#i still got some in the freezer for rainy days

[joy-drops]

realized i never posted chili day ヾ(・ω・)

[sometimesanalice]

Sweetest Devotion

Summary: Loving Bradley is the easiest thing you've ever done, and coming home to him is always the best part of your day. Especially when you come home with cake. But a slight mixup at the bakery leads to the sweetest of promises.

Pairing: Bradley ���Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 5k

Warnings: So much fluff (side effects may include giggling and kicking your feet)

(Author’s Note: this fic was written for my one year celebration of the ‘Like I Can’ series, but it can be read on its own!)

After a long week, there was no place you’d rather be than at home with Bradley.

The two of you have been living together for a couple of months now, but seeing his Bronco parked in the driveway of the condo you shared knowing the empty spot next to it is meant for your own still made your heart flutter out of sheer giddiness.

Even if he still teased you about your practical Honda Civic’s lack of street cred. But it did have a spacious backseat with its own set of doors and an actual trunk, unlike the Bronco.

And on the rare rainy days you got in San Diego, Bradley was asking to borrow your car rather than risk the interior of his big blue baby. Those days you just got to preen as you handed over your car keys to him. Sure, you could be the one to drop him off, but it was funnier watching the way he valiantly attempted to hold back his grimace as he tried to adjust the driver’s seat to comfortably fit his bulk.

As you pull into your spot, you’re hit with that same gust of summer breeze warmth you always are as you. It was a feeling you didn’t expect to go away any time soon.

It takes a bit of finesse getting the front door open with your work tote and purse slung over one shoulder while you cradled the paper bags of bread and box of treats you’d stopped for on the way home in the other.

Bradley had texted you to let you know that he was making dinner earlier, but had forgotten the bread during his grocery run and had asked if you didn’t mind making a quick stop to grab some. He’d promised to make it worth your while, and while you would have done it for him anyways, a little extra incentive was always nice.

Especially after the way he had teased you in the shower this morning.

You picked up the baguette that he’d requested along with a couple loaves of fresh bread for sandwiches that you were planning to stick in the freezer for later. At the checkout, they’d had a few fun pink bakery boxes packed with six individually wrapped cake slices in different flavors. It seemed like more fun than the basic red velvet cupcakes you had been debating as you waited for your turn to pay, so you’d picked up one of those boxes too. Since it was Friday, you figured a little treat was very much deserved after such a long week.

The two of you had just gotten back from a little trip back home not too long ago, but you were already dying for another vacation. Ideally one that involved creamy blended beverages served in coconuts and Bradley Bradshaw wearing some 5-inch inseam swim trunks with his thick thighs on display in the golden sunlight.

It had been so nice to see your parents and to visit the sights of your childhood growing up together. You’ve always gone home for holidays, but it had been years since he’d been there with you. Some things had stayed the same like the ice cream shop where Bradley had had his first job. And some things had changed with the times like the empty parking lot where he’d first taught you how to drive was now the site of an upscale organic grocery store. Now that you and Bradley were you and Bradley, the nostalgia of your younger years felt extra sweet as you’d strolled with his hand tucked yours.

It’s a miracle you get through the door without dropping anything.

You’re waiting to hear the scamper of little paws against the laminate floor headed your way as you kick off your heels, Duck was usually the first one to greet you when you got home.

The puppy was growing all too quick for your liking. For as much as Bradley grumbled about being woken up early on the weekends by the black and white ball of fluff, you’ve caught him on more than one occasion cooing at the dog and slipping him treats. The sweet, goofy little dog was the perfect addition to your dynamic duo.

Even if Bradley still got huffy about the name and how Duck had come to be in your life.

On the occasional night when Bob’s friend Casey from the animal shelter- the man you’d been on exactly half of a date with once close to a year ago- was invited to come hang out, your boyfriend always was finding reasons to stand a little closer to you or leave his hands lingering a little longer on your hips. Those nights usually end with the two of you sweaty and out of breath, tangled in the sheets of your canopy bed.

You can hear Bradley singing along with one of his playlists in the kitchen and the sounds of drawers opening and closing as you tuck your purse and tote under the side table at the entrance. You smile to yourself as you drop your key fob into the bowl where his are already resting, the key to his Bronco was on the same keychain with the little fighter jet charm that you’d given him when you were teens when Mav had given him the Montero for his 16th birthday.

Taking the bread and box of cake slices with you, you pass through the living room you see Duck passed out belly up on his Sherpa lined dog bed. His ears flopped out to the side and his little paws twitching as he dreams about chasing balls or squirrels. It’s a good think your hands are full or you’d be collecting even more photos of your sweet boy in addition to the hundreds you already had on your phone.

“I’m home,” you greet, rounding the corner to the kitchen, the savory smell of onions and garlic growing stronger the closer you get, “And I come bearing a baguette.”

Standing in front of the stove is Bradley with a checkered kitchen towel slung over his shoulder. His curls look a little damp, still drying from the shower he must have taken earlier. The soft looking shirt he’s wearing is pulled taut across his back, and the sweatpants he has on are hugging the curve of his ass in the best way. He looks so at ease and comfortable, none of the tense strain in his body that he sometimes comes home with.

Bradley looks over his shoulder towards you with a grin on his face, “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” His pretty brown eyes rake over you in a way that has you wondering about just how he is planning on thanking you for picking up the baguette you’d stopped for. He lets out a low whistle, “Damn, I love that skirt on you.”

“I’m glad you clarified,” you say, sending him a wink and setting your bakery haul down on the island counter, “I wasn’t sure if you were talking to me or the armload of freshly baked carbs.”

He leans his hip on the side of the counter, “A little yeast and flour have got nothing on you, kid.”

“Now you know you can’t go around saying things like that an expect me not to fall in love with you,” you tease, opening the freezer to put the sandwich bread away.

“I’m failing to see a problem with that- oh shit,” he curses, hastily turning back to the stove to adjust the range knob as something spits and sizzles on the top of the convection cooktop.

You step around the island and over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind him. He’s always been the right kind of warm, the kind that makes you want to melt into him. You press your face against his back, his shirt soft against your cheek. Under the woodsy smell of his body wash there’s still a faint lingering scent of jet fuel. It’s your favorite smell.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he says, settling his big hand over yours, still stirring the sauce with the other. And you can almost see the easy, contented smile on his face just from the gentle tone of his voice.

“Hi, Bradley,” you hum, happy to be home.

“How was your day?”

“I’m glad it’s the weekend,” you say with a sigh, “The beach day tomorrow with everyone is going to be much needed.” A sympathetic sound rumbles from his chest as his thumb runs over the back of your hand. You were looking forward to sitting under the shade of the stripped umbrella and feeling the sand between your toes as you sip on an icy cold beer. “How was yours?”

“Not too bad, I took Seresin out and now he owes me $200. So overall, it’s been a pretty good day,” he says, clearly pleased with himself. “Cyclone let us out early, so I was productive. Did some errands, got the groceries. Well, most of them. I even took Duck to the dog park and let him run around for a bit. He made friends with a Great Dane, I took a few videos of them playing on my phone for you.”

The mental image of Bradley recording a video of your puppy being cute and playing in the park in the same way a proud dad would film his kid’s little league game makes you feel more than a little weak in the knees.

Pressing up on your toes, you skim a kiss against the side of his neck and prop your chin on his shoulder to peer at what he’s cooking up.

“It smells really good in here,” you tell him, taking in the pot of sauce simmering away on the stove. Off to the side there’s a cutting board with some fresh basil chopped up and a pile of papery vegetable scraps and a couple empty cans of tomato sauce.

“Yeah? It’s been awhile since I’ve channeled my inner Stanly Tucci, so I thought some homemade spaghetti and meatballs sounded good.”

Your eyebrows raise on their own, the surprise evident in your voice, “Homemade meatballs?”

“Ok, maybe those came from Trader Joe’s,” Bradley admits, “But the sauce is all me. I even put the red pepper flakes in it the way you like it.” He reaches over for a handful of basil and adds it into the pot.

You send your thanks up to Carole for making sure her son at least had known the basics of cooking. He could more than hold his own in the kitchen, and the competent way he handled a chef knife in his big hands was endlessly attractive to you.

“‘Semi-homemade with Bradley Bradshaw’ has a nice ring to it, want me to pitch it as a reboot to the Food Network?” You feel the way he chuckles under your palms, the muscles of his stomach contracting and releasing.

“I don’t think I’d make it out with my liver intact. That woman loved her cocktails strong, I’m pretty sure her sangria recipe would send me to the floor,” he jokes, “No wonder why our moms were always watching her.”

“A woman after my own heart,” you sing, “I’m so glad I inherited such good taste from them.”

Bradley shakes his head amused, “The good news for you is that there’s a bottle of red open and waiting for you, funny girl.”

The promise of wine perks you up immediately. Pasta, wine, cake, and Bradley. What more could a girl need?

“God, you’re the man of my dreams.”

“I sure hope so,” he says, squeezing your hand.

“Oh, you are so getting lucky tonight, Lieutenant.” You take advantage of the way he leans his head back and laughs to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

You slide your arms back from around his waist, only managing to take one step towards the bottle of your favorite Cabernet Sauvignon that’s breathing over near the sink with one of your wine glasses set out next to it before you’re being stopped with a gentle hand on your wrist.

“Hold up, where do you think you’re going, kid?” Bradley asks, tugging you back to him with a grin.

He doesn’t wait for your response before he is leaning in to properly kiss you for the first time since he left for work this morning.

At the press of his lips against yours, you feel every ounce of strain you’d been carrying from the day dissolve like melted sugar. A satisfied hum escapes you and you feel the way the corner of Bradley’s mouth ticks up at your reaction to him. His hands cup your face, tilting you head until it was at the perfect angle for him to deepen the kiss. You don’t even notice he’s back you up against the island until the countertop is digging into your lower back, too distracted by the way the coarse hairs of his mustache scrape along your upper lip.

If it weren’t for the sound of the timer going off the two of you might have almost would have forgotten about dinner entirely, it wouldn’t have been the first time it’s happened.

“Is there anything I can help with?” you ask, smoothing out the wrinkles of his shirt from the way you’d had it clutched in your fists just moments ago before letting go of him so that he can silence the beeping coming from the oven.

“You want to make us a salad to go with it?”

“Yes, chef,” you purr as you spin on your heel taking off in the other direction.

And really you should have expected the cheeky way his hand connects with your ass in a quick, sharp slap. You shoot him a glare over your shoulder, but he’s already facing the stove and stirring the sauce again as he adjusts the seasoning with a smirk.

You take a moment to pour yourself a glass of the wine Bradley had opened for you and take a sip. The bold, juicy flavor dancing across your tongue as you set about gathering the things to make a simple salad to go with the dinner he’s made for the two of you.

This is your favorite part of the day, when it’s just the two of you together.

The back and forth has always been easy with him. Whether it’s making dinner or running errands or doing laundry together. The things that always felt mundane on their own had become some of the things you most looked forward to during the week. It’s not that you need to be around him, but you always want to be around him.

When Bradley declares the sauce to be perfect, he comes and joins you at the island. Grabbing a cutting board of his own he starts slicing up the fresh baguette you’d picked up, offering you the end to snack on.

“Oh, what’s this?” he asks, picking up the box of assorted cake slices.

You continue chopping the cucumber in front of you, “Isn’t that fun? They had a stack of those at the checkout. I think they must have made too many cakes this week on accident, but it’s so smart of them so sell them that way. Why get one flavor when you can have six? Best of both worlds for everyone.”

“That so, huh?” he sounds amused by your enthusiasm, “Is there something else you wanted to talk to me about?”

It hadn’t been a particularly noteworthy visit, other than you’d been able to score a parking spot in front of the building, “Uh, not that I can think of?”

“You sure?” Bradley prods.

“No?... Oh! I was going to pick up that marbled rye you like while I was there getting the baguette, but they were already sold out. So I got a loaf of the multigrain brown bread and some sourdough instead.”

“Mmm, interesting.”

Stopping your salad prep, you look up at him skeptically, “Ok, why are you mmm-ing me, Bradshaw?”

