#he's going to need glasses to see up close

[avocado-writing]

pairing: logan howlett x reader x wade wilson

rating: E, minors dni, 18+ (mmf threesome; resolved sexual tension; sex pollen; unprotected p in v sex; oral [f receiving]; double penetration)

words: 6.7k

summary: you, logan and wade are on a stakeout after reports of a new drug which only affects mutants. but what happens when you accidentally get a hit of it yourselves…? (the sex pollen fic from the poll! thank you @eupheme for betaing for me, i owe you my life!)

“I spy with my little eye…”

“Wade, I swear to god…” Logan’s voice is a low rumble, a warning.

“Awww c’mon, peanut! What else do we have to do? Indulge me in my childlike whimsy.”

“Let me guess,” you say, shelling a pistachio before throwing it in the air to catch it on your waiting tongue, “you spy something beginning with R-D, which is the rising damp, which is the fourth goddamn time you spied it because there’s nothing else in this fucking place.”

Wade huffs and throws himself back in his chair. 

“Killjoy,” he mutters, and goes back to carving obscene doodles into the side table with baby knife. 

On the first day you were happy to play along, just to ease the boredom and tension which came hand-in-hand with this arrangement. Now it’s been five of them, stacking on top of each other and getting claustrophobic-heavy, the three of you crowded into each other’s space and on the razor’s edge.

Something is going to break, and you’re worried it’ll be Wade’s nose under Logan’s fist.

What a stupid fucking mission. You should never have said yes.

Ever since the whole Void situation was resolved you, Logan and Wade have been X-Men adjacent. Not part of the group exactly but happy to play along if needed. This most recent assignment had been a request from Piotr - there was something going on downtown to do with trafficking drugs which affected mutants, and someone needed to keep an eye on it. Couldn’t be anyone from the mansion, they’re all hands on deck at the moment keeping an influx of kids in check. But the three of you? With no jobs between you and an urge to do good?

It was a problem with an obvious solution.

It’s a stakeout. Which means sitting and waiting and holy fuck is it boring. 

You can tell something is going on in the alley across the street but you’ve had strict instructions not to take action until you see the guy in charge: thickset man with a penchant for misdeeds and built like a brick shithouse. Once you have proof he’s involved, you’ll get the go-ahead to close in and shut the place down in whatever manner you see fit.

But until he comes in, your little trio has no choice but to stay put, watching petty criminals come and go with no idea they’re being monitored.

Life has revolved around watches from the dingy window. Usually two of you will stay up while one of you tries to get some sleep on one of the uncomfortable twin beds that have been provided, but it isn’t easy to drift off when it feels like the mattresses are made of cinder blocks stuffed with broken glass. It isn’t that you’re unused to being in each others’ spaces - if you’re not at their apartment they’re at yours, after all, you are friends - but this is different. You have the luxury of walking away from each other in normal day-to-day life when things gets too much. Here? Here, you’re stuck until you’re done with the job. You’re all tired, irritated, and desperate for entertainment. You’ve even considered chopping off your own hand to watch it grow back, just for something to do.

And the thing is that’s not the worst of it. Ever since the three of you returned from the Void there’s been something there. Something difficult to pin down, exactly.  A niggling little feeling worming its way through your body. Something which thrums every time Wade flexes the muscles in his hand and you see his long, strong fingers; every time Logan grits his jaw and the tendons in his neck throb. 

Oh, right. You sort of really want to fuck them both.

You don’t go through something that traumatic and not have deep-rooted feelings which surpass normal boundaries. You fought for each others’ lives. You’re bonded in a way people rarely are. And the more time you spend with them the blurrier the lines between platonic and fucking soulmate become. You’ve seen both of them stare at you - and each other - when they think you’re not looking, so you’re sure this isn’t something that only you are harbouring. It’s a secret desire harboured by all three of you.

Like you said, something is gonna break. And in this shitty little surveillance room? It’s gonna break soon.

A movement outside. The three of you sit forward to take a look at the evening’s street view, only to fall back into your chairs as it turns out to be a false alarm. Just a pedestrian walking by. You’re going to go insane.

You drum your fingers on your thighs just to keep them busy, then turn to Logan. 

“You got a smoke?”

He cocks a brow at you.

“You want a cigar?”

“Nothing else to fucking do.”

“Whoa, hey!” says Wade, putting his hand on Logan’s arm as he roots around in his jacket pocket, “no no no, you quit last year! Don’t start up bad habits again unless I’m the one convincing you to, pookie.”

“Wade, c’mon. I’m gonna lose my mind if I don’t have something to do,” you groan. Plus, really, you’d kinda like something to suck on, just to relieve some of the ache in your belly.

As if Wade can hear your thoughts he pipes up again.

“Well if you’re that desperate to use your mouth, I know what we could play to pass the time…”

You and Logan groan in unison, and he balls his fist in a way which suggests it’s not long until the claws come out. Wade holds up his hands to signify peace.

“Whoa, chill out, honeybadger. No need to get scratchy. You don’t have to join in if you don’t want to… but it’s more fun the more people there are.”

Accepting there’s nothing else to pass the time, Logan lets out a long, exhausted sigh and lets Wade continue.

The mercenary licks his lips as if, for once, considering his phrasing. Then blurts out what he wanted to say anyway.

“We could play blowjob roulette.”

It was a foolish time to take a drink of your soda, because you spurt it out your nose. After a moment of mopping yourself up with your sleeve you manage a, “what?!”

“Well, oral roulette I guess, if we’re being PC about it.”

“Oh my god,” Logan groans, getting to his feet and stomping into the tiny excuse for a kitchenette, grabbing a beer and opening it with such gusto that the cap bounces off an adjacent wall.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything! We just spin the bottle and whoever it ends up pointing out deals out a round of Australian kisses for the other players. Relieves the boredom, and it’s fun to see how long everyone lasts.”

Your mouth is open, you’re sure of it. You’re looking at Wade in abject horror. This has got to just be part of his stupid bravado, right? Making an ill-timed joke?

Because the other option is he’s serious.

Logan drinks. You stare. Wade rabbits on.

“I’m just saying we used to play it at Sister Margaret’s all the time, when we were waiting for new marks to come in and didn’t have anything better to do! It wasn’t gay or anything except for, you know, the rampant homoeroticism of slurping everyone’s gherkin.”

“Did you… did you ever have to do it?” you ask, morbid fascination taking over. He scoffs.

“Did I ever have to… pookie, I’ve taken more loads than my building’s washing machine. Yeah, I’d say I’m pretty fucking great at it.”

He’s staring at you with an intensity which makes you feel like you’re on fire, but from embarrassment or enthusiasm you’re not sure. 

“So?” he asks, quietly, putting a hand on your knee. Your body burns. You swallow. You look to Logan. 

He sighs. Finishes his beer, but in a way which suggests he’s giving in. You see the way Logan’s teeth touch his bottom lip. The start of a fricative. 

He’s going to say fine.

Movement out of the window. You bolt up, knocking Wade’s hand away. He deflates.

“Aww. But I really wanted to - ”

“No, guys - look!”

They quickly crowd you, following where you point. A huge man walks into the alleyway, flanked by underlings, the bulk of him taking up the small space.

“There’s our guy,” you say, “let’s go.”

You descend upon the alleyway in a flash of swords and claws. You tug your cowl up over your nose to protect your face, hand on one of your Brügger & Thomet MP9s as the three of you come face-to-face with the door you’ve been monitoring all week.

“So are we going in sneaky style, or—”

Logan rips the door off its hinges, throwing it down the length of the alley; he is desperate to be done with this. You exchange a look with Wade.

“Okiedokie, asked and answered I guess,” he sighs, grabbing his Desert Eagles from his holsters.

You both follow Logan who’s thrown himself into the middle of the lab claws-first. Two-thirds of the people scream and flee, the others stand their guard and grab their guns.

Fingers on triggers, you take a beat to examine the situation.

Equipment everywhere. Beakers and cylinders you can possibly guess the use for, set up on desks and synthesising something nasty. The boss is standing in the middle of the room, eyebrow cocked and mild annoyance plastered on his face. Bingo. You make a beeline for him, taking a couple of bullets in your flank as you go.

“Cover me!” you shout to Wade. He pulls his katana out of a guy’s head and throws you a bloodied thumbs-up.

“Got your back, pookie! Hate to see you leave, love to watch you spill entrails as you go!”

As if he was predicting your next action, you whip your knife out of your belt and stab it in an assailant’s belly, watching his warm guts slide onto the floor. He releases a strangled noise as he drops to his knees - you make a move to continue on your way to the boss only to feel someone pick you up.

“Shit!” you mutter as you’re hoisted into the air. Wade and Logan stop their onslaught to turn at the sound of your panic, their eyes both going wide as they see you restrained. With a twinned shout of your name they come running to help.

Aww, your boys. It’d be cute if you weren’t bracing yourself for the pain.

Your attacker launches you across the room. A couple of seconds go by as you fly through the air - and then into a table full of test tubes and pipettes.

A great cloud rises into the air. A cloud of spores?

Before you can get a chance to properly read the situation, Wade and Logan are at your side. Sturdy hands grasp around your forearms and you’re dragged to your feet. 

Of course, it goes unnoticed…but all three of you take in a deep breath.

“You okay, baby?” rasps Logan. 

“Yeah, I’m f— move!” you scream, shouldering him out of the way so you can sink your knife into the neck of the man about to spray bullets down his spine. As you rip through the soft skin at his throat something occurs to you. 

‘Baby’? Where did that come from?

Not that it isn’t nice, obviously, but… it’s unlike Logan to show that much tenderness ever. Especially with pet names.

Oh well, no time to dwell.

Picking bits of glass from your biceps you tank a punch from a man closing in on your left, parry his next couple of blows, then shoot him in the dick. Wade has called this a ‘low blow’ before which isn’t incorrect but honestly, there’s no time for fighting fair when it’s 3-versus-30. 

The boss has finally gotten involved. A pair of brass knuckles shines against his fist as he swings at Logan, a meaty crack filling the air in a way which you’re worried might actually have dented one of your friend’s ribs. Wade uses the distraction to stab a katana into the guy’s back, then another one a little further up - using him like a goddamn climbing wall. The boss roars like an animal and attempts to swat him off but there’s no use. His massive bulk is working against him, and Wade can be a fast little motherfucker when he wants to be.

Wade lets out a ‘peekaboo!” as he pops up over the boss’s shoulder, pressing his pistol into the meat of his neck and firing. Blood sprays across the floor but somehow the guy doesn’t stop, not even when Logan picks himself back up and sinks both his claws into his stomach; it only elicits another snarl.

Okay, time to close.

You sheath your guns and go back to your knife, using Logan as a launchpad as you throw yourself off the arch of his back and into the air - stabbing down into the boss’s skull with a dull thunk.

A line of blood dribbles out of his mouth. He starts to fall.

“Uh oh - call me Ke$ha, because I’m yelling timber!” Wade warns. With a snarl Logan rips his claws free from muscle, snatching you off of the boss’s corpse as he stumbles forward under his own weight. Pulling you free you both lose your footing, and you crash down onto your friend.

You look at Logan.

He looks at you. 

Suddenly, his hands clasp around your hips. Probably you move you off of him…

And then you’re on fire. 

Like gasoline has made a line from his touch to your cunt, everything in you is set ablaze. Your pussy clenches and you’ve never felt so empty before - or at least not so aware of it.

There is a cock-shaped hole and it’s begging to be filled.

You expect Logan to freak out, you’re freaking out - you never thought you had a murder kink but you guess you’re never too old to find out something new about yourself - but he doesn’t.

Instead you just see him furrow his brow as if processing something; then acknowledge the press of his hardening cock rub against your thigh as he bucks up into you.

Oh no. Something is wrong.

When you feel Wade grab your shoulder and haul you back to your feet it’s the same, that delicious burning sensation rocketing through you… and from the way he moans as soon as his hands are on you, the feeling is mutual. 

“Fuck. Fuck,” he breathes. Yeah. You want to, that’s the issue.

You stagger away from him with wide eyes and electric skin, a beat passing between the three of you as the people left in the lab decide to give up the fight now their boss is toast. Hearts racing, hands wanting to reach out and touch.

Logan is the one to break the silence.

“We should call in and let the others know we’re done,” he manages. You nod.

“Yeah. Can we… can we go back across the street? I don’t feel so good.”

“Oh, don’t you go Spider-Man Infinity War Part 1 on me,” Wade chuckles. You don’t have the energy to work out what he’s referencing, especially when a jolt goes through your body to your cunt when you feel his eyes meet yours. 

Damn. This is bad. 

“Yeah. Of course, honey,” Logan manages. He goes to put his hand on the small of your back and then thinks better of it, though you can feel its nearness like a magnetic pull. You almost moan when he retracts his touch instead. Wade whips his phone out and fires off a message to let someone know a cleanup crew is needed as you stagger out of the alleyway and back across the street. 

You didn’t bother closing the door when you ran out, too desperate to monopolise on the chance of getting your mark. The three of you tumble back into the room you’d been dying to get out of just a scant few minutes ago, relieved to be in the privacy of its confines again.

A moment passes as all three of you adjust to the feeling coursing through your bodies.

“What’s happening?” you breathe, bracing your hands on the back of your go-to wooden chair and breaking it with the force of your grip. You wince at the sound of splintering, blood dripping down your palms before you feel it heal over.

“I’ve not felt like this since I first discovered how easy it was to masturbate to Good Housekeeping,” Wade groans, whipping off his mask as he flops down onto the battered-up-couch. Logan has made his way to the fridge again, practically ripping its door off to get to a beer which he downs in one swig. Fuck. It’s so sexy. You want to lick the muscles in his neck.

“It’s a pollen,” he states, voice rocky in a way which goes straight to the burning pit of your stomach. You and Wade exchange a look and then turn to him, waiting for further explanation. “Only has a reaction in mutants. Charles said it was something about putting the id into overdrive, like a fuckin’ adrenaline shot to the libido.”

“It… it makes you aroused?” you manage, attempting not to rock your cunt into the palm of your hand. Logan grunts.

“Was trying to be more tactful, but yeah, honey. That’s the idea.”

Honey. The pet name once again goes down your spine.

“Fucking sorry,” says Wade, “someone was manufacturing this stuff as a drug for what? To make mutants too horny to fight?”

Logan shrugs, still not tearing his gaze from his empty bottle, as if to agree it’s his best guess. Wade’s head falls back against the sofa’s arm.

“I mean, damn, they could have just shown me any frame from Magic Mike XXL and it would have had the same result. Seems like a lot of effort.”

Something about the way Logan talks sticks out to you, you circle back around to it. 

“Logan, you seem to know a lot about this stuff… have you encountered it before?”

Another beer grabbed and chugged down, the forward hunch in his shoulders physical evidence of his walls raising. 

“Once. Back in the day with the other X-Men.”

“How did you get through it? Does it go away?”

Logan doesn’t reply. Drinks.

The unspoken answer sinks in.

“Oh my god, you had to fuck it out, didn’t you?” gasps Wade. Logan doesn’t even growl. Jesus Christ he’s right. “Who was it? Storm? Beast? By the love of all things 100k+ enemies-to-lovers-slowburn, tell me it was Cyclops.”

Logan doesn’t dignify him with an answer, instead putting the empty bottle down with enough force you’re surprised it doesn’t shatter.

“It’ll pass. I just need to sit it out,” he reasons, the grit in his jaw suggesting this isn’t the optimal solution. You feel your eyebrows tug together, a crease of concern settling between them.

“But…”

“I’ll be fine.” The way he says it, he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone. With the room in the air practically throbbing he heads to the bedroom, leaving you and Wade alone.

Holy shit. You and Wade are alone.

Your eyes wander over to him, to find his gaze is already resting heavy on you. Your skin lights up.

“So, uh,” he starts, shifting himself awkwardly where his hard-on is trapped in his suit, “you read any good books lately?”

That does help to alleviate the tension and you find yourself chuckling, only for the relief to be ablated when your empty pussy pulses. You whine.

“Wade…”

As soon as you say his name he’s rushing over to you, helping you sit down on the ruined chair. You both moan as hot skin slides against hot skin. 

“Look, it isn’t…” you groan as you slide your hand up his bicep. Fuck, he’s strong. “...it isn’t a crazy idea to help each other out, right? We’re friends. It’s just two friends giving each other a hand…”

Wade dips down to run the bridge of nose along the line of your jaw, letting his lips drop to the pulse in your neck.

“Just friends…” he mutters. You buck up into nothing. Oh, god. You’re going to die here. “Baby?”

Oh shit, oh fuck. You want him to call you that over and over again, stamp it into your fucking mind.

“Yeah?” you reply, the word ripped rawly from your throat.

“I wanted to do this before we even left this goddamn apartment, you think I might have changed my mind after the mutant viagra?”

He pulls back just enough for you to see the seriousness on his face. No, he’s not joking, not saying something dirty just because he thinks it’s funny. 

He’s saying it because it’s true, and it’s both thrilling and terrifying. 

“Can I?”

Oh, it’s so tempting to say yes yes yes… but the more tempting thing is to tease him. Just a little.

You hook your leg over his shoulder and he groans as you dig your heel into the muscle of his back. He groans loud and long.

“Wade?”

“Mmm?”

“Ask me properly.”

His breath hitches in his throat, and you’re pretty sure he’s making a mess in his suit.

“Fuck, can I eat you out, baby? Please?”

You nod so fast you fear you’ll break your neck.

Wade lifts you like you weigh fucking nothing at all, strong arms scooping you up and bringing you to the couch - desperate for more space. His hands move quick and roughly as he goes to the pants on your suit, so wracked with need his fingers shake just from the promise of getting to touch you properly. You help him as much as you can, toeing off your boots and helping him tug your underwear off along with your waistband. His eyes widen as he realises your panties are in his hands. He takes a moment to run his thumb over the cotton of them and he fucking moans. Oh, god damn it, you’re going to be fucking ruined.

“Fuck. Never seen a pussy look this good,” he breathes as he finds himself face-to-face with your dripping cunt. You’re already so wet that it’s embarrassing and, while it would be easy enough to blame on the pollen, you know that you’ve wanted this for months. When he drags his tongue up your puffy, desperate folds, you pretty much combust.

“Oh shit,” you groan, wrapping your other leg round his face to hold him flush against you - not that Wade needs any convincing though, because you’ve never seen a man so desperate to fuck you with his mouth before. He buries himself in you, scarred hands reaching up to dig into the soft skin of your thighs and keep you steady. He wants you at his own pace, it seems, and is strong enough to make it happen. Fuck, you are not complaining.

Wade’s eyes flit upwards to see how you’re reacting as he moves his whole face side to side to bury himself into your cunt deeper. It’s like he’s trying to find where your scent is the strongest and, honestly? With what you’ve heard about this pollen stuff? Seems right on track. He has no hair for you to bury your fingers in so instead you press your hand to the top of his head and pull him closer, because god knows you don’t have the ability to vocalise it. You sink your fingernails in so he knows, though.

Holy hell you’ve never felt so good. The pollen is heightening everything, each movement he makes into you shooting shockwaves through your nerves. Wade’s tongue is insistent in exploring every inch of you, pressing bluntly into your clit; lapping at the wetness seeping from you like he’ll die if he can’t taste what he’s doing to you; dragging down to your ass and toying with you there, too. Yes, fuck, anything he goddamn wants. When his teeth skim the needy folds of your cunt you jackknife into his mouth, almost breaking them clean out of his gums.

“Holy shit, babe. What’s gotten into you?” he chuckles, pupils so blown wide with lust that his eyes are eclipsed with black. You chase after him with your hips.

“Not you, and that’s the problem,” you harrumph. He grins and you see how covered with your slick he is and fuck you are going to die here. 

“I’ll take care of you. That’s what friends do, right?” he asks, putting emphasis on the word you’re both masquerading behind. When you reach out with a searching hand he threads his finger through yours wordlessly, using the other to grab a pillow so he has something to fuck up against. You feel a tiny bit bad for not offering to help but you know he’ll get his in time - in fact just thinking about sucking his cock your mouth begins to water.

He presses his palm into yours as he goes back to your cunt with his mouth. It takes only moments for him to start up his desperate pace again, tongue sinfully sweet, and you’re chasing and chasing…

Stars explode in your vision and in your blood. The noise you let out is feral, a euphony of pleasure and you don’t care who hears. Wade’s eyes drift close as he tastes your orgasm directly at his lips, drinking you down. You’re certain his hips stutter as he comes just from getting you off. Oh god it’s so hot.

Oh god, you’re not done.

Wade surges up your body and kisses you ferociously, you moan at the taste of yourself he gives back. 

“Fuck, yes, do you taste that, baby? What did I do to you? Holy fuck you are the hottest thing I’ve ever seen…”

“Wade, I need you.”

“Yeah, fuck, okay. Let me get this stupid sexy suit off…”

Hands begin to fumble messily, needily at each other’s zippers in order to strip. You sit up to get a better handle on him—

And freeze when you see you have an audience.

