.

Thank you for casting your votes. I've been on Tumblr for a while, but I've been writing for a short time and for the first time in English. I hope it will be okay. Enjoy readingy.

Paring: Vivia Twilight x GN!Baker!Reader

You are the owner of the "Reading Bakery." In your establishment, in addition to delicious baked goods, you have plenty of books to read while eat. Many people bring in their old books and exchange them for another from shelves, so you often have lots of new titles.

You've often seen Vivia reading under a table in a corner.

He always seemed depressed to you. Therefore, when, you noticed that he was reading a book by your favorite writer, you decided to riddle him. You brought a cheesecake and offered to talk.

Vivia doesn't like to be disturbed while reading, but an interesting conversation about books and thoughts after reading them are always interesting to him.

Since your first conversation Vivia, he has more often stayed until closing time so that he could talk to you one-on-one.

Vivia speaks several languages, so she translates recipes you might like.

When customers bring to the bakery, books that might be of interest to Vivia, you store them in the back room for him.

It was a matter of time when you start meeting.

When you try new recipes, Vivia is your personal tester. He will happily eat anything you bake. Even though he was convinced that he doesn't like sweet things, your pastries are new sensations for Vivia that add color to his life.

One of his favorites is dark chocolate tarts with caramel. You think the tarts reflect Vivia perfectly. A bittersweet character, evident in Vivia every day, which seems discouraging, but underneath that layer is an interesting personality that sweetens your every day.

Vivia's caresses, can also be described as such. Vivia is inexperienced, so his hugs can be too strong, her kisses a bit rough, and the kind gesture of giving a massage doesn't always have the intended effect. It may seem bitter, but the sweet tingling and pleasant warmth that comes with Vivia's presence makes you want more of it.

Since the two of you have been together, Vivia has stopped talking about the characters in the books he reads. Not his fault. No matter how he looks at it, you are much better. even perfect in Vivia's eyes. Why should she admire fictional characters when she has the real ideal by her side.

Vivia likes it when someone brings fresh bread to the agency. That smell reminds him of you and of the fact that at the end of the day, he will see you again.

He loves to read to you. Usually when, you lie in his embrace. Vivia usually reads books to you in foreign languages while talking to you about aspects of the book.

Vivia loves to share her passion for reading with you, but wants to be as close to you as possible. Therefore, whenever she has time to do so, she learns to bake with you.

Contrary to appearances, it even works out for him. He may not be a "Star Baker," but things like bread, simple pizza, chocolate chip cookies or cupcakes, he can manage to make, without burning down the whole kitchen.

He is pleased with his progress. Yakou and the others have more than once stood in stupor, seeing Vivia in an apron, baking something in the agency's small kitchen.

Once, to show off to you, his new skills, he brought you a small gift for your meeting. It was a bouquet, but instead of flowers, it was churros he had made. It was by far, the nicest and most delicious gift you received.

When you need help with shopping, Vivia is your personal porter. You make him happy and feel important, so if he can help you, he'll do it to give back the attentions you give him.

If you fall asleep while cleaning up after work, rest assured that Vivia will carry you to the floor and put you to bed. He doesn't mind sleeping on the floor, but your comfort and health are important to him.

[emhm]

