#i just want spanx to burn in hell

[discountalien-pancake]

Kay i have rainboxed and i have half a spoon and that’s gonna have to be enough, so if you spot any typos, no you didn’t. Let’s get on with it. Body talk under the cut, as usual. Here’s why spanx is evil and needs to die.

Modern elastic shapewear is the underwear equivalent of “no make-up makeup.” It, at its core, is about trying to look “naturally” slimmer. It is enforcing the ideal of a body with no lumps or bumps or fat rolls, but more importantly it is reinforcing the idea that that is how your actual flesh and blood body is supposed to look. Which is never going to happen! It is making you chase after an impossible ideal while making you feel bad for being unable to achieve it! Elastic shapewear is evil because it makes you feel guilty about not having the “right” body for what you want to wear.

Elastic shapewear makes you feel like a failure for not being able to naturally maintain a certain shape through diet and exercise. They are literally guilt-tripping you constantly. I fucking mean it when I say shapewear is evil.

The reason this isn’t a problem with historical corsets is that the point of a corset was not to look natural. A point of a corset is openly acknowledged artifice. It’s fake and it’s not pretending to be real. It’s not trying to convince you that that is how your real, actual, flesh and blood body is supposed to look. The shape of the clothes going over it is the shape of the corset, and not the shape of your body. The shape of the corset and the clothes is what was fashionable, and not the shape of your fucking fleshpuppet body. I’m going to keep repeating this because it’s important!!

Putting on a corset was like putting on a pair of shoes. No, that’s not the real actual shape of your foot, and it’s not trying to be! You were not expected to have the perfect body. You were not expected to physically look like a mannequin. Clothes were not designed with the expectation of the wearers being human coat-hangers. Shapes came and went out of fashion, but they were silhouettes and not sizes.

A lot of women and fem-presenting people talked about how covid changed their relationship with makeup, because they spent so much time with their faces covered by masks. No one could see your face, and so it didn’t matter what your face looked like under it. The fact that it was socially acceptable to hide your face was so freeing for so many people.

But shapewear does the literal fucking opposite of that. It is worn with the premise that your body is flawed and needs to be corrected so that when you wear these tight, clingy modern clothes that show every lump of your figure, you look effortlessly skinny and lump-free. It’s just as artificial as corsetry, but the catch is that you’re expected to actually look like that. It’s fake that should be real, according to society. And if you don’t look like that, it’s because you aren’t working hard enough, so why don’t you shove your defective fleshpuppet into this horrible thing so you can trick people into thinking you’re not a failure of a human being (heavy sarcasm)? It’s horrifying that this is the mindset that pervades society without most people ever consciously realizing it.

In an ideal world, we would stop caring about whether someone has fat rolls or if their stomach bulges when they sit down. In this imperfect world, where people spend way too much time staring at each other and judging other people for their perceived “life choices”… shapewear is just evil. It is a “solution” to a “problem” that doesn’t exist and only makes you feel worse for failing a test that is rigged.

[donutloverxo]

Rewards and gifts

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork said - " I LOVE Steve in this shirt. How about something fluffy with hints of smut. Or full smut. With way you wanna do it. Short or long as you want babes. 😍 "

Wtf this was supposed to be a drabble...

Summary - Steve looks so handsome in his sexy blue shirt. You don't want him to leave. So you come up with a diabolical plan.

Warnings - smut, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, spanking, edging, slight voyeurism, light anal, mean daddy Steve, porn with very little plot.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x brat!reader

Word count - 2k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

You leaned against the door to the walk in closet you shared with your fiancee. Picking at the doorframe, you leaned against it, trying to sneakily look at your Steeb pushing his hair back with the black brush you decorated with pink rhinestones.

“Why are you sulking doll?” He asked putting the hairbrush down and turning to look at you.

“I’m not sulking!” You huffed. How dare he insinuate that? Even if it was true, how dare he?

“You’ve got that cute little pout on your face” He couldn’t suppress his grin. He turned back to the dressing table mirror, Spristing some of that Tom Ford perfume you have him. Which you bought with his card but whatever. It’s basically the same thing. It’s a good thing he doesn’t know how much it costs or he’ll probably lose his mind.

You couldn’t help but hum as as you looked at his muscles flexing, barely contained in his tight fitted shirt. It was a good thing you ‘accidentally’ got him a size too small. He was never really interested in shopping for himself. He only ever bought boring things. “I’m sorry what?” You snapped back to reality. Dragging your mind out of the gutter.

He only chuckled, walking closer to you. “What’s wrong princess?” He cooed cupping your cheek.

You sighed leaning into his touch. “I’ll just really missed you” You spoke softly imitating the look of a kicked puppy to get what you want. “Can’t I come with you?” You asked jutting your bottom lip out.

He let out a shaky breathe. He hated saying no to you. You never really asked for much anyway. But it was supposed to be a ‘guys night'. Everyone on the team already teased him about being so whipped for you. Which was annoying but not that big of a deal. He loved you and wasn’t afraid of showing it. But he didn’t want them making you feel uncomfortable the whole night.

On the other hand. He couldn’t bear the thought of being away from you. Not when you looked at him so sweetly, tugging the helm of your pale pink nightie, a nervous tick of yours.

“Please?” You let out the smallest of whimper. If you overdo it, you’ll come off as bratty.

“Alright princess you can come.” He finally relented and caught you as you jumped in his arms peppering kisses all over his face.

Steve only gave you 15 minutes to get ready so you had to really hurry along. You quickly went through your clothes looking for the best one. You smirked when you stumbled upon something that would be perfect. To give Steve a taste of his own medicine.

Steve texted the guys on their group chat that he would be bringing you along. And as expected they all started calling him whipped. And a lover boy. Though they knew better than to say anything even remotely bad about you.

His breathe hitched as he took in what you were wearing. A skin tight sparkly pink dress, that really didn’t leave much for the imagination, paired with silver heels. He could tell you weren’t wearing a bra when he saw the impression of the hard nubs of your nipples.

“I didn’t have time to do my make up. So I’m only wearing lip gloss” You said smacking your lips “How do I look?” You asked twirling for him. “I’m not wearing spanx. Does that look weird?” You looked down at your tummy and love handles sticking out in the dress. Oh well, you were dressing up for yourself and it looked fine to you. “Whatever.” You shrugged. “Let’s go.”

“I – princess I’m going to ask you something. And you have to be completely honest.” He said so gravely that it intimidated you. “Are you wearing panties?” He asked his voice strained.

And you giggled mischievously. “Nope” you said popping the ‘p'. You turned around lifting your dress and flashing your ass. “Is that a problem?” You asked over your shoulder, feigning innocence.

“You’re being a tease and a bad girl. You do know what happens to bad girls?” You turned around to look back at him. And it was a mistake. His arms were crossed over his chest. His shoulders so broad, his biceps so large, and holy shit is this God of a man really yours?

“That’s like the pot calling back to the kettle.” You huffed.

“What do you mean?” He asked quirking a brow at you.

You walked over to him in long strides, not very graceful in your 3 inch high heels. You squeezed his bicep “Look at these! It has to be a crime to look this good!” You complained growling at him. And yes you do realise how ridiculous you are being. But the sight of him in that shirt made you so wet you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“You and this – uh – sex shirt! You’re so sinful! So don’t you go calling me a tease.” Your hand subconsciously fondled his pert pectoral through the shirt. Not having the least bit of shame as you looked at him, headstrong, not backing down. Even if the shirt basically made you putty.

“Sex shirt?” He cringed.

“Mm-hm. Now come on let’s go or we’ll be late.” You turned around to collect your clutch but in a flash of a second he had hauled you and manhandled you over his lap.

He pulled your dress up exposing your plump ass. Taking a handful he massages it. Any good spanking session begins with a warm up after all. “You planned this didn’t you? You little minx.” He cruelly snickered at your yelp as his hand met your ass. Leaving a stinging burn. “Well now you get what you wanted. Daddy will stay with you now. And teach you a lesson. How do you feel about that?” He asked giving two quick slaps to your other cheek.

“Yes – yes I’d like that. I’ve been so bad. You need to set me straight daddy.” You drawled wiggling your ass up to him. Wordlessly asking for more. You gasped as he smacked you especially hard. Feeling liquid collect between your legs.

“That’s right baby I do. Remember you don’t get to cum tonight until you show me you’ve learned your lesson. Understood?” He asked reigning two hard slaps on your upper thighs.

“Yes! Yes daddy.” You cried tears trailing down your cheeks. But you still needed more.

“Tch” he clucked teasing your folds and collecting your slick. “You’re not off to a good start. Already ruining my pants.” He said harshly plunging two of his fingers inside you. “Is it because of the shirt?” He wanted to know.

“No daddy. That’s all you.” And he didn’t have to look at you to know that you were grinning unabashedly as he fucked you hard with your fingers. He could tell you were close when he felt you squirming against his hold and clenching on his digits.

He quickly pulled them out of you as you whined loudly stomping your leg on the couch. “Behave.” He warned slapping your already bruised bottom.

He flipped you onto your back and settled himself between your legs. He shoved his fingers in your mouth. “Clean them up.” He ordered.

And you suckled loudly. Longing so desperately to cum that you’d do just about anything.

He abruptly pulled them out. He easily tore your precious, beautiful dress. And you wailed. Actually hurt. “What the hell?!” You screamed. You really liked that dress.

“I can buy you another one princess.” He leaned over you. His face so close to yours that you could feel his hot breathe on your lips. “You have no idea just how crazy you make me. Do you?”

You only huffed looking away. Still salty about your ruined dress. You tried not to enjoy it when he closed his mouth over a nipple, rolling the other one in his fingers. Muttering sweet apologies against your skin as he trailed kissed down until he reached your core.

You had to spread your legs wide, somewhat uncomfortably, to accommodate him. You looked down at him, and damn he still look so delicious. The color really brought out the blue in his eyes. Which were almost black now.

You shuddered as he wrapped his mouth around your bundle of nerves, sucking harshly on it. He had made you squirt once. Maybe you could do it again. Ruin that glorious shirt.

He sucked and drank from you, occasionally prodding at your pluckered hole, using his fingers here and there. But he either slowed down or stopped to a halt whenever he felt you were at the edge of your orgasm.

You were beyond frustrated. Your hips and thighs aching from being spread for so long. You almost considered saying your word, to make him stop to a halt. But it was a beautiful kind of torture. One which you wanted to end, but at the same time didn’t. You were too delirious to think.

“Oh” You let out a breathe when he pulled away from your core picking up his ringing phone from the coffee table.

“It’s Bucky” He said looking at the caller id. “here sweetheart” He handed the phone to you settling back between your legs. “Why don’t you answer him? Tell him we won’t be able to make it.” He said licking up a stripe against up your warm folds.

You whimpered but accepted the call. Beggars can’t be choosers. “He-llo” You stammered trying to stay silent. You weren’t that shameless.

“Oh y/n” He said obviously expecting to hear Steve’s voice. “Where are you both? What’s taking so long?” And you really tried to contain a moan by slapping a hand against your mouth, when Steve curled his fingers inside you, but it slipped out. “Are you okay?” He asked his voice laced with concern for you.

“Yeah. I just have a stomach bug. I’m sorry we can’t come Buck” you hissed.

“Eh. Don’t worry about it doll. I’ll come check in on you tomorrow. Get well –“

You hung up the phone before he could completely. Going limp as you felt your orgasm crashing over you. Seeing white spots in your vision. You felt as if you blacked out.

The next morning, or afternoon, you woke up late. Because your favorite guy kept you up till 4 in the morning. He was missing from your apartment. You decided to forego your shower since you had taken a long bath with him after he thoroughly fucked you.

You still felt the burn between your thighs, all your muscles sore as you worked on getting your coffee ready. You perked up when you saw Steve entering the kitchen and putting two paper bags on the counter. Hoping he got you some food you quickly sneaked a peek in them. Only to see the logos on the bags saying ‘gucci' and ‘prada'.

“Huh?” You asked confused as you looked into the.

He was just a bit offended that you went straight for the bags without even acknowledging him. But then he heard your stomach rumbling and chuckled. Maybe he should’ve picked up some donuts or macaroons for you.

He swatted your hands away. Opening the huge black box to reveal a lavender dress, adorned with pink roses stitched into its ruffles. He immediately thought of you when he saw it. It was made for you.

You squealed at the sight of it. Snatching it from his hands and hugging it close to you.

“I’m sorry about your dress princess.” He kissed your forehead. He was really sorry. He knew how much you liked your things. And as bratty as you can be, you were never wasteful with them.

So he pulled the cream colored box out of the gucci bag. “You need to have a purse to go along with it.” He said revealing a pink sling bag. Which matched the small pink roses on the dress.

And yes. You found other ways to thank him for the generous gifts.

Tags will be in the reblog! If you want in on the taglist shoot me an ask or click the link in the bio!

Please do not steal or repost my works. Reblogs are most welcome.

[michael-langdon-baby]

Crave

Pairing: Michael Langdon x Original Character

Word count: 4k~

Warnings: ALOT, alpha/omega dynamics, knotting, mating, possessive michael langdon, tit play, smutty goodness ya’ll

Masterlist

Enjoy!

You would think that a shelter with enough supplies to last well over 18 months would have stocked up on mounds upon mounds of suppressants. It would be only logical to assume that whoever was in charge of the Outposts would know that there would be at least one Omega of the bunch.

But it seemed the Cooperative was full of a bunch of Alpha knot heads that didn’t think suppressants were of value; but there must have been one Omega in the meeting room, seeing as there were exactly 18 months of supply.

Which is exactly how Julie March found herself here, sitting in her ugly purple dress with her old timey spanx like panties covered in slick. She was entering her first heat since 9th grade; Billy Carlisle had cornered her in the girl’s bathroom and begged to smell her panties before the coach had come and thrown him out.

She could barely remember what it was like to have a heat, only the flushes of warmth and pain wrung through her mind, but they weren’t precise. It was like relearning a language that had become foreign, except she’d give anything to not have to relearn this.

Her thighs squeezed together as she tried to force the slick back inside but it was useless, she was probably stinking up the Outpost. And it was 6:26, which meant a drink in the parlor room was fast approaching. But last night there had been a perimeter breach, so she expected someone new would be joining them. Hopefully it was a Beta.

A knock at the door had her standing, “I’m coming.” And smoothing down the wrinkles in her dress; even is she smelt like a whorehouse, she would look damn good.

The Grey at the door smiled at her first, eyes widening at her smell before shooting to the floor, noticeable bulge forming in his pants. But she smiled and ignored it, quickly following behind his fast pace steps. Her wet thighs rubbed against each other with each step, even feeling it slide down her leg.

It was mortifying, walking into the parlor and having all eyes on her. Almost all were Beta’s and weren’t affected by her stench, but they could sure as hell smell it.

“Oh-kay, I don’t wanna be rude-“

“I don’t think that’s in your nature.” Andre interjected with an eye roll and Coco fake laughed before turning back to Julie.

“Oh grow a heart Coco, poor thing must be in so much pain.” Julie nodded at Gallant’s claim, smiling at his effort to be kind to her.

“You do know that you smell like a brothel right? Those fumes could deflate my hair.” Evie chuckled at the insult before sipping her mineral water, the rest of the group going back to their own business.

At least until Ms. Venable’s cane echoed through the room, everyone effectively shutting up when she entered. She stood at the head of the room, not even acknowledging the stink of Omega that permeated the room, which made Julie furrow her sweaty brow.

Everyone knew Venable was an Alpha through and through, yet she seemed unaffected by the heat that was so close to her. It was very strange but Julie threw that thought to the back of her mind as a pair of precise yet ominous footsteps lingered in the air, and with it a scent that made her pussy even wetter.

This must have been the person who cause breached the perimeter; she hoped it wasn’t someone who’d been affected by the radiation or anything.

A bead of sweat skimmed down the side of her skull as the footsteps grew closer, precise in step and sound. She watched Venable with a hazy gaze, wishing she were back in her room with her dress back in the closet and something filling her up.

The footsteps stopped and she felt a new pair of eyes watching her, burning holes into her side with a look so intense her heart dropped to her stomach. She was frozen, unable to turn and look.

It was nearly impossible to breath a breathe of fresh air as those footsteps came behind the couch, a soft hand sliding along the back of her neck, then gone again. Her knee shook with a pressure of want in her core that was unfulfilled, and she wanted to explode.

Julie was able to turn her head enough to gaze at Venable and the tall man who made her want to fall to her knees and present her dripping wet pussy, allowing him to either drink his fill or stuff her full of his cock.

He stood where Venable had before, watching them all, “My name is Langdon and I represent the Cooperative.” He took a deep inhale and cleared his throat. “I wont sugarcoat the situation. Humanity is on the brink of failure.”