Wade follows your gaze to where Logan is standing in the bedroom doorway. He’s managed to get his suit off and change back into his jeans, though you can’t imagine he’ll want to stay in them for long the way his trapped cock is staining dark blue denim even darker. He’s gripping the doorframe with such force that his claws have popped out, eyes a matching pitch black to Wade’s, chest heaving as he watches the show.

“You okay, honey badger?” Wade drawls, a cocky smile dragging across him. Logan grunts. Swallows hard. You go for a softer tactic.

“Logan, sweetheart, you wanna join in?” your voice is husky as you ask, oh so inviting. Logan squeezes his eyes shut and his fist tight, taking a chunk out of the wall.

“Get into the goddamn bedroom, both of you,” he growls. The two of you absolutely do not need to be told twice. Partially undressed you vault over the back of the dishevelled sofa, letting Logan lead the way. As soon as you’re within arms’ reach he snags you around the waist and pulls you in for a kiss.

Logan kisses like he wants to devour you. Rough, commanding, dragging his tongue into your mouth as if trying to claim you. Oh, you’ll let him a hundred times over. You mewl when his hand reaches down you cup your still dripping pussy, immediately swiping a thumb against your clit. It pulses as if Wade didn’t just pull an orgasm out of you.

“Fuckin’ needy little thing,” he snarls, delighted. You reach down to grab the bulge he’s rocking, squeezing hard enough to get him to groan.

“Look who’s talking,” you chuckle. He taps at the top of your suit, an instruction. 

“Off,” he says, but that’s as much as he gets to say, because Wade grabs him by the beard and steers him in for a kiss. You pause for just a second to see what will happen but clearly you needn’t have worried - Logan moans into your friend’s mouth, grabbing a handful of Wade’s pretty decent ass and digging in his fingers. While they’re busy you finish stripping, going for the zipper on the back of the red suit and pulling it down. It’s such a goddamn stupid design having it at the back like a goddamn prom dress - but at the moment you’re kinda thankful for it because it means you get to kiss along the revealed plain of skin. Wade has such beautiful fucking back muscles, you’ve stared at them for long enough to memorise every damned one.

He steps out of the suit when you get to his feet - yeah, he did come just from eating you out earlier and holy fuck are you proud - and lets out a strangled noise when you bite the meat of his asscheek hard enough to leave a mark.

“Fuck, are you gonna rim me? Because if so I’m a thousand percent down,” he chokes, pulling away from Logan’s mouth and leaving a string of spit between them, evidence of a messy kiss. You shrug.

“You want me to, baby?”

Wade seems to have a crisis of faith as he considers this, letting Logan nibble down the length of his neck; eventually he shakes his head though.

“No, I wanna be inside you, like, yesterday,” he confesses. 

“I’ve got enough room for two,” you state, so absolutely sure the pollen will accommodate that you don’t even need to think about it. Both Wade and Logan suck in a breath at that idea.

“Fuck, baby, aren’t you just perfect,” Logan drawls, grabbing you by the hips as you stand up and pulling you to the pathetic twin bed this apartment was provided with. Not how you wanted this first time to go down but hey, at least it’s going down at all. No longer just a dirty fantasy you bury your fingers into your cunt imagining but a real bonafide liaison (boner-fide liaison, Wade’s voice in your head pipes up).

You paw at his jeans, desperate to have all three of you naked and ready. There’s nothing to hide between you any more. Any boundaries have been not only crossed but decimated, absolutely destroyed beyond repair, and you couldn’t be happier. When his cock falls heavy into your palm you can’t help but suck air in through your teeth at its sheer size. Logan chuckles, gravelly and tempting.

“Oh it’ll fit, baby,” he coos, as if reading your mind. Fuck. Yep, it will. There’s no two ways about it. You’re having both Wade and Logan inside you if it kills you.

He wraps you in his arms before you can have any more thoughts on the matter and pulls you down onto the mattress with him, the pollen in your veins making you feel every touch like the end of a live wire - yet you keep coming back to get shocked. Logan positions himself under you, chest-to-chest, grinning at the way your nipples rub against the coarse and gorgeous hair of his chest. There’s a slapping noise and you realise it’s Wade’s hand on Logan’s thigh, encouraging him to move up the bed.

“Big boy, you know you have to scoot up if this is happening. I’m all for fucking the same pussy together but you have to be realistic…”

Obscured by your body, only you get to see the way Logan rolls his eyes fondly at Wade’s blabbering. He manouveurs you both to allow Wade room to kneel on the mattress behind you and you gasp at the feeling of their cocks bullying at your entrance.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, body on fire and desperate to be extinguished by them. Logan hums in your ear.

“I know, baby, I know. We’ll take care of you.”

“And each other. I got sex-pollened too, old man,” Wade harrumphs, rubbing his head against the slick lips of your cunt. 

“Nobody’s forgetting you, princess,” he murmurs, “now be good and put me inside.”

Logan probably misses the soft hiss Wade lets out at that, but you feel the way the mercenary’s hand wraps around his cock and presses Logan to your empty cunt. You moan in pleasure as he follows the path Wade has laid out and pushes himself inside of you, no resistance given. It takes you only a couple of seconds to adjust to the pure size of him. Holy shit, if this were any other time you’d be falling apart by now, but the way your body pumps with desperation suggests one dick alone isn’t going to be enough.

“You okay?” Logan rumbles by your ear. You cling onto him for dear life, nodding.

“Yeah. Fuck, Wade, I know you’ll fit, you’ve gotta fuck me too.”

Wade doesn’t even have an answer for that. Instead you feel his thumb tug at your lips, stretching you for him - or just watching the way Logan fills you, getting off on the filthy way you’re plugged. Another cock begins to press at your already stuffed hole and you whine.

“S’okay, I gotcha,” Logan says through gritted teeth as he feels Wade’s length slide along his own, the feeling almost overwhelming for him. You drop your head to his shoulder and choke on your own spit as Wade forces himself inside of you. Your cunt feels like it is about to burst into flames in the most satisfying way possible, flowering open between them both.

“Fuck, never felt anything so goddamn tight in my life…” Wade manages. Eventually he bottoms out alongside Logan, both of them sitting snugly inside of you, sharing you, clutched in your warmth. 

“There we go,” Logan growls. “You okay, baby?”

Not knowing if the question is aimed at you or Wade you both whine a yes. Logan laughs and you feel his chest move beneath you, all muscle and heat.

“I’m gonna move now.”

He drags himself out of you, inch by glorious inch, like a match striking against a box and sparking an ember. A deep ragged breath shudders through you at the feeling of it but it is nothing compared to how he slams back inside. Lights flood your periphery. You are going to fucking die between these two men and that is fine. Heaven, even.

Once Wade feels Logan’s rhythm it is too much of a competition for him not to match it. The mercenary’s arms fall either side of your bodies to support himself as he works himself in and out of you, sliding deep as Logan retreats to the tip. Your cunt makes a lewd noise as they piston inside of you and you have never cared about anything less in your life. You are bathed in light, high off this, euphoric over being fucked. A tiny rivulet of drool falls from the edge of your mouth into Logan’s chest hair and he curses at the glorious rawness of it all.

Above you, Wade has finally found his voice again.

“Look at you taking us so well. Oh, fuck, goddamn. I’ve wanted you like this for so long. Remember when we were neighbours, honey? Those guys who you used to bring home… fuck, baby… I used to give myself the old low-five to the sound of you getting fucked…”

You make a pathetic little noise which spurs him onwards. Wade’s mouth drops to your ear.

“...and I used to get angry because I knew I could do it better myself.”

“Oh my god Wade…” you whisper. Tears are beginning to pool in your eyes at the way you’re starting to get overstimulated, two cocks hitting that sweet spot inside you verges on being too much. Were the pollen not still in full force you’re sure you’d need to tap out.

“And you?” Wade’s hand grips Logan’s bicep, squeezing appreciatively. “Do you know what it’s like to wake up every morning and see you shirtless on my couch, and not be able to fuck you? You do it on purpose, peanut, I swear…”

Logan chuckles again, that deep honey-rich sound eked out in magnitudes. 

“And what if I do, Red?”

Wade pauses in his thrusting, you don’t have to see him to know that his eyes are wide.

“Wait, what? For real?”

“Wade!” you whine, reaching over to slap at his arm, annoyed that he’s stopped moving. “Can we all just agree we’ve gotten off to the thought of each other and we’d have fucked eventually anyway?”

The men either side of you seem to think it’s a good compromise to come to and redouble their efforts. All you can do is to cling onto whatever muscles you’re able to find and ride the wave of pleasure. Fireworks go off in your synapses, brain a messy goo of euphoria, cunt fucked out and thoroughly taken care of. 

They speed up, thrusts getting messy and arrhythmic and yet still somehow matching, and you know that they’re going to come together. What a fucking treat, how divine, oh god. Logan’s hands sink into your ass to keep you anchored as his cock goes faster, skin slapping on skin as his sac moves against Wade’s - causing the merc to let out a string of curses - and you’re suddenly flooded with his warm, sticky cum pumping inside you in jets. Wade whines at the feeling of himself being doused and follows Logan’s lead. The filthy cocktail of them drips around both their lengths and out of your hole, falling onto the pathetic mattress below. One last little nudge of the hips is all it takes to push you over the edge again. Your next orgasm is dragged out of you… but you know your body will demand more.

For now, though, respite. The urge to reach that peak again immediately has at least settled for the moment.

“Holy fuck,” you sigh. Logan hums an affirmative note, fingers playing with the small of your back as Wade peppers kisses across your shoulderblades.

“We should go on stakeouts more often, if this is the nice little bow everything gets tied up in,” Wade sighs, dreamily. You nod against Logan’s chest. His hair rubs your cheek deliciously. Your pussy throbs again, reminding you this dirty escapade needs to continue soon. “So what does this mean? Are we a little mutant charcuterie now?”

Your brow furrows as you try to parse what Wade has just said.

“Oh. Wade, baby, do you mean ‘coterie’?”

Logan bursts out laughing, a noise you’ve never properly heard before, and it has you grinning - and Wade, too, even though he grumbles a little at being corrected. Their cocks jostle inside you and you feel them getting hard again and, as you prepare yourself for round two, it’s nice to know that whatever the three of you face at the end of this will be happy.

Three days later, you’re laid across the couch, head in Wade’s lap and legs in Logan’s, all tangled together as you get the single worst telling-off of your life.

“Non-lethal mission, Wade! How many times did I have to tell you, it was meant to be non-lethal!” Piotr shouts down the line. Wade grimaces.

“Look, there were other things we had to sort out first, okay? We kinda forgot about the no-killing part. Besides the guy can’t traffic drugs if he’s dead,” he confesses. You can picture Piotr’s disappointed face.

“Other things!? WHAT other things, Wade?!”

“Okay so there was this horny pollen, and we all had to—”

Logan grabs Wade’s phone and hurls it across the room. It shatters into pieces against the wall. Wade gawps.

“Hey! That was new! Well, okay, not new, but it wasn’t cracked. Well, it was cracked, but it had all my best dick pics on there!”

“You can take new ones,” Logan states. 

You smile. Yeah. The charcuterie is nice.

[hotshotsxyz]

the taste of iron

(buddie) (2.3k words) (8x01 alternate ending) so i made a joke the other day about what would have happened if buck hadn't pushed gerrard out of the way and then i kept thinking about it and then it wasn't a joke anymore and now we're here content warning: minor character death (but like. it's gerrard) (also blood related to said death)

Gerrard is so fucking loud. The vitriol, the bigotry, that’s what makes Buck angry, but it’s the volume that sets his teeth on edge. How it isn’t driving the rest of them insane, he’ll never understand.

The more he berates, the louder he gets. The construction, just feet away, adds to the cacophony. Buck can feel his eardrums vibrating with every spit-punctuated syllable that flies from Gerrard’s mouth. He needs it to stop, he needs it to—

All at once, three things happen. Gerrard’s hand comes up, finger pointed accusingly at the center of his chest. Buck takes an instinctive step back and stumbles, just enough to throw him off balance. The sound of the saw changes.

The split second it takes for Buck to steady himself is a split second too long.  The saw blade flies across the room and embeds itself in the engine, but not before slicing deep into the tissue of Gerrard’s throat. Arterial blood sprays itself across Buck’s face. For a moment, everything goes quiet. Then, it descends into chaos.

Distantly, Buck hears someone shout his name. A hand grabs his shoulder and—

Firefighter needs help, I repeat—

—spins him around.

“Buck!” It’s Eddie’s voice, but Eddie—

Are you hurt?

—Eddie’s hands are on him, on his face, on his chest. They come away red and slick with blood.

“You’re okay, Buck, look at me, you’re okay.”

Go! Go, go, go go!

Buck blinks. Swallows. He tastes—

Three minutes away, we’re so close.

Eddie’s hands find his face again. “Look at me,” he says, as if Buck could ever look away. “I need you to breathe.”

I need you to hang—I need you to hang on.

Buck takes a breath, then another. There’s blood on his face. Eddie’s hands are on his face. Eddie’s hands are covered in blood. It’s not Eddie’s blood. It’s not Eddie’s blood.

There’s a siren, but Eddie’s not in the engine. Eddie’s in front of him, still standing. Eddie—

“Just like that, there you go. With me. In… and out…” His voice is calm, steady, unlabored.

“You’re—” Buck croaks.

Eddie’s eyes are wide and brown and focused. “I’m right here, Buck, keep breathing with me.”

His hand rises of its own accord and finds Eddie’s shoulder. The fabric of his t-shirt is dry and undamaged. Eddie’s brows draw together and a moment later realization seems to dawn.

“I’m okay, Buck,” he says, painfully quiet. “I’m not hurt.”

All at once, the tension that’s been keeping him upright goes. He stumbles, and without Eddie’s steadying grip, he’d probably fall. Buck blinks a few times, and the blurry world around him and Eddie comes back into focus.

Eddie’s turned him away from the engine bay, away from what must be an ocean of blood behind him. Everything he can see looks normal, but it’s unnaturally quiet. Buck lets out a shaky breath.

“Fuck,” he whispers, and it’s like shattering glass the way it breaks the silence.

Eddie’s face relaxes a fraction. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Buck lets Eddie pull him toward the locker room and guide him down onto the bench. He’s gentle, like Buck might break if he presses just a little bit too hard. He pulls at Buck’s shirt until it comes untucked, then carefully peels it off of him, leaving shivering gooseflesh in his wake.

“I’ll be right back,” Eddie says, “I promise.”

Buck nods numbly.

Eddie slips into the bathroom, and a moment later Buck hears the sound of running water. He comes back a few seconds later with clean hands and a damp towel.

“Okay,” he says quietly. He kneels and brings the towel to Buck’s cheek. It’s warm; Eddie must’ve waited for the water to heat before wetting it.

With one hand, Eddie drags the towel in soft, short strokes across Buck’s skin. The other cups the back of his head, steadying him. Buck’s eyes flutter closed, and Eddie takes the opportunity to carefully wipe at the blood that flecks his eyelids.

Finally, Buck hears the towel drop wetly to the floor and opens his eyes.

“With me?” Eddie asks. His eyes bore into Buck’s.

“Yeah,” he rasps.

Eddie squeezes his knee and stands. “Good,” he says, turning away just long enough to fish a sweatshirt from his locker and hand it to Buck.

“Thanks.” Buck pulls the sweatshirt on and is immediately enveloped by the smell of Eddie’s laundry detergent. It settles a little more of the anxiety that’s dug itself deep into his stomach.

Eddie settles next to him on the bench and brushes their shoulders together. “You want to talk about it?”

Buck shakes his head. He doesn’t. But—

“Is he dead?”

In his peripherals, Buck sees Eddie frown. “Probably,” he says after a long moment.

“Oh.” Buck feels less about that than he thought he might. He’s neither sad nor relieved, though he suspects the apathy will fade with the shock. “Can we go home?”

Eddie huffs a soft breath that might’ve been a laugh on another day. “Yeah. Pretty sure the 118’s not going back into service until B shift gets here.”

“Who’s going to deal with…” Buck trails off.

“Not us,” Eddie says decisively. He stands and grabs both of their bags from the lockers. “Come on, I’ll drive.”

“You hate driving,” Buck says quietly.

The corner of Eddie’s mouth ticks up. “Which is why I owe you more rides than you’ll ever cash in on.”

Buck surprises himself with something close to a laugh. “Yeah, okay,” he says.

Eddie all but manhandles him into the passenger seat of the truck, lingering just a moment longer than strictly necessary, then jogs over to the driver’s side. He turns the key in the ignition and fiddles with the radio until it lands on a station playing something old and soft.

As far as Buck can tell, it’s not a song he’s heard before, but it’s warm and comfortable all the same. He relaxes into his seat and pulls the sleeves of Eddie’s sweatshirt over his knuckles. It’s loose on him, unlike the majority of Eddie’s clothing, and Buck wonders if he bought it with a day like this in mind.

Eddie taps his fingers on the wheel as he drives and glances over at Buck every time they hit a red light. He’s quiet, though, and Buck is too, grateful for the chance to gather himself in the near silence. By the time they pull into Eddie’s driveway, Buck’s starting to feel mostly like a person again.

He follows Eddie inside, and it’d probably feel like any other day if he wasn’t still wearing his uniform pants and boots.

“I’m just gonna…” Buck says, nodding toward Eddie’s bedroom as he toes out of his shoes.

Eddie steps around him and squeezes his elbow. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” he says, but it feels a little more like, ‘take all the time you need, I’ll still be here’.

Buck’s had a drawer at Eddie’s almost as long as he’s known him. He bypasses that drawer and goes straight for the one that houses Eddie’s most comfortable and threadbare pajamas. He changes into a pair of soft cutoffs, and with his uniform sheds the last of the tension in his shoulders.

He wanders into the kitchen and finds Eddie whisking eggs in a mixing bowl. Wordlessly, Buck sets the table and pours two glasses of orange juice. When he’s done, he sits, knowing exactly what Eddie will say if he offers to help with the food.

A few minutes later, Eddie carries two plates to the table. Breakfast is simple, just scrambled eggs and toast, but Eddie’s gotten good at this; the eggs are beautifully fluffy and the toast is a perfect golden brown.

“Hang on a sec,” Eddie says.

He goes over to the fridge and returns with a new, unopened jar of blueberry preserves, the kind you can only get at the farmer’s market. Buck swallows thickly, suddenly aware of just how many words are caught in his throat.

“Thanks,” he says, the only one of them he thinks will come out painlessly.

Eddie ghosts his hand along Buck’s shoulder then sits in the chair closest to his.

“Eat,” he says softly, and it’s only then that Buck realizes he hasn’t even picked up his fork.

Buck read somewhere, once, that the physical act of chewing was enough to meaningfully lower cortisol levels. He’s not actually sure if it’s true, but sitting here with Eddie, he thinks it might be. It makes sense – you don’t stop to eat until the danger has passed. You eat when you feel safe. Buck feels safe. He spreads blueberry preserves on his toast and eats.

When he’s done, Eddie grabs both of their plates and drops them in the sink. He returns to his chair.

“Do you want to talk or try to get some rest?” he asks after a long moment.

Rest sounds really good, actually, but—“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” Buck admits.

“We can watch a movie,” Eddie says, offering him an out.

Buck smiles half-heartedly. “Not sure I can do that, either,” he says.

“Then tell me,” Eddie says, voice full of all the concern he hasn’t expressed yet.

“I’m not sure what to say,” Buck says, finding it to be true as soon as it leaves his mouth.

Eddie looks conflicted for a second, but then his expression steels. “When I got shot. That’s what it reminded you of, right?”

There’s a certain relief in not having to voice it himself. Buck nods.

“Okay,” Eddie says gently.

“For—for a second I wasn’t in the station anymore. It was—I know you don’t really remember anything about that day.” Buck shrugs helplessly.

“I do,” Eddie offers. “Not most of it, I mean, but…” Eddie lifts his hand to Buck’s face and brushes a thumb along the curve of his cheek.   

Something Buck doesn’t have a name for clenches in his stomach.

“I have this picture of you in my head; I was never quite sure whether or not I dreamed it.”

Buck’s breath catches in his chest.

“Guess not,” Eddie says ruefully, shaking his head.

“What, um—what do you—” Buck presses his lips together as the rest of the question refuses to form in his mouth.

Eddie sighs. “We never really talked about this, did we?”

Buck frowns. “We did,” he says.

Eddie shakes his head. “We talked about me, but you were there, too.”

“I didn’t get shot, Eddie.”

“And I didn’t get struck by lightning.”

Buck looks down at his hands and realizes they’re shaking.

“I know what it feels like to watch you die, Buck,” Eddie says seriously. “And you know how it feels to be covered in my blood.”

“I know how it tastes,” Buck corrects quietly. He glances up in time to see the stricken expression on Eddie’s face.

“What?” he breathes.

“It was the only thing I could taste for weeks.” Eddie’s hands find his. “And then today, I tasted it again.”