Eclipse rippled the slack of neatly folded fabric like a deck of cards. He'd allowed Sun and the clerk to convince him to add two more colors, orange and black. But there was still no real harmony to the subject matter. Slices of oranges in a graphic style, swirly koi fish with ribbons of shiny gold, Halloween fabrics with pumpkins, skulls and crows. He had floral prints and abstract blenders and even one with tiny stars on a charcoal sky. His fingers curled into the folds of the fabric like a cat protecting a favorite toy. Sun was cheerfully discussing his own cats with the clerk. Who by the tiny white hairs on her shirt; clearly had at least one of her own. She folded up Sun's last choice; a repeating pattern of bookshelves with fairy-tale names on the spines. The two stacks were equal in number and volume and tidy next to one another, the edges crisply folded. Sun's stack was mostly yellow and blue. Tropical fish and sunny skies, flowers, geometric shapes and smears. He had three different prints with cartoon cats and a single one with woodgrain to match the bookshelves. Eclipse noticed a scrap peeking out from under the stack of fat quarters the clerk had been cutting. He pulled it out delicately and held it up. A creme colored fabric with a pattern of round black berries on leafy branches with delicate plum colored flowers like tiny trumpets. The clerk looked up, "we had several bolts of botanical illustration fabric. That's the very last piece. Not the nicest plant but it looks pretty. Deadly nightshade." Eclipse held the small piece and stared at it, lost in thought. Sun smiled at him. "I think we'll take it off your hands. Now I just need two spools of black and white thread for the machine and we can go." The lady put her cutter in the pocket of her apron. "I'll get it for you." She could see that the two anamatronics needed a moment alone. The dark sun considered the tiny square of fabric on top of the larger pieces. In that moment he almost pitied it and the burst of empathy for the rumpled scrap left him reeling with the strangely intense emotion. He felt Sun's fingers nestle in between his own. "It can kill people yeah. But it's also used to make heart medication for humans and it's related to potatoes. Which are wonderful." He gave his shadow a soft look. "Are you feeling any better?" "I guess… it's calm here." Sun squeezed his hand. "We need to find you a hobby of your own." He picked up the two piles of cloth and followed the clerk to the counter. "You should be here when they're doing classes in the back." She said softly. "I've always enjoyed the ambience of everyone's different machines all clacking and humming along. People bring their own and there's always a big range from fresh-faced kids with brand new plastic things to grandmas with old metal heirlooms lovingly maintained and oiled. "I see you thinking Sun." Eclipse ventured. "I'm not taking a quilting class. Even if you wanted to lend me your machine; I don't think yours is something that should be drug around. If I wanted to do anything it, would be to make some more clothes." Sun and the clerk exchanged a knowing look. "Okay Eclipse. As you wish."

[yourlocalwheeliebin]

Driving Home to Bucky After A Long Day

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (Gender Neutral) Reader 

Word Count: 1.3k

TW: None 

AN: Just a short but sweet one shot about our favorite boy. This has sat in my google docs for a ass time so I hope you all enjoy! Okay, mags out!

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

It’s been a long day. Too long for it to only be a Wednesday. You're having to work late because one of your colleagues fucked up some paperwork after a mission that you now need to fix. Your boss is nice enough to ask if you need dinner orders but you tell them no and you'll eat when you get home. “Fucking Sara, how do you screw up a goddamn injury form this badly” you groan, filling out anther claim made by our colleague. 

Finally, after around 3 hours past your usual shift, you're able to leave for Buck's. You look out the window and the rain has only gotten heavier on the cold November night. It’s pitch black out apart from city lights and cars that drove past. You shut down your computer, grab your coat and start to head out. In the lift, you message Bucky letting him know you're finally on the way home. It's almost 8pm. 

You run to your car, holding your jacket over your head to not get too wet. You sit there for a few minutes to let out a deep sigh and release some stress that you'd been holding. Starting up your car, you turn on the heating and connect your phone up to the Bluetooth. Songs that remind you of Bucky start to play, a feeling of ease finally washes over you as you pull out of the parking lot. 

Traffic in Brooklyn is brutal, the journey home taking far longer than you'd like it to. The lights of other cars slowly strained your tired eyes. The yells and noise of the city deafened by the music playing through the speaker. Your clothes and hair slowly dry as you drive, wondering how much longer the journey will take.

Pulling up to Bucky's apartment, you turn off the car and lie back on the seat for a second. Almost steadying the tiredness and stress from the day before you venture into the apartment complex. The area isn't the nicest but it's near where he grew up. A rough blue eyed boy from Brooklyn who deserved the world waiting for you to come home to him. Mentally cursing how many stairs you'll have to climb since the lift is out of order. 

Entering the building, the dusty smell of the cold building is a stark contrast to the cold November air outside. The climb up the stairs felt like an eternity, the walls getting progressively dirtier as you climb each flight. Standing outside the door of Buck’s apartment at last, you slowly open the door to the dimly lit home. 