Bradley’s eyes are alight with playful mischief as he slides the box of the cake slices towards you and pointedly double taps on the sticker on the upper right corner of the pink box with his finger.

You hadn’t stopped to read the shiny gold label when you’d grabbed it at the bakery, the tempting layers of cake and frosting and fillings had immediately sold you on it, but you couldn’t unsee what the curly scripted font said now.

Wedding Cake Sampler

“So, when’s the wedding? I’m assuming I’ll be invited,” he grins.

You feel your face get hot as you realize your mistake. It wasn’t just a sample box, but a very specific type of sample box. A very specific type of sample box for a very specific occasion.

Suddenly the interaction with the bakery employee as you were paying makes so much more sense now.

“Oh my god, the girl at the checkout said ‘Congratulations’ and I said ‘Happy Fri-yay’ back to her,” you groan, covering your eyes with your hands, “I thought she meant it like ‘Congrats on making it to Friday’ thing.”

He laughs, “Sweet girl, that’s about the damn cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Happy Fri-yay, Bradley! She was congratulating me on our- I mean- the nonexistent impending nuptials she thought I had and I reply to her that? We need to find a new bakery, I can’t go there ever again,” you lament. It’s truly a tragedy, since they have the best sticky pecan rolls in the area.

“And you call me a drama queen,” Bradley lightly teases, “She probably thought it was funny.”

You groan again, louder this time. If he was going to call you a drama queen, you’d at least try out your best Mariah Carey impersonation.

Your face is still hidden behind your hands when you feel Bradley gather you into his arms, running a warm hand up and down your back. “C’mon, it’s not even that bad. I’m sure I did at least three things more embarrassing than that today.”

“Yeah, I bet you did too,” you grumble into his chest without heat. The way he chuckles at your surliness lets you know he doesn’t take it personally. Not only is he getting laid, but you decide you’re definitely going to give him head too for being the sweetest man alive.

He takes your wrists in his hands and pulls the away from your face, “I gotta tell you, I’m glad it was just a little mix up. It would have sucked to find out my girlfriend had a fiancé I didn’t know about.”

You can see every shade of brown in his eyes as he looks into yours, the affection and amusement rippling there the same way the light catches the surface of a cup of coffee on a Sunday morning.

At this point you really do just have to laugh at yourself. It’s such a silly thing to get worked up about, especially since you know you’re probably more ruffled about Bradley potentially thinking that you’re trying to drop a not-so-subtle hint with it. And fact of the matter is that you still probably would have picked it up anyways, you just might have peeled off the incriminating sticker off in the car before bringing it in.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, Bradshaw. I’ve got my hands more than full enough with you.”

“Yeah, you do,” he boasts, the insinuation is not lost on you.

You snort a laugh and shove at his chest lightly. He drops a kiss to the side of your head and makes his way back to the other side of the kitchen island as you get back to your salad making duties.

“Hey, just so you know, I can’t wait to eat wedding cake with you later,” he says as he continues to slice up the baguette.

You playfully toss a cucumber at him for his teasing and he pops in mouth with a grin.

A little later, when you have your steaming bowls of pasta in front of you at the dinner table, he raises his glass of wine to you, “Happy Fri-yay, sweet girl.”

And your laugh is as crystalline as the clink of your glass meeting his in cheers.

After the leftovers are put away and the dishes cleaned, the two of you are cozied up watching the new romcom that was just added on Netflix.

You’re stretched out across the couch with your feet in Bradley’s lap eating the cake you’d picked up. You try a bit of each flavor deciding which one you like the most to save it for the end, while Bradley takes his chances and eats one slice at a time before moving on to the next one. It’s truly unhinged behavior and you couldn’t help but tease him about it when you’d noticed his cake tasting methodology.

Bradley moans around a forkful of cake and you know he’s just found the carrot cake- his favorite.

He’s always been a bit of a pseudo health nut with questionable logic. “It’s got carrots and walnuts, it’s basically a superfood” he’s claimed on multiple occasions, while purposefully excluding the part about the pound of butter and cream cheese that goes into the frosting.

“I’d clear my schedule in heartbeat and take you to City Hall any day of the week as long as we get to have this carrot cake when we get married,” he says right before he licks the frosting off of his fork.

Your breath catches in your throat.

When, not if.

He says it so easily like there’s not a doubt in his mind that it’ll be you and him facing each other at the end of an aisle as vows about forever are exchanged.

He says it like a fact.

He says it like he knows.

“I didn’t realize I missed the part where you asked me,” you say, setting your plate on the coffee table in front of you, too full of the hope of it all to keep eating.

“And here I was waiting on you, kid,” he says playfully, taking another bite.

He’s teasing, you know he is. Bradley isn’t the type of man who would lead you on or play games with your heart.

“Bradley.” It’s an almost whine the way his name comes out of your mouth as you nudge his thigh with your foot. You turn your head to bury your face in the cushion of the couch, suddenly feeling very bashful.

The two of you have never talked about it, at least not like this before. Only in casual passing comments like getting a place with a bigger backyard for Duck or about setting up a joint banking account. A hypothetical future.

“Hey, c’mon. Look at me,” he coaxes, squeezing your foot. When you peek at him, the look on his face is all open sincerity, “You’re my forever girl. I love you and I’m planning on spending the rest of my life with you. That is, if you’re ok with that.”

A rush butterflies happily swoop and swirl around in your stomach.

He’s been in your life for almost three decades now. You’d known the boy, the teen, and you more than liked the man he’d become. You had absolutely no intention of ever letting him go. He was yours. Forever and always.

“That’d be ok with me,” you tell him freely. You watch as his smile gets wider and broader until it’s taking up his whole face, his eyes crinkling around the edges. “I think I could handle quite a few more decades with you, Bradley Bradshaw.”

“Is that so?” he drawls, his fingers skimming up and down the top of your calf.

“Oh, definitely. You’re stuck with me,” you grin.

“Good.”

He tugs your ankle, pulling you until your back is flat against the couch. You squeal in delight as he pins you down on the cushions, your arms and legs wrap around him on their own drawing him in even closer. Then he’s kissing every inch of your face that he can reach as you laugh in delight.

If it weren’t for Bradley’s sturdy bulk on top of you, you’re pretty sure you might have just floated away. You’ve never felt this incandescently light in your whole life.

He brushes one more quick kiss to the top of your nose before he pulls away, “But just so we’re on the same page, that wasn’t an official proposal. More like a declaration of intention.”

“I don’t know,” you muse, stroking his pink cheek, “Sounds like you’re desperate to wife me up, Bradley. Practically begging for me to take you to the courthouse.”

His hands go straight for curve of your waist, attacking that ticklish spot that’s always made you giggle and squirm. Only taking mercy on you once you’re out of breath. You’re almost positive that the smile on your face might be there permanently.

You don’t miss the intensity in Bradley’s eyes as they trace over your face as he settles himself more fully on you, “You don’t know the half of it, kid. But I’m letting you know now, I’m not going to make either one of us wait long for it.”

And then his mouth is on yours.

You feel the promise he’s making to you in his kiss. The caress of his hands along your body feels like a vow. You feel every ounce of just how much he loves and cherishes you. The cake was sweet, but his honeyed kiss tastes even sweeter.

“Tell me we can have carrot cake at our wedding, sweet girl,” he murmurs against your lips.

Our wedding.

The thought of it made you giddy.

You wanted to wear his ring on your finger just as much as you wanted to see him wearing one of his own one day. You liked your last name, but there was nothing more you wanted than to be Mrs. Bradshaw. It would be another thing you and Carole could share. A name and the everlasting love for her son.

“Ok, we can have carrot cake at our wedding,” you agree, wholeheartedly, “It’s basically a superfood, after all.”

“Damn right it is,” he beams.

The cake is quickly forgotten in favor of pulling your shirt over your head.

You might not have a ring. Yet.

But you did have a lifetime with Bradley and a carrot cake to look forward to. And that was more than enough for you.

Bradley was pretty sure that there was nothing better on this Earth than having you draped across his chest as you slept soundly in his arms. Your breathing had softened and evened out ages ago, but his mind was whirling with thoughts of his bright future with you.

He’d meant it when he’d told you he wasn’t going to make you wait long. Bradley didn’t know how much longer he could go on calling you his girlfriend when all he really wanted to call you his wife. He’s imagined you in a white dress walking towards him more times than he could count.

When he’d planned the surprised trip back to your shared hometown as a gift for your six-month anniversary, he might have had some ulterior motives. While it was nice to see the place you’d both grown up in again as adults, there had been a more pressing issue on his mind the whole time.

He hadn’t been able to control the nervous bounce of his leg or his sweaty palms when he’d ask your mom’s permission for your hand in marriage. It hadn’t been any easier the second time, when he’d had to do it all over again with you dad that sunny day at the golf course.

Bradley knew it was a bit of an antiquated tradition, but he’d never proposed to anyone before and he wanted to get it right. He wanted you and your parents to know just how serious he was about his intentions to love you for the rest of his life. He’d even asked Mav for his blessing too, just to make sure he had his bases covered.

It had thrown him through a loop when at the end of the trip you mom had slipped him the ring she’d worn while she was married to your dad. She’d told him there was no expectations or pressure to use it, she just wanted him to have it just in case.

The engagement ring his mom had worn had been tucked in the back corner of his nightstand for almost four months now. Bradley had pulled it out of storage sometime around the third month of officially dating you. It would be too soon for anyone else, but he’s already had decades with you. And he’d never been more sure about anything in his life as he was about knowing you were the one for him.

The two of you had always been perfectly right on time in your own way.

He’d dwelled on it for weeks trying to figure out if he should give them both to you at once. Or if he should propose to you with one and save the other to you during another monumental moment, like when the two of you started a family. He figured could turn one into a necklace or something for you.

Bradley could feel the presence of both rings every time he walked into the bedroom. They were both equally were important to him, he wanted to get it right.

His mom had known and loved you, he knew that she’d have been so excited to see her ring on your finger. And after his mom had passed, yours had helped him during those rough days in ways he didn’t think he could ever properly thank her for. Even though your parents’ marriage hadn’t worked out, they were the reason that you were here and he couldn’t imagine his life without you.

It wasn’t until Natasha had shown him the Toi et Moi style ring that things locked into place in a way that made his heart race at the very idea of it.

The right ring for the right girl.

He lets his fingers trail up and down your back gently as you slept soundly against him.

In the kitchen earlier that night, he might have bent the truth about his day just a little bit.

The final design had been sent to his email that morning. And it was more perfect than he could have imagined.

He did win $200 from Jake and had gone to the dog park with Duck, but he’d also stopped by the jewelers across town to give them both of the family heirlooms because he didn’t want to waste a single minute.

Two diamonds, one ring. The start of you and him. A story of your beginnings to be worn on the finger that would tie him to you with a golden thread for the rest of your lives together.

He’d even paid extra to have it engraved.

My sweet girl. My forever girl.

I genuinely thought I was one and done after I wrote my first fic in December of last year. And then came these two. 'Like I Can' was meant to be a oneshot that turned into a 3-part series that turned into half of my masterlist. I adore this couple with my whole heart. Thank you for reading along and celebrating with me!

Elle (@callsignspark) thank you for sending me the TikTok that inspired the headcanon about the wedding cake sampler, I'm showering you with shiny 'thank you' shaped confetti! And another big thank you to Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) for getting as giddy about these two as I do and for always enthusiastically reading the snippets I send you! You both are the best!

If you enjoyed these two, you can read their story from the start here!

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[willyoubethepookietomypookster]

"Not so common cold"

Hey yall!! Its finally out!! The ending was a little rushed because I wanted to get it over with, but i hope you still enjoy it! This one is a little longer than the others, which I'm really proud of cuz i usually lose motivation very quickly on writing projects. Also sorry for any bad grammar or non capitalized i's. Its my adhd. Happy reading!!

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It was a cold, rainy day in Soho. You lay restless on the bookshop floor, the cold wood being the only thing keeping you from melting. You basically lived here at this point, but when you woke up with your blistering fever, Aziraphale was no where to be found. He left a note saying he was out for business with Crowley, but he wouldn't answer any calls. After about 2 hours, you decide to call them one more time. You reach for your pocket before realizing you left it on the couch. You pull yourself up by holding on a table, and trudge over to the couch. You grab your phone and speak into the phone.