“Buck,” Eddie says roughly. Buck’s always liked the way his name sounds on Eddie’s lips. He says it like it means something.

All at once, Buck realizes that he’s been waiting years for permission to talk about this, permission Eddie’s finally given him, and it all comes pouring out.

“I thought you were gonna die, Eds. I—I thought I was going to have the taste of your blood in my mouth for the rest of my life. And I—god, I blamed myself for—for not seeing it coming, or getting to you faster.”

Eddie’s hands tighten around his. “You got there fast enough. You saved me,” he says.

Buck laughs softly. “I know. In my head I know that, but—but it never feels like it.”

“Still?” Eddie asks.

In lieu of a response, Buck takes one of Eddie’s hands in his own and presses his fingers to the pulse point in his wrist. His heart beats strong and steady. Buck closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says.

He blinks them back open. His brow furrows. “For what?”

Eddie’s lips twist painfully. “We should have talked about this a long time ago. I should’ve asked.”

Buck shakes his head. “That’s not on you.”

“I think it might be,” Eddie says.

“You got shot,” Buck says. “You’re allowed to avoid the subject.”

Eddie huffs a soft breath. “I think…” he trails off.

Buck waits, counting every beat of Eddie’s pulse against his fingertips.

“I think I was afraid that if we talked about it, I’d remember.”

“And you didn’t want to,” Buck says. “I get that.”

“It’s all so blurry,” Eddie says, “but I remember the way it hurt. I remember being afraid. But I also—there was a moment, somewhere in all that, when I wasn’t afraid anymore.”

Buck bites his lip and nods.

“And…” Eddie’s jaw tightens for a moment. “And when I think about that, I—that’s when I see you.”

Buck takes a sharp, aching breath.

Eddie watches him for a long moment until something minute shifts in his expression. “Oh,” he says softly.

“What?” Buck asks.

Eddie shakes his head. “I just—I remembered something else.”

“Do you want to…”

“I think I’m gonna need a minute with this one,” Eddie says. “But I’ll tell you. I promise.”

“You don’t have to,” Buck says.

The corner of Eddie’s mouth ticks up into a small smile. “I know.”

“Okay,” Buck says softly. He holds Eddie’s gaze for several seconds, but nothing in it scares him. It’s Eddie, warm, perceptive and sure. “I—I think I might be able to sleep.”

“Good,” Eddie says. He stands, pulling Buck up with him. “Come on.”

And just as he has every other time Eddie’s asked him to, Buck follows.

[burnthatbridge]

8x01 misery missing scene

post the sad zoom birthday party also on ao3 if you prefer

They stick around long enough to help clear up. 

The party decorations come down faster than they went up. Each balloon that Buck pops is a perfect mirror to the ball of excitement in his chest that had shattered at Chris’ lacklustre response, at the stuttering video connection. Except, instead of slippery, soft rubber, the shards it left behind are hard, cutting glass. 

“The cake was excellent,” Tommy offers, with forced cheer, into the silence that descends once the sound of balloons bursting and streamers rustling stops. 

“Take the rest with you,” Eddie says, turning away, heading into the kitchen.

Buck follows him, Tommy close behind, and watches Eddie shove the happy birthday banner into the trash, the party hats too. Buck bites his lip on the protest that Eddie should keep them for next year — he doesn’t think he can bear to hear Eddie voice the fear that they might have as little use for them then as they did today. 

“You’re serious about the cake?” Tommy asks, crossing to where it sits on the kitchen table, one solitary slice consumed. Buck had a bite of Tommy’s, and it was good, but he didn’t feel like having his own. And Eddie hadn’t seemed up to stomaching any at all. 

“Yep,” Eddie nods, without looking over. “I don’t want it.” 

Buck pulls a large tupperware container from the cupboard, hands it over to Tommy, who boxes up the cake. But Buck also takes down a smaller container, saves a single slice, and tucks it away in the fridge. He knows Eddie will crave it later — maybe not tonight, but certainly by tomorrow morning — and will wish he hadn’t given it all away. It will be a nice surprise for him — a much needed one — to find that Buck didn’t let him. 

Buck walks the knife used to cut the cake to the sink and Eddie steps in to wash it. Buck hovers at his side, taskless. They had been going to stick around after surprising Chris, have a couple of beers, watch something, but, with how things went, it’s clear that’s not going to happen. 

“Eddie,” Buck starts, wants to ask if he’s okay — knows he’s not — but Eddie cuts him off. 

“Thanks for coming,” he says, clearly a dismissal, bidding them goodnight without looking up for scrubbing at a knife that must be long clean. 

Tommy replies, “Thank you for inviting us,” even though technically only he was; Buck — never a guest in Eddie’s home — more co-host than attendee, had helped to plan the party, and his presence was assumed, certain. 

At the same time, Buck says, “Of course.” He wouldn’t have been anywhere else today, on Chris’ birthday. Not unless flying to Texas to actually see him would have been an option. Hell, if Eddie had wanted to drive over to El Paso to visit, Buck would have gladly played chauffeur for the whole twelve hour drive. 

Tommy drops a reassuring hand onto the stiff surface that is Eddie’s shoulder, pats it, once, twice, three times, to no noticeable softening. “See you later, man.” He moves to the kitchen door, pauses, looking back at Buck. 

Buck takes a tentative step in Tommy’s direction, says, “See you tomorrow, Eds?” It’s supposed to be a statement, like Tommy’s. A stronger one, even, since Buck and Eddie have a shift together the next day, so their seeing each other should be a concrete occurrence, not a vague likelihood. But the words come out sounding more like a question and he doesn’t follow Tommy out of the room until he sees Eddie nod in answer, agreement. 

They only make it as far as the front door before the gnawing concern in Buck’s gut is too much.  

“Wait,” Buck says as Tommy turns the handle.

Tommy stops, door cracked open an inch, but not opening it any wider, and twists to face Buck, looks at him, expectant. 

“I think–” Buck starts, but he doesn’t quite know what he thinks, only that he shouldn’t be leaving now. Even though there’s nothing left to do: all traces of the party stripped away, their evening plans abandoned. Still, he shouldn’t be leaving. Shouldn’t be leaving Eddie. Not like this.

And he should tell Tommy that, explain it to him. Except… He probably doesn’t need to. Tommy knows him, knows Eddie, and he saw firsthand how things went down tonight. So Buck simply asks, “Can I make my own way? Catch you later?”

“Sure, babe.” Tommy’s expression is full of understanding, eyes soft. He tilts his head, slightly. “I’ll wait up for you?”

Buck nods. “Yeah, please.” He leans in, putting his mouth to Tommy’s mouth, pressing goodbye and gratitude into the kiss. 

Tommy pulls back, graces Buck with a small curling of his lips, the smile dimmer than his usual given how the evening has played out, and then he’s over the threshold, toting the tupperware filled to the brim with uncelebrated birthday cake with him. 

Buck closes the door behind him, gently, then pads back through the house. 

Eddie is in the kitchen, but not quite how Buck left him. He’s still facing away, but now, instead of washing the same spot on the blade of the cake knife over and over, he has his hands braced on the edge of the counter, his head hanging down, like the effort of keeping it up has become too much.

He’s got to know Buck hasn’t left, must hear him reentering the room, a single set of footsteps, but he doesn’t acknowledge him in any way. 

Buck goes to him. Stands at Eddie’s side, tries to see his expression in his dim reflection in the window, but it’s tricky with Eddie’s face lowered. “Eddie,” Buck says and is finally rewarded with Eddie looking up, raising his head so that his eyes meet Buck’s in the window.

The agony in his gaze is palpable.

Buck doesn’t know how to help. He saw how little comfort Eddie took from Tommy’s touch, so it seems pointless to try the same. But his hands itch to hold, to smooth over Eddie and check for points of pain, even though he knows his hurt is of the heart, not body. Knows it, because his own is the same. Buck hurts too: for Chris, for Eddie, for himself. 

“Eddie,” Buck repeats, with no destination in mind except a route out of Eddie’s misery. But, if anything, the anguish displayed plainly on Eddie’s face only deepens. He squeezes his eyes shut and his hands fist, fingers curling in so tight his knuckles whiten. 

“I’m losing him,” Eddie says. 

“You’re not,” Buck answers back, automatic, but no less insistent for it. Eddie isn’t losing Chris. He can’t be losing him. They can’t be losing him. 

“I am,” Eddie pushes back, lifting his hands from the counter to gesture wildly, grief uncontainable. “I’m losing him and it’s all my fault.”

“No.” Buck catches Eddie’s wrists, squeezes them, tries to press his belief, his faith, in Chris and Eddie’s relationship into Eddie’s skin, to transfer it to him. “You made a mistake, but he’s going to forgive you. He just needs a little more time.“

“I don’t think I can take any more time without him,” Eddie confesses, and there are tears shining in his eyes. 

Buck drops his hold on Eddie’s arms, but only so he can wind his own around him, tug him into an embrace.

Eddie lets him, tucks his face into Buck’s neck, chokes out, “I just want him to come home.”

“I know,” Buck murmurs, smoothing one hand down the line of Eddie’s spine, his other arm wrapped firmly round his shoulders. “I know. I do too.”

“He loves his grandparents,” Eddie goes on, voice muffled in Buck’s shirt collar. “He could decide to just stay with them.”

“He loves you,” Buck states, an irrefutable fact. This he knows: he has been privileged to witness so much of the love Christopher has for his dad. “He’s not going to stay with them forever.”

“But,” Eddie protests, sounding lost and unsure, his fingers wound in the fabric of Buck’s shirt, his breath damp against Buck skin, “You love your parents. That doesn’t make them good ones. Ones you’d want to be with if you had a better option.”

“You are nothing like my parents.” Buck squeezes Eddie tighter to him, in tune with the ferocity of his words. “You– you are the best father I have ever seen. You love Chris so, so much. And– and he knows you do, he doesn’t have to doubt it.” Not like Buck did, every day of his life.

He continues, “Your mom and dad are not the better option for him. Sure, he’s having a nice summer with them. But, even if he’s still upset right now, I know he’s missing you too. He’s going to come home, because he belongs here, with you.” Of that Buck is sure. It’s Chris and Eddie: their bond is too deep, their relationship too strong, to be broken. 

“But,” Eddie says again, “But what if he–”

“No,” Buck stops him, not willing to let Eddie hurt himself with his thoughts, his fears, more than he already has. “Chris loves you, Eddie. And he’s going to come home to you. He is.”

Buck doesn’t know if Eddie fully believes him, but his words are enough that Eddie slumps completely against him in something like relief. And all his stress and hurt over being separated from his son comes pouring out.

As he sobs, the spasming of his chest heaving against Buck’s and the trickle of his tears sliding down Buck’s skin, Buck holds him. Holds him and presses his lips to his temple and thinks please, Chris, please come home soon. Come home to us. 

[choerrypuffs]

red velvet hearts.

pairing: bad boy!donghyuck x baker!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.7k

synopsis: you patch up a boy with a bloody nose and bruised knuckles, only to find out that he has quite the sweet tooth.

author’s note: why do i keep injuring hyuck in all my fics lmao??? anyways i tried to write his character a bit differently than i usually do to challenge myself so please let me know how you guys like it! also remember, ladies: this is fiction. you cannot fix him <3

warning(s): brief description of injuries, mentions of violence, maximum amounts of cringe and melodrama

playlist: all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine ― heart eyes by coin ― close to you by gracie abrams ― sidelines by phoebe bridgers ― the alchemy by taylor swift

RECIPE 1. TIRAMISU

“This is not what I meant when I said you need your back blown out.” 

“Not funny. I almost died,” you grumble as you wrap the back brace around your torso. You hate the immediate relief you feel from the support it provides, no longer able to tell yourself that it’s really not as bad as it seems―which only makes you angrier. 

“Throwing your back out while lifting a giant bag of flour and nearly getting crushed to death by said flour is genuinely the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Yeri, your best friend (derogatory), snorts as she shakes her head. “I wish you had cameras in the storage room because I want to see that shit so bad.”

“Thank you for the brace. You can get the hell out now.” You roll your eyes. 

“So, what are you going to do now? Aren’t you swamped with orders?” Yeri asks, ignoring you completely. 

You have no clue what you’re going to do now. It isn’t just orders you have to worry about fulfilling; it’s also the freshly baked pastries that you have to sell every morning. After a year of blood, sweat, and tears, the bakery that you built from the ground up is finally starting to gain some stable business. So, of course, you chose now of all times to try to lift a bag of flour over your shoulder like you were Dwayne The Rock Johnson. 

“I think I’ll have to hire some temporary help,” you answer begrudgingly. 

“You could sound less like someone is holding you at gunpoint,” Yeri snorts, “Come on. It had to happen sooner or later anyway.” 

“I was handling things just fine on my own.”

“Were you, though?” Yeri raises an eyebrow, gesturing to your current state. 

You fear you walked right into that one. “Shut up and help me make some posters.” 

The two of you eventually manage to whip up some haphazard “Help Wanted” posters, the letters written in glitter pen and Yeri’s clumsy bubble text. You tried your best to fill in the empty gaps on the construction paper by placing Pompompurin stickers that you normally give to customers’ kids all over it. The posters look like a nine-year-old girl’s school project gone wrong, but you hope it’s charming enough to catch some attention. 

By the time you and Yeri finish hanging up all the posters, the sun is already starting to set, and all you want to do is go home and put a heating pad on your back. After saying bye to Yeri, you start making your way back to the bakery to lock up. Once you arrive, you notice a figure dressed in black slumped over in front of the door. You can see their shoulders rise up and down as they take in labored breaths, leaning against the glass door for support. 

Every rational fiber in your being screams at you to not approach the stranger alone, but it’s not like you can just leave this person at the front of your place of business. Cautiously taking a step forward, you squat down to eye level with the stranger, wincing slightly from back pain. Through the sweaty and matted mess of his brown fringe, you can see that the stranger is a young man around your age. However, his face is absolutely battered: bloody (and almost certainly broken) nose, split lip, black eye swollen shut, and a jagged cut on his cheek. If he notices your presence, he doesn’t show it, keeping his head hung down.

Gingerly placing a hand on his arm, you give him a small shake. “Excuse me? Are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?” 

His brows furrow, and he opens an eye (the only one he’s probably able to open) with a wince before lifting a finger and putting it against his lips. You notice that his knuckles are completely scraped raw. 

“Not so loud. I’m okay,” he answers. 

“You don’t look―” 

As if on cue, his stomach rumbles with a guttural growl that slowly drawls into a sputtering gurgle before dying out all together―leaving a long silence to hang between the two of you.

After another beat, he gives you a sheepish smile. “You got anything to eat?” 

You stare at him for a moment; his face is flushed, pink all the way down to his neck. 

And like a stupid horror movie character who opens the door to a room that clearly screams danger, you nod. 

.

.

.

Fortunately, he―Donghyuck, as he introduced himself―ends up not being a crazy ax murderer. 

Unfortunately, you find yourself awkwardly sitting in your closed bakery with a virtual stranger, fiddling with a first aid kit while watching him absolutely devour a piece of leftover tiramisu that you had in your fridge. If the situation wasn’t so insane, you might actually think it was pretty funny. For someone who looks the way he does, this current picture of Donghyuck absolutely doesn’t suit him―bruised chipmunk cheeks stuffed with ladyfingers and cocoa powder stuck on his split lip. 

When he’s finished, Donghyuck looks over at you with a mesmerized expression on his face, as if you just fed him ambrosia. There’s a softness to his face that you didn’t think could exist underneath all that grime and dried blood. 

“That was…delicious,” he breathes. 

“Thanks,” you snort, pushing a glass of water towards him. Unsurprisingly, he chugs it in the blink of an eye. “I still think you should get those injuries checked out, though.” 

“Nah, I’ll rub a little spit in them and it’ll be fine,” he shrugs. 

“Don’t be gross,” you sigh, scooting your chair closer to him as you set the first aid kit on the table. “Now, come here.” 

Donghyuck reluctantly dips his head, and you carefully cup his jaw for support, disinfecting and applying ointment on the cuts and scrapes on his face. You also clean up the dried blood near his nostrils and on his bottom lip, and he doesn’t flinch even when you accidentally brush tender areas like his broken nose or the gash on his mouth. Instead, he stays perfectly still, leaned back in the chair with his forearms resting on his thighs and fingers nonchalantly laced together. 

He keeps his gaze trained on something past your shoulder, and you also try your best to focus, but it’s hard to keep yourself from staring―especially when his demeanor has changed so much. He’s so calm and quiet in such a cold, ruthless manner, as if he’s physically steeling himself from pain―like he’s done this a million times before. Occasionally, you feel his eyes swipe across your face when he thinks you’re not paying attention, and it occurs to you how close the two of you are. Suddenly, you’re acutely aware of the heat of his skin against your palm and fingertips, and you rip your hand away from his jaw. 

Clearing your throat, you move onto his hands, dabbing his raw knuckles with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol before placing large band-aids on them. Despite your best efforts, it’s hard not to notice how slim his long fingers are or how surprisingly clean his nail beds are for someone who’s covered in blood. You keep your head completely bent, fighting the urge of looking up and possibly meeting his eyes. 

“There, all done,” you announce a little too loudly. 

“Thank you,” he says softly, “for the cake and for this. For helping me.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t do much,” you blurt, still avoiding eye contact as you clean up the table. However, you notice in your peripheral that his gaze follows your movements, almost hesitantly, before he asks: 

“So, you’re hiring?” 

You click the first-aid kit shut, blinking a few times before turning back to him. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

“I―yeah. How did you know that?” you ask, puzzled by such a random question. 

Donghyuck points at a poster that you didn’t even know you left here, sitting on the table right behind you. You realize that he was probably looking at it while you were patching him up. 

“That poster that says ‘help wanted.’ With the Pompompurin stickers. I’m actually in between jobs right now, so if you would have me―”

“You know Pompompurin?” you interrupt him. It’s not that important and should not stand out to you as much as it does. Yet, you can’t help but grin at the fact that someone like him knows about a tubby Golden Retriever character with a name that sounds like a mashup of the English language’s most adorable onomatopeias. 

Donghyuck trails off, stiffening as if you just found out his deepest, darkest secret. He opens his mouth slightly, trying to speak but unable to formulate a response―an excuse, rather. Instead, he just lets out an airy cough, putting a hand over his mouth and turning away from you in an attempt to obscure his face. Despite his best efforts, he can’t hide his glowing red ears and the way his earlier coldness melts away.

“I―yeah,” he responds, words slightly muffled by his hand. 

You struggle to maintain your composure as you gnaw on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. Fighting a smile in your voice, you finally say: 

“The pay won’t be that much, but you’ll get a bunch of free desserts at the end of the day. Are you okay with that?” 

It takes him a moment to process that you’re offering him the job, and you watch his eyes light up and a warm smile overtake his face. There’s still a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks, clashing with the purple bruising and swelling of his injuries. 

“I’d love nothing more.”

Suddenly, it occurs to you that Donghyuck somewhat reminds you of a tiramisu. 

He may look a bit rugged and grimey, bitter like coffee, but in actuality, underneath it all, he’s soft and fluffy (but not too sweet) like a mascarpone filling. 

RECIPE 2. BLUEBERRY PIE

“Are you out of your mind?”

You cringe away from your phone, hurriedly turning the volume down. “Damn, you don’t have to scream like that.” 

“You should be the one screaming,” Yeri hollers. “I better not come over one day and find your body stuffed in the freezer or something.”

“I thought you wanted me to hire someone!” 

“Not some random dude off the side of the street who was covered in injuries and doesn’t even have any baking experience,” Yeri hisses. 

“I don’t need him to bake. I just have him working the front counter and doing all the heavy lifting when I get my ingredient shipments,” you protest. “Did you think I would really just hand over all my orders to some random dude and go party it up in Cancún or something?” 

Yeri is silent for several seconds before asking, “He’s hot, isn’t he?”

“What?”

“So you did know what I meant when I said you needed your back blown out.” You can hear the smugness in her voice. 

“Yeri,” you say tiredly, “please be serious.”

“I am serious. You’re the one being unserious,” she retorts. “Yesterday, you acted like you would rather sacrifice your firstborn child before hiring a part-timer, and now look at you. Dickmatized.” 

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

“So, when do I get to meet him―”

You quickly hit the button to end the call and shove your phone into your pocket, letting out an exasperated sigh. You definitely won’t be hearing the end of that for a while. Your face feels warm for some reason, and you decide that you need a coffee break. After you finish making it, you pour yourself and Donghyuck a cup. 

You peek your head out from the curtain that separates the kitchen and the front counter to see if Donghyuck is busy. He’s politely chatting with an elderly woman, and your eyes nearly pop out of your head when he takes out the entire tray of egg tarts in the glass display and wraps it up for her. The woman happily hands him a wad of bills and waves him goodbye. After putting the cash in the register, Donghyuck turns around and catches you in the middle of gawking. 

“Oh, Y/N. I was actually just about to head back there. We’re out of egg tarts for the display,” he says nonchalantly. 