Julie watched Langdon and he reused to meet her eye, “My arrival here was crucial to the survival of civilized life on Earth. The other three compounds—an all Alpha compound in Syracuse, New York, an all Beta in Beckley, West Virginia, and-“

This time he met Julie’s eyes, “And all Omega in San Angelo, Texas have all been overrun and destroyed.” He looked away as Timothy asked, “And the people inside?”

Langdon gave him a stony look, “Amongst other things, massacred. And I’m shocked to see that the only compound housing all three forms of life hasn’t torn each other to shreds. But I will say that the same fate will befall almost all of you.”

Mallory piped up in a meek voice, “Almost?” to which Langdon let out a small laugh. “In the knowledge that this very moment might occur, we built a failsafe—the sanctuary.”

Coco couldn’t have looked more confused when she said aloud, “The Sanctuary?”

To which Langdon responded, “The Sanctuary is unique. It has certain security measures that will prevent overrun. And amongst other things, a way from three forms of life to happily coexist, Alpha, Beta, Omega, all as one.” His hands met before him, fingertips touching in perfect sync.

But Ms. Mead cut in “What measures? Why weren’t we given these?” And Langdon’s perfect hands split and one hand lifted to his right, displaying those lovely rings. “That’s classified.”

“All that matters is that the Sanctuary will… survive, so the people populating it will survive so humanity will survive.”

Andre asked what they were all thinking, “Who are the people populating it?” but Langdon merely said, “Also classified.”

Langdon’s eyes drifted to the Omega in the room and he smiled, “However, I have been sent to determine if any of you are worthy and fit to join us. The Cooperative has developed a particular and rigorous questioning technique called ‘Cooperating’.

Julie was drifting in and out as he explained how he would decide who went with him, and who stayed. Emily placed her hand on the drowsy Omega’s knee, immediately retracting when Langdon shot her a dark look.

“What is this, The Hunger Games? I paid my way in here and that is the only cooperating I plan on doing. And if you think I’m stupid enough to believe that you’re gonna take a single Beta with you and leave the horny Omega then you must think I’m dumb as a bag of rocks.”

Langdon smirked at the outburst, “As if your knowledge could be compared to that of Mother Earth's gifts. I daresay a bag of rocks has a higher chance of joining the Sanctuary than you do.” Gallant held her back from leaping at Langdon and tearing his pretty locks out.

He pulled out a vial from his pocket a displayed it, like a teacher among students, “But fret not, if you feel as though you are too good or just not good enough, then when feral cannibals come knocking, just down one of these. A minute later you will fall asleep and never wake up.”

He took one step closer, breathing so deeply his lungs hurt, “I look forward to meeting each and ever one of you.”

He sauntered out of the room, brushing his hand across the Omega’s back, rubbing her sweat between his fingers, waiting until he was out of sight to taste it on his tongue. She tasted like heaven, the unattainable for a sinner such as himself, but oh—he would have her. Tonight.

“Emily, help her to her room. Make sure she stays there.” Emily nodded at Venable’s command and cringed when she helped Julie up, the heat her body was giving off was that akin to a burner on high.

It was a treacherous few minutes, Julie trying her best to coordinate herself with Emily’s help, eventually shooing the girl away when needing to take off her dress. Julie worked like a madwoman when the door clicked shut, slippery fingers reaching back to unzip her dress, toeing off the pointed shoes sliding down the spanx like covering, standing just a bra and underwear.

There were no locks on the door, so nudity was off the table for now. Her body flung itself on the bed, relishing in the feel of the cool sheets against her warm skin. It like ice against fire and it never needed to stop.

Two knocks at the door had her stopping; eagerly pulling the covers over herself, weakly telling whomever it was to come in.

It as Venable wearing a smirk on her face with a bottle of pills in her hand- she knew exactly what those were. Her legs tangled in the sheets as she tried to rise, wanting to kiss Venable for bringing her suppressants. “Are those for me? Please Ms. Venable, I thought we’d run out.”

Her attempt came to a halt when Venable chuckled and pocketed the pills, “Oh we have run out—for you at least.” Julie was confused and Venable walked a little closer with a smirk, “The Cooperative supplied us with 36 months of suppressants, and you’ve gone and wasted half. But then again, no one ever told you that cutting them in half with a little bit of this and that made them more effective and gave you twice as much.”

“You-you-“ oh my god. Venable’s an omega.

“You’re an omega-“ the words became a screech as the older omega’s hand slapped her so hard she flew off the bed and collapsed on the ground, a trickle of blood leaving her nose and staining her teeth. Venable looked down on her with a cruel sneer.

“Look at you. Pathetic. Weak. Omega.” She pressed the base of the cane against Julie’s throat, “If you tell a soul, I’ll drag your body, kicking and screaming, outside and let the cannibals have you. Understood?”

Julie felt tears creep into her eyes but nodded as Venable moved the cane away, “But I have a feeling you won’t survive the night. With an Alpha like Langdon here, your weak body will crave for him in a way so desperate that the heat will consume you.”

She walked to the door, “I look forward to taking your cold dead corpse outside.” The door shut with a slam.

It took Julie more than ten minutes to stand on shaky legs, wetness sliding down her thighs like a waterfall. As much as she wanted to think it wasn’t true, it was fact that Omega’s died from Heat Stroke all the time, and unless Langdon somehow wanted her… this was her last night in Outpost 3.

It was a miracle that she made it on her bed, that her jerky breathing and stuttered movements allowed her to do nothing but curl up n a ball and cry. It would hurt to feel the heart beat so fast it felt as though the chest would erupt.

She wanted so bad to be filled, to be held, to be kissed by sweet lips that only craved hers for now and always. But humanity as they knew it was gone; for all she knew, there were no more Alpha’s out there. There was only Langdon.

It was hard to know when she fell asleep, but her eyes fluttered at the feeling of hands lifting her from the cold bed. They were gentle and soft, moving her like gentle doll, placing her against a chest that was warm, almost as warm as her own body, but the sweet scent that surrounded her made it all the better than any cold bed.

“Wha-“ Her words drifted off into a murmur when a soft kiss graced her forehead, lulling her back into a dreamless sleep.

~

The first thing she noticed when she woke up was that, well, she wasn’t dead- in fact, she’d survived the night. There was never any way to tell how many how many hours had passed; yes there were clocks but with no sunlight from outside or moon shine from night, the body had no way of knowing if days had passed or not.

Julie stretched, wiggling her toes and lifting her arms above her head, small noises echoing through the room. The covers fell down, bare breasts becoming an eyesore to the empty room.

“I wasn’t expecting such a show but I can’t say I’m complaining.” A terror filled screech left her mouth when Langdon’s voice echoed to her left, turning with fear to watch the man who sat at his desk, laptop open with light shining on his face.

But those deep cerulean eyes weren’t focused on the screen, but instead were watching her supple breasts, smiling when her hands scrambled to cover them.

Her mind and body were at ends; Her mind telling her to flee away from the Alpha that had, upon further inspection, taken her from he room and brought her to his own abode. Her body on the other hand, wanted him to force her to present for him, have him take from her all she had.

Langdon shut the laptop and leaned back in his swirly chair, “I haven’t smelt an Omega like you before. Even before the Armageddon, none of them held a candle.”

He stood and took graceful steps closer to her form on the bed; “I’d assume at first that you and that Stevens witch were using your body to ensnare me in a trap. But I would be able to smell out that stupid voodoo nonsense. No… you’re just at it seems; a pure little thing, desperate to be split open on the nearest knot.”

She completely ignored the part about voodoo magic and Dinah Stevens, promising herself she’d bring it up later, and instead asked, “Is that why you brought me here?”

He was closer now and his scent was making him soak his sheets, “Well, that depends.” And she inquired, “On?”

Langdon towered over her, watching her begin to squirm, “On whether or not you want this, and if you do, if you can be a good girl for me.” His ringed hand reached forward and ran along the pudge of her cheek, “I’ve waited a long time for you Julie March, and I intend to have you.”

It happened so fast; one moment he was caressing her cheek and the next he was looming over her, knees on either side as his hair fell around them like a curtain, hiding them from the world. His scent was making her dizzy but she wanted more.

“I don’t even know you Langdon.” He leaned down like a pup and nosed her cheek, “You will.” His nose found the curve of her brow and sniffed against her forehead and murmured “And please, call me Michael.”

He kissed her with an urgency that had her seeing stars, clammy fingers grasping his black silky clothes to pull him closer, wanting to feel him in every pore of her body. Those jeweled hands roughly gripped her bare skin, harshly sliding down to her nipples and giving a strong tug.

Julie let out a sweet cry that had him smirking and mouthing at the crease of her neck, “You’re perfect sweetheart.” Those fingers tugged even harder, wanting her to scream for him. He wanted the whole Outpost to know that this Omega, that Julie was his.

When her beautiful brown eyes filled with water did he show mercy on the dusty nipples, moving down and taking one into the warm cavern of his mouth, sucking with strength that had her arching her back. His hands wound under her back and lifted her up, wanting to feel her even closer but he needed to get rid of his clothes first.

They were gone with a snap of his fingers and her eyes widened in shock; what kind of wizard was this guy. And as if he could read her thought he released her tit with a ‘pop’ and smirked, “At a time like this I was hoping to turn your brain to mush but instead you call me a wizard. How very Julie of you.”

Michael finally pulled her forward and met her lips in the middle, tasting the sweet Omega that would finally be his. Her mouth was a heaven he would never see and he wanted to have it always. She gave him control, wanting him to have all the control.

He smirked into the kiss when she started to buck her hips into him; wanting his cock to stuff her so full she felt it for days. But he was a cruel Alpha; “I’m not going to fuck you Julie, not until I’ve had a taste.”

A shocked squeak echoed when he at up and tore the covers off the bed, leaving her bare to his eyes, his cock growing harder by the second. Her shy nature caused her to try and cover up her fuzzy skinned pussy, but a deep growl from Michael stopped her. Those rings were cold as they drifted across the peach fuzz of her thick thighs, thumb running over her slit and making her moan.

After effectively coating his fingers in her fresh slick, he brought them up to his mouth, moaning at the slightly sweet taste. “Oh my Jewel, you are divine.” He slithered like a snake down her body, lips resting at her pussy.

It was one long swipe of his entire tongue that had her screeching like a cat, his strong hands gripping her thighs and holding her down as so he could feast with ease. It was akin to the fountain of youth, or that of a drink of the Gods; she tasted of perfection.

Julie’s nails tore into the sheets, internal muscles trying to grip onto him but failed again and again. He was sucking her dry; those pink lips covered in her juices, some of it spilling down his chin. She was breathing deeply when she looked down her body at him, those blue eyes meeting hers as he moved to nibbled on her clit, loving the moan he received in return.

He was evil- his mouth moved between her throbbing clit and sopping hole, not knowing which one was better. The heat of her skin was burning her alive, and she needed to be fucked. Now.

It took a moment for her to lift one of her hands and place into on Michael’s blonde head of locks, smiling when he moved away from her pussy and sat up, bare chest on display as his hands stroke her trembling thighs.

“Is there something wrong, my pet? Something you need?” He shook his head at her needy moans, “Oh no, no my sweet.” One of those sweet hands reached for her warm throat and lightly squeezed, “I want to tell me what you want.”

A look between desperation and pain crossed her face, biting her lip until warm rivulets of blood trailed down her chin, moaning when Michael surged forward to lick it up. “Please Michael, please, please.”

He chuckled, “Please what?” The fingers on her throat tightened just a smidge. “Be specific.”

She let out a high-pitched whine that made him even harder- if being harder was even possible, “F-Fuck me please please knot me please please Michael.” He cooed at her desperate plea, kissing away the shy tears that slid down the side of her skull. His poor omega needed his cock so much it was hurting her.

While foreplay was always fun and all, the smell of her heat was causing a desire to knot, to mate, to breed, and who was he to deny himself of anything? Especially when he had his Queen spread before him; he would have all of her.

It was a mere matter of positioning himself over her- he wanted to look into her eyes as he fucked and mated her, maybe even pupped her- and lining himself up with her slippery entrance. He rubbed his cockhead through her folds, “My needy little Jewel.” It was a deep thrust that had him fully inside her, wincing at the pain she showed in her yelp; he may have liked to cause pain to some people, but never his Julie.

He shushed her and kissed her wet cheeks, trying not to start his thrusts before she was comfortable and fully stretched from his cock. Their deep breaths echoed through the room, the only sound amongst the crackling fire. He wished he could kiss away her pain.

Julie felt the burning pain slowly morph into pleasure that wracked her lower half in a way she’d never know. Masturbating wasn’t really her thing, and dating was hard when Alpha’s liked Omega’s who were either forward or wore short skirts, Julie was neither. But here, during the goddam Apocalypse, she’d found a mate in a mysterious man she barely knew with his cock in her virgin hole; how sweet it is.

He smiled at her when she murmured ‘move’ and set a pace that shook the bed against the wall. Michael felt only pleasure in this moment; no pain for memories of Ms. Mead, no hatred for Cordelia Foxx- there was just he and Julie.

It was a short fuck; He felt her squeeze around his cock and let her bite his neck, marking him as her mate. And when he felt his knot swell, he simply turned her head to the side and exposed the expanse of her neck, sinking his teeth in and feeling the bond form.

It was a feeling neither thought they would ever experience, but it was real and true and forever. Michael would hold onto her for the rest of his immortal life and he would summon his father in the pits of the hell that was Outpost 3 and ask for her immortality. He would not take no for an answer.

Julie was in bliss; the heat was subsiding and the knot currently pumping cum in her- which would no doubt end in a pregnancy that she was nowhere near ready for- made all her worries fade. She took a moment to watch Michael, who in turn watched her.

“Have I met you before? Somewhere up there…” Her lazy hand waved to the ceiling, not knowing if she meant above the ground and into the world or in the stars and heaven above. It was something inside her that made her trust him.

Michael carefully leaned forward- watchful of his knot- and brought the fingers to his mouth to kiss. “My jewel, no matter where we are, or were we go, you’ll always be mine.” He took her hand and placed it on his chest. “And I’ll always be yours.”

Hope you Enjoyed!

[quentinxdelancret]

Discord Thread || Quentin & Jaycee

Discord thread featuring: Quentin and Jaycee ( @jayceelynd )

When: September18th

Mentions: None

Description:Quentin picks up Jaycee before the Reimagined album release party. Jaycee confronts him on his drug use and he ends up walking out on her.

Trigger Warning: Drug use and Drug mentions. Also a slight mention of nsfw-ish content.

Jaycee. Freshly showered after her dancing she was in her booty spanx shorts and one of Quentin’s worn out band t shirts. The rowdy drunk guys holler, offering to pay her for a good time. Deciding to ignore them as she kept her eyes on him. “Hey Romeo..” she kept eyeing the group as she got her bag into the back. Before carefully getting into the car as she was tender from what she’d been wearing all day. Leaning towards him as she moaned from the movement, kissing him. “Thank you for picking me up.”

Quentin. If looks could kill, that whole group of guys would have been dead. If it wasn’t for Jaycee grabbing his arm and pulling him back to the car calling him Romeo. He probably would have beaten them all to a bloody pulp right there, or at least tried. He was disgusted to say the least. Sure, he had a time in his life where he was a bit of a womanizer, but he would never talk to a woman the way these men were. Once he was in the car though he let out a deep sigh. “I can’t believe those assholes really said that shit to you” he huffed. His eyes scanning her outfit before leaning over to kiss her back. “You do look sexy as fuck though” he grinned. His hand moving to squeeze her thigh gently before starting the car and heading back to their place.

Jaycee. Watching him get protective of her caused a bit of adrenaline, almost like an anxious feeling. But she was smirking about how hot he looked on the inside. Jaycee ran her hand over his bicep as she leaned into him while he drove them home. Sadly she was used to men and even women sexualizing someone who was comfortable in their own skin. Why should she cover her body, so they don’t say those things. Hell no, she’d never hide who she was or how she felt because idiots couldn’t control herself. “I guess it’s a good thing I only care about what you think.” Playing with the waves and curls that sat at the back of his neck she played gently with it. “How was your day, baby?” She asked, leaning her head back against the headrest taking him in. “Do you feel like doing anything?” Turning sideways to face him better, her knees lightly pressed together. Caging his hand between her thighs, enjoying the endearing gesture of his hand resting simply on her.