"Call Aziraphale." You strain.

"Calling Azraphale." The cheery british bot says. It said his name wrong and that makes you chuckle, which then makes you start coughing up a storm.

"Damnittttt. Pick upppppp!!" You whine. "C'mon! You can't be this busy." You're on the verge of tears when Aziraphale picks up.

"Sorry y/n, I seemed to have accidentally set my phone to silent before Crowley told me to check it, because there's no way you haven't checked in. I saw that I had nine missed calls, is everything alright?" He sounds really worried.

"I'm sick out of my mind. I'm dyinggg." You whine again. Aziraphale starts audibly freaking out over the phone.

"Oh heavens!!! Crowley we've got to go home right now!" You hear him yelling in the background.

"Sorry dear, we'll be right over, don't even worry about it." He says hastily.

"Wasn't. See u soon Pa." You reply. Your fever has been steadily going down, but you're still a little delirious, as you called Aziraphale dad on accident. Aziraphale and Crowley have asked you about your parents before, but you always refuse to talk about them for some reason. The truth is, you don't even remember your parents, but whenever you try and think about them you get a weird pit in your stomach, filled with fear, sadness, and a little anger, so they decided to stop pushing.

"Y/n wh-" Aziraphale starts, but the line cuts, and you assume that his phone died or something. You go lay back on the floor, awaiting their arrival.

About half an hour later, Crowley and Aziraphale arrive. They both have a bag of something. You try to peel yourself off the floor, but it makes you dizzy and you give up.

"You look like death." Crowley says.

"I feel like death." You reply, barely moving. He almost rolls his eyes, but he hesitates, and for a second you can see his gaze soften, before he decides to roll his eyes anyway.

"Okay kid, this isn't Romeo and Juliet, you'll be fine." He says, walking off somewhere. Aziraphale walks in and kneels beside you.

"Okay y/n, roll over so I can feel your forehead." Aziraphale says. You groan and protest, but do it anyway. His hand is warm, and while that would usually be nice, its terrible right now.

"Your hands are too warmmm." You say, trying to wriggle away.

"Jeez, y/n, you're burning up! Come on, up we go. Lets lay on the couch, okay?" He states, lifting you up by your arms and basically dragging you over to the couch. You lay down flat and get hit by a wave of nausea and groan.

"This really sucks." You sniffle, your voice wavering as you feel like crying.

"I know, I know, its okay." Aziraphale responds, rubbing your back. He waves his hand and suddenly the room is very cold. He shivers slightly, but you sigh in relief, as you felt like you would shrivel up and die any second from heat stroke. Crowley walks in and almost recoils in shock from the temperature.

"It's like a freezer in here! What happened?" He yelps. Aziraphale gives a sympathetic nod in your direction and Crowley calms down almost immediately. Crowley hesitates for a second, but reaches down to feel your forehead. His hand is surprisingly cold and you lean into it.

"Jeez, you really are burning up." He whispers. Aziraphale makes a comment about how Crowley really is nice, which makes him rip his hand off of your forehead and down into his pocket, which makes you whine.

"Noo your hands are cold and nice." You pout. You typically wouldn't be acting like this, but your fever has you delirious. Crowley gives you a funny look, and almost reached back down before seeing Aziraphales smile and deciding against it.

"Too bad. I'm not gonna pamper you just cuz you're sick, you know." He says and you whine again. He leaves the room to do hell knows what and you talk to Aziraphale.

It had been an hour and a half since they returned and you had thrown up once and then fallen asleep. The bags that they walked in with were now stuffed in the back office. One filled with medican from a local pharmacy and the other filled with your favorite take out. Crowley was the one who suggested the takeout, but when they got home they saw that you were in no state to eat and so Crowley put it in the small fridge they bought for you in back.

After a few minutes, you woke up, but kept your eyes closed to conserve energy. While you were lying there, Crowley walked over to you and sat on the couch beside you. He gingerly reached over and brushed some hair out of your eyes. You hold back a smile to see what he would do next.

"You poor creature. I had forgotten how fragile you are." He states. This catches you off guard, as this is totally out of character for Crowley. Crowley notices you twitch, and you pretend to wake up. He quickly pulls his hand away and goes to stand up.

"Where are you going?" You say, faking a yawn and rubbing your eye. His gaze softens slightly as he sits back down next to you.

"Nowhere. Don't worry about it." He says and smiles, obviously being nicer because you're ill.

"Good." You say, and grab his hand. You guys sit in silence for a while before Aziraphale comes and takes your temperature again.

"101.." He sighs. "But at least its going down. You were 109 an hour ago." He smiles.

"109?????" You exclaim. "Aren't I supposed to go to the hospital at that point??" Aziraphale looks a little stunned, but Crowley makes a noise and sprawls out on the couch.

"Too late now. You're fever has gone down to a normal-ish level." He states. You guys all move to a table in the back room, and Crowley grabs the previous take out from the fridge and places the bag on the table.

"Ya still nauseous or do you think you can eat?" You look inside the bag and your face lights up.

"From (fav restaurant)????!!! I'm starved!!" You exclaim, and immediately start pulling the containers out from the bag. Aziraphale is typically the one who eats with you, as Crowley doesn't enjoy it as much as he does, but he decides to eat with you guys today just to make you happy.

"Damn Y/n, if I knew any better, I'd say you hate this restaurant." Crowley says and chuckles as you pull containers out at the speed of light. Aziraphale gives him a look.

"Well obviously not, look at the speed they're-"

"Sarcasm, Angel." Crowley interrupts.

"Ah, well. Of course." Aziraphale says.

"Its okay dad. Pa was just teasing. He meant no harm." You say, while opening a container and digging some food out of it. They decide mutually not to pay attention to the fact that you called them dad, and to just enjoy the moment. They didn't mind the term. Quite the opposite in fact, (though Crowley would never admit that) but they often didn't know how to react. They just smiled and chatted while you ate. Crowley ruffled your hair and Aziraphale made you some hot chocolate. Suddenly your terrible sick day wasn't so terrible after all.

[bouncybongfairy]

You Sure You Can't Come Over?

Danny x Fem Reader

Summary: Y\N and Danny have been going to school together forever. However, after an extreme blue balling encounter on Halloween night, you shoot your shot at hooking up with Danny.

Word Count: 4k+

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You were sitting in your English class patiently waiting for the bell to ring. It was Friday and after an exhausting work week; you were really looking forward to the weekend. Everything was pissing you off today, from your friend's overly perky tone to the fact that the cafeteria didn't have space to eat in. Being November, you'd think the weather would cool down but, unfortunately the summer heat was extremely clingy this year.

"My make-up is literally melting." You said as you walked out of the classroom with your friend Nat. 

"I took my lashes off during P.E., there's nothing you can do to combat this heat." She said, fanning herself with a paper folder. 

"At least this will be one of the last hot days of the summer. It's November so the rainy season is coming, then we'll be complaining about our frizzy hair," you said, causing you both to laugh. Nat pulled her phone out of her pocket and stopped abruptly.

"Shit, my mom is picking me up at the back entrance. I can give you a ride home. You live like.. 10 minutes away." Nat said. 

"No, I want to get some sun on the way home. As you said, I don't live far." You said stuffing your cardigan that you wore to cover your tank top into your bag.

"Alright well, text me if you wanna hang out this weekend!" Nat called out to you as she began to walk in the opposite direction. 

You stick your headphones into your ear before starting home. Before putting any music on you scroll through your snap for a bit. That's when you noticed Danny posted to his story; it was a video. It was him walking alongside a couple of friends, his P.E. shirt was draped over the back of his neck. Sweat dripped from his forehead, collecting a bit on his lip. He tilted his head back and poured Gatorade into his mouth. Some of the blue liquid dripped down from his chin to his neck. His jaw came into full view when he took a drink, before panning over to his friends who were play-fighting each other. 

Butterflies came into your stomach as you rewatched the video. It wasn't like you and him ever had anything serious. The first time you guys ever interacted was only a month ago at Nat's Halloween party. Even thinking about that night made your cheeks turn red. It was the first time you'd ever bought an 'adult' Halloween costume without consulting your mom. Nat's parents were out of town on a business retreat which left the house vacant. You got there in the morning to help her clean and set up. 

"You don't think this costume is too much?" You asked about adjusting the nurse's hat that sat on your hair. Nat came over to you with a look of disdain on her face. 

"Okay.. first of all, you could wear a hospital gown and still look hot. Secondly, it's a pool party, yes it's Halloween but people will still swim. And lastly, Halloween is the time to dress a little skanky. I'm showing more than you." She said giving you a kiss on the cheek before going back to putting several bottles of Pink Whitney and Svedka into the freezer. 

You were wearing a weed nurse costume; it was essentially a sheer mini dress with green trim and a front zipper. It came with a small decorative apron and nursing hat that had a weed leaf stamped onto both. You bought a matching marijuana leaf bikini to go underneath it. Even with a costume so scandalous, Nat's was definitely more provocative. She was literally wearing a leopard print bikini with matching cat ears. It made you feel a little better about your costume. 

"Like anyone is getting in the pool." You said to set up beer pong on the kitchen island. 

"The boys will," She said, closing the freezer, "speaking of boys, you know Danny is coming." She said smacking your ass as she walked by. 

"Is he really?" You asked following her to her bedroom.

"You've been into him forever, I would be a bad friend if I didn't. Not to mention I invited my boothang who isn't my boothang but will be by the end of the night." She said fixing her lashes in her phone camera.

"I'm nervous to talk to him low-key, I feel like it's easier to crush from afar." You said laughing at her,

"Fuck that, after a couple of shots you won't be feeling so nervous. I think you guys would be cute together so please stop acting like you don't want something to happen between the two of you." She said walking over to you and handing you a tube of lip gloss, "But even if you didn't want to fuck with him tonight please still let loose with me?" She finished her pleed by sticking out her bottom lip. 

"One or two shots." You said sternly before breaking out into laughter from Nat's reaction.

You aren't sure what exactly led to Nat grinding against you with a joint hanging out of your mouth and half full plastic cup. The music was Blaring Beautiful Nightmare by Lil Tracy. The crowd inside the living room was dense, everyone was sweating, seemingly unaware of how humid the space was becoming. You pass the joint to Nat who takes a huge drag, blowing the smoke in between the both of you. 

You knew you were pretty cross-faded when you started thinking Nat was right. As much as you hate to admit it you really did need this. Being able to let loose was nice, it was like you could physically feel the pressure of daily life lifting from your shoulders and it felt fucking amazing. Nat passes the joint back and your eyes light up when you realize it's your turn again. You feel Nat pull away from you but you were zoned out, moving your body to the music. 

"Yo! Y|N this is Chris the guy I was telling you about." When you turned around you were surprised to see Danny by his side. 

"I know you!" You giggle offering the joint to him. He laughs and takes it from you before responding,

"Yeah, you're in like three of my classes," He said, blowing out a cloud of smoke. 

"You have been keeping tabs on me?" You asked sarcastically, taking the joint back. 

"Whatever," He joked back before asking a question, "Do you think we could step outside? It's deafening and hot in here." He said having to step closer to you to be heard. You nodded your head yes before finding the front door. Nat had already wandered off with Chris by this time. 

You took him by the hand and led him into the kitchen before heading outside. Grabbing a new solo cup and filling it with a mixture of Pink Whitney and Sprite. The joint now starting to become a roach was starting to burn your lips. You handed it to Danny who put it out on a heavy-duty paper plate. Once you are done, you lead him outside. 

"Sorry I don't mean to take you away from your scene, there was just a lot going on," Danny said, sitting on the bench that was on the porch. 

"That's not really my scene, Nat's my best friend; this is her house and it was important to her that I was here." You said taking a sip of your drink before taking out a thin cylinder out of your bra. 

"Could have fooled me, you seemed like you were really enjoying yourself on the dance floor," He said as you pulled the pre-rolled blunt out of the canister. 

"Yeah, normally I'm not one to party or get this wasted but everyone has their own demons they need to release sometimes I guess," You said, using the Playboy lighter caked in black resin towards the bottom. 