“Uh, yeah, I can see that,” you whisper loudly, “Was that Mrs. Kim? Why the hell did she order a dozen egg tarts? That woman can barely finish a single cookie.” 

Donghyuck blinks, clearly confused, whispering back, “She asked for my recommendation, so I said egg tarts since no one had bought any yet, and she said she would take all of them.” 

You pause, things finally clicking. Grinning knowingly, you say, “You know, having you work the front is doing wonders for sales.” 

“I don’t understand.” He furrows his brows. 

You laugh, handing him his cup of coffee. “I’m talking about your face card, Donghyuck. You’re too handsome, so you’re flustering the customers.” 

“Are we not whispering anymore?” he asks awkwardly. “Besides, that’s not true. Look at the state of my face right now.” 

His injuries have faded significantly, but the bruising and cuts are still there. You want to tell him that superficial wounds can’t mask the warmth in his caramel-brown eyes, the fullness of his cheeks and the sharp jawline, and the air of mystery that enshrouds him and draws people in. 

But you don’t. 

“Well, for someone who’s only been working here for two weeks, you’re doing superb. Injuries or not.” 

And it’s true. You’ve always preferred to work alone because you’re the only one who understands how you want things done. You naturally assumed it would be a hassle and a waste of time to try to explain to someone else when you could just do it yourself, but Donghyuck never seems to need an explanation. In fact, he knows before even you. 

He gets to the bakery three hours before you, cleans and preps all the equipment you need for the day, unloads the ingredient shipments, and is already manning the front counter by the time you arrive like it was no big deal at all. He also seems to have a sixth sense of knowing when you’re about to do something you shouldn’t be, even though you downplayed your back injury. He’s somehow always there―moving all the stuff you keep on the top shelf to somewhere within your reach even though you insisted that the rickety wooden step stool you use is perfectly safe, cleaning up a glass beaker that you accidentally shattered, taking out the trash during his breaks, checking in on you when you skip lunch. He even turned down his first paycheck, saying it’s repayment for patching him up and feeding him. 

Donghyuck is so perfect that sometimes you wonder if you’re being set up, like maybe he’s secretly embezzling money from the cash register―which would be a more viable theory if he didn’t drive an Audi to work everyday. 

“Thanks for the compliment. And the coffee,” Donghyuck says, snapping you out of your thoughts. He gingerly takes a sip and makes a strangled noise, a mixture being choking and retching, before slapping a hand over his mouth. 

“Are you okay? Was it too hot?” you ask worriedly. 

“No, it’s just…really bitter,” he mumbles, words muffled in his hand. 

“Oh,” you blink, “Sorry. I drink black coffee, so I forgot to ask if you wanted creamer and sugar. Come on, there’s some in the back.” 

The two of you head to the kitchen, and you watch him dump an exorbitant amount of creamer and sugar in his coffee, the dark roast swirling into something more akin to milk tea.

“You know, there might be some chocolate milk in the fridge if you’d rather that,” you tease. 

His head shoots up, those doe eyes lighting up. “Really?” 

“No,” you trail off awkwardly, “Sorry, I'm just messing with you.” 

It’s a bit adorable that you can visibly see him being disappointed in there not being chocolate milk before growing embarrassed, looking down at his cup. He turns away from you, but you can see the flush on the back of his neck. 

“You really have a sweet tooth, huh?” you laugh. 

“Pretty lame, right?” 

“Why would that be lame? You’re talking to someone who owns a bakery, in case you forgot.” 

Donghyuck smiles at you, and it’s sugary sweet like buttercream frosting. He looks at you like you just said the most wonderful thing in the world; in fact, he always makes you feel like that, no matter what you say or do. “I guess you’re right.” 

“What’s your favorite dessert?” you blurt, needing a distraction urgently. 

He pauses briefly. “I don’t think I have one.”

That actually surprises you. “You don’t? Even though you love sweets so much?” 

He laughs, the sound harsh and rough, and it almost makes you flinch. “I’ve never really had an opportunity to have many until now.” 

There’s clearly weight behind his words, but you know you’re not in a position to ask any further. A selfish part of you wants to be important enough to him that you are in a position to know more, but you’re all too aware about him very purposefully keeping you at arm’s length. 

“Well, you have plenty of time to find out,” you quickly continue, pretending not to notice. “Actually, I’m going to a blueberry farm tomorrow because I’m thinking about adding blueberry pie to the menu. When I get back, I’ll bake one for you, and you can be the first to taste test it!” 

“You’re going by yourself?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. 

“Of course. Who else would I go with?” 

“Me. I’ll go with you,” he replies immediately. 

“But it’s, like, a forty-five-minute bus ride to the farm. Plus, coming with me to get ingredients isn’t part of your job description anyway,” you explain. 

“I can’t come with you on my own free time?” he asks, tilting his head. “Besides, I’m worried about you overexerting yourself with that back injury. A bumpy bus ride definitely isn’t going to help, so I’ll drive us there.” 

“You’re going to drive that fancy ass car to a farm? You do realize it’s going to be dirt roads, right?” You cross your arms. 

“I think I’ll live. Besides, what makes you think this is the only fancy ass car I own?” He gives you an amused smile. 

“You’re joking, right?” You stare at him. 

He hesitates for a moment. “Yes.” 

“That doesn’t sound―”

“What time are we leaving tomorrow morning?” 

“...Seven.”

.

.

.

Unsurprisingly, Donghyuck picks you up right on time, not a minute too early or late. As the universe would have it, it rained the night prior―meaning all the dirt roads are now rivers of mud. You wince every time you heard a splat of mud hit Donghyuck’s pristine white car, but he seems to pay no mind to it. The two of you arrive at the farm within twenty minutes (he found a shortcut), and because you came so early, you get the entire farm to yourselves. The staff arms both of you with a large wicker basket each before setting you loose onto the massive property. 

“Okay, make sure to pick the fat ones. The small ones are super tart, so avoid those,” you instruct Donghyuck. “We’re going to fill these baskets to the brim and get our money’s worth.” 

“You got it, Captain.” He salutes. 

You give him a determined nod and a thumbs up before turning to your respective side and beginning to pick the blueberries. The two of you work without much fanfare or conversation, and it’s a silence that lingers between you comfortably. It reassures you to hear the sound of the bushes rustling from Donghyuck working; his companionship alone relaxes you. 

Eventually, when the sun starts peeking through and the weather grows warmer, both of you decide to take a break. You find a spot in the shade before sitting down, pulling out snacks and bottles of water from a backpack Donghyuck brought along. 

“I have a surprise for you,” you tell him, trying to hide a smile. “Close your eyes.” 

He eyes you suspiciously but does so anyway. You fish out a handful of unripe blueberries wrapped in a handkerchief from your pocket and feed some to him. His reaction is nearly instant the moment he starts chewing them; you watch as his face puckers up from how sour they are and his entire body shrivels into itself, a shudder running through him. He’s polite enough to not spit them out, but you’re not polite enough to resist pointing and laughing at him. Throwing your head back, you laugh so hard that your stomach starts to hurt. 

“Oh my God, your face!” 

“Ugh,” Donghyuck groans, taking a big gulp of his water. “I should’ve known you had sinister intentions from the start.” 

“I didn’t think you’d react like that,” you finally manage to say after catching your breath. “You really can’t handle anything except for sweet stuff.” 

“Are you having fun bullying me?” He rolls his eyes. 

“So much fun,” you say in a sing-song voice. 

Donghyuck tries to continue feigning annoyance, but he can’t help the low chuckle that rumbles in his chest. His eyes always soften when he looks at you, and his gaze is intimate like a lover’s―gentle, tender, unwavering, and vulnerable. But his warmth is always fleeting, and he only allows you glimpses of it through the unmoving walls that he’s erected around himself. 

You wish he wouldn’t indulge you so, terrified you’ll try to cross the line he’s drawn between the two of you. 

“What are you thinking about?” Donghyuck asks, trying to read your expression

“About the delicious pie I’m about to make when we get back,” you smile. 

“I see,” he responds, though it’s clear he isn’t convinced. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“You better be. This is how I’m paying you back for driving me here,” you nod. 

“Instead of that, pay me back by telling me what your favorite dessert is,” he suddenly says. “I do still want the pie, though.” 

“That was random,” you snort. “Why do you want to know my favorite dessert?”

“Because you asked me, but you never told me yours.” 

You suppose he has a point, but you find it ironic that he wants to know more about you when he refuses to offer you even a modicum of information about himself. Despite this, you tell him anyway because you are obviously the fool here. 

“If you must know, it’s red velvet cake,” you sigh. 

“Why?” 

You don’t answer at first, carefully thinking about if you’re ready to be vulnerable in front of him―still a virtual stranger. A virtual stranger who loves sweets. A virtual stranger who is a bit of a messy eater. A virtual stranger who knows Pompompurin. A virtual stranger who worries about you even when he’s not on the clock. A virtual stranger who gently tells you to be careful whenever you try to do something dangerous, whispering, “I’ll do it instead.” A virtual stranger who allows his luxury car to be caked in mud for you. 

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life,” you finally say. “I baked it for my mom’s birthday, and I think I ended up being more excited than her.” 

Donghyuck stays quiet, gauging your reaction. 

“I was in college, studying to be a doctor like everyone else in my family. So, like a dumb young person who thought that dreams were more important than money, I dropped out of college and went to culinary school. My parents told me I was ruining mine and their lives, disowned me, yada-yada―a bunch of depressing stuff, you know. Eventually, I graduated, took out a huge loan, and opened up my own bakery. Worked a bunch of part-time jobs until my business could stand on its own. Now here I am. Still in debt, though,” you laugh awkwardly. “But I’m not doing too shabby. I was able to hire you, so at least I have a little cash to spare.” 

He still doesn’t say anything, so you find yourself starting to ramble. You’re really not sure what possessed you to trauma dump on him like that. 

“You know, a lot of people talk shit about red velvet cake because they say the only thing that makes it special is the red food coloring,” you hurriedly explain, “but that’s not true. The cream cheese frosting is super important too. Also, I always say love is the most important ingredient of all. As a baker, you’re kind of bearing your heart to the customer, and isn’t it kind of cute that red velvet cake is red like a heart? Okay, please say something now or else I think I’m going to projectile vomit.” 

Donghyuck reaches over and brushes a sweaty lock of hair out of your face. His fingers brush over your temple, which makes you sharply suck in a breath. You almost lean into his touch, but you catch yourself. His hand slightly lingers on the side of your neck, like he wants to bring your face closer, but he eventually pulls away. 

He searches your face, and you’re not sure what he’s looking for―if anything. Rather, perhaps he’s not searching. Perhaps he’s committing your features to his memory, as if the way you look right now is something he wants to remember forever. 

“You’ve worked hard, Y/N,” he says softly, voice slightly hoarse. “This is long overdue, but congratulations. You achieved your dream, and don’t let anyone ever discount that. Not even yourself.” 

You wonder how long you’ve waited to hear that. You’re not even sure you knew you needed to hear that. But when Donghyuck says it, it hits you just how long and hard you’ve worked all on your own without a single break. Throughout the years, you’ve really only ever heard, “I’m sorry that happened.” When was the last time someone congratulated you? When was the last time you congratulated yourself? 

You surge forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his shoulder. Donghyuck cradles you against him, one hand wound tightly around your waist while the other is tangled in your hair. You can feel his chest rise up and down as he holds you. He smells like lavender soap and a bit earthy from being outside, and the warmth of his skin against your cheek makes you want to close your eyes and fall asleep in his arms. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“No, thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. 

You’re not sure why he’s thanking you instead, but what you are sure of is that you’re crossing the line, taking a step towards him and wondering if he’ll meet you halfway. 

.

.

.

“Tada!” you announce cheerfully, setting down the freshly baked blueberry pie onto the table. 

Donghyuck claps excitedly. “Holy shit, it looks amazing.” 

“I’m still trying to figure out the right portions for the filling, so let me know if you think there’s too much or little,” you tell him as you hand him a slice. 

Without even answering you, he stabs his fork into the pie and almost eats the entire slice in one bite, seemingly unbothered by the steam still rising from it. 

“Be careful. You’re going to burn your tastebuds off. I’m not letting you eat it for shits and giggles, you know. This is for research purposes.” You cross your arms. 

“It’s perfect, Y/N. I’m serious,” Donghyuck says after swallowing. “The filling isn’t too sweet, and the crust is airy and light.” 

“Well, alright, Gordon Ramsay. I think we’re going to be adding a new menu item then,” you smile. “Think you can get Mrs. Kim to buy a dozen of these?”

“I don’t think she’ll need much convincing with how good these taste.” 

“You’re so easy,” you tease. “All I need to do is feed you. Anyways, I’m going to clean up here, but you should head home. It’s getting late, and you wake up way earlier than me.” 

“I’ll help,” he insists. 

“Go,” you order, pointing at the door. “I can handle it.” 

He looks conflicted but eventually relents when you threaten to physically kick him out. Before he leaves, he turns back to you and says, “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Why do you keep thanking me?” you laugh. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had this.”

“What? A blueberry pie?”

Donghyuck pauses, a slight wonder in his expression, as if he’s realizing his answer for the first time as well.

“Peace.” 

And you think maybe this is a step forward for him too. 

RECIPE 3. CREAM PUFF

It’s quite surreal how easily and naturally you and Donghyuck fall into a routine together. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, two weeks becomes two months. You’ve learned the little things about him, like how he always swipes some icing before you can fill up the piping bag or that he’s not a coffee drinker at all (more of a hot cocoa person) or that he purses his lips when a dessert he’s testing tastes off (no matter how hard he tries to hide it) or that he involuntarily sticks his arm out in front of you when he wants to stop you from doing something you shouldn’t. 

You also notice that he sometimes comes into work with injuries. They’re not nearly as bad as the first time you met him, but it’s hard to ignore a bruised cheek or bloodied knuckles. He always has a reason for them, whether it’s tripping down the stairs or accidentally falling down and scraping his hands on the concrete. You can tell by the way he laughs it off that he doesn’t plan on telling you the truth, so you laugh with him. The two of you, having taken only a step towards one another, find yourselves completely immobile now. 

He always does this: envelops you like a cloud but disappears the moment you reach out for him. 

You’re honestly not sure why he’s still here. Your injury has long healed, and he clearly doesn’t need the abysmal pay you’re giving him. He feels like he’ll slip away at any moment, fleeting like a warm spring breeze, and you suppose time flies by when you know it’s limited. Despite knowing that, you can’t help but desperately want him to stay. 

“I think it’s cute how hard he’s working,” Yeri randomly says one day as she eyes Donghyuck prepare orders in the front. He’s in the middle of a lunchtime rush, so he doesn’t even notice the two of you watching him like weirdos.

“Well, that’s what I’m paying him to do,” you reply, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh, I think the money is the least of his worries here,” she hums, taking a sip of her coffee. 

She has a point, but you’re pretty sure she’s implying something else as well. Just as you go to ask her what exactly she means, you hear a loud clatter. Flinching, you turn your attention back to Donghyuck and realize that he’s dropped a tray on the floor. However, the tray is the last thing on your mind when you see the expression on his face. It’s a mixture of horror, anger, and almost sadness―like he’s finally come face-to-face with whatever he’s been running from. It makes your blood run cold. 

Donghyuck is looking at a boy around his age; the boy has dark hair, a mole under his eye, and a grim expression. More importantly, he’s covered in injuries too. 

“Who is that?” Yeri whispers. “Why does Donghyuck look like he’s seen a ghost?” 

Maybe because he has, you want to tell her. 

Donghyuck grabs the boy's arm, squeezing so tightly that his knuckles turn white, and mumbles something to him. When he turns around and meets your eyes, he looks pained and fearful as if you witnessed something you shouldn’t have.

“Is it okay if I take my break early today?” he asks calmly, though the tremor in his voice gives him away. 

You nod hesitantly, unable to force yourself to speak. You watch him as he drags the boy out; when he passes you, you can tell how tightly his body is wound right now. His jaw is clenched, a muscle spasming as he tries to control himself, and every step he takes seems labored. He’s running on pure adrenaline right now, like he’s physically steeling himself. 

However, you don’t think he’s ever appeared so incredibly alone before. As you watch his back disappear further and further from your view, you’re unsure if he’ll ever return, and you never imagined how terrifying that would be. 

.

.

.

The cream puffs aren’t rising.

You’re crouched in front of the oven, watching the dough remain flat and lifeless. You should’ve known better than to attempt to make cream puffs on such a shitty day, especially when pastries like these are so sensitive to the environment and atmosphere. Even though you know you should probably just scrap them and try again, you wait for just a little longer, hoping that maybe if you wish hard enough that they’ll magically start to rise. 

But then again you suppose that no matter how hard you try, no matter how careful you are, no matter how perfect the batter is, no matter how much time you spend time piping them, no matter how much you want them to rise, they won’t. 

You decide that Donghyuck isn’t like a tiramisu at all; he’s sensitive and delicate and elusive and frustrating like a cream puff. 

“Y/N, they’re burning.” 

Losing your balance and nearly falling over, you gasp loudly. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear Donghyuck walk into the kitchen, nor did you smell the undeniable scent of something being burnt to a crisp. 

“Oh, fu―!” you curse, hurriedly opening the oven and casually suffocating both you and Donghyuck with a hot plume of air. Sputtering, you look around and grab a random rag from the sink before reaching for the cream puffs. 

“Wait, stop!” Donghyuck stops you with an outstretched arm, his hand pressed to your side. “Let me do it.” 

He gently takes the rag from your hand and removes the tray of charred cream puffs from the oven, dumping them into the trash before putting the tray in the sink and running some water on it―just how you like it. 

Letting out a relieved sigh, he turns back to you and asks, “Are you okay? It’s not like you to make a mistake like that. You didn’t get burned anywhere, did you?” 

When you don’t answer immediately, Donghyuck rushes forward and grabs your hands, carefully examining your fingers and arms. “Wait, are you hurt? Where? Tell me where you got burned. We have to cool it down with some lukewarm water. And don’t just say you’re fine. Burns are not a joke, Y/N―why are you looking at me like that?” 

His hands are calloused and rough, and you can still see scabs from where he tore his knuckles, yet he touches you like you’re the delicate one. He’s covered in fresh and old wounds, yet he looks so panicked at the thought of you having a scratch. 

“Shut up,” you whisper furiously, ripping your hands away from him. “From now on, don’t ask me another question. It’s my turn to ask you questions.” 

He blinks, a bit stunned by your reaction, but it’s clear he knows what you’re about to say. He goes to reach for you again but decides against it. “Okay.” 

“Who was that guy?” you demand. “Why are you always covered in injuries? Why did you lie to me? Who are you?” 

“He’s an old friend,” Donghyuck starts quietly. 

“Do you treat all your friends like that?” 

“When I don’t want to see them.” 

You wait for him to continue.

“Before I met you, he and I and a few of our other friends worked…odd jobs for cash,” he explains, and he looks like he’s choking on every word. “The jobs usually entailed us hurting people and also getting hurt. I did a lot of shit I wasn’t proud of. At the time, I didn’t really care. It was just nice to feel something, whether it was the adrenaline rush from doing the punching or the pain from being punched. I got a bunch of money, bought a bunch of expensive stuff, but none of it mattered. Eventually, I just felt nothing again. I didn’t even have the energy to loathe myself anymore. So, I took one last job, got the shit kicked out of me, and then I left. That’s when you found me―”

He inhales, and his eyes flicker towards you. He gazes at you so longingly, as if you were impossibly out of his reach, that you can’t help but involuntarily take a step towards him. 

But he steps back. 

“I thought that working here would make me feel like a human being again, but I didn’t realize how much I would―” He pauses again. “I thought working here would be a nice reset for me, but I naively thought that I could completely leave my past behind. My friends eventually found me, and I guess I care about those reckless assholes more than I thought because they managed to convince me to take on a few more jobs with them. That’s why I’ve been coming to work with injuries. But I’m done. I cut them off for good when they walked into this bakery. I don’t want…I don’t want our past to tarnish this place. I want to keep this place a beautiful, warm, and pure safe haven that you worked so hard for it to be. That’s why I lied to you, Y/N. I’m a coward to the bone, and I was envious of you. I was ashamed to admit it to you. You, who had the courage to chase after your dream. You, who had the kindness to help a good-for-nothing asshole like me. I only want you to have happy memories from now on, and I am not one of them.” 

“Are you going to leave?” you ask softly. 

“I probably should,” he answers shakily. 

“What’s stopping you?” 

“Just…one reason.” 

“When you say it like that, it makes it sound like the reason is me.” 

Donghyuck laughs bitterly, and his eyes drag across your face like every movement hurts him.

“You know it’s you. It’s always been you.” 

When you reach for his hand, he turns away like just the warmth from your body heat burns him. So instead, you take a step back. 

“I won’t ask you to stay, Donghyuck, I won’t chase you. I’m going to wait right here, and it’s up to you if you're going to meet me halfway.” 