Quentin. He would never expect her to cover herself up just to appease horny old men. Or any other men or women for that matter. He was proud to show of his girlfriend and he felt that he should be able to do so without receiving those type of disgusting remarks. He smiled over to her as she leaned back in the seat and he nodded his head. “Yeah, it is a good thing. But it’s also a good thing you kept me distracted or you might be coming to visit me in jail right now” he mused. He let his thumb trail lazily back and forth across her leg as she caged his hand between them. Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth with a shrug at her next question. “It was alright, busy as per usual” he answered honestly. He hated that he was always working so late and they barely got to do anything fun together. Aside from their trip of course, he just wished it didn’t have to end. “Always, baby. What do you wanna do?” he laughed at his own question realizing she probably wanted him to come up with an idea.

Jaycee. ”Well, I’d find a way to get your ass out before you’d go. Or try to at least” Smiling a sweet smile, batting her eyelashes before a soft chuckle escaped her lips. Her eyes instantly zeroing in on his bottom lip between his teeth. Jesus, he didn’t even try to drive her crazy and he was doing just that. “I hate being so busy lately, I’d give anything to be back on vacation with you. Be selfish of all of your time.” A soft sigh releasing as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m honestly down to going out dancing, like we used to.” Her nails gently grazing over the back of his neck and up into his hair. “Get dressed up, show the world your mine and no one else’s” she mused, laughing softly. Jaycee absolutely loved when they’d get home from a long day and make up for lost time. Even though it was just hours, it still sucked to feel like life was in the way of what you both enjoyed doing with one another. “Maybe go to an open mic, or do some karaoke. I’ll be your biggest fan always.” Smirking as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, slowly releasing it.

Quentin. “Oh, I have no doubt that you would” he laughed, shaking his head at her. He knew damn well she wouldn’t let him stay in jail, but he didn’t want to risk it being all in the tabloids either. “I know, me too. It felt like it went by so damn fast. But hey, we can go again in a couple of weeks. Maybe make it like a regular thing?” It wasn’t unlike Quentin to just pick up and go wherever he wanted. Aside from having to work on the album, he really did have a lot of free time he didn’t really know what to do with. He smiled over at her when her nails raked his skin and up into his hair and he let out a content sigh. “I’d love to go dancing, you know I would” he nodded again. “Or hell... karaoke sounds even better” he grinned. Honestly he wouldn’t mind doing anything, as long as he was doing it with her. He had a bit of a wild side and going out to get fucked up with random people could prove to be a bit risky. As long as she was with him though, she always had his full attention. “I’ll swing by your place so you can change and uh... get ride of those weights” he teased. Squeezing her thigh gently as he bit the tip of his tongue as he smiled.

Jaycee. Her tiny fingers twirling in his hair as she thought about them making it a regular thing. “Seeing the world with you, making it a regular thing sounds like heaven to be honest.” Jaycee loved dancing, especially with him. But she also loved to hear him sing and even sing with him at times. Oh he would bring up the benwa balls, when she was trying to not think of them. Every pothole or bump in the road jarred them to the point of clinking heavily together. Giving her vibrations right over her g spot. Pulling her bottom lip roughly between her teeth trying not to whimper at how he gently squeezed her thigh. Her walls tightly holding onto the balls, she was so sensitive. “I am trying to forget that they’re there, and I think you keep purposely hitting every dip, bump and hole the city has.” She laughed, teasing him as she squeezed her thighs over his hand. Thankful they were super close to her house to grab her a change of clothes. Jaycee was trailing the trip of her fingers over his bicep. Leaning over she kissed on his neck softly before leaning hear head on his shoulder. Taking her seatbelt off once they got to her place.

Quentin. “Of course I am” he grinned mischievously. “That’s your punishment for wearing them without my permission” he chuckled softly. His tongue swiping over his front teeth as he hit another bump. Turning onto their parking area soon after and parking the car. He took off his seat belt and opened his door. Looking back at her once more before leaning in for a kiss. A small smile spreading across his lips as he got out of the car and followed her inside so she could changed.

Jaycee. Playfully she glared at him as she walked, swaying her hips with more purpose as she walked up the steps to her room. Looking over her shoulder with a smite as she pulled his worn out tee shirt off of her body to toss it on the floor of her room. Walking backwards, she arched a brow. “So what you’re saying I deserve punishment for being a bad gilt?” Slipping her spandex shorts off slowly, leaving her in her black and red thong. Her long hair falling cooling her back, swaying as she walks to the closet to look through her clothes. Waiting for instructions.

Quentin. “That’s exactly what I’m saying” he nodded. Watching her with a shake of his head and a smile fore going to the couch to sit down. “Go change” he laughed. “And take those balls out so we can have some real fun later. I don’t like you getting yourself off” he said honestly.

Jaycee. Grabbing a short silver, spaghetti strapped dress that was backless. Wondering if this would get him even more worked up of jealousy. She loved that he was greedy over giving her, her orgasms. Jealous of her own fingers or pink little vibrators. Her eyes darkening with desire for the way he would ravish her, knowing her walls were tightly swollen from constantly flexing to hold the balls in. Sliding the dress on with red heels to pop she walks over to the couch and rests her foot  next to his hip. Jaycee watched him as she pulled her panties to the side, showing him how wet and needy she was and slowly pulled them out. Her head going back and placed the balls into her mouth. Letting him see her taste her own need. “Now what?” She asked dangling them on her finger, her hair fanning over her face wildly. Looking like she felt, sensationally hungry for his punishment.

Quentin. He watched her slip the dress on and let his eyes follow her as she moved toward the couch. His head shaking with a light chuckle as he watched her remove the balls and place them into her mouth. “Now you get to suffer until we come home later. That’s your punishment” he grinned. His hands reaching out to grab her thighs just under her ass as he pulled her closer to him. “Kiss me” he demanded, but with a soft subtle tone. His eyes burning into hers as he waited for her decision to either follow through or tease him back.

Jaycee. Jaycee batted her eyes as her hands rested on his shoulders. His hands right under her ass, feeling the heat of his finger that could probably feel her needy heat. Nuzzling her nose over his, her lips barely brushing his knowing her could smell her on her breath. Gently she ran her tongue over his lips before pushing back to stand in front of him. Her dress bunched up, deciding to pull it up a bit more. “Do you want my panties on or off?” She asked as her finger tips gently ran over his lips while her other hand grazed her inner thigh. Two people can play at this game, she smirked.

Quentin. He let his eyes close as her lips ghosted over his. An evil smirk pulling at his lips as she licked his lips and pulled away. “You tell me” he answered. Standing up from the couch and clearing his throat. Of course he was turned on. But the whole point was to go out and have fun, not to fall right back into bed again. “But you better hurry up or I’m leaving your ass” he teased. He rubbed his hand over his bulge trying to get it to go back down as he turned and made his way to the bathroom. If he was gonna handle her being a cock tease all night, he was gonna need to be a little more high.

Jaycee. Jaycee let her dress fall, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Grabbing his hand as he turned to walk to the bathroom and gently shook her head. “I’ll behave, I’m ready. I just had to tease you back..” she played with his fingers that were laced with her own. “Let’s go have fun.” she tilted her head towards her doorway, smiling up at him. Hoping he wouldn’t go to the bathroom to do what she already knew he was going to do.

Quentin. He looked back at Jaycee when she grabbed his arm and he smiled lovingly at her. “Good, just give me one second okay?” He stepped closer to her and pecked her lips before pulling out of her grip. “I’ll be quick and then we can go.”

Jaycee. Disappointment filled her hazel eyes as she watched him go to the bathroom. Walking down the stairs she called for a car service and stood by the door, chewing on her bottom lip. She loves Quentin, but she’s scared he’s become dependent on feeling high, and she desperately wish he didn’t need it with her. Hoping they could have fun tonight regardless, they deserved a night out.

Quentin. Quentin made his way to the bathroom and quickly did what he set out to do. Crushing up a small pill of Molly before snorting it straight up his nose. He punched his nostrils together for a moment as he tilted his head back and swallowed hard. The rush of the drug already making him feel relaxed. Just because the anxiety of not doing it had become a bit of an issue. Once he finished he met Jaycee down stairs and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Okay, I’m ready baby. Let’s go have fun. Yeah?”

Jaycee. Leaning into his arms as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Turning into his arms, looking up at him smiling softly. His pupils were blown, and she searched the blue of his eyes, her hands rubbing up and down his biceps. “Quentin what did you take?” She asked him, looking into his eyes. He’d be blind not to see she was upset and worried about him. “I..” she was scared to ask him, she didn’t want him to get mad or hurt.

Quentin. He was looking down at Jaycee with a small smile spread across his lips. Pressing his forehead to hers as she rubbed his arms and he sighed contently. He was a little taken off guard by her question, especially when she started to say something and then stopped. “I just took a bump of Molly, and I smoke a bit earlier. Why? Do you want some?” he asked. Lifting his head from hers to search her eyes.

Jaycee. Her heart was so loud and hitting her rib cage so hard. Licking her lips out of nervousness to sooth the sudden dry mouth. How can her hands be clammy all the sudden? Shaking her head no, she purses her lips. “I just.. I guess I was hoping we could just smoke weed and drink tonight.. Not sober but I don’t know. And.. I’m so scared that you’re doing too much..” holding her breath as she waited for his reaction. Oh god please don’t be too mad or hurt she thought to herself.

Quentin. “Doing too much?” he countered back to her. Unhooking his arms from around her and taking a step back to sit on the arm of the couch. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not doing to much. I like to feel good what’s so wrong with that?” Of course he had every intention of drinking and smoking more tonight as well. But if she already thought he was doing too much then why would she be anywhere near okay with that?

Jaycee. Jaycee was fidgeting as she chewed her inner cheek to try to think of the right words. “I do molly and stuff here and there. But I don’t see weed as a drug really, I use it for anxiety and pain. And I barely drink, but enjoy it from time to time. Especially when we’re having fun together..” Almost stepping forward she paused herself. He probably didn’t want her close or he wouldn’t have moved away from her. “I am only worried about the other stuff, and for your health. I love you Quentin and it scares the shit out of me that you could do too much one time..” her eyes began to water and a bit blood shot

Quentin. “I’m not gonna do too much Jaycee, Jesus” he huffed. He had been doing these drugs for as long as he could remember, and he didn’t see anything wrong with feeling good. Sure, he had been doing that pretty much every day now, but that was his business not hers. Maybe he would understand where she was coming from better if he was sober. But he definitely wasn’t that, and he definitely didn’t like being told to slow down. “You know what. I’ll do you one better. I’ll just leave and you won’t have to worry about shit. How’s that?” God, Q. Get a grip he thought to himself. But it was too late the words were out there, and with the drugs pumping through him. He was way too prideful to stand down.

Jaycee. Jaycee stood there as tears fell from her eyes, her mouth open in shock at his words. How could he be like this towards her when all she’s showing is love and concern. “I never asked you to go, but I guess you rather leave then be with me..” her voice broke, causing her to look towards the fireplace to hide her trembling chin. “I love you and I’m just trying to help, but I see you don’t want me to..”

Quentin. He just shook his head as he looked down at his own hands. His eyes rolling a bit to the back of his head each time he blinked. “Yeah, well I see you rather try and change me than just have fun with me. So, it’s probably best we just skip right to the inevitable.” He stood up and walked toward the door. His jaw clenching as he looked back at Jaycee. This definitely wasn’t like him to overreact. But he couldn’t help but to be defensive over something that took his deepest pains away. “I love you too. But this is just who I am, and I’m sorry you can’t accept that.” With those words he walked out the door and slammed it shut behind him.

Jaycee. ”I am not trying to change you whatsoever. I’m simply worried about you and wish you’d slow down. Be in reality with me from time to ti-.. Just like that, you’re walking away.” Her voice hiccuped as she shook her head, squeezing her eyes tightly as she scuffed. “Do you? Because you wouldn’t run away from what we have and work things out.” Running towards the door in a panic after he just slammed the door. Not even thinking she grabbed a vase by the entry way and threw it at the door, screaming before falling to the floor crying. How can everyone just leave her so fucking easily.

Quentin. He could hear the vase hit the door and he shook his head. It was too late now to even go back and try and make this right. Or at least that’s what he was convincing himself at the moment. All he wanted was to go be fucked up and come back to this later. But he couldn’t even express that without getting defensive and skipping right to the easy way out. What was done was done now though, and he was sure he would regret it in the morning.

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (5/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/N: It’s been a day, my friends, and when it’s been a day I like to give you guys chapters earlier than I expected. But also because I’m sitting on chapters and want to get to the good stuff! Our favorite duo really start to interact from now on, so the slow burn you guys are feeling is speeding up!!!

As always, thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke❤️

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 

Tag list: @royalswan @shey-starsfury @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @emmas-storybook @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera@jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @galaxyzxstark @qualitycoffeethings @thejollyroger-writer

-/-

“How hot is it in Texas right now?”

“Hotter than here, but not all that bad. Seventies, I think.”

“Well, that’s probably because that weird heat wave is over, and it’s back to being fifty degrees outside.”

“True,” Ruby sighs, pulling a dress out of Emma’s closet. “You should wear this dress. It makes your ass look fantastic.”

“No one sees my ass.” She walks over to Ruby and grabs the red dress anyways, folding it up since she knows that it won’t wrinkle. She pulls up the weather app on her phone, scrolling through the thirty cities she has saved, and finds the week’s forecast for Houston, seeing that the high is indeed mostly going to be mid-seventies. That’s good. That’s far better than it is when they have to travel during the summer. “Should I bring heels or embrace flats for the week?”

“Bring your nude pair.” Ruby chunks them at the bed, about two feet away from taking Emma’s eye out. “Oh, and the turquoise if you’re going to wear that green pencil skirt.”

“You just want to borrow them if we go out, don’t you?”

Ruby pulls her turquoise pumps out of her closet, which really needs to be organized but that’s a story for another time, and tosses them on the bed before she grabs several more shirts and pants for Emma. “You know me so well, even if we mostly go out in Texas simply to eat their food.”

“Ugh,” she groans just thinking about it. “If we’re going to do that, I need to bring looser clothing. I don’t want everyone to think I’m pregnant when it’s just a food baby.”

“I bet you everyone would think it’s Jones’s baby.”

Her eyes cut over to Ruby as she picks up her turquoise heels and places them on her striped chair. How can someone be both the worst and the best friend? “For that, I’m not bringing these heels.”

“You’re evil.”

“You shouldn’t be mean to me if you want to borrow my shoes.”

“Being mean is kind of in her wheelhouse,” Graham adds in as he pokes his head through her bedroom door, eyes glancing over the mess that’s currently happening. He’s totally judging. “Do you two realize that your flight is at six in the morning, and you’re up at two in the morning packing?”

“Do you realize that it’s two in the morning, and you have to take us to the airport at four?” Graham rolls his eyes before Ruby walks toward him and presses up on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck and slide her lips over his. “Thank you for doing that, by the way.”

He presses down to kiss her once more. “You’re going to be gone for three days. I’m going to miss you.”

“Cheesy,” Emma grumbles, tossing a rolled-up sock at the back of Ruby’s head. They’ve really got to stop throwing clothes. She’s never going to be able to find anything. “Can’t you two go make out in your room or something?”

“I kind of like that idea.”

“Me too. Ems, pack the damn turquoise shoes and some spanx so that you can eat and people won’t think you’re having Jones’s baby.”

“Wait, what?” Graham mutters. “You’re having Jones’s baby?”

“No one is having anyone’s baby, and it better stay that way. Use protection.”

“Pack the shoes.”

“I still don’t understand what’s going on.”

“You’re not supposed to, babe,” Ruby laughs, backing Graham out of the room and pulling Emma’s door shut behind her.

Those two are ridiculous, and if she didn’t love them so much, living with them would be nearly impossible. Seriously.

Emma gets an hour of sleep after she finishes packing (thanks late night games and early morning flights), and she’s basically a zombie as she and Ruby load into the back of Graham’s squad car as he drives them to JFK. She knows that it takes awhile to get there, but she’s pretty sure that she slept the whole time because before she even realizes it, she and Ruby are checking into their flight at the kiosk and going through security. It’s the emptiest she’s ever seen the place, and she would know. She spends far too much time in airports for her job.

When the team travels, she travels. Most of the time. Some trips she doesn’t work, and it’s glorious.

It used to not be that way. She’d only travel for the games that were actually shown on ESPN or sometimes Fox, but now that ESPN has an entire online streaming service, she’s traveling nine games out of ten and working all home games. It’s exhausting, to a point, but she has a hell of a lot of travel miles and rewards programs that she gets to keep even though the network pays for her flights and hotels. Sometimes that means she gets six am flights when she doesn’t have to be in Houston until seven in the evening, but it’s not always that bad.

And one day she’s going to use those points to travel to Italy or something.

Pasta would be really good right now.

So would coffee, but if she has coffee, she won’t sleep on the plane. And sleeping on the plane is kind of important if she wants to not look like a zombie tonight. Her face may look like a zombie, but at least her ass will look great.

She doesn’t want anyone to comment on the state of her ass. She’s the only one allowed to do that.