"Yeah, my family is seriously fucked up," He said taking the blunt from you; your manicured hand grabs the solo cup to take a sip.

"Grass is always greener on the other side. I'm an only child and my parents are always gone, they don't even bother with having a nanny after I got my license. Obviously, family drama sucks but... I guess I'd rather be fighting with someone rather than be alone all the time," You said, grabbing the blunt back and taking a deep inhale. 

"Right, you know the saying that's like 'so and so always finds where the grass is greener and that's where they go to pasture' I always thought that was so stupid. Am I supposed to stay where the grass is dead as fuck with their stupid ass?" He said which made you laugh causing you to cough out your hit. 

He laughed at your reaction before grabbing the blunt back. You finish off the rest of your mixed drink before standing up to fix your costume. It wasn't until you stood that you realized how fucked up you were. You stumbled on your footing at first but Danny stood up and grabbed your forearm. 

"Sorry, I'm fine I didn't mean to do that, to like to push you." You said trying as hard as you could to sound sober. You began to mentally beat yourself up for drinking so much but Dan started to speak and it took all your brain power to focus on one thing at a time. 

"No, you're good, do you want me to help you back inside?" Still holding on to your arm.

"Yeah, I feel like I can hear another shot calling my name," You giggle, starting to walk forward slightly swaying. 

"I don't mean to uh, dictate your life but I think you've had enough no?" He asked softly, before you answer you whip around to face him but lose your balance causing him to reach for you. He snakes his arm around your waist, preventing you from falling off the porch stairs. Your body was pressed against his, your arms wrapped around his neck. Your head came to his shoulders, making you crane your neck to look at him. 

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna walk home. I live right up the street. I hate sleeping at Nat's when there's a party; I'm always paranoid that someone is gonna stumble into the room I'm in," You said, grabbing your purse before breaking away to walk down the stairs. 

"I don't think you should walk home like this, the outfit or the inebriation," He said, skipping down the stairs to get in front of you. 

"I know, I know but like I said I live literally a 10-minute walk down the street and I don't want to ruin your Halloween by having to babysit me," You said starting to walk down the sidewalk. 

"Well if it's only a 10-minute walk do you mind if I join you? Just to give me peace of mind that you got home okay? I would want someone to do the same for my sisters, you know?" He asked as he began to match pace with you. 

"Well, aren't you a gentleman," You remark as you start your trek home.

The walk home felt much longer in your head than it actually was. You guys made small talk about school among other things. He ended up hooking his arm around yours because you were still swaying a bit. Considering this was the first time you had formally met it was mostly getting to know the basic things. His siblings, what both of your parents did for work, what mutual friends you had at school etc. He began talking about his music and how he wanted to eventually become a producer. You pulled a mint puff-bar offering it to Danny who huffed on it for a bit. Once you got to your house, you weren't surprised to be greeted by an empty driveway. You walk up to the front door and pull your keys out of your purse. You unhook your arm and trail it down to his hand. 

"Do you wanna come in?" You asked looking up at him; he didn't say anything, only nodding his head in agreement. You lead him by the hand into the kitchen where there was a note on the refrigerator that read: Meatloaf and mashed potatoes in the fridge, will be back tomorrow night for dinner. After opening the Du-Par restaurant to-go box, you shove it in the microwave. You gasp when you remember what you have in the fridge which scares Danny. 

"What is it!?" He exclaimed, turning to your direction, you smiled at him and pulled out your diet coke. His facial expression dropped which caused you to laugh. You relight the somewhat of a long roach and sit up on the kitchen island. You motion for him to come closer to you which he does. He rests his hands on the counter next to your legs. You take a hit and tilt your head back and blow the smoke into the air. 

"Do you have a girlfriend?" You asked. 

"No," He said smiling.

"Do you wanna hook up?" You asked, pulling him closer to you with your legs.

"I would, but not when you're this fucked up," He said, 

"That's really sweet, you know I've liked you for like ever. I know we're not gonna hook up tonight but I don't want you to think the only reason I asked is because I'm drunk. I think you're really kind, but I like the fact that you're not too soft. In 8th grade, you came in late to 8th period from P.E and you were sweating still. Your hair was dyed red and it tinted your sweat red, it was dripping down your sideburns and neck. You ended up sitting right in front of me and the entire class I literally couldn't get you out of my mind; even after I couldn't stop thinking horrible things to do together," You said hicupping and giggling after. He moved closer to you and rested his forehead on your shoulder.

"I'm not going to take advantage when you're drunk but holy shit you are hot," He mumbled into your shoulder. 

"You seemed stressed, I don't know what you do for stress relief but maybe you could do me sometime?" You joke running your hands down his back. 

"Oh my god," He sighed, biting your shoulder playfully, which made you squeal. You pulled at his shirt causing both of your chroches to press together. He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you off the counter top. You were now standing between the island and him.