RECIPE 4. RED VELVET CAKE

When your alarm clock goes off the next morning, you seriously consider just not showing up to work. It’s not like you can be fired for being a no-show when you’re your own boss, after all. 

And it’s not like you have any employees who will be expecting you. 

You’ll just apologize to Mrs. Kim and your other regulars later. You’re allowed to have a day where you just rot in bed and feel sorry for yourself. 

However, no matter how much you tell yourself that, you find yourself crawling out of bed and getting ready anyway. You can’t seem to brutally crush that small glimmer of hope that Donghyuck might still be there, no matter how hard you try. When you see yourself in the mirror, you recoil in horror. Your eyes are almost swollen shut from the amount of crying you did last night, and your face is sallow and lifeless. 

So much for putting on a brave face, you think wryly to yourself. You tried so hard to look tough, when in reality, you bawled your eyes out and even considered praying to God for Donghyuck to stay. It’s a humiliating and humbling reality check. 

“Stand up right now,” you sharply tell yourself in the mirror. ��He’s just some guy. Get it together.” 

You do your best to clean up your appearance and make the trek over to the bakery. It takes another internal pep talk before you can make your way to the door. After you finally walk up, you see that the lights inside are off. Your stomach sinks, and your eyes start to burn. Even though you’re holding the handle, you can’t bring yourself to open the door. It’s an outcome that you expected, yet you wonder why it hurts so badly. 

“You liar,” you mumble to yourself, “You said you only wanted me to have happy memories.” 

Once you make your way inside, you numbly head towards the kitchen, trying to remember what exactly you have to do today. Oh right, now that he’s not here, you also have to make sure all the ingredients are prepped first. 

When you walk into the kitchen, you do a double-take. 

The whole place looks like it’s been completely ransacked: used pans and utensils piled up in the sink, two opened boxes of cake mix, containers of ingredients without lids on on the tables, random lumps of flour and egg shells strewn about― 

And right in front of the oven is Donghyuck, flour in his hair and frosting on his nose. He’s holding a cake stand with…you think it’s supposed to be a cake on it? The shape is mangled and haphazardly cut, but it has echoes of a heart. The frosting is a hot mess, as if a bird with diarrhea shat all over the cake. The batter is clearly underbaked and makes the cake look gooey in a bad way. 

“Um, I promise I’ll clean all of this up in a second, but I wanted to surprise you,” Donghyuck starts awkwardly. “It’s not perfect, but I tried making a red velvet cake for you.” 

You stare at him, still not sure how to react. 

“You once said that baking is like bearing your heart to the customer and that love is the most important ingredient of all,” he laughs softly to himself. “I think love is the only ingredient I managed to get right, but I’m bearing my heart to you now, Y/N. I’m sorry I hid everything and lied to you, but I’m in love with you. Hopelessly so. All my life, I’ve chased a feeling, not knowing what it was. But now I do. I don’t think I knew how to feel until I met you. I never once thought I would ever have a purpose in my life, but you make me want to be a normal, proper member of society. Your dream is my dream. I want to wake up at 5AM and sell egg tarts with you for the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.” 

Donghyuck sets the cake down on a table in front of you, and you notice that his fingers are dyed red from the food coloring. It almost reminds you of when you first met him, except his injuries have been replaced with red food coloring, flour, and cream cheese frosting. 

“This cake is terrible,” you smile, “how did you butcher it that badly when you used cake mix?” 

You watch him blush all the way down to his neck, as he sheepishly looks away. “Don’t make fun of me. I really tried my best. I stayed up watching tutorials―” 

Leaning across the table, you cup his face with both hands and kiss him, brushing your thumbs across his cheekbones. He tastes like frosting, hot cocoa, and your prayers being answered. The way he kisses you back is bruising, dizzying and knocking any coherent thought out of your head, his hands finding your hips and anchoring you to him. He kisses you like you’re the sweetest and most wonderful thing he’s ever tasted.

When you finally pull away, it takes you a moment to regain feeling in your legs. Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, lips brushing against yours once again as the two of you try to catch your breath. 

“I think I’m going to have to fire you, though,” you whisper. “You know, with me being your boss and all. The power dynamic is too weird.” 

He hums, pausing for thought. “Then how about I become your business partner?” 

“What?”

Donghyuck reaches into his pocket and fishes out his wallet, pulling out a shiny and fancy-looking credit card. He hands it to you without much fanfare. 

“I have a lot of money, you know. So I’m going to invest in your business. Use it as you’d like,” he casually announces.

You stare at him, your jaw hanging wide open. He never tried to hide from you that he was rich, but he never told you that he was rich rich. 

“Well, damn! Why didn’t you show me this earlier? I would have forgiven you a lot sooner,” you tease, slapping him on the arm. “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I’m quite the gold-digger, you know.”

“When I told you to use it as you’d like, I meant me as well,” Donghyuck replies, shrugging.

“You’re insane.” You hope he can’t tell how much your face is burning up. 

“I guess I am,” he laughs, and you don’t think he’s ever looked so free. You want to tell him that you hope he only has happy memories from now on too. You want to tell him that you’ll rewrite all of his scars with sugary and fluffy desserts so that they won’t ever hurt again. 

And for the first time in your life, you feel it too.

Peace. 

EXTRA

“So, have you figured out what your favorite dessert is?” 

Donghyuck stirs slightly, groaning, as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. He slips his hand under your shirt (well, technically it’s his shirt) and rests it on your bare hip bone. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” 

“Because I’m curious.” 

“If I answer, will you let me rest?”

“Depends on how good your answer is.” 

“Blueberry pie. That’s my answer.” 

You smile against the crook of his neck. 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life.” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Down Home 1

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

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

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The world's most famous heroes walk into a small town diner and change your life.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Note: Because of this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all to Jupiter and back. Take care. 💖

It’s a slow day. Every day is slow out in Tumble Down. The township’s name tells the whole story. Everything there is in decline. It’s hard to imagine there was ever a time when the people weren’t tiny and forgotten in the hubbub of the bigger world. Since the mines closed and the canning factory was outsourced, it feels even smaller. 

Smaller isn’t so bad. It’s simpler. You all know each other’s names and faces. You say hi and how are you and do what needs to be done. Simple is, simple as. 

You here there isn’t much to do in most small towns. Not for fun or for work. You’re one of the lucky ones. You got a job down at the diner in your sophomore year. It helped pay for your daddy’s new engine and since then, it keeps you all afloat in the rising waters of disparity as they close in on Tumble Down. 

You hum to the old radio that sits on the shelf you make sure to dust. The speakers crackle from time to time and the signal gets wonky in storm season, but the music’s never bad. It’s the classic stuff that always played in your mother’s kitchen. 

You wipe down another table. Not because it needs it, just because it’s something to do. The day has been long and listless. Even the breakfast rush was lower than usual. 

Darnell, the cook, whistles along from the back. Everyone knows he isn’t as mean as he looks. He just likes his space. 

As you go back to the counter and lean on it, staring at the ticking clock, a roar cuts through the distance. You blink and look up, narrowing your eyes at the dusty country road outside. Wind rustles through the tall wheat in the field opposite and the noise rumbles closer and closer. 

A man pulls in a motorbike. He’s going so fast that he has to circle the gravel lot before he can slow down. It’s not Lenny and his prized Harley but another man on a more modern-looking mount. Not far behind, another motorcycle zips through and the riders straddle their bikes as the survey the restaurant. 

You narrow your eyes. You probably need glasses but you make do. The last time you got your eyes checked, you didn’t have enough for the frames. 

The one man wears blue and red, an odd helmet on his head. Not a helmet at all but a sort of mask. The other man has dark hair to his chin and a beard to match. He’s all in black but his left arm shines with gold ripples. Not a sleeve, an arm, made of metal. 

“Oh my lord,” you murmur in shock, “Darnell!” You holler over your shoulder, “you’re not gonna believe this.” You turn to the window as he pokes his head around, “not sure I do myself. Tell me my eyes aren’t lyin’.” 

He looks above your head, an easy task for the mammoth cook. He hums and swirls around his spatula. “Thems those boys on the news. The one that was in the old war. Grandad’s battle.” 

“I’m not going crazy with boredom?” You bubble. 

He snorts. It’s as close to a laugh as you get from him. You spin back and hurry around the counter to grab a pair of menus. Still, you don’t want to seem too eager. You put down the menus and fiddle with a napkin holder instead. 

The bell over the door jingles and swipe up the menus and turn. You really can’t believe it’s them. Yet, as Captain America removes his cowl, you’re certain. They look just like they do on the TV. Even with your sight, you can tell. 

“Hello, fellas, how are you doin’ today?” 

The dark-haired one, the Winter Soldier, glances at the other, his cheek dimpling, “well... we’re... uh...” 

“We’re doing great,” Steve Rogers answers brightly. “Starving. You guys serve bacon? My buddy’s dying for some.” 

“Um, yes, sirs, yes. Can I sit ya down?” You ask, hugging the menus closer. 

“Please,” the Captain accepts as the other man stays silent and pensive, his eyes wandering down to the coffee stain on your apron. 

“Just here,” you sweep away and wave them on with you. You stop beside the nicest booth and lay down a menu on each side, “have a seat.” 

They do just as you bid. The blond puts his cowl on the table and unhooks the shield from his back to lay on the far end of the seat. He smooths back the sweaty strands of hair as his companion stretches his metal fingers. You sway nervously by the table, twitching as you remind yourself how to do your job. 

“Well, can I get ya started with coffee? You look beat from the road.” You beam with the smile Mr. Welk says could outshine the sun. 

“Not just the road,” the dark-haired one mutters as he rolls his shoulder. The one that connects to his real arm. “I’ll take one, please.” 

“Can I get an orange juice, please,” the Captain asks. 

“Course ya can. I’ll be right back. You have a look at the specials and give it a think,” you bounce and spin around. 

You go to pour the orange juice and a cup of black coffee. Darnell lingers by the window. He only ever really appears to put a plate up but he watches the new arrivals. 

You bring their drinks and step back, clasping your hands behind you. 

“Did ya need cream or sugar for your coffee, sir?” You ask. 

“Black’s fine,” he assures. 

“No need for the sirs. Steve, Bucky,” Captain America insists, “we’re off duty.” 

“Right, sorry about that, ssss...Steve,” you correct yourself. “You need some more time?” 

“Think I’m decided,” Bucky intones, “what about you?” 

“Set,” Steve confirms, “I’ll have the sunny side up with toast and sausage. Can I get some fruit on the side as well, please?” 

He hands over the menu and you take it as you hold your smile. Your cheeks ache. Not because you have to force it but because you can’t stop. This is the most exciting thing to happen in Tumble Down ever. If Darnell wasn’t there, no one would believe you. 

“Overeasy, bacon, extra bacon too, and some french toast, and uh... home fries.” Bucky offers up the second menu, “please and thank you.” 

“Alrighty,” you preen, “I’ll put your order in.” 

“Got it,” Darnell growls over the empty diner. 

“He’s got good hearing,” you giggle nervously as you look between the men. “Ummmm, sorry, I’ll leave ya be.” 

“You’re not bothering,” Steve assures. “I can see you’re dying to ask.” 

He gives a gentle smile. 

“Nah, oh, gosh. I’m sure ya get it all the time. I don’t wanna be one of those,” you put your hands up. “Really, you all look like you could use the peace and quiet.” 

“Well, actually, I’ve been stuck with this meathead for days,” Bucky scoffs, “so please, I’d love to hear someone else’s voice.” 

You laugh again. They’re funnier than you expect. They always look so serious on the TV. 

“What... what are y’all doing here in Tumble Down? It’s a bit far from... anywhere.” You ask sheepishly. 

“Tumble Down? Is that what it’s called?” Steve scratches his neck above his stained collar. “Well, we couldn’t get a signal so we’ve just been riding through. Saw the sign down the way and figured we’d get a bite.” 

“He’s lying. He was falling asleep on his bike,” Bucky teases. 

“Sure,” Steve shakes his head. “Only ‘cause I’m tired of you.” 

You giggle again, “I thought y’all were friends.” 

“Friends, partners, cursed with each other, have your pick,” Bucky snorts. 

“He’s playing,” Steve says. “Look, we’re boring. Despite what you think. We’re a couple of old men bickering with each other. What about you? What about Tumble Down?” 

“Ah, nothing really, sir. Steve,” you squeeze the menus tight at the edges. “Nothing going on since the coal law and that. Everyone’s all but run out. All but us.” 

“Just you? Your family?” Steve wonders. 

“Jesus, Steve, nosy much?” Bucky says over the brim of his mug. 

“Sorry. He’s right. Like I said. Crotchety old man. I talk to the pigeons.” 

You laugh again, “oh my, you are a hoot!” You slap your thigh emphatically, “I’m still my ma and pa. It’s just the three of us. They need help with the animals and that.” 

“Animals?” Steve wonders, his posture shifting towards you. 

“Chickens, cows. They got a farm. Was my grandpa’s. And his ma kept it going after he didn’t come home from... well, you’d know more about that time than me, I think.” You give a forlorn look to the floor. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry about your grandfather. Great grandfather,” he corrects himself. 

“Lotta good men gone,” Bucky mulls grimly. 

“Yeah, my great granny said as much. I wouldn’t know though, but I heard the stories,” you dare to look at them again. “Sorry to bring up the bad memories.” 

“Nah,” Bucky waves you off casually. “I got this nifty arm outta it.” 

“And I got a shield so, you know, not all losses,” Steve chuckles. 

“I s’pose,” you agree. “I’m gonna check on that food for ya. You good with your coffee?” 

Bucky raises the mug, “delicious.” 

You nod and turn with a swish of your skirt. You go up to the window and look over the ledge. “How’s it going, Darnell?” 

“Going. I’m happy it ain’t Raylene here. She’s got a mouth on her, don’t she? Them sort don’t deserve that trouble,” he tisks. 

“They’re nice. And Raylene is too. She’s just... Raylene,” you say, “can I help with anything?” 

“I don’t wanna be rude but I’m tired of tellin’ ya to stay outta my kitchen. You know the grill likes to spit,” he shakes his head. “You go, I’ll let ya know when it’s ready.” 

“Alright,” you back away and turn back. 

Steve and Bucky lean over the table, their voices low as they chat. As you move around behind the counter, they both sit up and the former clears his throat. You smile as you take the cloth from your apron pocket and wipe the already clean counter. 

As the radio buzzes, you hum without thinking. Stevie Ray Vaughan’s smoky voice mingles with the emotion plucked through electric strings. Your dad’s a big fan. He has old tapes with concerts on them and even went to one himself. 

The bell rings and you nearly jump out of your shoes. You turn and scoop up the plates as you thank Darnell. He grumbles that he’s going out to have a smoke; his code for having a Tootsie Pop by the backdoor. 

You bring the meals over to the table and set them down before the men. Their gazes make you sweat. It’s all a little more intense with no one else there. 

“Thank you,” Steve says and Bucky echoes him. 

“Not at all. Anything else? Water? Ketchup?” 

“It all looks great as is,” Steve says, “you got a nice voice.” 

“Oh, really? Ha, I was just humming out of tune. Sorry if I was too loud.” 

“Not at all,” Bucky picks up his fork as he leans forward. He tilts his head. “You know this one?” 

“Sure do. It’s Fleetwood Mac,” you answer. “One my all times.” 

He grins and nods as he looks at Steve. Steve watches you with a smile of his own. 

“Do you sing?” He asks. 

“Me? Only in my shower or to the chickens. They usually hide in the henhouse then.” You tinkle with laughter. 

“Ah,” Steve nods. 

“But if... if ya really wanna suffer, I could try it,” you smile, “but uh, you know, Stevie Nicks, she’s one of a kind.” 

“I’ve had worse,” Steve says. 

You look between him and Bucky. You chew your lip and think. You follow the song as you try to recognise which verse it is. You squint and perk up as you catch your place. 

“You just let me know when you’ve had enough,” you say before you start. Not only can you tell your pa that you met the super soldiers, you can tell him you sang for them. It’ll be a nice bit of excitement for the dinner table. 

[hanbinics]

!fratboy chris comforts !crybaby reader.

“what did she say?”

you look up at chris from the soft mattress of his unmade bed as the brunette towers over you, arms crossed over his chest. his jaw is tight and his blue eyes are seething as he takes in your teary eyes and downturned corners of your mouth, the soft tremble of your lower lip. part of him wants to storm out of the room and find whoever you’re talking about to put her in her place, but he can’t leave you in the moment—not when you’re like this.

sucking in a shaky breath, you reluctantly prepare yourself to start the story all over again. “she said—” but chris cuts you off with a short, humorless chuckle.

“no, kid, i know what she said, yeah? was bein’ fuckin’ sarcastic,” he explains, shaking his head as his arms unwind from his chest in favor of rubbing at his jaw.

when chris had been unable to find you in the thick of the party going on downstairs, he’d spent the last twenty or so minutes looking for you—only to find you in his bedroom crying your pretty eyes out. at first, he’d thought maybe someone had hurt you. he always keeps a close eye on you at these things, regardless of the party being thrown by his frat brothers. the last thing he expected was to find out that all these tears were caused by another girl.

you’d just finished explaining to chris that you had wandered off to get some water after not being able to get his attention the first two times you had asked. but while you were filling up your glass at the sink, a girl had approached you with curious brown eyes and a smile that made you feel... off.

you probably should have known how the conversation was going to go when she’d asked you if you were chris’s girlfriend. you were so surprised that you kind of stuttered around your answer, quietly insisting that no, you weren’t—and it’s true. the brunette has carefully avoided calling you anything but his, another title never slipping from his mouth. it’s never entirely bothered you until being confronted by this pretty girl talking about how she’d hooked up with him a few months prior—before you even met him—and that when he’d ghosted her, she sort of just figured he had gotten a girlfriend. you’d managed to hold it together the entire time, but after listening to her thank you for the information and that she’d definitely fuck him again, it was nothing short of a miracle that you managed to make it all the way to the top of the stairs before any tears slipped down your cheeks.

you’re so distracted by the replaying conversation that you miss chris’s next question, irritation flashing across his face as he leans down slightly to snap his fingers in front of you.

“hey,” he huffs, waiting until you’re looking up at him to continue, “i asked you what she looks like, kid, y’didn’t hear me?” he’s trying not to snap at you, but the brunette is so fucking annoyed that someone had the audacity to ask you about your relationship with him—everyone knows you’re with him. and that’s all they need to know.

you frown, throwing your hands up dramatically before allowing your shoulders to slump. “i dunno, she was... she was pretty, kay? and she—” before you can finish, chris is gripping your chin roughly, tilting your head up towards him.

“nah, ‘nuff of that shit,” he tells you firmly, shaking his head once. “didn’t fuckin’ ask you if she was pretty—y’know i don’t give a shit about that,” he insists, watching as your frown deepens. “need to know what she looked like so i can go fix the stupid shit she’s got goin’ on in her head, yeah?”

but as chris takes you in, he realizes you’re not entirely listening. your gaze is focused on him but your pretty eyes are shiny with unshed tears, and the plushy flesh of your lower lip is quivering as he holds your chin tightly in his grasp. it’s almost like he can see the insecurity racing through your brain and it causes something to tighten in his chest.

prodding his cheek with his tongue, the brunette lets out a huff before he’s letting go of your chin to bend down to your level, his arms resting on your bare knees. “hey,” he calls out to you, waiting for you to meet his gaze before he continues, “who do i kiss every day?”

he waits for an answer, expecting you to bounce back quickly, but when you blink down at him slowly, his eyes widen the slightest bit. “jesus fuck, kid—you. i kiss you every day, don’t i?” he asks, exasperation leaking into his tone as an embarrassed flush floods your cheeks.

when you nod, he does too, like he’s proud you’re finally getting it. “right. and who sleeps in my bed all the time?” this time, you don’t answer, but the light blush coloring your cheeks is enough of an answer for him.

“and who am i spendin’ all my fuckin’ time with since you’re stuck to me like some shitty glue?” he goes on, a small smirk teasing the corners of his mouth now as he sees the way you start to perk up a little bit, those big shiny tears from earlier no longer threatening to spill over.

“that’s right. so uh, the next time someone come’s talkin’ shit to you, you tell me,” he instructs, glancing over your softening features as something pleasant swells in his chest, “and i’ll answer their stupid fuckin’ question: you’re mine.”

a/n. pls accept some !crybaby reader x !fratboy chris as my apology for not posting in a few days !!

©hanbinics

: ̗̀➛ tag list: @blahbel668

: ̗̀➛ divider by @/kyejiz

[lilacgaby]

biker! bakugo PLEASE i'm choking

˗ˏˋride or die

pairing: biker!katsuki x nerd!reader

summary: you'd been partnered up with the hotheaded speed racer, katsuki. who knew he'd end up more interested in you then the races he'd win?

tags: fem!reader, use of she/her, cursing, racing, college au!, no quirk au!, smart reader, studying, projects, reader has glasses, pet names

(a/n: i couldn't resist doing a trope 😖)

wc: 2k

flashing lights, money bags, and trophies were just another thing to katsuki.