Okay, she’s lost her mind.

-/-

The Yankees win their sixth game of the season that night.

She eats the best barbecue sandwich she’s ever had, and a clip of her eating ends up on Sports Center.

Sometimes she wonders if people actually watch baseball for the game or if they simply watch because there’s always something weird going on in the crowd.

The sandwich was worth it.

-/-

Emma’s feet hit against the treadmill as Queen blares in her headphones and a tennis match in Monte Carlo plays on the television in front of her, Rafael Nadal sliding back and forth on the clay as he absolutely dominates his opponent. If every athlete was as good as Rafa is on clay, they’d all be dominant, but that’s likely a story for another day.

She’s got twenty-three minutes left on her run, especially since she’s going at a slow pace with a slight incline, but she can already feel the incline starting to kill her, her calves burning the slightest bit with each step that she takes. Her face is red, her hairline slicked back with sweat, and she can already tell that getting her sports bra off is going to be an impossible task. She gets that it’s for the support and all, but there should really be an easier way for her to free her boobs from their confines.

Free the boob.

Unless she’s running or walking down stairs or doing anything more than some light walking.

Her phone buzzes on the machine, and the man on the treadmill looks over at her like he’s annoyed by the fact that her phone made some kind of noise. It’s not her fault that he didn’t bring any headphones, and really, if he’s so bothered by her, he can move two treadmills down. This hotel gym is plenty big enough.  

Ruth: I saw you eating a sandwich on TV last night! That’s too funny!

Ruth: I hope you’re having fun!

Ruth: I miss you, sweetie!!!

For Ruth to be sixty-five, she has a fantastic grip on technology. She knows that it’s because she and David have taught her how to text and find clips of their segments and articles online, but still. She knows how to use emojis and gifs and even has an Instagram, which is only slightly terrifying most of the time. But she knows it’s simply to keep up with she and David’s lives since they don’t always tell her everything.

Okay, that’s mostly her.

But David has a much better relationship with Ruth, which makes sense considering she’s his mother. She’s Emma’s…quasi mother. She’s never been too sure how to go about it. Calling David her brother is much easier than calling Ruth her mom, and she knows it’s because the word mom has more heavy meaning behind it.

Emma: It was a good sandwich! Only a little time for fun since I’m here for work. I miss you too!

Ruth: There’s always time for fun!

Ruth: David and MM are driving up to visit me next weekend for the holidays. Are you coming too?

Emma: I don’t get vacation days like David does, so I’ll be in LA. I wish I could.

Her music stops between songs, and she hears the roar of the crowd on the television, seeing that the match just ended, and her treadmill starts to slow down, the time ticking down past five minutes so that it’s time for her to cool down with a slow walk while she keeps texting Ruth about the fact that she’s working over Easter weekend. She pretty much doesn’t have days off, except for days the team has off, until the season is over in October. Or early November. It depends. And then she’s back working in the office writing articles and doing prep work and occasionally having to suffer through covering basketball.

Bills must be paid, but at what cost to her having to listen to sneakers squeaking?

Ruth never seems to understand that because she thinks that she and David have the same job even though David has never once been on camera. He’s behind the scenes all the way.

When her treadmill time officially runs out, she steps off and gathers her things before finding a towel to wipe down the handles from where she touched them. Angry man is still eyeing her as she cleans up, and she seriously hopes that he is not going to be there tomorrow.

If he is, maybe he’ll be happier.

She doubts it.

He seems to just be one of those people who is particularly unpleasant all the time.

Sweat sticks to her skin as she walks through the hotel hallways, casually airing out her tank top and wiping sweat back into her hair to get it off of her face, and she very nearly walks up the stairs to go back to she and Ruby’s room when she sees people milling around the dining room with breakfast on their plates.

Breakfast would be good.

Mostly water. And coffee. She’s not entirely sure if she’s recovered from her lack of sleep yesterday, which made her question her sanity when her alarm went off for the gym this morning, but she knew if she didn’t work out then, she wouldn’t work out at all. And she needs that push of adrenaline and endorphins.

Grabbing a plate from the buffet line, she walks through and fills her plate with fruit and scrambled eggs, even if she knows they’re from a bag and not a shell, and a half of a waffle from the waffle maker. She always loves when they have those at hotels. Good continental breakfasts are her jam…especially if they have jam.

“Got enough toppings there?”

Emma nearly drops her plate when she hears his voice, and when she twists her head to the side, she sees Killian Jones standing next to her, his own plate full of food in his hand. Seriously. Why is she always running into him when she’s eating?

And sweaty.

“Not enough if you ask me.”

He adjusts his hat, a Vanderbilt one that is very obviously a decade old. “I was  asking you.”

“I like toppings,” she sighs, putting some more fruit onto her waffle before grabbing the whipped cream can and spraying some of it onto her food. Her workout is yelling at her for this. “What’s the point of a waffle if you’re not going to load it down with toppings?”

“I’m more of a pancake man myself.” He reaches into the buffet and grabs a yogurt, which is definitely not a waffle or pancake. “But considering I’m playing tonight, I’m supposed to be watching what I eat.”

“You have an entire plate of eggs.”

“Protein, Swan, protein. You would know all about that with all that barbecue you ate last night.”

Just let her sink into a hole right now and never come back up. The internet is ruining her life.

“Weren’t you supposed to be tracking Roseman’s pitches last night or something?”

She turns on her heel and walks away from the buffet to a table, knowing that Killian is walking behind her. They have the weirdest relationship. It doesn’t even feel right to call it that, but they’re somewhere between a working relationship and reluctant friends, and the fact that he’s placing his plate down on the table across from hers makes her lean more toward reluctant friends who see each other occasionally enough to have a bit of a rapport.

Her life gets weirder every day.

Killian Jones has one brave set of balls.

Baseball, testicles, whatever. Both work. At least, she thinks.

“You can eat right after you work out?” he questions, twisting the knob on one coffee machine while she does it with the other, the promise of caffeine already invigorating her.

“How do you know I was working out?”

He raises a brow before his eyes look over her, lingering a second too long at her breasts, before a slow smile creeps from one side of his lips to another that has her stomach twisting inside. “Well, it’s not because of your outfit. People dress more like they’re working out when they’re not every day, but the sweat still soaked into your clothes and in your hair are kind of a dead giveaway. Your face is flushed as well.”

“Observant.”

“I try, but it’s easy when you’re an open book.”

Totally not acknowledging that one.

She twists the knob on the machine and reaches over for the hazelnut creamer while Killian simply puts the top on his. He drinks black coffee? That’s disgusting. “Black coffee? Do you not have taste buds?”

He shrugs. “I don’t like to drink my calories. You want a water?”

She nods her head, and he grabs two bottles before following her to sit back down at her booth like it’s totally normal for them to be sharing a meal together. They’ve done it before, but that’s because she was working with him. It was not because they’re staying at the same hotel and happened to run into each other at the buffet.

Weird.

But she’s not about to be bitchy and ask him to leave when she has no reason to other than her own reluctance to talk to people before noon.

They sit in semi-awkward silence as they work through their plates. She definitely overloaded her waffle, but she would never admit that after earlier. That would be admitting defeat, and she doesn’t take too kindly to admitting defeat. Killian eats at lightning speed, scarfing down eggs and sausage, his yogurt untouched, and she wonders what it must be like to be a professional athlete and eat more than the average human being, even if it’s not all good food like pizza and onion rings and loaded down waffles filled with chocolate chips.

Her phone buzzes on the table, and she leans over to read the text from Ruth still trying to convince her to come home for the weekend when she’s already explained that she cannot.

“Boyfriend?”

“Huh?” she hums, texting a message before looking up and seeing Killian staring down at her, his eyes shaded under his cap. She’s so distracted by the fact that he asked her if she was talking to her boyfriend that she doesn’t pay attention to her answer. “Oh, no boyfriend. It’s my…um, quasi mom.”

“Quasi mom?”

Shit. She should have just said Mom. Maybe she’s a little flustered by all of this.

“She was my foster mom,” Emma explains, stuffing some eggs into her own mouth to give her some more time to talk, “when I was a teenager, but we’re still in touch because her son, David, is kind of like this big brother to me. I work with him and am close to his wife and kid and all.”

That was word vomit that she should not have shared. That is not information that she should just give out, and yet here she is. Obviously, all of the blood hasn’t returned to her brain since her run. Hopefully it’ll all come back soon so she can stop looking like an idiot with a messed up past who shares too much at a breakfast.

“David Nolan, right?”

“Y-yeah. How do you know that?”

He shrugs his right shoulder before taking another forkful of eggs, chewing and smiling in a way that reminds her of that scene in Thor where Chris Hemsworth is in the diner and throws the mug down asking for another one. Why the hell did they dye his eyebrows and his beard in that movie? That was a mistake.

“Ariel, my manager, is super hands on with me. She’s talkative, like extremely, and she shares all kinds of information that I never need to know. So, I’ve heard a bunch of random shit that I literally never need to know about. David sends her a hell of a lot of emails that I get forwarded.”

“So, do you just know my entire life story then?”

“If you’re entire life story involves you liking pretzels and waffles, and being asked out by a jackass on live television, then yeah.”

She barks out a laugh, her lips curving upward, and reaches down to take a sip of her coffee. “I mean, that’s it. There’s nothing else to know about me.”

“You sure about that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The smile on his lips fall into a straight line, his gaze intense, and he lifts the bill of his hat up before adjusting it back down. “Perhaps I would.”

“So, nosy,” she starts, still a little annoyed that he asked if she had a boyfriend and most definitely trying to lighten the conversation up again, “I’m going to be very self-indulgent and ask if you liked your segment. I want a more truthful answer than the one I got in the hallway.”

His lips curve up, pretty much taking up his entire face, and she can see the crinkle of his eyes as his long lashes land on his cheeks before opening back up to show his baby blues. Damn his eyes are blue. How is that even possible? Maybe they’re contacts or something.

No, that would be ridiculous.

“I freaking loved it. I mean, it was great. It was so simple, you know? You didn’t try to create some other angle, didn’t try to paint me as anything other than a normal guy. I really appreciate that. You have no idea,” he chuckles, reaching up to scratch beneath his ear. Is he nervous? Why the hell is he nervous? “I saw afterward, your cohost, he was a bit of a dick, wasn’t he? I know we talked about it a bit, but it seems like you just…well, it seems like the shit show is never ending for you.”

That is – that is not what she was expecting at all. She figured his apology was a one and done and that she’d never hear about it again.

“With my friends,” she starts, tapping her nail against the table, “I don’t mind. It’s funny. It’s something we can joke about, that I, myself, joke about, but when it happens in my professional life, it pisses me off. So many men have seen me as a joke in the past, have tried to tear me down that way, and it’s not something I like having to deal with now. I mean, it’s not like I can go off on them. That’s a great way for me to lose my job because I’m no longer,” she holds her fingers up and does air quotes, “likable.”

Killian lets out a low whistle as her heart hammers in her chest, her annoyance at this whole thing making her cheeks heat. It’s all so dumb, and really, she should hate him for it. She doesn’t though. She’s not always his biggest fan, but he apologized and obviously feels actual remorse. How was he supposed to know it would be like this?

And if she knows all of this to be true, why does she still get slightly irked by him sometimes?

Is that just because she’s so damn stubborn herself?

“Is there anything I can do to make it better for you? I mean, I put you into this situation. The very least I can do is try to get you out of it.”

“Nah, there’s nothing you can do more than treat me like a professional and go on as if you didn’t make an ass out of the both of us with millions of people watching.”

“I think I can do that. However I can’t promise not to keep making an ass out of myself though. My brother tells me it’s my natural state of being.”

“Your brother sounds like a smart man.”

“He likes to think so. His patients sure as hell hopes that he is.”

“I mean, I would hope so. Does he get to come to a lot of games?”

“He and Elsa and the girls try to make it to some of them, but it usually depends on if Liam is on call or if the game is too late, so it interferes with the girls’ bedtimes and school. But no matter what I always have a string of texts waiting for me afterwards.”

“They sound great. Your nieces are so cute. Like, adorable. When you posted that photo of the two of them wearing your jersey, my heart melted. That was cute, twenty-nine.”

“Twenty-nine?”

“Your number,” she says slowly, looking him over.

“Aye, I know. It’s just that I’m not used to being called that.”

“Oh, sorry.” She covers her mouth and takes a sip of her coffee. She’s never going to finish her food if they keep talking like this. “I call most of you guys by your numbers half the time. It’s faster, sometimes, for our stat-keepers. It’s a force of habit from back before the Yankees had names on their jerseys.”

“I like it,” he smiles. “You ever play any sports?”

“Nothing official. Why?”

“Just looking to see if you have a number I can call you, love.”

“Ooh, for a second I thought you were going to ask for my number, so that was a nice save.”

“Well, I mean, I could,” he shrugs, flashing that winning smile again.

“Not going to happen, twenty-nine.”

“Damn, I thought I’d stumbled myself into something. I guess that’s strike two for me.”

“Do you always speak in baseball puns?”

“Says the woman who made a joke about oral sex using a baseball pun.”

“Never claimed that I didn’t use them. I’m a fan of a good pun. If you can make it a clever innuendo, all the better.”

“I do love a good innuendo.”

“Yeah, I can tell with the whole tall, dark, and broody thing that you’ve got going on half the time before you whip out a smirk and do that thing with your eyebrows.”

“Why, Swan,” he sighs, waggling those damn eyebrows, “have you been watching me?”

“It’s literally my job.” He does his eyebrows again, and she flicks an apple chunk at him. “Shut it, twenty-nine.”

They sit in the booth and talk, the both of them going through two cups of coffee, before Killian gets a call that he needs to be on the bus to Minute Maid Park, which they both agree is an awful name for a stadium. It’s on the tip of her tongue to start naming off other awful names and major sponsors, but she doesn’t, holding that back as he gathers their plates and walks over to put them all in the bin, his mind seemingly having switched from casual conversation to baseball. She wonders how often he does something like that, just turning everything off to focus on his job.

She can do the same.

“So, Swan,” he sighs as they both walk toward the lobby, Killian to get on the bus and for her to walk toward the elevators, “you going to be around to interview me tonight when I walk off the field?”

“Only if my producer thinks that we need an interview from you.”

“Does this mean I need to play a damn good game?”

“Or a really bad one.”

“I’ll try for one of those.”

“Okay,” she laughs, backing away from him as she sees Scarlet and Fisher walk down into the lobby, “break a leg then.”

He raises a brow. “I’m not sure if that works in sports.”

“Guess you’ll be the first to try it out.”

Emma raises her hand to wave to him, before turning on her heel and walking toward the elevator, her mind trying to piece together all of the elements of her morning while her heart keeps beating like she’s still on the treadmill and not like she’s been sitting in a booth eating for the past two hours.

What the hell just happened?

When she gets back to her room, she quietly opens the door, not knowing if Ruby is awake or not yet, but as soon as she’s inside the room she sees Ruby sitting on the floor with her laptop in front of her with some kind of hair tutorial video on the screen. And whatever it is, Ruby is not succeeding at it, which is pretty much an impossibility with how good Ruby is with hair.

“What’d you do? Run to Manhattan and back? You’ve been gone for forever.”

Putting her phone and hotel key down on the dresser, she slides down onto the floor to sit with Ruby. Her legs are starting to ache, and she desperately needs a shower. She got a look at herself in the mirror in the elevator, and damn does she look rough.

“How long have you been awake?”

“Well, I woke up when you got up because you’re not quiet,” she huffs, tugging at her braid, “and then I woke up an hour ago. You’ve been gone for, like, three hours.”

“I spent a long time at the gym.” That’s not a lie, not really, but it’s not exactly the full truth. She’s not sure why she’s not being honest with Ruby, but it’s…it’s just what her brain has apparently decided on. That breakfast didn’t mean anything, right? So why would she hide it? Probably so no more jokes will be made about them. Yeah, that’s it. That has to be it. “And then I ate breakfast.”

“And you didn’t bring me anything?”

“Not supposed to take the food out of the restaurant area.”

“You could have stolen a banana.”

“Sorry?”

Ruby groans, twists her hair into another braid as the video ends, and then closes her laptop before looking at her, her eyes scanning over her outfit. “Let’s go get something from a café or something. What was that place we went to last time we were here?”

“Snooze, maybe?”

“Yes,” she hums, falling back against the floor before she very obviously remembers her slightly okay braided hair, “let’s go there.”

“I just ate, Rubes.”

“You can keep me company while I eat, and then we’ll go shopping before we have to come back and get ready for work.”

“Can I at least take a shower first?”

“I would prefer if you didn’t smell, so yeah.”

Emma reaches forward and slaps Ruby’s shoulder before getting up. “You’re the worst.”