"I should get to bed, I have a nail appointment tomorrow morning at 11," You said looking up at him. He laughs and gives you a kiss on the cheek before you walk him out. If you weren't so wasted you probably would have thought about this encounter while laying in bed. However once your head hit the pillow you were out like a light.

~~~

Thinking about that night made your stomach flip. It made you feel more secure knowing that he seemed to be into you. Your insecurities were telling you it could be because he was stoned or drunk but you tried not to play into that. Once you got home you took a shower because it was so damn hot outside. Once you cleaned yourself up and got dressed you went into the kitchen to be greeted by another note; it explained that your parents would be in Utah for the weekend. You straighten your hair simply trying to pass time till bed. You open your phone and see that Danny posted another story. It was a selfie of him, laying back on his bed with the caption: the things I would do for joint rn. 

You immediately set your straightener down and go to your parents room. Once you walk into the closet you start searching for your dads match box. The weed was practically glowing angelically as you opened the box. You skipped back into your room and started frantically trying to get yourself together. You grab your keys and use your EZ split to cut the wrap open. After grinding the  weed and having a slight panic attack after the wrap ripped a little on you. You change into a short sleeve bodysuit; the fabric on your legs ends at your upper thighs. You grab your phone and sit on the bean bag in your room. Putting the blunt into your mouth and letting the canister lay on your lap. You find Danny's story and hit reply before taking a quick selfie and adding text over the image that said: horrible things? 

You stared at the picture for a couple moments before sending it.The rush of adrenaline you got after was making you sweat. What if he thought you were being too forward? What if he really was just stoned that night and didn't mean to send the wrong signals? What if he had a girlfriend now or was talking to someone more serious? What if-. Your snowballing anxiety was interrupted by your phone going off. On your lock screen you see the message notification from Danny. You smile and unlock your phone before opening the snap. It was him, he was wearing a hoodie and shorts. His backpack on his shoulders and his longboard in his hand. The camera angle was high so you could see his head to his feet. The image was captioned: send your address and i'll be there soon.

Your cheeks flushed bright red and you quickly sent it to him before cleaning up your room. Picking up loose clothes and make up brushes that fell from your vanity as you were getting ready. You brush your hair and examine yourself in the mirror. You were so happy that he gave you the same energy back when you reached out. It wasn't like you were lying, you really did have a thing for him for the longest. I guess when you admire someone for so long they seem to become unattainable. After sitting on the bed for a while waiting, you finally hear the doorbell ring. You almost trip down the stairs to open the door. He was standing there, he was holding onto his backpack straps. He had slid his longboard underneath the bench on your porch.

"Come in," You giggled, which broke the ice. He smiled and walked in still gripping his backpack straps with both hands. You grabbed his hand and led him up the stairs, into your bedroom. When he walked into the room laughed which made you whip around. 

"What?" You asked sitting on the bed motioning for him to join you. 

"I expected your room to be girly but damn," He laughed before taking his backpack off and sitting down next to her. 

"So did you only come to smoke or what?" You asked, putting the blunt in between your lips and lighting it. 

"No, I meant it when I said I was into you. I just don't take advantage of girls while they're clearly wasted." He said taking the blunt from your lips and taking a drag. You loved how direct he was with his feelings. 

"You know I literally can't stop thinking about you ever since that night. I can't lie, I thought it was super hot when you talked about how long you've liked me for. It's really sexy to think you've been waiting this long to get with me," He said. 

"Are you gonna make me wait any longer?" You asked, staring into his eyes. They were bloodshot and were making the blue look extremely vibrant. You drop the blunt into an ashtray that was on your bedside table. 

You slide over to him and straddle his lap. You run your fingers through his hair, pulling him into a kiss. He groans into your mouth bucking his hip up slightly as you bite down on the bottom lip. You arch your back, pressing your chest into his. It was like you couldn't get close enough to each other. He flips you over so that you're on your back. You move your hands from his hair to his back digging your nails into his upper back. He bites onto your neck which causes him to let out a moan. When you moan his hips buck again, you push him off of you gently which causes him to sit up immediately. 

"Is everything okay?" He asked which made you smile before replying,

"You're so sweet," You said while getting on your knees in front of him. You tug at his basketball shorts and let you tug them down with his boxers. 

When you saw his bottom growth you were shocked at how big he was. He was clearly swollen and practically throbbing, his head peeking out of his foreskin slightly. It was a shade of red that almost looked purple. He had pubic hair but it was clearly taken care of and trimmed. Almost cinematically, there was a drip slowly falling down the bottom of his head. You move your lips so that their hovering just over his t-cock.

"Can I suck it?" You asked looking up at him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, using his arms to support his body that was almost leaning back. He nodded his head and moved his arm to grab your bun, gently connecting your lips to his head. You swirl your tongue around it which causes his body to go rigid. He moves his other hand and moves his grip from the top of your bun to the roots of your hair. You let out a moan as he tightens his grip. 

He starts thrusting himself into your mouth. In turn you match the flicking of your tongue against his head to match his rhythm. You look up at him and moan at the sight, he was looking down at you with his mouth slightly open. His eyebrows were furrowed as if he were angry and sweat was dripping down the side of his face. He grunts out the word fuck loudly, you could tell he was getting close because he was slowly getting harder in your mouth. 

He uses your hair to pull you off him, a loud pop sound follows as you release him from the suction of your lips. You giggle when you look up and see his reaction. His face was completely red, covered in sweat with his bottom lip swollen from how much he had bit it. He moved his hands from your head to your cheeks before leaning down to make out. The kiss was wet and sloppy because of how much saliva covered your mouth and chin. He pulled away and without wiping his mouth asked,

"Can I finger you?" His eyes were practically black from how wide his pupils were. 

You didn't even give a verbal answer, just stripping off your body suit and climbing onto the bed. You lay on your back, Danny follows and lays on his side next to you. He sets his elbow on the bed and uses his left hand to support his head. With his right hand he trails his fingers down your torso till he's parting your lips. He moans and drops his head slightly when he feels your clit and how wet you were. You arch your back and tilt your head back as he starts playing with you.

You pull him into a kiss and eventually just press your lips to his. You become unable to focus on making out from the intense amount of pleasure. He chuckled when he noticed this and slipped his index and middle finger inside of you. You moan loudly, racking your nails down his back. 

"Ah fuck," He half moaned and half groaned. 

He takes a break from fucking his fingers inside of you and presses his fingers deep inside you and starts swirling them around. You throw your head back in ecstasy, as you press yourself into the mattress he takes your nipple into his mouth. As you began to orgasm you could feel him thrusting sporadically into your hip. You can barely think and you cum, working your hips down on his hand. As your moans lower in volume and intensity he pulls his digits out of you.

He takes off his shirt and wipes you down with it, then himself before taking you into his arms. You guys cuddle in comfortable silence for a while. You almost fell asleep before he started kissing your forehead and face to keep you awake. You turn to face him and bury your head into his t-shirt. Once you are more awake you start rubbing his back gently. 

"When you get the chance, I found this weird book that I wanted to show you." He said.

[write-r-die]

Man's World - Part 6

I finally figured out what I want to do with this story! Get ready for a real plot to form!

masterlist

It was the middle of the night for us when the flare happened.

People who were outside at the time were the ones who died right away or got an aggressive case of sun sickness. People indoors got slightly less, people on the lower floors of buildings got less, etc. 

I was in my parents’ basement when the flare happened. The accompanying earthquakes jammed the door to the stairs shut. It was a few hours before I finally made it out. 

In the end it was sheer dumb luck that I survived, that I didn’t get sick. 

Evolution, survival of the fittest – that didn’t factor into it at all when the world ended. Just your location.

I’m sure down the road I’ll have some sort of horrific health problems, that everybody will because you don’t encounter that much radiation without some of it infecting you. But I’m still alive and healthy for now. 

I don’t know about the rest of the world, though. Nobody does, since all the technology was simultaneously fried and there’s no real way to get across an ocean anymore. 

Usually I try not to think about it, but the soldiers accompanying us are talking about their travels while in the military. Two of them were stationed in Japan for a while; a third was stationed in South Korea. It was the middle of a sunny day in those countries when the flare hit.

One of the men from Japan shakes his head, smiling sadly. “I’ll never have sushi like that again,” he says mournfully.

The other frowns. “It’s a fuckin’ shame.”

We’re mostly on bikes or horses. A pickup truck accompanies us to carry back anything of value we find, but August tries to minimize car usage whenever possible, so we have a single truck with us to lug back whatever valuables we find. 

We all pull off to the side when we reach the neighborhood. A bunch of identical little houses on cul-de-sacs that were once full of yuppie commuters. Now it’s empty.

“Each of you will have one guard,” August says to the six of Miss Ally’s people. “You will not leave their side. You will wait for them to clear each and every room before you enter it.” He pairs them up and sends them all in different directions, telling them to return to this exact spot in two hours.

They all head off. Only August and I are left.

“I don’t have a guard,” I say once everyone is out of earshot.

August gives me a shit-eating grin. He’s my guard. Of course. He motions me toward a one-story home with a detached garage. “Come along. We’ve got things to do.”

The first house we enter has no front door. The windows have all been blown out, but the treadmill and stationary bike in the living room appear to be going strong.

August picks up a discarded magazine from the floor. “Health nuts,” he says sadly. “Not known for having full pantries.”

“You’d be surprised,” I say.

He cocks a dark eyebrow. “Oh?” He gestures toward the kitchen. “In that case, take the lead. I insist.”

Health nuts can be similar to squirrels in terms of stashing food for a rainy day. We don’t bother opening the freezer or fridge because whatever was in there was either eaten by now or has turned it into a mold jungle.

August and I work in silence, scouring the kitchen for anything that might be of use. August immediately finds a bottle of wine, which he looks over, then seems to contemplate deeply. He puts it in his pack and I have a feeling he’ll be adding it to his private collection.

I pause in the middle of ransacking a drawer full of oatmeal packets. “You really couldn’t wait until I was out of the tent to fuck somebody else?”

August doesn’t miss a beat. “I could and I did. Andie came in unannounced and uninvited,” he says, pulling out a plastic jar of protein powder. “You woke up before things got too interesting.”

I square my shoulders and return to sorting. “I take it that sort of thing happens a lot.”

“Often enough.” He shuts the cupboard and sticks the powder into his backpack. “Find anything?”

“Oatmeal packets mostly. And this.” I hold up the plastic jar of trail mix. “It’s mostly empty but –”

“We’ll bring it. We need everything.”

His choice of words gives me pause. Need, he said. But I’ve seen the supply trucks myself and we seem to have plenty of almost everything. Nobody in the camp goes hungry or lacks in basic necessities, at least not as far as I know. But I’m also not part of the inner circle. 

The pantry upstairs boasts two value-sized bottles of shampoo and three bars of soap, plus about a thousand toothbrushes still in their packaging. “Jackpot.”

“I’m checking the bathroom. Start on the bedrooms when you’re done.” 

My bag is brimming with floss picks and antiperspirant. 

The nearest bedroom once belonged to a woman. I can tell by all the expensive - and now very expired - perfume and makeup.

“Do we need clothes?” I call over my shoulder. 

“Underwear and socks,” August calls back. 

 I head for the dresser. I don’t love the idea of wearing someone else’s panties even if their clean but I guess beggars can’t be choosers. 

There are plenty of socks, so I grab a bunch of those. As I reach back to access the underwear, my hand brushes against something else. 

I grab it and pull it out and see a familiar book cover. I used to have a copy on my Kindle, not a well-worn paperback like this. But it’s the same story. I want to squeal with delight. Of course that’s when August comes in. 

“Find anything good?” he asks, leaning a shoulder against the door jamb. 

I reflexively hide the book behind my back which is of course a dead giveaway. 

He raises a dark brow, a smirk growing on his incredible lips. “What’s that?” 

I don’t reply. I know he won’t believe anything I say until he sees it for himself. 

He crosses the room to stand in front of me and holds his hand. Reluctantly, I give the book over. He watches my face, reveling in the embarrassment for a moment before looking at the book in his hand. 

Slowly, his smirk widens. He flips to a dog eared page and begins to read and I want to die. 

“He gripped her wrists in one of his hands, pinning them against the wall above her head. With his other hand, he cupped her sex over her dress and squeezed – not enough for it to be painful, but enough to make it clear that he was in charge, and this would go exactly the way he wanted it.”

I hate him. I hate the way he reads it in that deep sexy voice and I hate the way he smirks up at me and the fact that it’s getting me going and I hate him. 

He’s smirking again when he looks up at me. “Is this the sort of thing you’d like?”

“It’s just a smutty book.” I try to sound dismissive. 

He turns back to the book. “Her pussy throbbed under his touch —“

“Jesus Christ, stop that!” I snatch the book out of his hands and I’m way too turned on just by the fact that he said pussy and he’s still smiling and I hate him. “You’re acting like a teenager, trying to embarrass me.”

“I’m not trying to embarrass you,” he says. “I’m trying to turn you on.” He takes a step toward me; I take a step back. “Get you wet.” Another step and I’m pressed against the dresser as he looms over me. “I have a feeling it’s working.”

I hate him. 

And then he’s leaning in slowly, lowering his head as I turn mine up. 

And his mouth is on my mouth, his fingers digging into my hips and I can’t breathe around the lump in my throat, the ache between my legs, that God-awful feeling in my gut that I will regret this.

But it doesn’t matter right now. Because right now all I can think about is the man pressed against me, the way his fingers are tugging at my hair enough to cause the slightest bit of pain that somehow makes me want him more. 

My right mind isn’t in control – I know that – this sort of aching need is primal and weird and frankly a little scary because I’ve never felt this out of control before. 

And then a shout comes from outside. “Boss!”