It had begun when he was young, as a teenager becoming infatuated with motorcycles. he'd been gifted one when he became the driving age, and it'd become history ever since.

he was naturally adept at the sport, winning every competition he'd ever stepped foot in. but because of his mother, he was still forced to attend college.

it wouldn't be that bad if it wasn't so boring. he'd joined a friend group of fellow bikers, none on his level though. despite his reputation for being a bad, mean, and crude guy,

he'd never miss a class.

he walked in just before the bell rang, sitting towards the back of the class. there was no one close to him, well except you.

with your computer at the ready, notebook wide open, and the clicking of your pen you prepared yourself. your glasses already sliding down your nose as you begun to take basic notes on the slides.

katsuki found himself staring at you often, he didn't know why. maybe it was his boredom, or the focused expression on your face. maybe it was because you were really cute.

his heavy boots clanked around as he put his feet up on the table, not even bothering to pretend he was paying this lecture any mind.

he was lost in though, he honestly couldn't even figure out his own reasoning. but he finally looked off of you to note the huge letters on the board, project requirements. he mentally groaned and read over them, all pretty easy for him to accomplish except for..

the required partner. he didn't have any friends in this class and he sure as hell wasn't going to ask some loser. his eyes were glancing back at you instinctively, your pen was in your mouth as you were lost in thought.

‘a pretty loser’. he thought. ‘why not.’

he was walking over to you before he even recognized his movements, you were packing up your things into you bag when you noticed him. with eyes wide you looked up into his. “yo.” he smirked, hand behind his head.

“hello..?” you replied, confused as to why he was talking to you. you only knew him from the rumors that he was just a rich racer attending school for the hell of it. his expensive leather jackets and sleeves of tattoos you'd seen when he took it off only confirmed those for you. besides that, you'd never noticed him before, not speaking to anyone in this class in general. “can i help you?”

“yeah, we need a partner or some shit. y’ in or not?” his hands were on his hips as he awaited your answer, you finished packing your tote bag and shrugged. “it's cool with me, but i don't have a ride so we–”

“i got one though. so we can do this shit at my place tomorrow.”

“uh.. okay.” he held his hand out to you. you were confused and tilted your head, to which he scoffed. “your phone.”

you made an “o” sound with your mouth, handing it over to him. he had the audacity to snap a quick photo of himself before setting it as his contact photo, filling in his name and number before handing it back to you. “we can start this bull tomorrow, i need it done quick. i got something today and comp season is soon. i can't be busy.”

“uh– okay.. bakugo.” you read his name off of his contact, “that's fine for me.”

“just send me your address tomorrow, i'll come pick ya up. see ya.” with a wave of a hand he left you, holding your phone in your hand still very confused at what just happened.

‘bakugo. what a weird guy.’ you looked over the selfie he took of himself, his eyebrow piercing clear from the shot. your face flushed slightly, but you quickly left since you didn't want to be the last one out.

your day ended as usual, taking the bus home and petting your pet cat. finishing up assignments in the week early but leaving the annoying class for sunday, and sitting down to watch tv.

you were channel surfing, idly yawning as you were looking for something to watch while eating. you eventually landed on the sports channels, you were about to skip through them all when the sight of a familiar face broke you out of your mind.

“bakugo?!” you exclaimed, startling your pet. you couldn't believe it, he was actually racing professionally. and he was good, like really good. you found yourself with your jaw dropped and heart racing as he drove, crazy overtakes and high speed at every turn.

your food was now cold as your eyes had been locked on the race for forty minutes. as bakugo crossed the finish line, winning officially you cheered, fist pumped in the air.

the national anthem played as he was paraded around, cameras in his face as they handed him the trophy. a knowing smirk on his face as he celebrated.

once your excitement died down, you bit into your freezing food, opting to go pop it in the microwave.

as the bowl rang in circles, you realized.. he wasn't expecting you to ride on one of those was he?

yes he was. the next day after you texted him your address, you prayed that he'd come to you in a sports car. a regular car, just something that didn't involve you in something so tiny.

you heard him arrive before he even texted you, the roaring of his bike cutting through the music you were listening to. he arrived outside your apartment with a motorcycle, a spare helmet in his hand as he knocked on your door. “oh, no way.” you eyed him as if he was crazy, and he only laughed. “come on, it's just a bike. i'm the fucking best so don't worry babe.” he took your bag out your hands for you, helping you onto the back of the bike.

his hands were on your waist as he lifted you, steadying you. “hey, i got you.” was all he said before handing you the pink helmet, a bow on the side.

he hopped on in front of you, kicking back the pedal keeping the bike still. “hold on to me.” you put your hands onto his waist. “go slow.”

“i don't promise nothin’.” he roared the engined. “but i'll try for you, pretty girl.”

you squeaked as he sped off, your face now squished against his as you held onto his waist impossibly tight. “this is not slow!” you sped down the streets, way over the speed limit. you should've just taken the damn bus.

“can't hear ya.” you could hear the smile on his face as he sped up. “asshole!” you shrieked again as he popped a tiny wheelie.

after the ride of your life, or the possible end of it, he helped you off. you had shaky legs as you held on to him, chest heaving. “you're crazy.” he didn't let go of you, body supported by him as you walked into his house.

“i'll be back, gotta put the ol’ girl in the garage. make y’rself at home.” he walked out, leaving you calming yourself down. his house was huge, you looked around as you poured yourself a glass of water.

he walked back in, waving you to follow him. “come on, we can start over here.” you followed him into his room, a large setup on his desk. black silk sheets adorned by orange and red comforters laid upon his bed. it was actually pretty well decorated. “you just gonna look all day specs?”

you shook your head and sat next to him. “so, we just have to code a basic game, easy right?”

“yeah. this'll be a piece of cake.”

and a piece of cake it was.

he was actually really smart, fun to talk to. the game was created piece by piece, finished up easily, way faster than expected. but you hung around longer than necessary.

even though you finished the project in a week, it's been about a month and you still would go to katsuki’s house everyday.

lazing around his room on his bed, him holding your waist with one arm while you were hung over his body. scrolling on your phones, sneaking photos of each other, getting impossibly closer.

he'd take you out on drives, actually going slow now and riding around with you. he'd take you to his favorite shops, laughing when you manage to stomach the spicy ramen he enjoyed.

he'd take you to eat ice cream after, sitting in the parking lot watching the moon rise.

“yo, [name].” he pushed up your glasses with a finger. “what?”

“be mine, okay?” your face flushed, you swore the atmosphere grew hot. “uh.. okay.”

“cool,” he breathed. “now i have to ask you the actual important question… [name].” your heart beat sped up as he grew closer to you, caressing your face with his ungloved hand. he took a deep breath before saying,

“will you come to one of my races?”

your face fell and your eyebrows shot up. “that's the important question??”

“hey don't be rude. it's important to me and that shit took a lot outta me.”

that made you laugh, holding your stomach while he started at you with a straight face. you finally calmed down enough to say, “well, duh. of course i'll go. maybe you'll be extra lucky with me there too.” you joked.

“im sure i will [name].” he kissed you afterwards, tilting his head as the moonlight made you look ethereal.

being there was a lot different from just watching on the tv. you had a pass to walk around the pit area, katsuki kept you glued to his side. he explained to you how everything worked, where you'd be able to sit and watch him, and showed you his personal room.

you saw as he raced, your heart in your throat as you saw how dangerous the sport really was.

after all of it, after he won, he threw himself onto you and kissed you, trophy in his other hand.

when it was time to go though, you didn't see his motorcycle anywhere. “hey, ‘suki? where's the bike?”

he walked up to a black sports car, leaning against it. “i wanted to take her out for a spin ya know? switch it up.”

“you had a car this whole time?!”

“yeah, but how else would i get to see your cute face?”

"i'm going to kill you."

"you won't, you love me."

[fan-a-tink]

had a vision.

Dead Boy Detectives - the core four

I wanted this to be a purely aesthetic post, but in the process of making the gifs I've had some thoughts, so here you go: Seeing the core four's "action shots" all side by side made me realise that they each kind of represent their character's journey as well.

We've got Charles, who is taking back control, hitting back. He acts as the protector he would have needed when he was alive, but also he is defending and protecting someone close to him, no longer helpless in the face of abuse and violence. And his strength comes from a point of defense, not aggression like his father. He's very much not a bad guy, but the literal hero of the shot.

Then there's Edwin running from a WWI soldier and going through the looking glass, jumping from one world to the next, pushing through his own reflection (and how people have bullied and killed him for perceiving him as effeminate and queer) and finding his queerness on the other side, landing on his own two feet, balanced and steady, having found this whole new world of feeling and acceptance on the other side. Edwin, my beloved.

Crystal (aaahhh I could write a thesis on Crystal, honestly) who is being thrown off balance and into limbo, existing between two lives while she is searching for her stolen memories. She's is constantly being pulled in two directions, between her past and her future, between David the demon and the cute ghost distraction, between letting go of toxic relationships and embracing her new found family.

And then Niko, Niko is just ascending.

credit for the Charles gif goes to @mellxncollie

Ok and if you're still reading, here's another thing I noticed while making these "action shot" gifs - both Charles and Edwin are very much agents of these actions in their shots, while things are done to Crystal and Niko. Charles throws and catches the cricket bat, initiating and controlling the action. Edwin jumps through the mirror, he is the one who maneuvers himself through. But Crystal is pushed by David, falls through the floor, off balance and out of control, and she is caught by Charles. And Niko is being lifted up by the sprites who have taken control of her body. I think it's a neat way to show a gendered division within the core four, but also both girls move beyond their initial helplessness/passiveness and become real freaking badasses, while the boys later on get their fair share of having things happen to them instead. And in the season finale it's Crystal and Niko who save our two ghost damsels in distress. I don't know where I'm going with this, it was just something I noticed and I thought you guys might have some more eloquent and coherent thoughts.

[tomssexdoll]

Forbidden Allure

PAIRINGS: Tom 2017 x Female reader

CONTENT: SMUT + FLUFF

SYPNOSIS: Tom was a well known gangster, the leader of his gang and feared by many in town. He was loud, violent and obnoxious around others but around Y/N he was charming, sweet and funny. One day he came into the bar she worked at, his charm finally working after a while, causing her to flee her shift early and going back home with him, despite the constant warnings from her coworkers.

A/N: if you want to be tagged or i accidently missed your tag comment on my pinned masterlist <3

WARNINGS: dom!tom, sub!reader, p in v (missionary), eating out, teasing, mentions of gangs and alcohol

Tom was apart of a gang, being the leader of said gang he was always loud, violent and obnoxious, feared by many in the town. He loved to ride his motorcycle down to the pub I worked at, his noisy engine always altering me of his presence and always flashing me a charming smile when he came in.

Although his ego was huge I couldn't help but feel attracted to him, he was hot after all, his muscles always on display when he crossed his arms, his sharp, masculine jawline on display even with his beard. His sharp, piercing eyes that always stared into mine. His plump, soft lips and his large, calloused hands, gripping his whiskey glass. He was quite older, I was 22 and he was 28.

My co-workers always told me to stay as far away as possible as I could from him, reminding me that although he was hot he was also a dangerous asshole who would probably get me killed or break my heart.

One day I was cleaning some glasses to make new drinks when he bursted through the door, his heavy boots thundering on the floor. His crew followed behind him, laughing and joking loudly. He spotted me behind the bar and winked at me, his grin wolfish. He sauntered up to the bar and slammed his hands down on the counter, making me jump a little.

"Welcome Tom..." I sighed, "what would you like today?" I put on a smile, masking my fear. "Same as always sweetheart," he said, his voice low and gruff. He leaned in close to the bar, his eyes never leaving mine, "whiskey, neat." His crew crowded around the bar, placing their orders with the other bartenders, but Tom's focus was solely on me.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, peeling off a 20 dollar bill and tossing it on the counter "keep the change," his voice rough. "Way to flex your money," I rolled my eyes playfully, grabbing the bill and putting it in the till (that rhymed omg). He chuckled back, his eyes crinkling at the corners, "just taking care of my favourite bartender," he leaned back against the bar, his arms crossed over his chest, showcasing his muscles as he usually did.

He grabbed his glass of whiskey, taking a long sip, his eyes never leaving mine, "you look real good tonight sweetheart" I smiled and blushed, giggling nervously, "thanks tom..you do too," I answered, my heart pounding in my chest.

His gaze sharpened and he leaned in close, "I do, huh?" he said, his voice a low purr. His hand reached out and grabbed mine, pulling it toward him. "You know," he started, his thumb stroking the back of my hand. I blushed even harder, looking up at him, "yeah..?" I said softly.

"I think about you all the time..." he confessed, "about how soft your skin is.." his thumb tailed up my wrist, making me shiver. "About how sweet your lips look," his gaze dropped to my mouth. "I wonder what it would be like to kiss you.."

My eyes widened, my heart ready to jump out of my throat, "I uh..." I stammered over my words. "I'm just teasing you baby.." he chuckled, loving to see the affect he had on me. But the truth was, he wasn't just teasing me. He's been watching me for months, admiring from afar, he's seen how kind I am and how hard I work. How I light up the room with my smile, but I didn't need to know that, Tom kept it a secret, even from his closest friends and family.

Toms gang members walked over, teasing me and tom, "careful Tom, you're gonna kill the poor girl," one of them commented, he chuckled and put his hands up, "my bad, my bad" he took another long sip of his whiskey.

I focused my attention on other customers, taking their orders and pouring their drinks. He watched as I moved around the bar, my smile never fading. He loved how dedicated I was to my job, how different I was to the others, always being social and friendly with all customers, no matter how scary they looked.

He took one last big gulp, signalling to me for another one. I quickly walked over, pouring him another drink and sliding it to him.

As I cleaned the glasses, he caught my attention, sliding over an 100 dollar bill. "Consider it a tip," Tom said, "for being so damn sexy..." he winked at me, chuckling as my face flushed a colour of red. I nodded and tucked it into my apron, "thanks Tom.." I muttered.

I went on my smoke break, walking outside and lighting a cigarette, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke out into the cold night sky. Tom slipped outside behind me, "leaving so soon?" he chuckled, gently wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into his side.

"I guess so," I giggled, "you know you shouldn't smoke, it's bad for you.." he said, his breath hot against my ear, my heart pounded in my chest, the tension building up. "I know.." I mumbled, looking up at him. His arm tightened around my waist, pulling me even loser. His body was warm against the cold night air.

"I can think of better things to do with your mouth than put a cigarette in it," he murmured in my ear, "and your body.." he smirked, taking my earlobe between his teeth and gently nibbling. My hands slightly trembled as I brought the cigarette to my mouth again.

His hand came to cover my mouth, his fingers pressing against my lips to stop me from bringing the cigarette back to my mouth, "no.." he said firmly, turning my chin to face him. "You're so beautiful..." he muttered, his eyes bored into mine, filled with a fierce intensity.

"So delicate..." he smirked, his eyes flickering down to my lips. Slowly he leaned in, his lips parting as they met mine in a soft, gentle kiss. I kissed back, deepening it and slipping my tongue into his mouth. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me flush against his chest as the kiss became more passionate.

His hands roamed over my back, my sides, my hips. When he finally pulled back he placed a soft kiss on my neck, "come back home with me baby.." he whispered against my skin. I nodded and walked over with him to his motorcycle, holding onto him tightly, not caring about the hours left of my shift.

He revved the engine of his motorbike, feeling my arms wrap around his waist, my body pressed against his. Feeling my heartbeat against his back as he held on tight. With a grin, he took off, speeding through the night streets.

We arrived shortly to his home, parking the motorcycle in his garage. He helped me off, taking my hand and leading me into the house. His movements confident and sure. As soon as the door was shut behind me, he was on me again, his hands roaming over my body as he kissed me deeply.

"Bedroom..now.." I whispered against his lips. He growled in approval, his arms tightening around me as he picked me up, carrying me to his bedroom. He quickly dropped me down onto the bed, his eyes never leaving mine as he began to unbuckle his belt. "You're so fucking beautiful.." he murmured, pushing me down and climbed on top of me, shedding my jacket off and throwing it aside.

He began to pepper kisses from my neck to my chest, his hands continuing to roam over my body, eventually unbuttoning my shirt and also tossing it aside, not caring where it ended up.

He took a moment to admire my body, quickly unclipping my bra and groaning at the sight of my bare tits, leaning down to kiss my chest, pushing my tits together and circling his tongue over my sensitive nipples. I could feel his erection pressing against me through his pants, practically begging to be let out.

"So beautiful..oh my god.." he grunted, sucking and licking my tits. "I need to eat you out..now..I need to taste your sweet pussy.." he groaned, frantically sliding down my body and pulling my pants down roughly, his face flushed, his breathing heavy as he finally got them off.

He buried his face between my thighs, his mouth hot through the fabric of my underwear, growling in frustration and ripping the material, exposing me to him. My pussy throbbed at his roughness, biting my lip softly. "Please..." I whined, growing impatient, he sensed it and chuckled, "oh don't worry baby, i'm just getting started," his tongue flicked out, tasting me, his eyes watching as I squirmed beneath him.

"You're so wet.." he groaned, his voice gravelly. He slid a finger inside of me, then another, pumping in and out as his mouth latched onto me. The pleasure heightened with every second he ate me out, loud moans escaping from my lips, my back arching, silently begging for more.

His fingers curved upwards, finding that sweet spot inside of me as he continued to suck on my clit. He could feel my body quivering underneath him and gripped my hips, holding me down as he feasted on me. My cries grew louder, my body bucking against his mouth.

I whined, my moans only growing louder, "keep going, so fucking good!" he smirked and doubled his efforts, his fingers slamming in and out of me, he could feel me getting closer to the edge, "cmon baby...that's it.." he encouraged, his voice muffled against my flesh.

My body was limp and spent but he showed no mercy, his mouth working tirelessly to draw out my orgasm as quick as possible, desperately needing my sweet juices. His fingers kept pumping inside me in a punishing rhythm, never stopping for even one second, my voice hoarse from screaming.

His tongue kept lashing out, flicking against my clit as he drank down my juices, he ate greedily, his stubble chafing my inner thighs deliciously. "Tom, please, it's too much!" I gasped, my fingers tangling in his hair, gripping tightly. The pain turned him on, only egging him on. "Shut up and take it..you know you fucking love it.." he grunted, diving back in and attacking my clit with vigor.

My legs shook violently as my orgasm crashed down, my cries echoing through the room. "That's it baby..." he chuckled, "come for me like the good girl I know you are.." he slurped up all of my ecstasy, moaning in delight.

"Now....time for the main course," he panted, his hands sliding down to his jeans, unbuttoning them and sliding them down his thighs, kicking them off as they reached his strong legs. He pulled me further onto the bed, letting my head rest against the pillows.

"You did so well for me.." he leaned down and kissed me passionately, letting my juices and our saliva mix. He pulled back, only to push down his boxers, his thick, throbbing cock springing out, precum leaking from his red tip.

"Ohhh fuck, look what you've done to me baby.." he chuckled darkly, lining himself up with my entrance and smashing his lips into mine again, letting our tongues dance as he slowly pushed the tip inside.

Toms hands gripped my backside, lifting me up as he slowly pushed inside. He ground his hips against mine, burying himself deeper with each thrust. He could feel me stretching around him, my warmth enveloping him. He swallowed my whimpers with passionate kisses.

He started to quicken his pace, his face buried in my neck, his breath hot against my skin as he pounded into me. His hands gripped my hips tightly, lifting me up to meet his powerful thrusts, slamming me up and down onto his thick cock.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with my loud moans and his low grunts, "look at what you do to me, drive me fucking crazy every time you giggle when you serve me at the bar, you fucking tease" he moved his hand down and smacked my thigh, almost like he was trying to punish me.

My tits bounced wildly with each brutal thrust, his eyes glued to my bouncing breasts, his mouth watering at the sight. He leaned down, capturing one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking and biting as he continued to thrust into me, his other hand reaching up, squeezing and kneading my other breast.

I whined and moaned loudly, "oh my fucking god! Tom!" I practically screamed, holding onto him tightly, my back arching off the bed. His fingers dug into my flesh, holding me down as he slammed into me. His hips moved at a punishing pace, moving with a ferocity that left us both breathless. He could feel my walls tightening around him, my release slowly approaching, "so good...fucking take it all baby, take my thick cock," he hissed.

He kept feasting on my tits, absolutely obsessed with them, groaning lowly and destroying my pussy. His mouth moved to my other breast, his tongue swirling around my hardened peak. He lifted his head to watch as he continued to drive into me, his pace frantic, "look at how you take me.." he grunted, grabbing a fistful of my hair and forcing me to look at his cock sliding in and out of me so perfectly.

"Gonna cum!" I whined, feeling a knot form in my stomach, twisting and turning as my climax rapidly approached, he smirked and let go of my hair, reaching down and rubbing my clit furiously, watching as my eyes rolled to the back of my head, my orgasm crashing down, "FUCK!" I squealed, cumming on his cock, my juices spilling down his hard shaft.