“But I’m your best friend.”

“Unfortunately.”

“No, very fortunately.”

“Will you do my hair for tonight’s game?” she asks as she strips out of her tank top, sweat having practically dried it to her skin.

“If you let me wear your turquoise pumps.”

“You were going to wear them anyways.”

“Semantics.” Ruby waves her away. “Go take a shower. I’m starving, and I will absolutely perish if I don’t have food in my stomach in the next hour.”

[arcadeguk]

dessert

prompt: “you look amazing tonight” + “if we get caught i’m blaming you” + “night, princess”

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: fluff

a/n: ceo!hoseok is the one thing i need to see irl. him in a suit fucks me up more than anything ever could. step up your game jeon enjoy!!!!!

“you know, in our next apartment, i’m putting a plaque on the door - ‘makeup cave of the she-hulk, do not disturb’” your boyfriend chirps from the other side of the door, and you can just imagine the dopey, sarcastic grin coating his face right about now, most likely accompanied with a quick tilt of his head, a self-congratulations on his absolute sick burn. “do you want me to look nice, or be fast?” you quip in return, yanking an eyelid to the side as you fix your winged liner for what was easily the fourth time tonight. at this point, you could either go out with a bloody eyelid, or a black eye. appealing options all around. “both, please!” he sings, and you can hear him bounce away, most likely to return to his perch at the kitchen counter, anxiously checking the time on both his watch and phone (as if they’d be any different), jingling his keys and letting bubbly sighs fall from his lips as he waited for you. 

tonight was unbelievably important, and you knew that - which was exactly why you were currently mummified in two pairs of spanx, heels that could snap your ankle in half at the mere mention of a breeze, and were desperately throwing all your makeup into your purse, only for it to be reapplied once you reached the hotel. tonight was hoseok’s first big business dinner after becoming the ceo of seoul’s finest tech company. an honor, considering the amount of years he’d poured into this place - seeing it from the tiny startup in his cousin’s basement into the formidable world empire it was becoming. you were unbelievably proud of everything hoseok had accomplished, and took every chance you could get to talk about his accomplishments. in the 4 years you’ve been dating, you never missed an opportunity to gloat, especially when he was there to witness it. his cheeks would be  burning red, his top teeth catching his bottom lip in a gentle squeeze. he’d sweetly fix his collar, coyly trying to fan the fire that crept up from his chest into his neck. he melted every single time, and would grasp your hand the first chance he got, peppering your neck in shy kisses when you were alone.

tonight, hoseok needed to make an excellent impression. all the VPs and stockholders would be attending, along with a couple of potential investors, who hoseok had the daunting task of trying to convince to open their wallets, giving more money and influence to the company.

he’s always been great with people, his glittery personality and calm confidence always made others feel at ease and open - a huge reason why he was picked to be the face of the company. hoseok’s collected demeanor never shifted, not even when shit was completely hitting the fan. especially when it came to you. his calm demeanor always relaxed you, and a rant session, mixed with a shoulder massage, and a million soft kisses put you at ease every time.

but this dinner, it had him simply rattled. the anxiety and tightness in his body tensed him up, knotting the muscles in his back, and creasing the thin skin between his eyebrows. he’d been jumpy all week, startling at even your simplest touch. last night, he’d woken up in a cold sweat, on the verge on tears - incoherent, sleepy ramblings after waking up from a nightmare - something about him screwing up the entire dinner, completely beyond fixing. he’d lost his job, his reputation, and worst of all - you’d left. you coaxed him through it, brushing back his hair, fetching him cold water to drink, and trying to explain to your very sleepy, very puffy boyfriend that none of that could ever happen. seemingly contented by your words, he’d fallen asleep on your lap. you spent most of the night watching over him, gently rubbing his tummy or arms at any sign of a twitch or hurried breath. you hadn’t minded staying up with him at all, but it wasn’t exactly doing you any favors right about now. after a 5 minute nap at your desk and at least 3 pounds of concealer, you looked semi less-deceased. almost passable, if you were trying to look like a corpse. whatever, you reasoned internally, it’ll be dark in there anyway.

finally emerging from the magic shop other mere mortals call a bathroom, you saunter into the kitchen, intent on seeing hoseok’s face when his eyes finally landed on you. you’d only shown him the dress on the hanger, which hadn’t done it any justice. it was a deep navy blue, adorned with sequins that glittered in just the right light, and hugged each of your curves perfectly. the train of your dress swooshed behind you, and if you focused hard enough, you could go 5 steps without tripping on it. you smiled at hoseok, who was currently absorbed in his phone, leaning on the edge of the counter.

“ahem”, you clear, and his head snaps up. his pupils dilate to twice their normal size, and whatever words he thought about saying ultimately die in the back of his throat. hoseok’s slim fingers subconsciously grip his phone a little tighter, and his tongue presses to the roof of his mouth. he straightens up, flicking his head to toss his bangs out of his eyes, to get the full sight of you. the only resolve he clings to is the fact that you’re both already 10 minutes late to this fucking dinner, but then again, what was ten more minutes…

“ready?” you chirp, breaking hoseok from his reverie, leaving him nothing but a stuttering, flustered mess as he tries to answer you. he follows you to the door, leaning unnecessarily close to you to grab the keys that hang on the door hook. a firm hand grasps your waist, accompanied by warm, wet breath on your ear.

“you look amazing tonight.” the statement is followed by a chaste, quick kiss on your ear, and a gentle push towards the door, his smirk resting in your hair the entire walk to the car.

you know you’re in for one hell of an evening when hoseok’s hands never leave your body. normally, hoseok’s clinginess would send your heart straight to the moon, but tonight, you know it's not a side effect of his chirpy happiness - it’s a mixture of nerves, anxiety, and this jaw-dropping dress that you almost didn’t buy. hoseok drifts from group to group, charming everyone in his path, more than happy to have you on his arm, showing you off every chance he could possibly get.

to your credit, operating on 6 hours of sleep within the past 48 hours - and still being able to show up to this event not looking like a total disaster - is a feat in of itself. yet, you can’t help but feel downright terrible when you accidentally let a couple lazy yawns fall from your lips. it’s not boredom at all, considering you get to watch hoseok glide around in a $700 tom ford suit, looking like a businessman prince who just stepped out of a fucking disney movie - no, it’s a complete dream come true. but the exhaustion creeps up slowly, blurring the corners of your vision and black velvet settling in the back of your mind. names of investors and conversations about the stocks all blur into one, and you’re left sleepily clinging to hoseok’s left arm.

speaking of hoseok, he’s on his best behavior all night, that is, until, you both saunter over to the dessert table. delicate cakes, cookies, and every other sugary, delicious concoction has been laid out in full display, illuminated by the bright, shiny lights of the hotel ballroom. an obnoxious pink sign rests on the table, screaming that only “two desserts allowed per guest”, with an even more obnoxious and passive “thanks” scrawled at the bottom. hoseok’s eyes glance from you, to the table, then back to you. his eyes then travel downward, to the navy purse you’re currently clutching.

“hoseok, don’t even think about it.”

“babe, just open the purse.”

“you know, if we get caught, i’m blaming you.”

he leans close in you, the devilish smile that rests on his face makes your whole body shake. “sweetheart, i own this entire fucking company. i could buy this hotel tomorrow if i wanted to. what could they possibly do?”

needless to say, your navy handbag is soon in his possession.

however, much to your surprise, only ten minutes later, hoseok is making his final rounds with his investors, giving quick bows and handshake. he drags you along, practically shoving you to the coat check.

“in much of a rush?” you inquire, quirking an eyebrow. he smiles in return, and answers you without looking up from his coat, “yeah, i figured it was time to get my sleepy princess home.”

you can’t help but stutter at this, trying to come up with some kind of a comeback. “i-i, shut up, my concealer is fucking perfect. you can barely tell.”

he finally meets your eyes, the corners of his crinkling up ever so slightly as his mouth stretches into a smile. “sweetness, come on, like i didn’t see you yawning all night long.” your face falls into a frown, and you wish for an instant that you’d kept a better grip on yourself. you’re prepping to whine just a little bit, but he quickly hushes you with a hug. as he bundles you into his chest, he takes the moment to lean down into your ear and whisper; “i know how hard you’ve been working lately. i know how much you’ve helped me over the past couple weeks. and i know that all you want to do right now is get into some comfy clothes - which will most likely be mine, but that doesn’t matter - and fall asleep in bed while watching some mindless tv. so, what do you say? sound good, babygirl?” he pulls away, and nuzzles his nose with yours. his deep browns eyes gaze into you with so much love, so much trust and gratitude, you’re afraid you’re going to tumble right into them. “yes, please” you sigh happily.

only four minutes later you’re tucked into hoseok’s side, head resting on his shoulder, torso buried into the little cavern his body has carved for yours. as soon as your head hits his shoulder, a comforted little sigh falls from your lips, one that has hoseok giggling and blushing and desperately trying not to lose his mind in the backseat of this mercedes. he slips his coat off, only jostling you slightly in the process, and lays it over you. the long overcoat covers you almost completely, and you tug the collar of it closer up under your chin.

the arm curled around your torso is rubbing gentle circles into your hip through the wool, and the other rests on your knee, slowly tugging your legs more and more onto his lap as you fall further and further asleep. it’s hoseok’s deep, hoarse voice, strained from tonight’s overuse, that stirs you from your sleep.

“i meant what i said earlier.”

“which part?” you mumble in return, “the part where you said you were going to dissect the cupcakes surgeon-style and try to deduce the exact recipe because, and i quote ‘i could and will eat these every single day for the rest of my life, just you watch?’”

the throaty giggly that rises out of hoseok’s chest soon turns into a guffaw. you look up, and even in the darkness of the car, you can see hoseok’s million-dollar smile light up the interior. his mouths stretches wide open, a toothy smile and deep laugh on full display. as the car races down the road, streetlights catch the stars in his eyes, stars that peep downwards, and shine the brightest, just for you.

“you’re funny baby, really truly” hoseok says, wiping a stray tear from his eye as he collects himself. the car falls silent again, and then hoseok speaks:

“no, i meant it when i said that i was so grateful for everything you’ve done for me lately. this dinner, i don’t know baby, maybe i worked it up too much in my head? i just wanted to make a great first impression, the amount of important people there was insane…” he trails off, and in the warmth of the overcoat, you drag your hands upwards, to rub small, gentle circles in the center of his chest. “thank you for keeping me sane. for reminding me what’s important.”

“and what’s that? the cupcakes?” you whisper with a smile, and hoseok grins. “that, but also, that this job, this company, all this hard work, it’s for a purpose. it’s to guarantee a life for you, for us. to make sure that we always have anything, and everything, we’re ever going to need. to make you the happiest person alive.”

“and what about you? what’s gonna make you the happiest person alive?” you question, leaning upwards to land a kiss right on the hook of his jaw.

“this, baby. this moment right here. this is all i’m ever gonna need.” he whispers into the dark, and lands a loud, smacking kiss into your hair. “but right now, you need sleep. i’ll carry you inside once we’re home.”

you don’t have the energy to even try and fight him on it, and simply give him an affirmative hum, and not two minutes later - it’s lights out. the last thing you hear before you disappear into inky blackness is hoseok’s gentle whisper floating around your head, “goodnight, princess."

[geminimoonbeamx]

Over the River and Through the Woods

A/N: A biker! Bucky AU Christmas time story was what the world needed lol. I’m just contributing to world peace. I made this one a little personal, with the readers mom having died years before. It’s hard out here for us kids with dead parents during the holidays and I wanted to address that.

Word Count: 7k+

Warnings: Pretty SFW but definite hot moments, lots of kissing and cuddling, cursing like a sailor(because it’s who I am as a human) and TOOTH ROTTINGLY SWEET CHRISTMAS FLUFF

Summary: In which Bucky and Y/N attempt to survive not one, but three family Christmas parties on Christmas Eve. Hilarity ensues. A biker!Bucky x Plus size reader AU.

There seems to be this romanticized version of what Christmas is supposed to be like. You know, the Hallmark movie kind? Blanketed with white snow and soundtracked by caroler’s? Yeah? Well you lived in New York. The snow here was only white for a second at most before it turned to grimy slush on the streets and the soundtrack were the usual noises of the inner city; car horn and sirens.

Of course, the city did have it’s magic. Christmas in New York was something that was famed, dreamed about. People came from far and wide to see the lights, to skate the rink at Rockefeller. Bucky had taken you to the tree lighting this year, and although you’d been packed like a sardine along with crowds of other people; it’d been one of the most romantic things you’d ever done with him. Your cheeks had ached for hours afterwards because of all the smiling.

Spending your first Christmas together had been a success so far. Decorating your respective trees with one and other(because you still hadn’t taken that big step and moved in together yet), to decorating the club house with him; you’d had such a good time with Natasha and ,her and Sam’s seven year old daughter Mila. Winding twinkling lights around the bar. Hanging garlands and candy canes and mistletoe. Mila had squealed in protest when Sam had dipped Natasha dramatically under one of them, kissing her showily.

There’d been multiple Christmas movie marathon’s, mostly because the two of you couldn’t manage to get through more then a couple at a time. One of you always ended up falling asleep…or got too handsy under the blankets. Elf(Bucky’s favorite), The Santa Clause, How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Love, Actually(your favorite), The Polar Express, Jack Frost(which makes you cry every time, and you swear, Bucky got teary eyed too!) And Nightmare Before Christmas(because you both agree on the big, important, things. Like that face that it’s both a Halloween and a Christmas movie).

You’d baked together. You knew the man was a good chef, but goddamn; his sugar cookies could bring you to your knees. The image of him, in nothing but a tight singlet, a pair of boxers and an apron; his hair twisted into a bun and flour on his bearded cheek was one you’d always hold near and dear to your heart.

You’d even managed to survive Holliday shopping, braving the chaos with a couple of your girlfriends and tackling your insanely long gift list, happy for all that overtime you’d managed to pull because it made you wince even thinking back on how much money you had spent. It’d taken the better part of two hours to wrap them all- mostly because you were a totally OCD about making sure they were all perfectly wrapped, adorned with bows and ribbons.

But the two of you hadn’t even endured the most challenging task of all…

“It’s going to be fucking insane” You cry, your both in your bed. You leaning against the headboard rigidly and Bucky lounging on his side.

“I know, babe”

“There’s no way…”

“We’ll find a way to make it work”

You’d shot him a dubious look. Why did he have to be so…Bucky-like all the time?! Level headed and reassuring. You’d groaned and buried your face in your hands.

“Yeah? Please explain to me how?” You’d muttered into your hands, over dramatically. You were acting like the world was ending. Like you were going to be forced into a war zone.

“We’ve just gotta’ plan it out right” Bucky’d reached over to run his thumb reassuringly over your bare thigh. He knew how you got, knew you were very easily overwhelmed “We’ll go to your families’ first, then mine, then we’ll head to the clubhouse. It wont be that bad, I promise”

Three.

Three different celebrations to go to on Christmas Eve. Why no one celebrated Christmas day, you don’t know. You cursed about it harshly.

“The traffic’s going to be aweful”

“I know” Bucky’s hand is inching dangerously close to your inner thigh. Steadily creeping up.

“How are we even going to eat three different dinners?”

“Will power and perseverance” He shrugs, grinning up at you and you cant help but giggle and card your fingers adoringly through his shaggy hair.

“You’re really feeling the Christmas spirit, huh, babe?” You say sarcastically at his positive outlook “Arent you even freaking out a little bit? Were going to have to drive from Brooklyn to Staten Island and back. On Christmas Eve” You eye him seriously, looking for any falter. For any kink in his shining armor.

“You know I fuckin’ love Christmas, so yeah I’m feelin’ it” Bucky starts “The traffic’s gonna be hell, no doubt. I swear everyone forgets how to drive when there’s a little snow on the ground, but I’m wiling to brave it to spend time with our families” That look he gives you, that beautiful one that made you turn to jelly, calms your nerves. Even if it is just for the moment. Your families. Both of yours. You were going to spend the day surrounded by people you loved and that’s all that really mattered. “Plus, I’ve been dyin’ for your aunt’s mashed potatoes since Thanksgiving”

You giggle and slip down, into his arms. Cuddling into his chest.

“Fine, but you’re being the DD” You tease and the protesting scoff he makes in his throat is hilarious.

“That’s not fair!”

-Christmas Eve-

You’re just finishing up getting ready for the night. It’s almost five, the dusk rolling in. Bucky’s been done getting ready for over an hour and sits on your sofa. He knows better then to rush you; bless that man. You were already stressed out about the night and he didn’t want to get chewed out for asking you if you were done with your makeup.