August pulls back enough to shout, “What?” My mouth is slightly open because I can’t get enough air through just my nose and all the while, August’s eyes are on that mouth, and I know he’s imagining everything that he could do to it and that it could do to him. 

“We found some people in one of the houses. They’ve got Draven’s mark.”

That snaps us both out of our lusty haze. 

Michael Draven is one of the six most powerful warlords roaming the continent. Besides August, he’s probably the scariest. Maybe even scarier, since August at least takes people in and protects them. From what I know, Draven only takes warriors and prostitutes into his group, and they’re not necessarily warriors and prostitutes by choice. 

August’s soldiers have rounded up a man and a woman – a boy and a woman, more accurately. The woman is around my age but seems much older, and she glares at us hatefully enough to make me shudder.

They each have a tattoo on their forearms that identify them as Draven’s people. Some of August’s people have similar tattoos to identify them, but not all. Bearing any warlord’s mark is a gamble because people are about as likely to attack you for your allegiances as they are to show consideration for it.

“We’re not his people anymore,” the boy says. “I cut the mark. See?” He points to a few still-healing cuts slashing through the crow tattoo that marks him as one of Draven’s. It’s how his followers got the nickname crows. The girl’s mark is pristine.

August takes the man’s wrist in his hand and angles his forearm to get a better look at it. The man winces at his touch.

August drops his wrist. “And why are you no longer his people?”

“He . . . wasn’t a good guy,” the boy says slowly.

“Warlords aren’t known for being good guys,” Miss Evaline – one of Miss Ally’s people on this outing – says. “Except for the Boss.” She sounds more than a little condescending. 

“I’m certainly not a good guy,” August says dismissively. He really isn’t and him saying so really shouldn't be hot but I still clench my thighs together. 

After weeks of ignoring him, of keeping my legs shut and my vagina as dry as the desert, he reads one teeny tiny snippet of a bullshit Kindle Unlimited-esque romantasy in front of me and here we are. 

“Give me details,” August says.

The two crows exchange a look. 

“I wasn’t asking.”

“There were rumors of something going down. A merger, a trade, I’m not sure exactly what,” the woman says.

“A trade with who?”

The boy swallows. “John the Revelator.”

John the Revelator, who earned his nickname back before the world ended through apocalyptic religious and political rhetoric, is pretty freaky, too. He was somehow elected to the House of Representatives a year or so before shit hit the fan, and when it did, he knew just how to play it. His followers, now called Thoroughbreds, were ready to flock to him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a muscle tick in August’s jaw. He keeps his eyes on the crows when he addresses his soldiers. “Tie them up. We’re taking them back with us.”

The boy’s eyes widen in panic. “We’ll tell you anything you want to know!”

“I’m glad to hear it,” August says. “Blindfold them, too.”

***

Our little mission has been cut short. Whatever information those two people have is worth more than anything we’ll find in these houses.

I go back into the house to grab my shit. I hurriedly stuff the book into my bag and bury it under a bunch of shit. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving this thing behind. 

“Still have that book?”

I jump at the sound of August’s voice; he neither notices nor cares. 

“Why?” I challenge. “Gonna make me put it in the library truck?”

“Of course not,” he says. “That book is yours.”

I quirk an eyebrow because I find that difficult to believe. “Really? You want me to keep it?”

“Really,” he agrees. “In fact, I insist.”

“Why?” He can’t possibly just want me to keep it out of the goodness of his heart.

His eyes travel down to my mouth and linger there before returning to mine. “Because I know you’re going to think about me every time you read it.”

Fuck. Why am I turned on when I know he has every intention of torturing those two crows if they don’t give him what he wants? 

He’ll torture the boy, at least. I heard a rumor that he doesn’t torture women – at least not physically – and I don’t know if that makes him a gentleman or a chauvinist. 

***

August Walker had an unfailing ability to keep himself in check.

He was especially grateful for it at times like these, when he was simultaneously interrogating prisoners and imagining Delilah Reid pleasuring herself as she thought of him.

How did she like to pleasure herself, he wondered? Was she the sort of woman to rub frantic circles around her swollen clit, desperate for release, or would she take the time to tease herself?

Perhaps she put fingers into her tight cunt. Two at a time, he guessed, and only up to the first knuckle. He was very good and guessing the little details that brought women pleasure.

When he had her, which he inevitably would, he would start with one finger. He’d penetrate her slowly and deeply and only give her enough time to catch her breath before plunging in and out, steadily increasing his pressure and pace. 

Thankfully, he stood with his back to the rest of the men in the tent, bent forward at the waist to mark the maps laid out on the tabletop. If anyone saw the impressive bulge in his pants, they assumed it was because he was in the middle of an interrogation, that his subjects; fear and his own power were what turned him on.

Not that a random, rude blue-collar twentysomething had him in knots – especially since that rude twentysomething wasn’t at the level of drop-dead gorgeous that was required for most men to withstand such high levels of bullshit.

“Where did you hear the rumors?” Sy asked the boy. He was in a wooden dining chair with arms, as was the woman. Neither of them were tied or taped down, though most of the soldiers in the room had rope or duct tape – a clear threat of what would happen should they cease cooperating.

“One of the other soldiers said he saw Draven meeting with a Thoroughbred at a stopover,” the boy said, using the nickname for John the Revelator’s followers. 

One of the other soldiers in the room produced a knife and started tossing it up into the air and catching it by the blade. The boy saw and started speaking faster.

“One of them should’ve killed the other but they didn’t. They passed things back and forth; I don’t know what.”

“There’s not enough food in Draven’s camp,” the woman said, her words stumbling over the boy’s. “It’s not sustainable. Draven would only trade if he absolutely had to.”

“Is that why you left, then?” August asked without turning towards the captives. “You were hungry?”

“I left cause all Draven has to trade is women,” the woman snaps. “I’m not gonna be a whore for a bunch of white supremacists.”

Sy turned to the boy. “And you left because?”

“Because he’s in love with her,” August said dismissively. He finally turned to look at his prisoners. Judging by the look on his face, the boy had never voiced his feelings. Judging by the look on hers, the woman was fully aware of this and chose to ignore it.

“You were a whore in Draven’s camp?” August said. The woman looked him up and down, eyes briefly catching on his groin, and nodded once. “Would you like to be a whore in mine?”

The woman’s eyes went back to the bulge in his pants.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” August said. “It’s not for you.”

Lilah was probably fucking herself right this second while the rest of the camp was sleeping, he thought. She was probably doing it under the covers on her shitty cot in her shitty tent with at least ten other people in there. 

Maybe some of them were awake. Maybe Lilah knew they were. Maybe she was too desperate to care.

“If I don’t want to be a whore?” the woman asked.

“Then I would hope you have something else of value to offer,” August said. “Otherwise, well . . .” He shrugged casually. “Take the night to think about it. Sy, put them somewhere secure for the night. I have other things I’d like to get done.”

[pbandjesse]

It is unreasonable rainy today. But I'm not really sure it was worth it for the schools to close. Or at least have a 2-hour delay caused all of the field trips to be canceled. I mean I enjoyed the day off but I'm not sure we actually needed it.

But I also don't know because I wasn't exactly awake this morning. I didn't wake up until after 9:00 and then it was just raining. It was gross. James said though so I'll hold my judgment.

I slept okay last night. My ear is really hurt. But I'm fine. I was looking forward to getting a lot done today but I woke up kind of in a bad mood. I felt very frustrated by messes throughout the apartment. And I started cleaning them up but I just got more and more upset. I made an omelet after I got dressed and I hit my head on the freezer door and just lost it. I was so mad.

So I ended up texting with James just telling them all the things I was angry about. And I didn't want to be a bitch to them but I also felt like they need to stop leaving uses around the apartment. And maybe our levels of what clean is is different but I hate when I feel like I go to bed after I reset the apartment and I wake up in the morning and it's all over the place again. It doesn't seem very fair. And they said they're going to do better. And I hope they do. Because it really upset me this morning feeling like I had to spend more than an hour of my surprise day off dealing with stuff that I had already done.

I did get some stuff done now that I had wanted to. Specifically changing the water in the fish and the frog tank. And I felt pretty good about the things I did. I wish I had done more cleaning honestly. But I just didn't have it in me after a bit. I didn't want to do a big clean. I wanted to pick everything up and then go work on my knitting and my quilting.

And so around 11:30 I got in bed with my temperature blanket and I got to work on that. I took three lines and watch some videos. And eventually moved to the studio to work on the quilt.

Working on the quote was the majority of the day. I finished all of the panels. And then took them to the living room to cut them all down so that they were more even. And then I spent like a good half an hour trying to figure out how to lay them out so that similar colors weren't on top of each other. But in the end a couple of them still did it anyway. But I was really happy with the size and whole vibe of the piece.

Sewing the rest of it together to another hour. And by the time it was 3:00 I was finishing up my last pieces. And I was so excited. It's going to need a back and binding still. If I want it to be an actual blanket. Or maybe I'll use this fabric that I've now created to make something else. I don't know. I just know that I feel very excited to have this one in the bag.

What's been the next hour and a half mostly just chilling. Watching videos and having a snack. Waiting for James to come home. It's funny that James was leaving the museum to bring the car back home so that I could come back to the museum. But it's fine. We do what we have to do.

And that's where I am now. I drove out here after me and James sat on the couch together for 20 minutes just holding hands while we scrolled on our own phones. And I showed James some of the stuff that I had thought about today. Specifically things about packing and toiletry bags and things like that. I did find out that James thought that me and Jess were going to Disney world this February. Which is insane. We are going next February. But I was glad that we could work on that kind of stuff in the few minutes we have together.

And now I'm running around the museum. There's some issues because Angie is sick and had to call out, and Kelly apparently is sick but she came in to cover. And everyone is kind of on edge. At least that's the vibe I'm getting. I'm in the print shop though and I'm having a nice night. It's a pretty small corporate party. Maybe I'll work on one of my calendars. Specifically fixing January and maybe doing one more day. We'll see.

Anything I write after this is going to be from later on in the night.

And later is now. It's almost 8:00 p.m. which ones I'll get to go home soon. And I got a really good night. Started really slow. I had so much time to work on my calendar that I only have like 3 months left. And I'm here tomorrow night so I'll probably finish them then. But I'm feeling really good. I had some really great conversations with people and one guy was a Chinese immigrant and he interrupted me when I was about to say that Gutenberg did not invent movable text, that the Chinese did. And so we had a great conversation about that because I was really excited to be correct. He couldn't answer my question if the reason he was inspired by them was theirs were wood and he made them out of metal. But he said he would look into it more. And so now I want to look into it more too. That's just what I've always been told but I haven't really done any research.

And everyone's been really sweet. It's really small group but they're really nice and there's like to come back. And because it's been so slow I've been able to spend more time talking to people about more things. Like little lithography stones. And it's just been really good. I am excited to go home now I'm pretty tired. Also hungry. And they did not feed me. I was hoping they would but it didn't happen. Whatever.

Tomorrow I have work all day and all night. But I have Saturday off so I'm not that worried about it. I really feel good right now which is nice. Just got to make sure I bring something to eat and drink. Then I'll have a good day.

Soon I'll go home to James and take a shower and get ready to go to sleep. I hope that it just cozy. And I hope that you are cozy too. Good night everyone. Be safe.

[flirting-with-psychology]

Animated character that was your gay awakening?

Eris from Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas

Grilled cheese or PB&J?

PB&J

What show/YouTube video(s) do you put on in the background when you don’t have anything to watch but you want something on?

Friends

Your go-to bar order, if you drink?

Depends on the bar, but a reliable one is a white russian

What’s your favorite pair of shoes that you own?

My pink platform heels

Top three cuisines?

Italian, American, Mexican

What was your first word as a child (that wasn’t a variation of “Mom” or “Dad”)?

Don’t know

What’s a job that you’ve had that people might be surprised to find out you’ve had?

No one who knows me is surprised by my jobs, but strangers are sometimes surprised that I worked on movies and TV shows

Look up. What’s directly across from you?

The door to the porch

Do you own any signed books/memorabilia in general?

A signed copy of a Warrior Cats book and some signed stage play programs

Preferred way to spend a rainy day?

Inside watching tv

What do you get on your bagels? What WOULD you get if you had access to anything you wanted?

Cream cheese

Brunch or midnight snacks?

Brunch

Fruity or herbal teas?

Fruity

What’s that one TV show that you’re a little bit embarrassed to watch but you still like nonetheless?

Riverdale

That book you were forced to read for class but actually ended up enjoying?

The Great Gatsby

Do you match your socks?

Yeah

Have you ever been horseback riding?

Yes

What was your “phase” when you were younger? (i.e., Mythology Nerd, Horse Girl, Space Geek, etc)

Harry Potter, wolves, cats

Have you ever been to jail?

No

What’s your opinion on Lazy Susan’s (the spinning tray in the middle of tables)?

I think they’re clever and can be used for board games so no one has to look at it upside down

Puzzles?

Not that big a fan of traditional picture puzzles but I like puzzle games like escape rooms

You can only have one juice for the rest of your life, what is it?

Orange juice

What section do you immediately head for when you walk into a bookstore?

YA fantasy

What’s one thing you’re trying to learn/relearn in your downtime right now?

Sewing a costume

Where could someone find you in a museum?

Idk

What’s that one outfit in your closet you never get the chance to wear but want to?

My fox dress and leather boots. Got them soon before covid, then I gained weight and now they don’t fit

Rainbows, stars, or sunset colored clouds?

Sunset coloured clouds

How do you dress when you’re home alone?

Super comfy

Where do you sit in the living room (we all have a preferred spot, and you know it)?

On the right side of the couch

Pick an old-school Disney Channel Original Movie

Zenon

Are you a “Quote that relates to the photos” caption-er, an “explanation of where I took the photos” caption-er, or a no caption kinda person when you post pictures online?

Explanation caption

Name a classic Vine

Road work ahead? Uh yeah, I sure hope it does