His face contorted in pleasure at my tight pussy wrapping around his cock tightly like a snake, my inner walls milking him. He leaned down and buried his face into my neck his breath hot against my skin as he pistoned into me a few more times before stilling, his own release flooding into me.

"Holy fuck..." he said, breathless. His chest heaved deeply as he collapsed onto the bed beside me, collecting me in his arms and holding me close. "Oh you did so good...oh my god.." he panted, peppering kisses onto my forehead.

My head was hazy, I could barely keep my eyes open, he took notice of this and gently chuckled, pulling the covers over us, "get some rest honey...you did so fucking good.." he mumbled, closing his eyes with me and allowing himself to rest.

tags: @ballhair @bills-wife-1 @ella1289

tags: @bkaulitzlover @miyukafujii @billsdolliest

tags: @tomscumdoll @tomkslut @tomsfuckdoll

[dsireland86]

I enjoyed reading The Fight with Folio. I was wondering if you would maybe consider writing something similar with Noah. Maybe the reader went out, ran into her ex at a club or something, he hurts her, and she calls Noah distraught and everything. He drops what he's doing and comes to pick her up. He doesn't want her to be alone so he stays with her that night to make sure that she's okay.

At first, I didn't know where this one was going to start. But once I started typing, the thoughts just flowed. @lma1986 I really hope you like it !

TAGS:

@philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @theanarchymuse95 @thisbicc @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @thefallenangel

Evening Promises

"I should have listened to Noah when he told me not to go out tonight. I should have just gone to his apartment, like he asked, to hang out and watch a movie or something. I shouldn't be here. HE shouldn't be here. Why is he here?! Of all the freaking places he could be, he has to be in the same club, at the time, on the same night as me. What the hell!"

I can feel the panic rising in my chest and the bile rising in the back of my throat from the thoughts running rampant in my head. I turn around and face the counter of the bar, waving the bartender down in the hope of getting a shot or two. I can't handle what's happening right now with a sober mind.

The lady places two empty shot glasses in front of me, filling them completely, but before I can take the first shot, a familiar voice creeps up behind me, paralyzing me.

"Well, well, look who decided to leave the shelter of her apartment and join the land of the living."

Just the sound of his voice makes me cringe.

My ex leans against the bar, folding his hands together as he sits on the empty stool next to me. I refuse to look at him at first, but eventually, turn my gaze slowly towards him.

"You look good, Y/N," he says.

I sense the smugness in his voice from the slight close-lipped smile on his face.

"What? You're not happy to see me?" he asks, his sarcasm thick.

"What are you doing here?"

"Maybe I should as you the same thing considering out of the two of us, you were never the one for the social life, right?" he grins, taking a sip of his beer the bartender slides his way.

"I'm here with two of my girlfriends, if you must know."

He scoffs. "Typical," running his eyes over my body. "We were together for two years and I can't ever get you to go out with me to places like this, but the second your single this is the first place you go. What a whore." He shakes his head in disapproval. His words are a blow to my heart I should have expected.

I roll my eyes and throw back both shots before getting up to leave. He grabs my wrist, locking his hand around it tightly and I freeze, instantly. My heart starts racing and I close my eyes for a second, praying this isn't real. I need to call Noah. I need to get out of this situation and call Noah; immediately.

"Let go of me."

His grip only tightens.

"Oh, look who's feeling brave."

I wince, clenching my jaw tight. All the sound around me suddenly disappears, and the only thing I can hear is the pounding of my own heart against my chest.

God, why didn't I listen to Noah! I wouldn't be in the position if I had. I need him, I need him, I need him.

I try to focus my thoughts on Noah, knowing that if I do I might escape the panic attack coming on. His sweet face flashes across my mind: the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles and the poutiness of his lips. The freckles that dance across his perfectly thin and pointed nose and the look in his eyes each time I catch him looking at me. That look... I keep thinking about that look.

"Hey! Are you listening to me," my ex yells at me, pulling me from my thoughts. He shakes my arm to get my attention, jerking my body.

"Let go of me!" I yell at him, yanking my arm from his grasp and quickly walk away. I pull my phone out, moving further into the crowd of people, hoping I've lost my ex.

My hands are shaking as I try to hit the first number saved in my favorites. It rings, rings, and rings, and right as I'm about to hang up, a familiar voice answers.

"What happened?" Noah asks, voice anxious and tight.

How did he know something was wrong?

"Um, my ex, he's here, following me," I yell into the phone, covering my ear exposed to the loud music. "I don't know if he knew I was here or what, but he put his hands on me and..."

"Wait, what?! He put his hands on you? Y/N where are you? Tell me the name of the club; I'm on my way to get you!" Noah yells on the other end of the phone.

Out of the blue, a body flies into me, knocking into my chest and sweeping the phone out of my hand before I have the chance to give Noah the information.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry," the guy hollers at me, before walking off.

"Seriously!" I yell after him, pissed that I can't find my phone on the floor beneath the sea of people. I scan the gray concrete quickly to find it, hoping Noah's still on the other end when I do. I see it and immediately dive in after it.

"Hello! Noah, are you still there?"

"Y/N! CAN YOU HEAR ME? HELLO?"

"Noah, I'm here."

"Holy shit, you scared me. What's going on, Y/N?"

"I know I'm sorry. Some drunk guy knocked into me and made me drop my phone. But listen, the club I'm at,"

But my words are once again cut off as my ex walks by, yanking my phone out of my hand.

"What the...,"

"Who were you talking to, beautiful?"

"Don't call me that. And give me back my phone, you jerk!"

I lunge towards him as he takes a step back, taunting me with a suspicious glint in his eyes. I've seen that deranged look before, many times actually, and it never leads to anything good. My hands shaking as my heart races and fear keeps me planted where I stand.

"I think you and I should get out of here," he says, moving in close and suggesting against my ear. His tone sends shivers up my spine. Tears run down my cheeks and all I can think about is how badly I want Noah to be here right now; I need him to be.

Noah said he would come get me! But I didn't tell him where I am! Oh god this is horrible. He can't help me now.

My ex throws me against the side of the building, causing me to scrap my knee along the red brick, and instantly I feel the blood trickle down my leg. I hiss in pain as he grabs my arm, yanking me around and shoving me up against the wall.

"So tell me, baby, who's been sleeping between your legs since you left me, huh? Who did you leave me for?"

"I didn't leave you for anyone. I just left you because I was sick of how you treat me like this," I bark, glaring right into his eyes.

"I was good to you! I gave you everything you wanted!"

"Yeah, except you! You gave it to every other girl who walked into your office!"

The blow to my face comes unexpectedly, right across the right side of my face, blurring my vision. The pain is instant, causing me to grimace and cry out in agony. The hands that were once holding me against the building suddenly vanish and I hear lots of yelling. When I'm finally able to see, the bodies of two men are tangled up, throwing and swinging their arms profusely.

I study them for a moment, trying to make sense of what's happening and that's when I notice the hoodie.

"Noah! Stop!"

I rush over to him, right as he's about to slam his fist down again, catching his arm at the right time.

"Noah, don't!" I beg, breathlessly.

Noah's chest rises and falls over and over. His brown almond shaped eyes are wide with rage and adrenaline as he grips the front of my ex's shirt with his giant tattooed hand. I reach up and wipe the corner of his mouth, ridding it of the tiny trickle of blood.

"Don't, Noah. He's not worth it," I tell him, shaking my head and releasing his arm.

His nostrils flare, as he looks from me to my ex, immediately letting him go and standing up straight.

"Come near her again, and I'll break your fucking neck."

I don't have a chance to say or do anything. Noah takes my hand and leads us away from the scene as my ex is left to watch with a swollen eye and busted lip.

We drive home in silence with Noah barely moving. His lip is still bleeding, but I'm too scared to say anything. He looks pretty pissed. After a short while, we arrive at my apartment. I get out to leave, but Noah surprises me by turning the car off and reaching into the back seat to retrieve a duffle bag.

"What?" he asks, looking at me staring at him in confusion.

"I'm not letting you be alone tonight. What if that nut job shows up?"

I simply grin, without saying anything. I'm not complaining at all. In fact I'm relieved I didn't have to ask him. But before I get out, I reach over and finally wipe away the blood that's started to dry. His eyes never leave mine and the warmth that flows from them is enough to set my heart ablaze.

I unlock my apartment and Noah closes the door behind us, taking the time to make sure everything is bolted and locked.

"I'll take the couch," he offers, tossing his duffle bag on the floor.

I nod to let him know that it's alright with me. But I can't bring myself to say anything to him. No amount of words will ever be enough to explain or express the gratitude I have towards him for what he’s done for me tonight. Maybe tomorrow. I turn to leave, but am stopped by the pull of Noah's hand around my wrist that slowly slips into my hand. I turn around quickly to face him, and seeing the way he’s looking at me makes my knees weak. He's fighting something; an urge, a thought, words to say. He's confused, lost maybe in the caverns of his mind where he's known to compile everything until he can no longer make it make sense.

"Noah, what's wrong?" I ask quietly.

His eyes meet mine. Without a word he longingly pulls me into him, wrapping one arm around my waist while the other grips my chin and caresses my cheek and lays his forehead against mine. His eyes are glossy, telling me he's fighting back tears. He squeezes his eyes shut, forehead creasing, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly.

"I'm scared of losing you," he whispers slowly. "I'm terrified of just the thought of losing you."

Noah swallows hard. I'm speechless, unable to process what he's just said.

"And this is probably going to ruin everything between us, but I can't keep it a secret any more. Tonight made me realize that."

Noah's hand runs down the side of my face, over my collar bone and around the back of my neck. The feeling of his hand touching me the way it is, gently and lovingly, is electrifying. I snake my hands around his waist, pulling him a little closer to me, making his breath hitch.

"Made you realize what, Noah?" I ask, quietly, looking up into his face. The tip of his nose and his lips graze my face, making me weaker by the second.

"I'm in love with you," he whispers again, searching my eyes. He looks troubled, even a little scared, but hopeful just the same. "You're the love that came without any warning. And before I could even figure out what was happening, you had my heart before I could say no. I love you and I can't stop."

A single tear trickles down Noah's face, and I brush it away immediately. He captures my hand and brings my fingers to his lips, gently kissing my fingertips. I sigh, closing my eyes and relishing the feeling that I've been aching to feel for so long; adoration.

"The truth is, Noah, I stopped liking you a long time ago."

"What?"

Panic over takes the soft look in his eyes, making me chuckle. I placed my spare hand on his chest, feeling his heart pounding against his chest.

"Because, I realized I loved you then. I'm in love with you too, Noah. Now more than ever. You came for me! How, I don't know,"

"I tracked your phone," he admits with a sly smile.

"Oh. Well that's certainly not alarming!"

"Hey now," he laughs, poking me in my side.

"Oh which by the way," excitedly pulling my phone from his pocket.

I gasp in great surprise, looking up at him.

"It fell out of his pocket the first time he hit the ground."

Noah looks away, but I pull his face back towards me. His warm breath lingers on my face, making me melt and fall into his embrace as he takes one of my arms and wraps it around his neck. God, the feeling of his skin beneath my fingers feels so good.

“Noah, how did you know something happened when I called you?”

He looks down, almost as if he’s embarrassed.

“I just had that feeling. I got worried when you first told me you were going out to a club. But I knew that if something happened, you’d call me. I guess you can call it intuition.”

“You were really worried?” 

“Well, yeah,” he replies as if it’s no secret. 

“I worry about you all the time when we’re not together.” 

He leans down and kisses my forehead, making my heart flutter.

“Well you can stop worrying.”

“Yeah, I can? Why’s that?”

“Cause we’re always going to be together,” I tell him, confidently.

“Oh, really! Is that a fact?” he says, grinning.

“One hundred percent.”

Noah just stares at me, smiling. His lips look so delicious, so enticing that I can't take it any more. I want to feel him, all of him, but first I want to feel his lips.

"Kiss me, Noah, please," I beg, staring straight into his eyes.

Not a moment later his lips are one mine, capturing me in a heated, passion filled kiss. His soft lips dance over mine, inhaling the very breath from my lungs, making me light headed and even a little dizzy. His tongue begs for entrance into my mouth which I gladly give him, and the second our tongues touch, he groans and I sigh and it's the moment when we both know that this is exactly what the other wants.

"You can't have the couch," I tell him, pulling him towards my bedroom. Noah smiles against my lips, willingly being led by my arms around his waist.

"Good, cause I wouldn't fit anyway," he chuckles, removing his hoodie and tossing it onto the chair in my bedroom.

"And I'm keeping your hoodie."

"Why does that not surprise me," he laughs, kissing me again right before he closes the bedroom door.

[cherubimcore]

pairing: alastor x reader

author's notes: i wrote this fic a loong time ago and it was supposed to be a series but then my hyperfixation with hazbin hotel faded and other stuffs happened (*cof* *cof* college *cof* *cof*) so since i had fun writing it, and i started to watch hazbin hotel again and my hyperfixation is coming back i decided to post it and if pleople like it i might continue <3

p.s: i'm still writiing my logan howlett/phantom of the opera au hopefully i will post it soon <3

this wasn’t the first time that you felt you were being watched.

everything started when you left your parent’s house after college to have a fresh start in your life with a job in new orleans, the city where your grandma grew up, she was more than happy to let you stay at the house from her childhood, since no one lived there in a long time and she felt that a new generation was just what the house needed.

your first day at the new/old house went as well as one would expect, since most of the furniture was already in the house in some-what good conditions the only thing you took was your clothes, books and electronics.

that’s when everything started, on that first night at the house.

it was almost 4 am and you still were in your bed finishing some work for that day, when you saw the fist shadow, at first you thought it was your tiredness, you were awake looking at the computer screen for the past 5 hours trying to finish an important project, so you rubbed your eyes beneath the glasses, got more comfortable in the bed and continued your work.

but this time it wasn’t a shadow you saw, looking at you from the other side of the room was a man, he had deer ears on top of his head next to his antlers, he was wearing a red coat ragged along the bottom hem and long black dress pants, but the thing that stuck to you the most was his smile like a cheshire cat and black eyes with pupils shaped like radio dials.

with the blink of an eye tentacled emerged behind his back and grabbed both of your legs and arms beneath the blanket on top of your pressing your body in the bed until it hurted, you tries to fight back but the only thing you managed to accomplish was to drop your glasses on the floor breaking them, but you still could see him slowly walking towards you each step making him glitch in the reality until he was on top of you, you shut your eyes closed praying to whatever god that could hear you to help.

“ah, ah, ah!” the thing said, you could feel his hot breath on your cheek “i want you to look at me, my dear, i want to look at your eyes when i tell you that no matter the god you are praying he won’t be coming to help”

you opened one of your eyes, scared of what he may do if you didn’t comply.

“i want to look at your eyes and tell you that there’s no way of getting rid of me, darling, i have been interested in you since you crossed that door this morning, your blood smells so sweet i can’t wait to eat you up!”

you felt the dark tentacled slowly letting your arms and legs go free, you tried to get away from the man but he started to emit static noise that got more and more distorted until you had to put your hand on your ears to muffle the noise until…

you woke up.

you still had your computer on your lap, you were still beneath the covers and your glasses were on your face in one piece.

taking deep breaths to calm your racing heart, telling yourself that it was only a nightmare and you were safe.

but when you turned your laptop off and turned around to try and get some actual sleep, you missed the shadow on your door silently watching you.

“i knew we shouldn’t have let him do this by himself” husk said, opening a bottle of whiskey

“what do you mean?” alastor asked, his smile widening “i even said ‘i want to eat you up’ that’s the most romantic thing in the world!”

“we’re screwed!” angel dust groaned from the other side of the room “freaky face doesn’t even know what ‘romance’ means! i bet he can’t make her fall in love with him until the deadline, the next extermination is just in a couple of months! you guys should have let me do it!”

“you know that’s not the deal with the angels” charlie said while vaggie patted her in the back “besides i know alastor is doing his best!”

everyone in the room rolled their eyes, they knew that the radio demon wouldn’t do a favor like that if he had nothing to gain from it, so far it looked like he wanted it all to fail spectacularly.

“charlie!” charlie’s father lucifer came running downstairs with something on his hand “i have a new letter from heaven”

“well since my job from the day seems to be over i will be going have some dinner” alastor interrupted the king of hell and walked towards his room.

“i wouldn’t do that if i were you” lucifer stepped in front of him “it has your name in it and for what i understand you will want to read this"

taken aback from the serious tone in lucifer’s voice alastor stopped in his tracks and snatched the letter from the hand of the blond man in front of him.

with a sigh the deer man sat in the stool at the bar while everyone tried to take a look behind his back at the letter but failing miserably.

alastor tried to read the letter with a calm demeanor but each line made his eyebrows furrow and his jaw tightened.

[lady-djarin]

home

joel miller x f!reader (one shot)

warnings/tags: sickening fluff, established relationship, no outbreak, sarah’s alive and well, some touching and kissing between reader and joel, still adult content but no p in v. mdni

word count: 2.6k

a/n: not edited much (that’s my motto) but i just kinda dumped this out in one go so it could be bad. who knows.

* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Dad!”

Ever since Sarah entered middle school she has become quite loud.

“Dad, there you are,” she barreled into the living room where you and Joel sat on the couch. “I need you to sign this.”

She pushes a piece of paper into his face along with a pen. He quints at it to read the small print. You grab it out of his hands when he tries to locate his glasses that are nowhere in sight.

“Oh the dance! How fun,” you handed it back to him and made sure he signed it as you shot Sarah a wink as she bounced happily on her toes.

You have been dating the single dad for around six months and you have grown quite close with Sarah. Joel has expressed how nervous he is about his baby girl getting older and all the things that come along with it. More than anything else he hates the idea of her dating. He signs the paper with his usual grumpy frown but does it nonetheless and in turn Sarah squeals and jumps up and down in excitement.

“Can you take me shopping tomorrow, I only have a week to shop for a dress,” Sarah put on her best puppy dog face that usually works on her father.

“I’m sorry angel I’ve got a job tomorrow,” he did look genuinely upset that he couldn’t spend the time with his daughter.

“I’ll take you, we can have a girls day,” you had been wanting to spend some one on one time with Sarah and this was the perfect opportunity.

“Oh my god, thank you!” She squealed again and jumped on you and wrapped you in a tight hug. She ran up the stairs talking mostly to herself about what kind of dress and makeup she was planning for her first dance.

“Thank you darlin’, you didn’t have to do that.” He rubbed your leg with his large warm hand and the other came up to hold your face as he kissed you tenderly.

“Oh please, I love that kid. Plus, I don’t think shopping is your forte,” you both laughed at how true that was.

Even though you’ve only been seeing Joel for a few months, you have never felt so at home. He and Sarah have welcomed you in like you were always meant to fit in their little family. You knew you were never one to have kids of your own but the young girl makes you feel more maternal than you ever have in your life.

~

You and Sarah spend the day in the mall finding stores to invade and try on every dress possible. She finally settled on a beautiful deep purple shimmery one that made her look way older than she needed to, but it was appropriate. Afterwards you found the food court and dug into some pizza and garlic knots.

“So… since your dad will never bring this up… are you going with anyone to the dance? Like maybe a boy? or girl, I don't judge.”

You knew she probably didn’t want to talk about it as pre-teens never do but you wanted to make sure she wasn’t going to do anything stupid. Her cheeks blushed a deep shade of crimson but she giggled slightly, telling you there was someone.

“I mean… I’m not going with anyone but my friends but…”

She was avoiding telling you the truth, maybe because she thought you’d rat her out to her dad.

“Look Sarah… I'm not asking to be a snitch, I just want to make sure you’re being safe and smart, that's all.”

She looked up at you with shyness but trust in her deep brown eyes.

“There is this boy… Ben,” she had the most radiant smile on her face telling you about her crush. He’s a little older than her but in the same grade and apparently very sweet and has blue eyes and dark blonde hair. You can imagine her sitting in class staring at him instead of listening to the teacher.

“So, are you going to meet him at the dance?”

“I mean we haven’t made plans but… I told him I’d see him there, and he followed me on instagram!”

It all reminded you of the days before adult pressure and complicated feelings. You smiled as she continued to tell you about him and the things she found endearing.

“Ok now, I have to ask and be the annoying adult but have you, you know… done anything with boys before?”

While she was only just under thirteen you still had to make sure, kids do anything these days.

“Like what?” She gave you a scrunched confused face then slowly realized what you were asking. “Like kissing?! Oh no that’s gross, boys smell anyway…,” she seemed to maintain her innocence for a while longer.

Thank god.

“Well that’s fair, but just remember, if a boy ever tries to do anything you don’t like, you can always say no. Don’t ever feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

She looked a little confused at your instruction but nodded anyway. She’s a very smart kid and strong willed, you have full faith in her.

The rest of the day was spent wandering around the mall and you both finally decided to end up getting your nails done.