Bucky's apartment wasn't much. He rented it when it was just himself living there, not taking into account meeting you or the fact he deserved more than just four dingy walls. Parts of you linger in each room, a daily reminder that you’re real and not just part of some sick dream. That you're really with him, not planning to leave any time soon. 

From the toothbrush in the bathroom; to the extra blankets and cushions you bought for the living room so the leather of the beat up old sofa wouldn't stick to your skin after hours of watching TV together cuddled up. Fairy lights hung up in the bedroom and living room, a fond memory from when you put them up at Christmas the year before but never took them down since you thought they looked pretty. He couldn't help agreeing, saying they looked beautiful as he stared at you rather than the yellow lights decorating the walls. 

The small kitchen held home to kitchenware that you bought once you found out he only had two pots and a frying pan for pancakes. A cheesy apron hung up on the edge of the door that had "Kiss the Cook'' on the front, a joke gift that a friend of yours bought you for your birthday. 

Though the apartment was small and there was barely enough room to move in it, he wouldn't change it for the world. His room didn't have a door to separate it from the living room and sure, the heating didn't work half the time and don't get him started on the guy on the 2nd floor who flirts with you every time he runs into you....he wouldn't change it one bit of it meant a life without you. 

Walking through the door, the smell of cinnamon, leather and dust washed over you. A warm welcoming smell that always felt like home to you. He always seemed to smell like old leather, pine and something sweet that you couldn't quite put your finger on. You took off your shoes and called out to Bucky as you put down your bag and jacket on the small side table that was next to the front door. 

You looked around for Bucky as you walked in. The kitchen island was tidy for once and the wooden floor had been mopped. 'Must have cleaned while I was out' you thought as you walked towards the sofa in the middle of the living room. An old Friends rerun playing on the TV again. 

Buck walks out from the bathroom in a t-shirt and a pair of tracksuit bottoms, looking freshly showered with his wet hair sticking to his forehead. He comes over with a smile on his face, eyes still the brightest blue you'd ever seen, and envelopes you in a hug. He asks how work was as he leaves a kiss on your forehead. You explain your day before quickly heading off to change out of your work attire.

After changing and finally feeling comfortable again, you walk into the living room. The main lights had been turned off, the fairy lights from Christmas were turning the room a warm and cosy yellow. Some candles were lit on the kitchen island and on the TV stand as some soft music played in the background. You laugh a little as you walk over to him. Sat on the sofa, Bucky smiles at you, knowing how hard today must have been.

"Long day?" He asked. "God, don’t get me started” Buck stood up from the sofa, making is way to the middle of the small living room and placed a hand on your lower back and slowly pulled you in for a kiss. “I would gladly have rather spent the day here”. Buck let out a small breathy laugh, “well you’re here now” he says, almost whispering as if was trying to convince himself you were real. 

“How'd you do this all while I was getting changed? I was only in there for like 5 minutes, Buck". He takes your hands in his as Louis Armstrong starts to play through the speaker. "I may have planned this out a bit before you got home. Plus, food has been ordered. Got your favorite" He said with that same sweet smile he always gives you. Even though your tired, that damn Bucky Barnes Charm is irresistible. 

“Wow look at you go, ordering food from your phone” He scoffs sarcastically. “Hey, I am perfectly capable ordering from the phone, it’s not rocket science” You laugh, resting your forehead against his. “I know, I’m only joking old man”. 

He pulls you close and starts to sway to the music. The windows open slightly let in the light noise of rain and that ambiance of the city outside. It all adds to the small bubble the two of you had made in the apartment. The song changes to Can't Help Falling In Love With You as he places another kiss on your forehead. 

"I love yah, Doll. You know that right?" You turn your head to face him. The swaying stops and his hands rest on your waist. His face, dimly lit by the fairy lights and candles. "I know, I love you too Buck. Always have, always will". The two of you go back to softly swaying to the music, wrapped in each others warmth. Feeling safe in the world for a moment.