What’s the freezer food that you stock up on when you go to the grocery store?

Chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, or ice cream

How do you top your ice cream?

Chocolate syrup

Do you like Jello?

Yeah

How are you at climbing trees?

Very bad

[stardustedsins]

Kiss prompts #4: a kiss where it hurts

Kakyoin Noriaki/reader (gender neutral reader)

You’ve had a pretty bad day so far. Work was stressful, and you hadn’t been able to find everything you were hoping to buy for dinner tonight at the grocery store. You’re heading home to finally relax, shopping bags full of what you did buy at the store on your arms. It’s been a grey, rainy day, and even though the rain has stopped, it’s still wet out. Cars splash through puddles as they pass by, awnings and trees are dripping with water that had pooled on them earlier in the day.

You’re glad to finally walk through the door or your apartment building. You and your boyfriend live on the third floor, and the elevator has been out of commission for a week now, so you’re forced to take the long way: the stairs. You’re about halfway up the last flight, thinking about how nice it’ll be to get inside and hug Noriaki when disaster strikes. Your wet shoe fails to make solid contact with the wet step, and your foot slips, sending you tumbling back down to the landing, groceries and all.

You sit there stunned for a moment before the pain of your bruised elbow and probably sprained ankle kicks in, and you realize your grocery bags have spilled all over the stairs. It’s too much after the day you’ve had, and you burst into tears. The only thing you want right now is your boyfriend, so you pull your phone out with slightly shaky hands and call him.

“Hey, I was just thinking about you. Are you almost home? I was thinking we could-“

“Nori.” You cut him off with a sniffle, and his tone changes in a snap.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you crying?”

“I’m on the stairs, I fell and dropped everything and I think I sprained my ankle.” You can hear him moving around on the other end of the call.

“I’ll be right there, just wait for me.” He hangs up, but he’s at your side in under a minute. He fusses over you, checking your ankle and your banged up elbow before helping you stand carefully on your good leg so he can pick you up.

“What about the groceries? They were for dinner-“

“It’s okay, I’ll come back for them. You’re more important.” He says firmly, and you curl your fingers a little tighter in his shirt.

Noriaki settles you gently on the couch when you get back to your apartment, wrapping some ice from the freezer in a towel for your ankle.

“I’ll be right back, I’m going to pick up the groceries before anyone steps on them. Will you be okay for a few minutes?” You nod, and he steps out again. You keep holding the ice to your ankle, wiping your teary eyes on your sleeve with your free hand.

“Okay, it looks like most of the stuff survived, and we can make do without the things that didn’t for now.” Noriaki announces when he returns with your grocery bags. Aside from some bruised produce and a dented can or two, there’s no harm done. He puts the bags in the kitchen and comes back to kneel in front of the couch.

“How does it feel? Is the ice helping?” He takes the ice pack from you to examine your ankle.

“It’s helping, thank you.”

“We’ll wrap it before we go to bed later, I read that can help prevent swelling.” He pauses for a moment, then gently lifts your leg a little to press a kiss to your ankle. It’s so unexpected and tender that you can feel your face heating up.

“We can order in for dinner tonight.” He says as if he hasn’t got you all flustered over how sweet and caring he is. “You need to rest your ankle.”

“Come here.” You tug on his collar until he leans in close so you can kiss him for taking care of you. “Thank you.”

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

Sweater Weather [18+] (Bucky Barnes x Male!Reader)

A/N: Hey, guys!! Finally getting this out, ahah. This is being posted way later than I wanted it to be, but oh well. I hope it was worth the wait, guys!! Especially since a lot of the end bits were written at 3am while I was becoming very sleepy (AKA right now as I'm posting this, lmao). Either way, I hope you guys like it!!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Male!Reader

Summary: It’s a quiet, rainy day when Bucky returns home from the store in the early afternoon and he’s not sure how they’ll pass the drawn out day. His boyfriend decides they’ll pass the time by putting Bucky’s sweet tooth to good use.

Song Inspiration: youtube.com/watch?v=0X3aff20Hmw

Tags: Explicit sexual content, minors dni please, cursing, birdfeeding (a drink directly from one mouth to the other), foodplay (rootbeer float), finger sucking, anal fingering, rimming, praise kink, slight degradation, metal arm kink, biting, marking kink, some choking/breathplay, a few d/s dynamics, safe words, bit of cockwarming towards the end, and much sweetness ;)

Word Count: 3,119

Not beta'd, all mistakes and errors are my own.

"Babe, I'm home!" Bucky calls out as he enters the apartment, walking into the kitchenette.

He puts his keys on the hook by the door as he passes and then sets the grocery bags on the counter, getting out the eggs and the milk. He goes about putting the groceries away, starting with things that need to go in the fridge and freezer. A few minutes have passed now and he's a little confused. Where were you?

"(Y/N)? You home?" He took off his jacket and placed it over the back of the couch, taking out his phone as he walked towards the bedroom that the two of you share, checking to see if he missed any messages or calls from you.

As he was reaching out to open the door, the door opened from the inside, revealing you on the other side of it. Bucky, who was looking down towards your feet, slowly trailed his eyes up your body as he slide his phone back into his pocket, taking in your outfit. Or lack of one, was more like it. You were wearing nothing but white knee high socks and a his tan colored sweater that stopped only an inch or two right above your knees.

He sucked in a breath. "Fuck," He cursed quietly.

You smirked at him, sucking on the end of a spoon. "Hey there, James," His name was drawn out lazily.

He noticed the glass in your hand and raised an eyebrow at you. "Whatcha got there, sweetheart?" He nods his head at it.

"Root beer float. I was craving one." You stated matter-of-factly, taking a step forward and pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, placing the spoon back in the cup.

"And you didnt make me one?" He questioned distractedly, eyes raking over you once more.

"I thought we could share," You purr lightly, your voice full of meaning that you knew he would understand.

He curses under his breath as he catches your eyes and sees the lust and desire in them, his own now mirroring the same. Then he leans down, eyes still locked on yours the whole time, taking a sip of the soda in your cup, some of the vanilla foam catching on his lip. He straightens back up and then closes the distance between the two of you, leaning in and slowly pressing his lips to yours as you melt against him.

He pushes your mouth open gently, already having your full compliance, and allows the drink you had assumed he swallowed slip into your mouth instead. A whimper falls from your lips at the sudden act that he quickly swallows as he deepens the kiss, bringing his flesh hand up to the back of your neck and holding your head as it tilts back.

He pulls back as he gently pushes you farther into the room, closing the door behind him. "I think that's something we can work out, doll." He says huskily. He then takes his right thumb and slides it across the rim of your glass, collecting some of the foam that's there. He brings his hand up to your face and cradles your cheek, his sticky, sweet thumb tracing the outline of your lips before pushing between them and into your mouth.

You moan softly around his thumb as you suck on it, tongue swirling, trying to collect every bit of the sweetness on his skin. He groans softly as he watches you, his eyes dark and pupils blown wide. You suck harder and bite at his thumb, watching his reaction. His eyelids fall to half mast as he tugs his thumb away from your teeth and out of your mouth, dragging out your bottom lip and then trailing his saliva covered thumb over your chin and then under, trailing down your neck as you tilt your head back, closing your eyes and breathing hard.

"Shit." You muttered, aching for him.

He chuckles darkly, pressing his thumb against your adam's apple. "Look at you," He says as you gasp, a mocking tone in his voice. "I've barely done anything and you're already about to burst, babydoll."

"I've needed you all day," You whine softly, bringing your head back down as he pulls his hand away from your neck. "I've been waiting for you to get home so that you could help me out." You admit as you take his hand and guide it down between your legs, your need for him still covered by your boxers and his sweater.

"Yeah, baby?" He asks, leaning forward and sucking the spot behind your ear roughly as he slides his hand under the sweater and palms you through your boxers. "Need me to fill you up and fuck you good?" Your whole body shudders at his dirty words, every part of you yearning for him.

"Yes, Bucky, please," You beg, rocking your hips forward into his hand.

"Of course, babyboy. I'll take care of you." He takes the glass out of your hands and sets it down on the bedside table, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck and tangle your hands in his hair when he comes back to stand in front of you. He pulls you close and brings his lips to your neck, sucking and nipping at your skin. You moan softly and tug on his hair, catching his lips on yours again. He rolls his tongue against yours and you lean into him, needing more.

He pulls back enough to tug the sweater over your head and toss it to the ground, pushing you down on the bed gently. He removes his own shirt and crawls on top of you, leaning forward and sucking on one of your nipples, his metal hand coming up and playing with the other one. You grab hold of his shoulders and close your eyes, arching into him.

He pulls away from your chest and trails kisses down your torso, running his hands down your sides and along your hips. He hooks his thumbs just barely under the waistband of your boxers and rubs the skin there gently, nipping the spot just below your belly button. He moves down farther and his breath fans over your fabric covered cock. You squirm as much as his grip allows, needing some kind of friction.

"Patience, baby," He says softly, placing a kiss at the base of your cock right over the little bit of clothing you still had on. The whine you had on your lips quickly turns into a whimper as he turns his head and bites down on the inside of your thigh, sucking harshly at the same spot. The thought of the dark bruise that'll most likely be left behind once he detaches his lips from your skin made your cock twitch.

He pulls his lips away from your skin after one last nip of his teeth and looks at you, a bit of adoration creeping into his eyes alongside the lust there. "You know I love you, right?" He asks softly.

Your eyes soften and you nod at him. "Just as I love you, I know." You tell him reassuringly.

He smiles. "Don't think we'll do anything too crazy today, but I still need to make sure you know those safe words, sweetheart."

You reach down and place your hands over his. "Green, Yellow, Red." You say softly. Then you add, "I trust you, no matter how soft or crazy the things we're doing are." His need to know that was unspoken, but you knew it was there.

He nods, kissing the top of your thigh affectionately before his smirk returns and he's tugging on the waistband of your boxers. You lift your hips up slightly so that he can pull them down your legs and off of you, chewing on the inside of your lip as your cock is freed.

Bucky wraps his lips around your tip and sucks lightly, making you groan. "Shit." You muttered.

Then his lips are gone and you make a noise of protest. "Jeez, baby, I thought I told you to be patient?" He teases and you look at him to see his smirk grow.

You huff at him. "Yeah, I'll make sure to keep that in mind next time." You say sarcastically as he stands, tapping a finger on your knee.

He chuckles softly. "Middle of the bed, on your stomach, please, baby." He requests.

You nod and do as he says, rolling over into the middle of the bed and stretching out on your stomach, your arms by your head and bent at the elbows. Your head was turned to the right, your cheek pressed against the sheets of the bed, and you were able to watch as he picked up your abandoned root beer float and walk out of your line of sight with it. You felt a dip in the bed and your curiosity was piqued. What was he doing now?

Suddenly, you felt something cold in the middle of your back, making you gasp. Did he-? Then his lips and tongue were on the same spot where the coldness had previously been and you didn't care to finish that thought. He sucked and bite licked every single bit of what was there as you quivered underneath him. You needed him to touch you. But you also loved what he was doing and wanted to see where he was going with it.

You felt his hand run down your back, his thumb pressing down on the mark he had just made, and you moaned again.

"What color are we at, sweetheart?" He asked softly.

"Definitely green, babe." You said quickly.

You heard him laugh a bit quietly before his hand trailed the rest of the way down over the curve of your ass and his fingers grazed slightly over your hole. Your hips bucked back slightly, wanting more than just the slight touch there. But then the cold was back, this time right where his fingers just were. You made a noise of surprise that transitioned into a loud moan as Bucky held your cheeks apart and licked a stripe over your hole.

"Fuck!" You cursed.

"Mmm," He hums contentedly before licking over your hole a few more times, squeezing your ass between his strong hands in the process.

You push back against his mouth as he starts probing the tip of his tongue at your entrance. Then his tongue is gone for a split second before more fizzy, vanilla ice cream is over your skin once more and you shiver, loving the contrast of the cold cream to the warmth of his mouth that's being latched onto you again. This time, the tip of his tongue pushes through and your back arches slightly as you try to push his tongue further into you.

Bucky grabs hold of your hips in his hands tightly, holding you in place as he pulls his tongue out and then back in again, pushing in further and repeating the motions until his tongue is pushed all the way into your ass and you're moaning for more.

"Bucky." You say breathlessly, the nails of his flesh hand digging into your hips as he starts fucking you with his tongue, trying to push in as far as he can, wanting to taste every part of you.

You were squirming and quivering beneath him, grabbing hold of the sheets. "I need you." You mewled.

It was then that his mouth pulled away from you and you couldn't help but push your hips back as he lets go of them. Then he was beside you, pulling your head up slightly and leaning down to kiss you deep and passionate. You moaned against his mouth, tasting the sweetness from the root beer float, the taste of yourself heavy on his tongue, and underneath it, the taste that was all just him. You suck on his bottom lip and bite at it slightly. You hear him growl slightly and you smirk as he pulls away.

He smirks down at you as he unbuckles his jeans. "I still need to prep you, doll." You nod as you watch him take off the rest of his clothes, nibbling on your bottom lip.

"Yeah, so hurry up and do it." You tell him playfully.

He narrows his eyes at you slightly as he kneels on the bed beside you and grabs your chin with his metal hand. "What a lucky boy you are that today's activities have already been decided." He states with a hint of threat in his voice.

You look up at him. "Oh, am I?"

"Yeah, you are." He tugs on your bottom lip with his metal thumb and forefinger gently. "Now hush before I change my mind."

As he says that, he pushes two of metal fingers into your mouth, forcing you to do as he says anyways.

Your eyelids flutter as you suck on the cool black and gold metal laying heavy on your tongue. You watched as he took his other hand and wrapped it around his cock, pumping himself slowly as he watches you, adding a third finger in your mouth. He pushed them deeper into your mouth, stopping and pulling back right before he reaches your gag reflex and pressing against your tongue slightly and then pulling his fingers out of your mouth entirely.

"Good boy," He mutters. "Now on your hands and knees." He directs.