Which you were. Your face was done up, as usual. Your girly ways in full force. Your lashes long(and false, if that’s up your ally), your brows done. Your highlight gleaming and your contour blended. Your hair fell into loose curls that you had a burn on your forefinger to show for. Picking what to wear had been a little tricky, mostly because you were so indecisive and had changed twice much to Bucky’s dismay because “I really liked that red one, doll! Your tit’s looked amazing”

You’d finally landed on an bardot style gray dress that came down to mid-thigh and a pair of black semi-opaque tights underneath it. You wore your most comfortable pair of spanx, not caring about the outline of your belly because you’d rather be comfortable then smooth for the night. You adorn yourself in gold jewelry; dainty midi rings and a pair of hoops.

“Well damn” You hear Bucky approach as your putting on the earrings and you smile wolfishly at his reflection through the mirror.

“You like?”

“Mhmm, very much” His blue eyes drink in your curves “You should see the way your hips looks from here”

You snort and roll your eyes before going to your shoe rack and snatching up a pair of ebony heeled over the knee boots.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, mister” You grin at him from your place on your bed as you tug on the boots. Bucky looks insanely handsome. Not that that wasn’t usual. Fuck, he was always the prettiest person in the room, but the navy sweater that he wears is snug on his broad chest, paired with dark wash jeans and a pair of dapper looking, hide colored Chelsea style boots was really something. He’s trimmed up his beard and slicked his hair back.

“Well I’ve gotta’ keep up with you, don’t I? I cant have you looking all gorgeous and me looking like a scrub. It’s unsightly”

You scoff out a laugh as you stand, wiggling to adjust everything “Like you’ve ever looked like a scrub a day in your life, Bucky”

You then go up to him, smiling, reaching to press your lips peckingly to his, your hands roaming teasingly light over his chest.

“Merry Christmas Eve, baby” You whisper into his mouth.

“Mmm, Merry Christmas Eve, doll” He replies between little kisses, his arm winding around your thick middle “You smell so good tonight”

“Thank you, I think that might be the cookies, but thank you” He chuckles into your mouth and you swallow it greedily, loving the tickle of his beard. The peek of his tongue, poking out to swipe at your bottom lip enticingly-

“We have to head out soon” You press one last kiss to his lips before pulling away, knowing if you let it, it would go to far and you’d just put on lipstick!

“Why'do you gotta’ be the worst tease all the time?” Bucky sighs through his nose, good naturedly and you shrug innocently, telling him that he loved it and not to pout, because frown lines.

You shrieked when he’d grabbed you and pressed your body into the wall, pinning you with his own.

So you guys could be a little late…

After packing up Bucky’s car with the fuck load of presents and food that you guys were bringing to the parties, you start your journey.

Over the river and through the snow…

More like over the Verrazano Bridge and through the hundreds of other cars on the road.

The drive isn’t so bad, all the radio stations seem to be playing Christmas music and you crank it up and belt your lungs out.

“I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need” You attempt(and fail) to resemble Mariah’s sultry voice and Bucky think’s your sexy even when you’re terribly off key as you crook your finger over his cheek, his jaw, and under his chin.

“I just want you for my own, more then you could ever know. Make my wish come true(you both cant help but laugh out loud at the way your voice breaks) All I want for Christmas is you”

The rest of the ride goes a lot like that. You annoying your boyfriend, as usual, and him being totally amused by your antics. Also as usual.

Your childhood home, in Staten Island, is first on the roster.

When he parks down the street because of all of the other parked vehicles you take a deep breath and look to him for reassurance.

“Let’s rock this shit?” You announce and he grins at you like maybe your the sun.

“Definitely, doll”

It’s chaos. Twinkling, red and green colored chaos in your grandmothers house. Your Aunt’s and Uncles, and great Aunts and Uncles and littering cousins and siblings are all in the small space. Your family was big, like crazy big, and they all seemed to be condensed into the house. There’s at least twenty(thirty) people already there and at least half of them are children. Screaming, wild kids. You squeeze Bucky’s hand, because yeah he’d met them before, had survived Thanksgiving, but still…

“They’re here. Y/N and Bucky are here!” Your Aunt Gina, one of many, announces loudly. Her Staten Island native accent thick “Come in, come in! You’re letting all the heat out”

Your family is handsy. That’s just the blunt truth. Touchy and over the top.

She pulls you both in and you balance the platter of cookies inbetween you as she hugs you both tight. Bone cracking tight

“Look at you! Don’t you look pretty, Sal! Sal, doesn’t she look so pretty?!” Her voice is loud in your ear, her hand never heaving your shoulder. That’s how most all of the introductions go as you make your way through the room, snug hugs. Cheek kisses. Bucky even survives your Aunt Ang and her full on mouth kisses. Your only the hot commodity for a moment, another one of your family members showing up soon after. Thank god. You put the presents under the tree with the mountains of others and take off your coats, hanging them in the over flowing coat closet.

The atmosphere is bustling and lively and you can tell the drinks have been flowing.

Everyone was talking over each other. Energy sparking the way it always does at Holliday gatherings. Just barley subdued, the possibilities of arguments high.

You and Bucky make your rounds, making sure to mingle and speak with most everyone just a little before settling down in the kitchen with your sister and a few of your favorite cousins…

All of their eye’s red rimmed.

“You guys are so stoned” Bucky chuckles after a moment of talking to them. It’s met with giggles and jumbled answers and ‘were going to head out back soon if you wanna’ come, man"

“Nah, I’m drivin, or else most definitely I would”

“You down, Y/N?” Your cousin asks next and you shake your head vehemently.

“Hell no, the last time I smoked with you I couldn’t stand for an hour! I was stuck on that couch! Aunt Vicki almost called an ambulance, do you remember that?” The memory brings on rounds of laughter, spurs on even more embarrassing stories. Childhood ones- the teenaged ones were the worse and you blush and as Bucky digs for more, in stiches at stories of your life.

He’s good at this, talking. Being charming and helpful and warm.

Everyone loves him, as they always had and he helps your grandmother serve food. Holds his own with your uncles, doesn’t flinch as your younger cousins hang on him like monkeys, or ask about his prosthetic arm.

“He is so handsome its almost hard to look at him for too long” You’re standing with a group of women, all of them your blood.

You beam proudly “Isn’t he though?”

“How the hell’d you catch a man like that, Y/N?” one of your cattier cousins asks and it stings, yeah, but you shrug it off. Having a big family meant you’d grown up with thick skin. Learned to not take anything to personally early.

“Some men like a woman with a little meat on her bones!” Another of your cousins snaps at her. Another slight wince. It had nothing to do with body types.

“I aint tryin’ to start anything!” Catty cousin defends, lying “I’m just sayin’ he looks like a Calvin Klein model! I mean even Beyoncé married a Jay-Z. Y/N, got lucky! That’s all”

“Hun, you better hold on to that one tight. Suck his dick when he wakes up. Suck his dick when you make him breakfast, suck his dick before he goes to work-” one of your various Aunts gives you her 'relationship motto’

Oh, how you love family gatherings.

“It had nothing to do with luck and everything to do with self respect” You smile, because that’s all you can do. You know that this could easily turn into a fight, and you refused to do that in your grandmothers home. “And auntie, I don’t know if my jaw could handle all that”

“If anything he’s the lucky one” Your sister interjects, her eyes hard at your cousin “Did you tell them about that promotion you got a work? Fucking crazy. She beat out a shit ton'a people for it!”

You swing an arm around her neck and kiss her cheek. You’d always been close, always been each others support.

And that’s how you end up doing shots.

A shot for your promotion.

A shot for your Uncle’s company getting the deal he’d been working on.

A shot for your Aunt remodeling her house?

And finally, one for your mother. May god rest her soul.

Luckily the spread is large enough for you to balance the liquor in your stomach with food. Your left pleasantly tipsy, but not drunk. It takes the edge off of things for the couple of hours that you and Buck spend with your family. He nurses the same beer the whole time, turning down any hard alcohol which you commend him on because you came from a long line of peer pressures. You both make sure not to eat too much, knowing that you had two more meals to go through.

Your family, luckily, decides to open presents early this year. A lot of them working early in the morning, needing to leave before it got too late. It’s a mess of multi colored wrapping paper as the presents are dibbied out and then torn into. You have a small pile infront of you and it makes you happy that your Aunt Gina, your sister and your grandmother had taken the time to get Bucky gifts too(they were your inner family, and had spent more time with him then anyone)

You end up with a pile of makeup, gift cards, home goods a pair of pajamas and socks. Lot’s of socks. That was your families thing. Everyone in the room had been fixed some.

Bucky holds up his own pair of fuzzy socks with a grin.

“You’re a real part of the family now, Bucky!” Your sister teases drunkly, but seriously and you agree with a nod and a kiss you his cheek.

“We’ve accepted you as our own”

You don’t stay long after that, and saying goodbyes is as long and taking as the introductions had been. You hug your grandmother tight, telling her how much you loved her and she pets your hair thanking you for your gift(a large, iron vined framed picture of all of the grandkids) and whispering in your ear that it was her favorite. Your Aunt Gia gives you a “Do ya’ really have to go? Oh, alright. Drive safe, baby. It’s nuts out there!” As you exit out into the bitter December air. The walk to the car sobers you back up real quick.

“We survived” you cheer melodramatically, digging your hands into the pockets of your trench coat for warmth.

“I told you we would be fine!” Bucky chuckles as you slide into his car, he instantly cranks up the heat.

“I don’t know, I almost lost my life back there a few times” you jest playfully as he pulls out into the street “They all love you like crazy, you know that? My cousins want to steal you from me”

“Well it doesn’t surprise me, I’m a lovable guy-” you roll your eyes at him “But I’ve already found the only L/N I want” he takes your hand, holding the wheel one handed and presses a kiss to your knuckles. It makes your chest ache.

“I love you” You tell him, honestly. Wholey.

“'Love you too, dollface- did you really used to sneak guys in through your window?” He chuckles and you shake your head.

“I was sixteen, Buck, shut up”

“I just don’t get how you could even fit 'em through there! That basement Windows like a foot across”

“I was a crafty teenager, okay?”

“Crafty? Or bad?”

“Bad” You confess “Definatley so bad. I gave my mom a run for her money” the end is noted with sadness. Melancholy. Even though your mother had passed years ago, holidays never failed to bring the memory of her to the surface.

Bucky’s been noticing it all night, keeping his tongue in cheek. Not knowing exactly how to comfort you.

“You okay, baby?” He asks and you shake your head and nod, giving him a soft smile. “Of course!”

“Okay…you let me know if you’re not. Okay?” He kisses your hand again, eyes not leaving the road. And you kiss his back. “Okay”

The ride back into the city is a BITCH, and it’s filled with both you and Bucky’s curses. The traffic is ridiculous and it takes over an hour to get to Bucky’s parents house.

“Stupid fuckin’ cocksucker. Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you! Learn how to drive!”

Bucky is an it imitating specimen of a man, you don’t blame the guy in the other car for not yelling back.

The duplex that Bucky grew up in is prettily lit up in Christmas lights and he parks in the drive way and you two rush in with arm fills of gifts and food.

Bucky’s family gathering is much smaller then yours had been. More intimate, less chaotic for sure. His mother, Winni greets you at the door. Hugging you both tightly and leading you into the living room where everyone’s gathered. There’s Rebecca, the eldest of Bucky’s sisters and her two sons, his sister Bonnie is helping his dad, George tinker with the TV and Lizzie, the baby of the family, was on the couch with her girlfriend, laughing with Steve and Peggy about something you couldn’t hear.

Of course Steve was there. Why wouldn’t he be? The Barnes had adopted him into the family decades ago. There might not have been the paper work that came with adopting all of their other children, but still.

You chit chat with Winnie about how bad the drive had been and she teases that she was surprised her son hadn’t gotten out of the car and started a brawl, him and his awful case of road rage.

“No, Ma’, I do have a little self restraint. I’m not like Steve here who couldn’t keep his fists to himself to save his life” Bucky pokes fun at his best friend as they do their man-shake half hug thing.

“Merry Christmas, Punk”

You just walk around them to full hug a very pregnant Peggy. Allowing them to Brokeback Mountian with eachother as they always did.

“Help haul me off this thing, would you?” She begs, reaching up and you laugh and help her to her feet. She really was going to pop any day now.

She blows a whisp of dark hair from her eyes “I can’t wait til’ this child is out of me”

“I bet” you sympathize as you embrace Lizzie, who introduces you to her girlfriend “at least you’re a cute pregnant lady”

“Hah!” Peggy deadpans in response.

Steve hugs you tight, and you giggle at the scrape of his beard. Bucky tells Peggy she’s glowing, like the charmer he is. Squeezes from Rebecca and Bonnie come next and George claps both of you on the shoulder, before dragging Bucky off to the garage show him some new car parts he’d gotten in. Georgie, Becca’s oldest trails them and Steve perks up and looks at Peggy longingly.

“Go on” she sighs and he pecks her cheek in thanks before hopping up to follow.

“You can only stay in there until dinners ready!” Winnie hollers behind them “I’m dead serious, if you’re not back in here when this ham comes outta’ the oven I’m dragging you all back in this house by your ears. You hear me!”

Each of them men give her a “yes mam” and you spire to be Winifred Barnes when you grow up.

Being at Bucky’s parents is relaxing, it’s nice and calm and you talk with the women idly. Helping out with dinner here and there, catching up with Bucky’s sisters and Peggy. You end up with Rebecca’s youngest son, Conner, in your lap. As usual. You loved the 5 year old and luckily, that love was reciprocated.

“You happy to see your girlfriend, Con?” Becca teases her son who just glares at her a little. With those signature stormy blue he shared with his mother and Uncle.

“She ain’t my girlfriend, Mommy, she’s Uncle Buck’s!” He corrects her sternly. “Duh”

It earns him laughs and coo’s.

“Uh huh, your right, But don’t duh me, ya hear” Rebecca warns, lightly, before she joins her mom in the kitchen.

“You excited to have one of your own?” Bonnie questions Peggy who rubs her purtruding stomach for a moment.

“Yeah” She nods “I think I’m more excited to be able to drink wine again, though. It’s killing me to watch you all. You have no idea how lucky you are”

“I’ve heard it’s okay for pregnant women to drink a glass of wine a day” Lizzie chimes.

“Uh huh, you try telling Steve that” Peggy rolls her dark eyes.

“He still in crazy over protective papa bear mode?” You wonder, knowingly. He’d been extremely dutiful during the duration of her pregnancy. Highlight extreme.

“Yep” Is all Peggy says, the two of you sharing a look. You spent a good chunk of your time with her, obviously, and she’s become a good friend. She’d vented to you many a time about lumberjack, dad to be Steve who forgot that she was a trained cop.

“Oh my gosh, you just fucking wait Y/N. When you and Bucky start to have kids he’s going to be a thousand times worse” Lizzie giggles “He literally walked me to and from school til’ junior year when I begged him to stop. I can only imagine him as a dad”

Your ears burn at that and you bite your lips together as you try to stay casual. Had you thought about baring Bucky Barnes’ children before? Yes. Many times. But to hear it out loud was something else.

“You and Uncle Buck are gonna’ have babies?” Connor asks you and you almost choke on your spit.

“Maybe one day, buddy, I don’t know” you answer him, honestly, and he mules it over, deep in thought.

“If he sperms you, right?”

Oh hell no.

He says it so confidently and bluntly that you don’t know how to react. His aunts laugh and Peggy bites her fist, her cherry red lips pulled into a grin.

“What? That’s what Toby said! Stop laughing at me!” And you just hug the child’s head to your chest because bless his soul, you knew he was going to get teased about this forever.

You venture out into the cold of the backyard to retrieve the men for dinner, braving the winter air that is specked with little flakes of white. They dizzily swirl from the sky and you take a moment to revel in it. Wrapped in your coat, your tilt your face upwards and breath the frigid air into your lungs. Your still just the tiniest bit tipsy and it feels good to be in the quiet, your cheeks that had been flushed since you’d left your grandmothers welcome the cool night.

That only lasts for a minute or so. You do, after all, have a dress and tights on so you hurry into the garage in order not to turn into an icicle.

Bucky’s under his father’s jacked up, classic Thunderbird, and little Georgie’s handing him tools. Steve and George senior are under the hood and none of them seem to realize you’d walked in. They’re all so animated, chattering excitedly about the car.

“Mhmhm” You cough to make your presence known and three pairs or eyes turn to you, Bucky’s head peeks out at you from under the car “I come as the messenger; Winnie said you all better get your butt’s inside before she has to come out here herself”

George sighs, pushing his glasses up his nose and grumbling that “They’d better get in, that woman doesn’t mess around” before shuffling out of the garage, stopping to squeeze your shoulder fondly before shouting “You better shut that hood real delicately, Steve! And Don’t leave anything loose down there, Buck!” then he’s gone. Little George right after him, tugging on his hand.