~

Joel came home to find you both cooking dinner, a hoard of shopping bags littered the house.

“There’s my girls,” he ruffled his daughter's hair and covered her eyes jokingly as he kissed you deeply. “How was shopping? Successful it seems like.”

“Very…,” Joel’s eyes kept flicking down to your lips, as they often did when he got home from work.

“Dad, look! We got our nails done!” She splayed her fingers out so he could inspect her manicure. You let her get some slightly ‘grownup’ nails, small extensions with french tips. She said she’ll be the talk of the dance.

“Oh look at that… my little girl is all grown up…,” he looked a little queasy and you both laughed at his reluctance to let her grow up.

“Sarah, why don’t you put these bags away and I'll finish dinner, ok?”

She hugged you tight around your middle and mumbled about a million ‘thank you’s into the fabric of your shirt before grabbing her bags and darting up the stairs.

As soon as she disappeared Joel grabbed your hips as he stood behind you and pulled you into his hard chest. He attached his lips to your neck and ran his hands over your curves.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” His voice was low and gravely in your ear.

“Mmm, not today…”

He pulled you impossibly closer and nuzzled his mouth against your neck. “Well I do, I love you so damn much,” he continued kissing down your neck and any skin he could reach. “Sarah loves you too you know, she’s always talking about you…”

It felt like he wanted to talk about something else, something more. Your relationship has been going so well and it kind of feels like it’s time to take the next step. While you both know that this is it, there’s no one else for either of you, it might not be exactly time yet to tie the knot. However you have talked about sharing a space, the idea of living together is exciting to both of you.

“Well I love her, she’s a great kid, because you’re a great dad.” You turned in his arms and returned the kisses along his jaw. Just as you slid your hands into his back pockets, loud very teen sounding footsteps came racing down the stairs. You pulled away from each other but Sarah was too busy looking at her nails to notice. The timer on the oven beeped and as Joel and his daughter set the table you gathered the rest of dinner.

You sat around the table like you always did on Saturday nights and talked about the plans for the next week and the dance. You really did love your little found family.

~

The following Saturday you sat in Sarah’s room with her and a couple friends of hers, helping do their hair and makeup. Joel happened to have a poker game tonight with Tommy so he said bye just before the teen girl screaming got too loud. So here you were, a fully grown woman essentially playing dress up with a few 13 year olds. But you couldn’t be happier.

After the girls were ready and a lengthy photoshoot ensued, you were off. Four screaming voices all trying to harmonize to some pop song over the radio made your ears ring but seeing Sarah so happy made it worth it.

The plan was to pick her up around 10pm when it ended.

So you were super confused when you got a call from Sarah around 8:30pm.

“Hey girl, what’s going on? You ok?”

All you heard at first was a sniffle, then a deep breath before her wobbly voice came over the speaker. “N-no, not really…”

Your heart stopped for a second but you tried to stay calm.

“What’s wrong?” You tried to hide the urgency in your voice.

“Ben… he—“ hiccup “He was a… a total jerk!” Her voice was strained and scratchy like she had been crying for some time.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry… You know what, you stay in the office, ok? I'm going to come get you.”

She only mumbled a quiet ‘ok, bye’ before you slammed the phone down on the receiver and grabbed your keys. You shaved off probably five to ten whole minutes speeding through the streets to the school.

You quickly make your way to the office and find her with mascara running down her cheeks. She hiccuped and sniffled when she saw you before sluggishly standing and wrapping her arms around you. She sobbed slightly into your sweatshirt and you wrapped the one you brought her around her shoulders. After the teacher who waited with her waved you out, you gathered her into your car and made your way home.

But before reaching the familiar street you had an idea. Sarah had been slumped in her seat with the sweatshirt wrapped tight to her form until she saw the neon lights. You swore you saw her eyes light up when she saw the ‘Dairy Queen’ sign and it warmed your heart.

She got her usual birthday cake flavor of course, and you got your favorite. Before now you tried to let her have a few breathing moments but as you settled in the parking lot you tried to get some information from her.

“Are you ok?”

“Boys are so stupid…,” another tear slipped out of her eye.

“I know… I hate to say it but they don’t get much better.” You managed to get a laugh out of her which was an improvement. “What did Ben do?”

She spooned the thick ice cream into her mouth and tried to talk around it. “H-he was with that girl Rebecca all night and I tried to say ‘hi’ but he ignored me and pretended I wasn’t there. They were laughing at me…,” She resolved into sobs again and you rubbed her shoulder to try and comfort as best as you could.

“Oh god I’m sorry that’s so… shitty.” You never really cursed around her as she’s still young but this felt appropriate. It also helped draw out a laugh again, which made you both smile. “Look, boys like that are not worth your time. He’s playing games and you don’t want a boy who plays games. If anyone ever talks to you like that, it means they don’t respect you. You should only be friends, or more, with someone who respects you. Does that make sense?”

She looked at you with her red-rimmed and puffy eyes and you knew she got it. Of course she got it, she’s a smart kid.

“Yeah, I think so. Thank you… I'm sorry I freaked you out.” The light returned to her eyes as she giggled at her own words.

“You didn’t freak me out… too bad.” You were both laughing now, recalling the way you sped over to the school. “Look we can talk more if you want but I think you need some ‘you’ time tonight. Let’s get you some of my nice bath stuff and we can do a little spa night?”

“That sounds nice… thank you.” She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around your neck. On the way home you told her stories of things boys had done to you in the past. You did make sure to let her know that her dad was not one of them, he was the best kind of guy. Once you arrived home you gave her some bath stuff and gave her a clean towel and told her you’d wait downstairs for her.

You made some tea in the meantime and shortly after, Joel got home. Before he said anything he looked towards the stairs and heard the shower running. He gave you a quizzical look and you sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to like it.

“So Sarah had me pick her up early…”

He already looked concerned.

“She’s fine… it was boy drama. We talked and she’s still upset but she’ll live.”

He breathed out a dramatic sigh and you welcomed him into your arms.

“This is what I was worried about,” he sounded so defeated.

“Joel, it’s bound to happen. Every girl gets her heart broken, it’s inevitable unfortunately.” You rubbed your palm over his stubble and looked over his tired features. “She’s smart and strong willed. Boys will be intimidated by her when she realizes it.”

He softened at that. “Thank you for helping her so much, she really has opened up since knowing you.”

“She’s really something, just like her dad. He’s not too shabby,” you giggled as he pinched your waist.

“I’m not too shabby? That’s sweet.”

You mirrored his smile as he boxed you between himself and the kitchen counter. He kissed you deeply, pushing his tongue between your lips, tasting every inch of you. Your hum reverberated through your chest into his and your skin lit on fire from the inside out. Desire instantly pooled in your lower stomach and you ground your hips into his. This only resulted in his hard, jean clad thigh slipping between yours and pushing against your clothed sex. You moaned into his mouth and just as you felt like you were going to lose it, Joel pulls away and then you hear descending footsteps.

Sarah reaches the bottom but doesn’t come down, “I’m going to go to bed, I’m really tired. Sorry dad.”

“That’s ok angel, you sleep good. Love you.”

“Love you guys,” then she’s gone.

“‘Love you guys’?” you look at Joel with surprise. “Did she just say she loves me?”

He just stares down at you with this tender look, unresponsive for a few moments.

“Move in with me.”

It wasn’t a question but a plea. Like he couldn’t imagine you’d say no. Because why would you?

“Really?” Your heart raced.

“Yes really, we both want you here. More than anything.”

“Of course, I’d love to!” You squealed like Sarah did earlier tonight and launched yourself at him. He caught you around the middle and pulled you up, sounding giddy as you did while he spun you around.

You spent the first night in your now full time shared bed after Joel showed you all the ways he truly, passionately loved you.

You knew you were finally home.

[mxiswrites]

VEST★

Spencer Reid x Reader

Description: Seeing Spencer in his vest triggers something in you.

Warnings: No actual p in v, sexual talk, dirty thoughts, swearing, kissing, ect.

(No use of y/n)

A/n: I didn’t reread this bc I’m scared that I’ll never post it if I do🙂‍↕️

__________________________________

I haven’t taken my eyes off Spencer since he put that damn vest on. It’s all I can think of, you can’t focus with him looking like that. I can’t help but stare as he walks around, earning a laugh from Morgan. I can only hope this goes by quickly. My thoughts are interrupted by Spencer calling me.

“Baby?” He calls. I cant even register what he said, I’m completely focused on that stupid vest. Morgan just snorts at me and I quickly glare at him. Spencer looks at us confused, clearly not getting what Morgan was laughing at. I finally focus my attention on Spencer’s face, which makes this feeling get worse. Spencer starts to go on a rant about something, I’m not quite sure what. The only thing I could focus on was his hands as he spoke. Talking with them, giving me a clear view of the veins on his hands.

We finally arrive back at the hotel and I’m in a complete daze. I rush to my room and drop all my things down, hurrying to get to Spencer. All I can hope is he has his glasses on. I hurry down the hallway, nearly bumping into a cleaning lady. I quickly apologize and hurry to his room. The moment I’m there I start knocking on his door. I can feel myself get wetter the longer I stand there. Spencer opens the door, he smiles when he sees me. “Hey Baby-“ he’s cut off by me shoving him out of the doorway so I could close the door behind me. I lock the door and turn to him, seeing his confused face. I walk up to him and grab the collar of his shirt to pull him down to my height. I smash my lips onto his harshly, practically losing control. Spencer pulls away, his face all red and heavy breathing. “What are you on about!” He says. “You, need you” I speak. I can’t get a proper sentence out with the need for him getting stronger. Spencer’s face goes more red but he takes the hint. “Lay on the bed baby” He says softly. I hurry to the bed, Spencer close behind me.

He starts stripping my clothes, leaving just my bra and panties. He scans over my near naked body, his eyes of lust. He practically rips my bra off and stares at my tits. He leans down and takes one into his mouth. His tongue swirling around my nipple. I whine in pleasure, needing more of him. He smiles against my nipple and pulls away. He slips my panties down and pulls my legs apart. He lays between my legs, gripping my thighs. He takes his thumb and rubs it over my clit, teasing me. I gasp at the sudden pleasure, my hips bucking. He leans down and his tongue flicks between my folds. I cry out in pleasure and place my hands in his hair. I grip his hair as his tongue goes faster. He pulls his head out for just a second, my wetness covering his chin. He gives me a cheeky, crooked smile before diving back in. I scream out as I feel myself get close to release. “Fuck Spence!” I scream as I cum all over his face. He laps up every drop, smiling against my sensitive pussy as he does.

He sits up and I see his messed up hair from me. I giggle at the sight, and he gives me a soft smile. “I love you baby” I say softly. Spence climbs on top of me, laying his head in between my boobs. “Love you too” He mumbles against my skin. I run my hands through his hair as he trails loving kisses on my bare skin.

——————————————���————

Idk if this was good or not but oh well!

Anyways I love you sooo much. Remember to eat and drink and stay safe!

[theanimeoftheblackbunnymask]

Shanks with a Female Marine S/O (Imagine)

Author's Note: I made a post mentioning this idea and it got a lot of attention. Hopefully it'll be talked about more down the road.

Links: {Masterlist}

When it comes to a marine reader, I can't picture them as this shy, weak little thing. I like to imagine reader as a well respected vice admiral, known for their heroism and determination.

I can see you meeting Shanks when he was a rookie. Just entered the grand line and is starting to get attention, but he isn't quite as big as he is now. You weren't new to the marines by the time you met Shanks, probably a captain, and it actually took a little bit for Shanks to truly see your potential.

You met him in some random bar him and his crew were drinking at. You were given orders to keep an eye on him, since the marines wanted to know just how much of a threat he was at the time. You decided fo go undercover while keeping a few lower ranked marines you were in charge of outside to keep post.

Shanks, being the flirt and charmer he is, immediately started conversation with you the moment you sat down next to him. You couldn't deny the fact he was friendly, offering to pay for your drink and even making you laugh a couple times, but you never once allowed yourself to be blinded by his antics. He was a pirate, and a possibility dangerous at best, you couldn't let yourself be blinded by his good looks and charm.

Despite Shanks being drunk when he first met you, he could see right through your duguise. The look in your eyes told him everything he need to know. However, he continued to act as if he was oblivious to that fact.

However, despite your better judgement, you ended up falling for his charm. The two of you ended up sleeping together in one of the island's many inns. You can't deny that he was probably the best fuck you've ever had, but the moral turmoil he threw in did not make it worth it.

You knew he was going to be trouble later down the road, and in all honesty, you wanted to see just how far he'd go, especially since the two of you were so close in age.

Not only did he leave an impression on you, but you left an impression on him. After meeting you, he was talking about you to Beckman.

"A beauty that woman was, Benn. A real beauty, a fierce one too," Shanks said as he poured him and Beckman a glass of whatever alcohol they stole from the island.

"You say that about every woman you've been with," Beckman said as he picked up the glass, blowing out a puff of smoke as he looked out into the ocean. "But you think she'd different, don't you?"

"She’s gonna be a fun one, Benn."

"What makes you so sure?"

"She’s a marine! A captain no less."

Beckman sent Shanks a glare as he drank his glass. "And you still slept with her? Captain, we're still rookies, I wouldn't be taking a thing like this as a game."

"She ain't going to do anything yet."

"...How'd you even know she was a marine?"

"The look in her eyes, and the fact that marines were scattered all over the island," Shanks replied confidently before chugging down the bottle. "I want to see where she ends up."

The two of you wouldn't interact again until a few years later. You've risen in ranks and have now became a Vice Admiral, and Shanks is now considered a major threat to the government.

Both of ships had crossed paths while at sea, and you decided to see if you stood a chance. You didn't have a devil fruit, but you were starting to master haki during this point in time.

"Long time no see, Shanks," You said as the two of you stood in front of each other. "I see you've made it big."

"I can say the same to you," Shanks responded, a smirk on his face as he checked you out. "Damn, still as beautiful as the day I met you."

"And you're charming as ever. Let's see what you got, don't go easy on me."

"Oh don't worry baby," Shanks reassured as he pulled out his sword, "I won't. "

Its safe to say that Shanks won that fight, but that wasn't the last time you guys would meet.

After that the two of you would constantly cross paths, and Shanks would never fail to make you blush. Constantly throwing flirtations your way as the two of you fought.

"You sure you don't want to join me?" Shanks asked, dodging your punch.

"Yes I'm sure, I don't think I wanna be couped up with smelling pirated all day, especially you."

"Well, this smelly pirate was the best dick you've ever had," Shanks teased, laughing as your face became one of embarrement.

The tension between you two was thick. And you wanted to beat him more than anyone. You wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, but anytime you'd get close, he'd knock you down faster than you could blink.

"What is this, 51-0?" Shanks asked as he pinned you down on the floor, the tip of his sword grazing your neck as he looked down at you.

"Shut up."

"Come on Baby, you're better than that."

The way Shanks asked you out was oddly romantic for a playboy like him. He has caught you while your ship was stationed at one of the islands in the Grand Line. You were in the woods, admiring the night sky as you came up with possible ways for your crew to get stronger. While you were thinking, you heard footsteps approaching.

When you turned around your gun was already out, and standing in front of you was Shanks, holding a bouquet of you favorite flowers. You were immediately caught off guard, just what the hell was going on.

"Shanks? What are you doing here?" You asked, lowering your gun slowly but still keeping your guard up.

"Hey, I'm not here to fight," Shanks declared. "Y/N, we've known each other for years, and the longer I've known you the more you've won over my heart. Everytime we part I keep finding myself longing for your return, waiting for our paths to cross again, even if it's for a fight I'll know I'll win."

The last sentence was a purpose jab at you, which helped in lifting up both his and your nervousness.

"I realize now that you're what I want," Shanks said as he handed you the bouquet of flowers.

"Shanks," You whispered, taking the bouquet as you tried to concele your excitement.

"Will you be my girlfriend/boyfriend?"

For the first time, Shanks saw you break your strong, cold marine persona. Before he could react you were hugging him, kissing his face more times than he can count.

"YES YES YES! FINALLY, I'VE BEEN WAITING YEARS FOR THIS!"

The two of your guys relationship is kept secret from the government, nobody outside of Shanks' crew knows about your little relationship.

Whenever you're on the battle field the two of you act far more cold towards each other than before, just to keep appearances. But, after the fights, the two of you are cutest couple to the point it's sickening, and everytime the two of you guys meet, you always end up in Shanks' Cabin.

I'd say Shanks with a Marine/Vice Admiral S/O is by far the cutest thing ever. Two strong people who constantly fight each other secretly dating, how scandalous.

Oh, and don't get me started on what your marriage would be like. That's when word gets out.

[mayxxday]

Thinking about Katsuki with glasses

Bakugou Katsuki, as much as the man prides himself in his healthy habits and keeping his body in the shape possible, has eyes which need reading glasses. While in UA or around anyone at all he choose to forgo his glasses, at night he really just needs his glasses.

Lens were a pain in the ass but how was he supposed to be in UA training to be hero with glasses sitting upon his nose. Katsuki rather focus on his fighting stance than keeping his glasses from falling off his nose. Popping those damn lens in his eyes was a task that took almost thirty minutes of his precious time to get right.

Luckily from him ever since he's been with his s/o, they have taken over the task for him. Katsuki can't help but admire the way their careful hand press gently against his cheeks while they stand between his legs reaching up to his face to place the lens in their rightful position.

Katsuki knew he loved his s/o but each time he sees the crocheted pouch they keep his eye drops in, he is reminded once again of the overwhelming love he has for them.

Each night they would drop by his dorm just in time for his "bedtime". Helping him remove his lens, placing his glasses in his palm before jumping into his bed beside him.

Katsuki, well he had his own way of taking care of his s/o. Placing his glasses upon his nose, he picks up the book by his nightstand, your favourite. Opening it to the page he last left off. With his s/o curled up on his chest, he reads them to sleep. Checking timely to brush any stray hair from their face.

Kiss on their forehead as he closes the book deciding they were fast asleep, he too slips under his sheets. Waking up to the same routine, wear his lens, go through the day, remove them, read for his s/on and repeat.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

[honeysghost]

Take It Easy

Pairing: Sam x Darlin'

Word count: 595 (very quick, sorry >.<)

Rating: PG

“Darlin’?” Sam’s voice is thick with worry.

He’s never doubted your ability to handle yourself—you’re tough, he knows that—but you’ve always come home.

Now, he finds himself wandering the woods behind the house at almost half past three, calling your name and looking for a sign. 

That is… until he sees your curled up body lying just beyond the tree line. As he draws closer, he can hear your soft snores and sighs.

“Always going past the point of exhaustion.”

As gently as he can, Sam cradles you in his arms and begins the short walk back, already planning out his lecture for you in the morning. He’s content to know you’re safe in his arms. That’s enough for now.

When you wake, it’s only seven. Your body seems to have its own built in alarm that wakes you up at the same time every day. Both a blessing and a curse, you suppose.

Everything aches.

Sam’s arm is stretched across your stomach, the tips of his fingers curled tightly in your shirt. You smile at the sight.

He stirs when you attempt to pry his fingers away from your shirt, cracking one sleepy eye open to glare at you.

“Don’t even think about going anywhere, Darlin’. I have a whole heap of words for you, soon as I’m awake enough to say ‘em.”

“A whole heap, huh?” You tease but don’t protest, already pushing yourself closer to his body, desperately seeking all the warmth he’ll offer.

He presses a kiss to your temple softly before tucking his face into the crook of your neck and pressing another kiss there.

“You push yourself too damn hard,” he mumbles, barely coherent. Whether it’s from the sleep still lacing his voice, or his mouth pressed directly against your skin, you can’t tell.

“Careful now. You know what they say about glass houses.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m not the one passing out in the yard.”

“Hey, it’s not like that’s a regular occurrence! I wanted to blow off steam after the job yesterday. Christian wouldn’t stop talking shit the entire time. Pain in my ass.”

You can feel him smile against your skin, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your hip.

“You’re just full of fire today.”

“I’m compensating.”

“Tell you what.” He finally draws away from you, and you whine, following his movement to push back into his side, hating the sudden distance between you.

At that, he laughs. He pulls you tight against him, moving your body with him as he readjusts. 

“And needy, too,” he whispers, voice low and sultry. It’s enough to send butterflies straight to your stomach.

“If you promise to take it easy this morning, and not pass out in the woods again, I’ll save the lecture and take it easy with you.”

“A slow morning, hm? I think I could work with that.” 

It reminds you of the morning he confessed, when you woke up tangled in each other’s embrace on the couch. It’s crazy to think that one morning changed everything.

“But… I promised Ash I would–” The words die on your lips as Sam swoops in to kiss you, leaving the thought far behind.

It’s so easy to lose yourself in the feeling of him, the way his scent lingers on your skin, as he kisses you like your lips are the air he needs to breathe.

Your fingers find themselves tangled in his hair in a heartbeat, pulling him as close as can possibly be.

“Okay,” you sigh between kisses, a little breathless. “Okay, slow morning, no work.”