“You heard the man” You sass as you lean against the door frame, amused. Watching the two beefy men make sure to leave their father’s car as he’d asked.

Bucky, being Bucky, couldn’t go one day without tinkering with some kind of vehicle and his fingers are mucky, stained black from the underbelly of the Firebird and he had a smear of it on his forehead. You just grin and lick your thumb, ushering him closer so that you can wipe it away fondly. Your grease monkey of a boyfriend.

Dinner is delicious. Too delicious. You stuff your self to the brim with Ham and all the trimmings and sides. Bucky’s family really can cook, you suspect he’d gotten his chef like skills from his mother and father. Peggy eats her body weight in the decadent lasagna and Steve eats so many deviled eggs that he ends up having to pop the button on his jeans. Bucky’s head lulls onto your shoulder after he feasts his way through three heaping plates, barley able to move.

“I don’t know if I can eat anything else for a week” He grumbles into your ear and you pat his cheek.

“Positive thoughts and perseverance, baby” you chime back at him.

The second round of present opening of the night is a happy little affair. Bucky’s mom likes the candle set you’d gotten her(along with the spa appointments to go with them) and his dad is happy for the robe and new foot massager that he could plug into his favorite chair. His sisters are grateful for their gift cards and Bath&Body Works products. Georgie and Connor go to rip open the LEGO sets you and Bucky had gotten for themalmost instantly and Becca hollers for them to clean up their messes.

“Y/N, Bucky, oh my god” Peggy gasps as she unwraps her gift. It’s an set of Ornaments, customized and ornate with her ultrasound pictures encapsulated in each. Steve laughs as he pulls out the Harley Davidson crib mobile from his own box. You and Bucky had worked hard on their gifts and seeing them so happy made both of you beam excitedly.

Each of Bucky’s sister gets you a gift a gift card to Sephora, a LUSH bag full of goodies and from Lizzie your eyes widen as you look into the bag that was labeled “To: Buck & Y/N. Love you lots, Lizzie. Have Fun!”

It’s two boxes, one labeled 'Naughty Dice’ and the other a 'Love is Art: Body Painting Kit’

You try to keep the giddy, nervous giggles at bay and Bucky glares at her “Lizzie!”

“What? I’m just trying to help you keep the romance alive!” She protests innocently “They’re really fun, I promise. I’ve played them myself” She winks an Bucky grimaces and shakes his head, telling his Ma’ that she didn’t want to see what was in the bag when Winnie insisted he show her. Secretly, you were more then a little excited to play with them later.

You spend only an hour or so more with them, digesting and laughing a drinking. Both you and Buck have your fair share of scotch with his father. The Clubhouse wasn’t far from here, and since both Steve and Peggy were staying sober(“If she cant drink, neither can I”) they’d agreed that one of them would drive Bucky’s car for him.

You leave the Barnes household warm and happy. Full and carrying bags of presents and wrapped up left overs that Bucky’s mom insisted you take with you. You decide that you and Peggy would go in her car since she had driven and Steve would drive behind you with Bucky in his. Luckily, you’d happened to park the two cars beside each other so the pack up and arranging wasn’t hard.

You’re drunk. Not shitfaced, or wasted, but drunk. To where the cold doesn’t affect you and you hang on Bucky for longer then necessary, kissing him over and over, sucking on his bottom lip unabashedly. He’s a little drunk himself, so he just clutches you tighter and reciprocates by nipping the side of your mouth.

“Christ, you guys!” Steve laughs, interrupting the two of you “It’s a ten minute drive. He’s not going off to Nam! Let’s go!”

“You’re just jealous” Bucky shoots at him, his arms still wrapped around your waist. His breaths come out in vapor like puffs due to the cold.

“You taking a jab at my relationship, Barnes?” Peggy glares ruefully at him, before she slips into the drivers seat of his car.

“No mam, I don’t have the balls for that” You laugh and separate from him “Don’t let her crash my baby” Bucky teases.

“I am a far better driver then you could ever hope to be!” Peggy hollers at him.

You and Peggy spend the short drive belting out 'Jingle Bell Rock’, you much more animated then her in your inebriated state. She humors you all the same though.

“I love you so much, Peg, you know that?” You tell her earnestly as you pull up to the Clubhouse, the bright lettered sign of “The Tower: Home of the Howling Commando’s” proud and bright on the window outside. Usually, the biker bar full to the brim, the parking lot over flowing, but tonight was a members only night and only familiar cars and bikes were parked out front.

“I love you too, Y/N” Peggy shakes her head with a chuckle as she finds a space, and then unbuckles.

“No seriously, I don’t know how I ever would have adjusted to this whole "Old Lady” thing without you" You continue “Your like my british biker fairy god mother”

And Peggy informs you that she was going to have that etched into her tombstone with a bark out laughter.

The bar is cozy and filled with family. Not blood family, but maybe something even more important then that. The family that Bucky had chosen for himself, the family that had accepted you with open arms. You’d think a biker bar full of big men in leathers would be more ominous, right?

Wrong.

Thor was hurrying out of the kitchen with a tray of piping hot cookies, his brother Loki right behind him hissing about him having burnt them. Bruce is nursing a mug of what you knew wasn’t only hot coco, a dopey smile on his face as he belted out carols with Happy. Tony had a santa hat perched haphazardly on his head and sat with the kids at the smaller kiddy table that had been dragged out, insisting his adoptive son Peter join them. Peter, who insisted he was seventeen and not seven played on his phone, his mom, Pepper next to him subtly taking pictures of her Santa capped husband. Natasha and Sam were cuddled up at that bar with Wanda, Vis and Pietro. Clint’s behind the bar as usual, mixing up wonky looking eggnog cocktails that you knew were probably killer. Pietro reaches across the wood to press a kiss to his knuckles.

It’s a sight, a beautiful one. A magical one and you truly feel lucky to have all these people in your life. You could cry, but you didn’t want to mess up your eye makeup.

“Look who finally decided to join us!” Sam boomed, coming over “We were thinking ya’ll got lost out there in that storm, just bout'a come find you”

“It’s been a long night, bird brain. I told ya’ we’d be a little late” Bucky hugs the man good heartedly “I bet you demolished all the Budwisers already, huh?”

“You snooze you loose, Sarge. All that’s left are the 'Lite’s’” Sam grins.

The atmosphere here is your favorite of the night. Filled with joy, everyone talking to one an other. Enjoying each other. Most comfortable and at peace with each other. There’s many drinks that are drank and many stories told. There’s hugging and god awful singing and the crew of Bikers letting loose like they always did. It was like any other night with them, except with spiked eggnog and Christmas trees. It’s laid back and relaxed and you sit in the circle of Bucky’s arms content, your head resting on his shoulder as you engage in multiple conversations easily.

At the stroke of midnight; you all open gifts. There’s a ton of them, everyone had gotten everyone a little something.

Except for Tony, ever luxurious, who had gotten everyone not so little somethings.

It’s funny, that they give each other everything from sweaters and baking mittens(for Thor), to X-Boxes and nerdy gifts galore, to numerous bike parts. Eclectic, just like they are. You end up with another little pile of gifts; your favorites a glittery gold thermos, furry slippers and that pair of sunglasses that Natasha had seen you ogle at the mall. Peggy and Steve gift you a Harry Potter collectors book kit and you squeal out loud. “Oh my god, I love it!”

And Tony and Pepper give you and Bucky a-

“Holy shit, Tone!” Bucky gasps as you open up the huge present, an 84’ high definition smart TV.

“I thought it would go nice in the living room. You know, with all of the redecorating you’re about to be do-” Bucky cuts him off with glare at the same time that Pepper slaps his chest.

“Redecorating?” You ask, suspicious, looking up at your boyfriend “Why are you redecorating?”

“Don’t worry about it doll” Bucky murmurs, easily distracting you with that dimpled smile You let it drop, but you don’t forget it. You gnaw on it the rest of the night, silently. Laughing and having a good time with your friends but still thinking about it in the back of your head.

It’s a little after two when you and Bucky drag yourselves and the piles of gifts up to his apartment, above the bar.

“We made it” He smiles at you as you yank off your uncomfortable heeled boots and plop onto his sofa with a groan.

“I’m so tired” You wine. So tired and drunk and full. You honestly just wanted to crawl into Bucky’s bed and crash but he reminded you that you had yet to exchange presents with each other.

“Oh yeah!”

You gaze at his little tree, and the gifts that lay under them. You’d wanted it to be more intimate, just you and him for these.

“Can we go get changed first? I think these spanx are cutting off the circulation to my brain” You announce and he snorts and tells you of course. You end up in your panties and one of Bucky’s giant shirts that fit even your curvy body loosely. It didn’t go down to your knees or anything, and he could see your ass cheeks peek out from the bottom of it but it was comfy and soft and smelled like him. The two of you make yourselves comfortable on the floor infront of the lit tree, sitting criss cross opposite of eachother.

Bucky hands you the gifts he’s gotten you, and he’s not going to lie; he went a little crazy on you this year. Wanting to spoil the ever loving shit out of his girl. There’s big boxes and small boxes and bags. About ten or more of them and you grin and blush as he gives them to you. You then hand him his own, there were a few less, but then again you’d dropped a pretty penny on some of them so it made up for it. Not that he cared, about the amount. At all. He just felt special enough that the two of you were here, together.

“Ready?” He grins at you and you nod eagerly, biting your lip. “How do you wanna do this? One after the other? Or let’s just go crazy?”

“One after the other!” You insist “I want to see your reactions!”

And so that’s what you do. You open one, and then he does.

You go first one of the bigger boxes; a Michael Kors bag that you had been dying over for months.

“Baby!” You smile. “I love it”

“It cost a car payment” He teases and you pout “But that’s okay, I’m happy you like it”

Then him. He goes for one of the boxes too-

“What the fuck!”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah I like it, Y/N, oh my god” He looks at the new iPad with shocked eyes. He’d been complaining about needing an updated one, that he needed it to manage the garage better.

You: A collection of Mac lipsticks

Him: A nice, antique-esque shaving kit

You: A huge fuzzy blanket to add to your collection

Him: A new pair of riding sunglasses and gloves. Stylish ones, dark leather.

You hold up the striped pink Victoria’s secret bag “Is this for me or you, huh?”

“Let’s just say they’re for the both of us” Bucky grins and you dig through the lacy panties and bras that he’d bought. All in your size, when he’d asked your breast size you’d known this was why. They’re pretty, right up your alley cause he knows what you like. Blacks and creams, eyelash lace and delicate bows. You hold up one set though, that’s bright red and eye catching.

“That one’s definitely for me though” He licks his lips and you smirk at him.

He’s gone to all of your favorite stores; LUSH, Sephora, Target. He’d even made a trip to that little metaphysical store in SOHO, the witchy one you liked so much and gotten you crystals. You loved every gift you opened, because you could tell he’d really thought about you with each.

He’s more then surprised at what you get him; the parts for that Harley he was building from the ground up. Expensive, rare ones that he knew had to have been a bitch to hunt down. He gawks at you.

“Steve helped” You giggle. You’d got him his favorite cologne, and a couple records because he was old fashioned and he could add them to his collection. You’d taken the time to go to a nice lingerie store, one that specialized in plus sizes, and had purchased a striking, red bustier set with a matching barley there lace thong and garters. You knew it was his favorite color on you.

Bucky groans and fingers the fabric as he looks it over “I think this one’s my favorite, doll”

“Shut up!” You giggle, ushering him to open your last gift. You chew on your lip, hoping he liked it as you watch him unwrap and unbox it.

Bucky was very attached to his tattered leather riding jacket. He’d had it for years, and you weren’t sure that getting him a new one had been a good idea, but when you’d seen it you’d just had to order it. It looked just like his lucky one, except new, not falling apart.

“Where did you get this?” He wonders as his eyes trail over it.

“A website from this little boutique in Manhattan”

He cant believe it…it’s almost identical to the one he’d had since his early twenties he stands so that he can shrug into it, nearly gasping at the fit.

How in the hell?…

“Do you like it?” You whisper up at him as he stares down at you.

“I fuckin’ love it Y/N! Holy shit” He rolls his shoulders, amazed. You beam and stand up too.

“There’s another little thing” You feel the most nervous for this as you pull on his let arm, cuffing the leather so that the inside revealed a little trinket dangling from the inside of the sleeve. It’s a gold and heartshaped, almost like a tiny locket and as he raised his arm to inspect it he see’s both of your initials engraved into it.

“Remember how on that first date we went on, you told me you wear your heart on your sleeve?” Your words are barley above a whisper as your big, doll like eyes, gaze up at him. The knot in his throat has him nearly panting as he rests his forehead against your own.

“I love you so goddamn much” He says, his breath fanning out across your face and you bask in his praise, his knuckles gently rasp against your cheek and you feel like you might burst. Or melt. One of the two. You stay like that for a moment before he pulls back.

“I’ve got one more for you” He tells you, reaching into the drawer of the table and pulling out a small box.

Your stomach does knots. Your mind goes haywire

That’s a jewelry box, no doubt. He hands it to you and you just stare at it blankly for a moment.

“Well open it, Y/N” He laughs and you exhale a shaky breath and do as he says.

The ring inside of it is gorgeous, a small little oval diamond, encased by opal stones on a simple white gold band, your eyes snap up to his in alarm.

“It’s not an engagement ring” He reassures fast and you untense- just a little as he slides it onto your left ring finger “It’s a promise ring, because I know we’ve only been together nine months, but they’ve been the best of my life. As fuckin’ cheesy as that sounds. I know that one day, your the woman I’m going to marry. I don’t want anyone else, ever again. And so I vow myself to you with this. I’m only loyal to you, baby. I’m only yours, I got myself one too”

Why are you crying? You cant stop the tears that roll down your cheeks. You feel overwhelmed, so loved. In a way that you’d never experienced before him.

“These are happy tears I hope” He laughs, nervously, catching the moisture with his thumb.

“Yes, fuck yes. They’re happy, baby. I’m so happy” You croon as you finally pull yourself together enough to throw your arms around his neck and press kiss after kiss to his lips. His cheeks, his chin, his nose. Anywhere you can reach. He giggles and leans into the onslaught of kisses.

“Wait, there’s more”

“More?” You ask. What more? How? He pulls up the lapel to the box to reveal a key. You take it out and inspect it, your eyebrows knitted together and your eyes calculating.

“It’s to here” Bucky clarifies “To this apartment” you still don’t understand so he goes on “I know your lease is up in January and I figured…Y/N, do you want to move in here with me? I know it’s not the Taj Mahal or anything, but I thought we could redecorate. Make it feel like your space too, you know? So that you don’t just feel like a guest…I want to share this with you. I want to share a home with you, because I fuckin’ hate waking up with out you. I know were probably going to irritate the shit outta’ eachother, but I don’t care. I want to live with you”

Crying. You’re crying again and you wordlessly jump back into his arms, and he stumbles a little bit, but catches you none the less, like he always does. Like he always will.

“Yes, yes” You manage to get out between tears and he just holds you tight, grinning like a mad man. Like someone who’d just won the lottery.

“Merry Christmas, baby doll”

A Merry Christmas it was, indeed.

Wow this was long and so fluff filled I’m almost feeling sick to my stomach. Little blurbs and background facts from the story:

-Bucky is adopted, Rebecca is is biological sister but the Barnes adopted all of their children.

-Clint and Laura are divorced but still get along and are close friends and he and Pietro are in a relationship.

-Tony and Pepper adopted Peter when he was a few years back after Aunt May passed

-Bucky owns both the bar, the above apartment and the garage that’s attached to it.

I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’m really thinking about developing this into a full length story, what do you guys think? Leave me some feedback! I love reading your comments, I love connecting with you all on here.

[cookinguptales]

Okay so weird question, but how exactly did you get diagnosed with POTS? I was diagnosed with hypermobility syndrome and partial arrhythmia a while ago, and it's only just recently that I've had a doc wonder if I have POTS. He didn't really tell me anything about POTS, and now I'm really lost! Do you think it's unlikely that I could get to be 21 and not be diagnosed?

Strap in, friend, because the story of how I got diagnosed is long and unpleasant.

So to start off, here’s a basic explanation of Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. It’s a syndrome, which means that it is a description of a collection of symptoms rather than an underlying cause. Frankly, doctors aren’t super sure why any of this happens, what exactly causes it, or even if it’s genetic or what. (But my mom, sister, and grandmother all show signs of mild POTS, so uh. It’s probably genetic.) The long and short of it, though, is that your blood vessels are supposed to automatically tighten or release in order to control blood flow. When you stand up, they tighten to counteract gravity and make sure blood stays where it should be. When you have POTS, your blood vessels don’t do what they’re supposed to do. Your autonomic nervous system stops controlling this tightening and loosening process, which means your blood flow is not being adequately controlled. (Also, there seems to be some research showing that #1, we tend to have more elastic blood vessels, which means they just expand when they fill up more – bad because that means your body can’t use blood pressure to regulate blood flow, either, and #2, we may not always have enough blood in our bodies to fill our blood vessels, so again, shitty blood pressure.) ANYWAY, what all this means in practice is that assorted parts of your body aren’t getting enough blood, or they’re getting too much blood. Blood does all sorts of important things for your organs, especially oxygenating them, so this really means that POTS is an “anything that can go wrong will go wrong” situation. Anything in your body that uses blood can go haywire at any time. And sorry to say, that’s everything.

Now, POTS is highly variable. Again, it’s a loose collection of symptoms, and those symptoms are different for literally every patient. POTS is actually super common in teenage girls, but it tends to be very mild and some teens (mostly boys, mind) completely grow out of it, so people often don’t even notice they have it. People only just started researching it and it’s still not talked about much, which, well, is probably due to sexism. I learned the hard way that teenage girls are not generally listened to when they complain about nebulous symptoms, especially if those symptoms have literally anything to do with hormones and menstruation. (Which POTS does. It’s…I think ¾ of all people who have it are biologically female, and onset usually accompanies periods of hormone fluctuation such as start of menstruation, childbirth, or start of menopause. Most sufferers get it in their teens when they start getting their period.) Like… It’s hard to really put this in a gender neutral way because I promise you, the reason doctors are shitty about POTS is tied to both the biological and societal effects of being female. That’s an aside though.

Anyway, tl;dr, it’s different for everyone and doctors think you’re nuts. When I was diagnosed, in the informational packet literally said “THIS IS NOT ALL IN YOUR HEAD” because so many patients have been repeatedly told that. For me, I was actually uh. I don’t want to say lucky? But in some ways I guess, yeah, lucky. I have a really bad case of POTS with some really severe symptoms. I have a lot of digestion problems, extreme exhaustion problems, dizziness, faintness, anxiety/depression, pooling/tingling/coldness in extremities, and here’s the biggie – blindness. When I stand up, I often just straight-up go blind. (Or if I’m just sitting there doing fucking nothing if I’m on an airplane.) It was really bad especially when I was a teenager. It used to be like literally every fucking time I stood up. (We later found out it was because all the blood was draining out of my head bc gravity. Turns out your brain likes blood! This is also why it hurts so much.) Now, doctors ignored most of what I told them about exhaustion, trouble keeping down food, aches and pains, etc. I was repeatedly told “oh, well, that’s just part of being a teenage girl”. Like honestly, try telling someone that you have exhaustion, pain, and nausea relating to a period and see how seriously you get taken. Jesus.

BUT UH THEY COULD NOT IGNORE THE BLINDNESS. Like I don’t care how teenage girl-y you are, it is not normal to go blind on the regular! My doctors could not figure out what the hell was happening. And I do mean doctors. I got POTS when I was around 10, along with my period. I was diagnosed when I was almost 18. In the meantime, I was passed around between dozens of doctors and honestly? I was a guinea pig. They didn’t know what was wrong with me so I was subjected to constant barrage of tests and treatments that made me a hell of a lot sicker. I was going to like 3 different doctors a week, sometimes every day. There are very few medical tests I have not had at least once. Some of the treatments they tried, I later learned, carried a strong risk of addiction, permanent neurological damage, and death. I was a drugged-out mess trying to drag myself through 15 flavors of physical therapy every day. Like uh. In short, my teenage years weren’t…good… 

I finally got referred to like my sixth neurologist, and the guy was like “okay, you have been passed around between neurologists, cardiologists, ENTs, sleep disorder specialists, etc. for YEARS and we don’t know what’s wrong, so it makes no sense to keep ‘treating’ you – so I’m gonna take some readings and send them (and you) to a research hospital”. And that’s what he did! He took me off all of my medications (leading to the kind of DTs that honestly possibly could have killed me; I researched a few of the medications later and let’s just say you’re not supposed to go off them cold turkey) and did some tests. He found out some stuff like my blood pressure moves around a lot when I stand up. And sometimes my blood pressure was as low as 60/40. (Yo, that’s almost dead. The nurse took the reading three times with two different machines bc she was freaking out, lmao.) So he referred me to Mayo Clinic.

Now, what I did not know before this was that Mayo was actually the clinic that had discovered (and still researched) POTS! They saw a lot of girls like me. They took some blood, did a few tests, and when I had my appointment with them, they knew in under a half hour that I had POTS. I…cried. A lot. haha. It was so bizarre how many things in my life were actually an indicator of POTS. They were like “do you often sit all folded up?” and I basically exclusively do – and often got in trouble for it in school – and they were like “yeah, that’s POTS, you unconsciously try to keep all your limbs tucked in to reduce how far your blood needs to go”. Which is, I guess, why I tend to lose sensation in my legs and/or have my feet turn purple when I sit in normal chairs. lol. “Do you ever get dizzy or black out when you stretch or yawn?” oh yeah. “Do you get really sick when you take hot showers?” almost died once or twice, check! “Do you get weak when you lift things above your head?” you betcha. “Do you have a lot of problems with heat and sunlight?” OH YES I DO. Living in Florida was hell. I’d be vomiting and unable to stand up after like 30 minutes outside in the summer. I still vomit and get migraines if I look at a sunset, when the sun is strongest. Sensory sensitivity, especially photosensitivity, is a thing with POTS.

The actual diagnosis of POTS is kind of difficult. They usually have to do a ton of tests to rule everything else out first. Then they’ll usually try a tilt-table test (they tilt ya and measure your heart rate to see if your heartbeat skyrockets to help battle your blood doing weird shit) or a sweat test (which I am told is supposed to be painless but was one of the most painful experiences of my life so maybe it was a POTS thing) or look at your pee and see if you’re hella dehydrated. If you have POTS, you’re pretty much always hella dehydrated. (Gross but important: a symptom I never mentioned bc I didn’t know how abnormal it was – it burned like HELL when I peed. Turns out I was grossly, dangerously dehydrated. My urine was so concentrated that it was literally burning my urethra. idk how this slipped by so many doctors, but drink some dang water!) So it’s really a combination of tests for diagnosis, and they have to know to look for it in the first place! More and more doctors know about POTS now, but when I was first diagnosed almost a decade ago (this February! :’) when I went to college none of the school doctors knew about it. My family doctor didn’t know. None of my specialists knew about it. They wouldn’t give me student vaccinations bc they didn’t know how they’d interact with my brain. lol. It’s better now, though! I recently got a new doctor when I left my school’s health system, and she knew what POTS was! I was so happy, haha. Once I had a doctor literally google it right in front of me, so it was uh. A welcome change.

All this is to say that getting POTS diagnosed can be hell!! And I could definitely buy that you’re 21 and haven’t yet been diagnosed, especially if you’re female. My recommendation is this: the main treatment for POTS is diet and exercise, and that can’t hurt even if you don’t have POTS. I shit you not. There’s no cure or anything, but you are supposed to drink A LOT of water (I drink over a gallon a day, and that’s on days I’m not dealing with the sun) and eat a LOT of salt (”as much as you can stand” was their exact wording) and wear compression clothing (spanx and compression socks help me) and try to keep your body as toned as possible. It’s really easy to get out of shape when you have POTS (god knows I did), but they recommend trying to keep your blood moving. (THOUGH, CAVEAT!! I put on a lot of weight since I got diagnosed, and I have to admit. It’s gotten my blood pressure to a healthier level. So idrk what to make of that.)

I’m not gonna tell you to start eating massive amounts of salt when I don’t know your body, but drinking water can’t hurt you. So if you suspect that you may have POTS, start drinking water. This is not a replacement for a treatment plan, but it can’t hurt you! It can only help! So while you’re working with your doctor, just drink a lot of water and see if it helps you feel better. It is like night and fucking day with me.

Finally, POTS has a high comorbidity rate with other issues. In other words, if you have a severe case of POTS, you probably don’t only have POTS. A common illness to have with POTS is EDS, or Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. It’s a type of hypermobility, which may be why your doctor is concerned. (I don’t have EDS, probably, but I do have some pain/movement issues that they’ve never been able to pin down, so there’s probably…something. idk.)

Here’s my advice. Work with your doctor to try and figure things out. Drink water. Make sure you have a good doctor whom you trust. Even after I got diagnosed, I regularly got medical professionals who believed this shit was all in my head. And try not to worry. Like I said, for most people who have it, POTS is extremely mild. If you change your lifestyle, you might not see many symptoms at all, and if you do, well. Work with that trusted doctor. Hit me up. I know a lot of ways to get a lot of salt in your body. lol

[romancevsreality-blog]

vanderpump rules, season five, episode eighteen: ARE WE DONE YET?

We’re finally back from New Orleans, where Tom and Jax are relaying all the information from the bachelor/ette party. Tom Sandoval is wearing a baseball cap and I want to burn it, it’s not a good look for him. But you know what was, apparently? Dressing up as a woman. Lisa comments that he made a very good-looking woman, and I guess that’s true depending on what your definition of “good looking” is. My definition of “good looking” is Tyra Banks in 1996, but whatever, Lisa. Boost Tom’s ego if you can. Meanwhile, Ariana and Scheana are just straight horrified about what happened with Katie and Tom at the bachelorette party - Ariana remains the voice of reason when she reminds us that choosing to bottle all of your issues usually ends with a nasty, foul, rotten bottle of problems.

Katie and Lisa are meeting, and I’m mostly distracted because Lisa’s holding the fluffiest dog I’ve ever seen in my life and I want nothing more than this dog at this moment. They’re preparing for the annual Sexy Unique Restaurant photoshoot, and the theme this year is “indulgence”, which isn’t a theme. Katie refuses to take any accountability for her actions in her and Tom’s argument because she’s a fucking adult, and maintains that Tom was the one fighting with everyone. Lisa’s nervous for the two of them because the wedding is just two weeks away and they’ve gotta lock this shit down. Let’s be real - these two need to postpone this wedding and go into therapy before they even start considering it, but Bravo production and their own personal vanity will never let that happen in a million years.

Kristen and Stassi go to lunch with their dogs, and Kristen teaches us all how to game the system and getting an emotional support dog. Kristen’s there to help Stassi write her OkCupid profile, which just proves she’s going down the wrong route from the get-go. Stassi, you’re famous. You have enough of a social media following to be on Raya, why aren’t you doing that? Or The League? Or Literally Anything Other Than OkCupid? Then again, I met my ex-boyfriend on OkCupid, so I can’t really talk. Stassi’s instructed to write something about herself other than “I’m on television,” and Kristen suggests “Brunch, dogs, wine, ranch.”

Because of course. Of course, ranch1.

Katie and Tom head over to Villa Rosa to meet with Queen Vanderpump, when suddenly a man in a tuxedo arrives to invite Lisa to be Katie and Tom’s wedding officiant. Aren’t they getting married in two weeks? Who waits this long to pick an officiant? Katie and Tom are awkwardly sheepish about it, and Lisa’s like, “yo - you guys couldn’t get through three days without fighting, how am I supposed to take you seriously?” You’re not, Lisa. She wants them to really consider if getting married is a good idea. Katie’s crying. They talk it out, but it’s mostly bullshit. Katie’s not even sure why they were fighting in New Orleans, and that’s critical - they’re clearly fundamentally not suited for each other to the point where they fight just to fight now. What I find particularly gross about this narrative 180 is that it almost normalizes the level of rancor Tom and Katie displayed toward one another for the bulk of this season. Is your relationship TERRIBLE? Are you and your partner verbally and emotionally abusing each other on a regular basis? If you just sit and have one little chat, it'll be all better in no time. It's that easy! I find it so distasteful.

The gang’s headed all down to the beach, and everyone’s ready for a beach day! Stassi and Scheana discuss Stassi’s date the previous night that she spent mostly making out, and her date tonight.2 Katie and Tom tell the gang about Lisa basically rejecting their request to officiate their wedding. The two of them have a cute cuddly moment on the beach and we’re expected to think everything’s okay with them. So after months of watching Tom and Katie fighting, being terrible to each other and generally showing viewers what not to do in a relationship, are we actually supposed to believe that one conversation with Lisa fixed everything? I understand it's a TV show and there has to be a storyline but shiiiiit, I kept rolling my eyes when they continuously referenced that magical conversation with Lisa fixing everything.

Lisa brings Ariana to meet her bedazzled horse, and Ariana is just… salivating. Even I’m jealous, and I’m allergic to horses. Lisa and Ariana wax poetic about their lives, and Ariana admits to not wanting children, something that horrifies Lisa. I don’t get this idea that some people have that one day you’re just going to wake up and want something you’ve never wanted before. Ariana’s not interested in marriage or babies - let her live.

Stassi wants to look skinny af on her blind date with a guy with “The Greatest Instagram Account [She’d] Ever Seen”3 and Kristen, looking the best she has this season, comes over to help. And by “help”, I mean shame Stassi into not wearing Spanx and helping her come up with a “kit” comprised of Adderall, Plan B, and condoms. Stassi looks great for her date, though.

Tom Sandoval, Best Friend Ever, is treating Jax, Tom Schwartz, and Peter all to spray tans. How kind of him, am I right? Tom and Katie finally had sex, and Jax is terrified of getting spray tanned, but not afraid of officiating Tom and Katie’s wedding. Considering Jax was at the very first wedding to ever exist in the world ever, I don’t see how this is a bad ide- wait. It’s Jax. It’s a terrible fucking idea.

Back over at Fig & Olive, Stassi’s met with David! They’re drinking Sancerre, which is shocking, because Stassi’s well established as a pinot grigio girl. It’s clear from the get-go they’re on different paths - he asks her if she’s interested in hiking, Stassi’s like “hell no,” (Point: Stassi). He works in technology solutions and wakes up at 7 AM daily, which has Stassi straight SHOOK. She doesn’t wake up before noon and she thinks that’s why she’s single. This guy is nice as hell, which is rare for Stassi. She’s mostly glad he’s not a murderer, but he’s still not murdery enough for her. I would watch a Stassi dating spinoff.

It’s the Sexy Unique Restaurant Photoshoot! Everyone’s getting dolled up as if doing a photoshoot half-naked is normal for a job to do! There’s a fake pig with an apple in its mouth and grapes! Tom Schwartz is there, and he doesn’t even WORK there. Tom Sandoval brought multiple outfits because he likes to be prepared. Tom Sandoval is literally my favorite person on earth. He can be dramatic and vain but also wonderful. The girls have to pose in front of the pig and Scheana pretends to have cake in her mouth.

Meanwhile, Stassi and Kristen are still pretending like they have a valid reason to be on this show by going to lunch, where Kristen is freaking out about the fake suckling pig she was sent a photo of by Scheana. It’s hilariously desperate. Stassi admits to not having chemistry with her date and wanting an older dude. I can get behind that - I’ve had a plethora of shitty dates. Kristen has a problem with Lisa Vanderpump sticking her nose into Katie’s business, but we’ve seen what Kristen can do when she sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong. Lisa’s better than you, Kristen, get over it.

This just makes it really apparent how much this show needs James and Lala, god damn it.

Lisa poses with the boys of Sexy Unique Restaurant Plus Tom for a photograph wearing a clip-on hair piece and looking like a sixteen-year-old girl going to homecoming. Meanwhile, Scheana and Katie are sitting outside talking, and Katie’s asking Scheana for advice re: rehearsal dinners and speeches and whatnot. Scheana feels left out and feels like she hasn’t been included in the wedding planning. Whatever. They’re all boarding the Titanic with Tom and Katie, one by one.

Ariana gets naked and covered in grapes with Tom Sandoval, and god damn, Ariana is gorgeous. Basically, each couple gets their time in the grapey sun - Tom and Katie, Ariana and Tom, Jax and Brittany. There’s some weird tension between Jax and Brittany because he won’t tell her she looks beautiful. They then basically try to do the Sexy Unique Restaurant version of The Last Supper. Why you even need a photoshoot, I don’t understand.

Oh, and then Lisa Vanderpump agrees to officiate Tom and Katie’s wedding.

Next Week: LALAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Stassi poses nude. James is back too, barf, with his vocal fry girlfriend. Jax and Tom invite Tom Schwartz’s brother to the wedding? And we’re headed up for Tom and Katie’s nuptials.

See you soon for The Bachelor!

Stassi is right as hell when she says “I might as well be a basic bitch.” WHO CALLS RANCH A DESCRIPTIVE TERM? ↩︎

I love the shade to Scheana’s marriage that’s becoming a constant thing on this show. ↩︎

Is this a standard people are trying to achieve? ↩︎