"Yes, sir." You say as you happily do as he says, holding yourself up on your hands and knees.

He stops stroking himself and adjusts his body so that he can reach your ass with his left hand and you look back to see him opening the lube that you never realized he grabbed, coating his metal fingers with a generous amount. You look forward again as you buck your hips back, feeling one of his metal fingers tracing around your hole before pushing into you gently.

You close your eyes and push back against his finger, moaning as he leans down and bites the back of your shoulder, leaving yet another beautiful mark along your body.

He pulls his finger out of you and then pushes it back in all the way, repeating the motion until he's set a steady pace. After a few moments, he starts pushing a second finger in along with the first and he places his other hand on your back, rubbing it softly to help you stay relaxed. His second finger lines up with the first one and he continues his pace, pushing his fingers as deep into you as he can.

He continues to stretch you open, eventually working up to three fingers, and by that point you're struggling to hold yourself up right, your arms and legs shaking. The occasional brush of his fingers against your prostate didn't exactly help. Your cock was painfully hard and you were leaking a mess onto the bed below you, rocking your hips back into his fingers.

"You think that's good enough, huh, sweetheart?" He asked, a hint of tease to his voice.

You groaned. "Bucky, please." You pleaded.

"Alright, babydoll, alright." He says as he pulls his fingers out of you gently and grabs the lube again, coating his clock before moving behind you. He wraps his arm around your middle and then you're being lifted up to stand on your knees and your back is pressed against his chest.

"I got you now, doll. Just let me hold you." He says reassuringly in your ear. You lean back against him and reach up to place your hand against the nape of his neck, turning your head as much as you can to look at him.

You look up at him and say softly, "I love you."

"I love you, too." He says as he presses his lips to yours and kisses you sweetly. Then he's pushing into you and you gasp, your hand on his neck moving up to grasp at his hair and your other hand clenching into a fist on your thigh.

"Yes." You say. "Yes."

He grunts as he bottoms out in you, pushing into you as deep as he can. "Fuck," He rasps in your ear.

He pulls out and then pushes back in, somehow deeper, pushing up against your prostate and making you cry out. "Bucky!"

He fucks up into you, bringing his metal hand up to wrap around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you gasp for the bit of air you had lost.

As his pace increases, his other hand reaches down and grabs the hand by your thigh, twining your guys' fingers together tightly.

He pushes up into you hard and deep, his pants and moans in your ear spurring you on as you meet his thrusts, moaning out his name.

"You look so gorgeous like this, (Y/N)." He says in your ear.

You squeeze his hand in yours tighter. "You make me feel so good, Buck." You lean your hand back to look at him.

"Damn straight." He groans and tightens his hold on your throat slightly, taking your twined hands and guiding your hand to fist around your cock.

You gasp again as you pull on his hair, fucking into your hands, feeling that coil in your stomach tighten and continue to do so as he picked up his pace.

"Oh, Bucky, I'm close, fuck." You moan, your eyes rolling back into your head as he pounds into you, chasing both of your releases.

"Yeah, baby, me too." He moans out, keeping the strokes on your cock in time with his thrusts into your ass.

Your entire body is on fire in the best way. "C'mon, doll, cum." He says as he bites your jaw, and that's all it takes. You clench down around him, shooting your release onto the bed in front of you, crying out his name.

He follows quickly afterwards, cumming deep inside of you as he lets out a string of curses, the two of you riding out the high.

"Shit, babyboy." He pants as you melt against him.

"Thank you." You whisper to him.

"You're very welcome." He replies as he kisses your temple, laying down on the bed and wrapping his arms around you, keeping you close.

"Keeping me ready for later?" You question sleepily, putting your arms over his around your waist.

He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck as he pushes up into you slightly, drawing a noise from you as he chuckles. "Maybe."

"Can't wait." You say quietly. And with that, the two of you drift off into a lazy sleep.

A/N: How was it?? It might be completely awful or it might be really good, I dont know. Though I really hope its the latter. Let me know!! All feedback is appreciated!! I hope y'all enjoyed this!!

[duckuwu]

autumn asks! 3, 5, 14, 16

3.) What's your favourite kind of weather?

I like it cold and stormy. I want to be cuddled in my sweats, sitting by a fire, with it pouring down rain outside. But I also want it to be cold and rainy all the time -- running errands in my goretex boots and jacket, unafraid to jump into any puddles I see (during my errands) because I'll still be nice and dry. I severely miss playing football in the rain, slipping and sliding, mud getting everywhere. (though i'm old now, so I know if I were to play football in the rain these days i'd be in soooo much pain the next week lol)

5.) What fictional world you'd choose to live in?

The one in my head. LOL I wish I knew of more fictional worlds. I'd love to be a Flynn from TRON and go into the Grid and play games. Gosh, that'd be cool. I'd love to be a Science Officer on a ship in Star Trek verse. (which is technically our universe, but in the future??) Oooh or on the Normandy! in Mass Effect. But, honestly, the verse inside my head I'm still trying to figure out how to write... nature and magic and hidden societies doing good.

14.) Songs that remind you of Autumn?

California Dreamin' - The Mama's & The Papa's, even if it's a song about a winter's day. I'm Californian, we don't have autumn. LOL

Sweater Weather - Kina Grannis, again with the cool weather song based in California, what is it w/ me?!

[insert long list of acoustic guitar-ish coffee chop playlists here]

16.) Describe your dream house / room?

A modern lodge sort of situation. Gorgeous wood everywhere, big glass windows everywhere. There's got to be a fireplace to cuddle near for reading. (And a fire pit outside, to sit and appreciate nature and your company by.) Bookcases, lots and lots of bookcases and also storage. A handful of bedrooms so people can come stay, and one for my office / gym. (Because work stresses me tf out so if I could just stand up and punch a bag or lift some weights to get that out, it'd be great.) Multiple bathrooms, with the Primary Bath having a HUGE fucking tub for me to soak in, and a shower w/ excellent pressure. Medium kitchen, big refrigerator w/ a big freezer. lots of countertop space (ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKING MARBLE. NO FUCKING FARM SINKS EITHER (that's for my long time followers :*)) good sized stove that'll allow me to grill on it. There's a Game / Movie room, for ... games and movies. LOL The house is surrounded by Big Trees, and it's overlooking water (lake or ocean, heck even a river at this point). There's a garden in the back, a basketball hoop in the front. Either a shed or a garage for me to do art projects / handycrafts / build things out of wood.

my "future" tag is generally the vibes i'd love to have for future home aesthetics.

[luxwritesfanfic]

Green Light

John’s got the reader sweating and by the end of the night Mrs. Hudson will have flour where the sun doesn’t shine. Or, the one where John realizes Cupid’s got his work cut out for him when it comes to a certain high-functioning sociopath and his oblivious idiot. Enjoy!

Platonic!John/Reader, Sherlock Holmes/Reader

“What do you see when you look at him?”

You were contemplating between the mozzarella, sharp cheddar, and the Mexican four cheese for the baked ziti when you looked up at him. Mrs. Hudson’s birthday was coming up and she had decided she wanted to host a dinner party with all of her friends. That really meant her beloved tenants and /their/ friends. She had asked you to run to the store for her to get some ingredients and John being ever the gentleman agreed to tag along. “Huh?” You had no idea what he was on about and he could see it on your face as clear as day which earned you a pair of raised eyebrows and a grin that you only knew would lead to no good. 

He dropped the two salad mixes into the cart and braced himself against the other end of it. “Sherlock. What do you see when you look at Sherlock?” At the name drop you squint your eyes and tilt your head, trying to see what he was getting at. “I’m not sure I’m understanding.” John held your stare for a few moments before nodding dismissively. 

“Very well then.” With that, he turned on his heels to lead towards the meats, weaving his way between the other people and carts. You followed after him, murmuring your own apologies and pardons to people as you tried to keep up. You stopped the cart in the middle of the empty aisle and reached into your coat pocket to pull out the grocery list Mrs. Hudson had made for you. “So looks like we still need-“ “It’s just that we all look at him like he’s from Mars and it looks like you see something different. That’s all.” John interrupted as he made it seem like he was deep in thought trying to pick the best ground beef package. Rolling your eyes, you turned to the opposite side of the aisle and reached in one of the freezers to grab some boxes of garlic bread. “And what exactly would I be seeing, John?” “You tell me, dear.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, he was definitely challenging you and you had decided then that you liked John Watson a lot more when he wasn’t talking. Just as you were dropping the boxes in the cart and prepared to flip the conversation by asking how he and Sarah (or whatever her name was this week) were doing, you heard your phone go off. Out of biscuits. SH “And he’s got a special tone. It’s really like that, is it?” He throws a few packages of beef in the cart and takes control of it, pushing down the aisle while you’re still thumbing a reply. It didn’t take much for him to notice how much you cared about his best friend and he thought it was sweet. He just couldn’t let you know that without a little snark first. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You murmur nonchalantly and follow after him, making a point to grab a box of biscuits off the endcap as you turn the aisle. “Oh, of course you don’t. That would be too convenient.” He reaches out to take the biscuits from your hands and throw them in the cart for you all while making a beeline for the wine. That particular conversation finally dies off and you almost jump for joy. You and John spend some time picking out a few different wines to pair with dinner and a few to store away for a rainy day with no cases. You both agree that you should get Mrs. Hudson some flowers and spend some time building the perfect bouquet. “You should be a pro at this, John,” you teased, “you spend a lot of time buying flowers for different women. You must be able to read them like a book.” Not realizing you had just set yourself up, you wrapped the bouquet and smirked all triumphant and regained control of the cart. “Right, right. So then you see why I can read you so well.” Damnit. “Okay I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You win. Truce?” You batted your eyes and gave him your very best smile as you pulled out the list once more to be sure you two had gotten everything. “Since you don’t know what you see when you look at him, what do you think he sees when he looks at you like that?” John crosses his arms expectantly and raises an eyebrow and you curse him for still being able to see the fondness in his features. You throw your head back and groan. He was never gonna let this go. You sighed dramatically and shoved the paper back in your pocket and began the trek down the aisle once more. “I don’t know, John. The same thing you see, I guess.” “A hopelessly oblivious gal with a penchant for annoying dicks? Oh, sorry. I didn’t think the last lad you were seeing was that bad. A penchant for one annoying dick.” He was loving every second of this. “For the record, I was never seeing Bucky. We’re good friends, that’s all. He brings a sense of normalcy into my life and I need that with all I go through with you two.” You pointed at him and waved your hand to try and dismiss the conversation for the millionth time today and put a little more pep in your step to create some distance between you two. John could only smile at the fact that you never denied his first assumption and jogged to catch up with you. You had made your way to the self checkout and began to start scanning your items, relieved at the beeps and murmurs of the machines and other customers  to give you peace from the conversation. John moved to start putting the bags into the cart as you filled them. You two made a good team even with something as mundane as grocery shopping. He didn’t look at you as he spoke, more sincere than he had been all day. 

“I just want you to know I think it would work.” You hesitated and hoped it wasn’t as telling as you thought it was. The conversation was suddenly very real and you felt the air change around you. You kept swiping your groceries and hoped it would ground you so you wouldn’t get overwhelmed in the moment. 

“How?” You all but whispered, praying you didn’t sound as small as you suddenly felt. If John heard your weakness, he didn’t let you know. He continued to load the bags into the buggy. “Haven’t the faintest. I just know you’re good to him, and I think he could learn how to be good to you. If he understood what he was missing, he’d want to learn.” You nodded and couldn’t find it in yourself to respond properly. You swiped your card and grabbed the receipt and allowed John to regain control of the cart once more to lead you out. Once you made it out of the store, you walked side by side with him out onto the sidewalk and hailed a cab. “So how drunk do you this Mrs. Hudson’s gonna be tonight? You think she’s gonna disappear in the middle of the night to go get a sandwich?” John asked as he loaded the trunk of the taxi with your groceries and you couldn’t help but let out a genuine laugh. “You’re sick. I bet you 50 quid she’ll come back with flour handprints on her dress.” You pushed the cart back away from the road and back with the rest of them and got in the cab after John. His eyes widened and he slapped your knee as you settled in and fastened your seatbelt. “You’re sicker! And I wouldn’t have you any other way.” He smiled at you and turned to the driver. “221b Baker Street, please.”

[bomberqueen17]

tomatoes

today was a rainy day, and i knew it would be a rainy day. Sister had spent the evenings prior to this preparing; Saturday is the birthdays of two employees, one the beloved Veg Guy (IDK if he even counts as an employee, he’s permanent staff), and as is tradition, they were asked what kind of cake they wanted, and collaboratively decided on 1) a vanilla cake, with 2) coffee ice cream, and 3) hot fudge. So Monday night Sister made the coffee ice cream, Tuesday night she made the hot fudge, and Wednesday night she made the cake. (We were eating the Fancy Birthday Dessert today because one of the employees is off tomorrow and both are off Saturday, so today it was.)

She told me to make tomato soup for lunch, and got out bread from the freezer to accompany it.

I was directed to several flats of tomatoes left over from Saturday’s harvest, which would need heavy sorting. I went out this morning and got them and halved them (cutting out the bad spots; they were a bit past best) and threw them onto some jelly roll pans (sheet pans with edges, v important) along with a handful of halved onions, two heads of garlic I’d pulled the cloves out of and stripped them, and-- this is the good bit-- about six carrots I’d sliced fairly finely. Threw those into the oven to roast for like an hour at 400 degrees.

And i kept going on those tomatoes. There was another whole jelly roll pan, and meanwhile I also started filling a stockpot. I know Sister already had boiled down a batch and threw them in quart bags in the freezer, but I wanted to jar these, as that’s shelf-stable. (Freezer space winds up at something of a premium around here, even with *counts* seven chest freezers on the property, plus two upright freezers, plus three fridges with freezers in them.)

There were tomatoes left over from yesterday too, so we sorted through those midmorning. Someone wanted to buy 40 lbs of them, so we weighed out 40 lbs of acceptable tomatoes, and then the food bank picks up donations on Thursdays so we picked out the most beautiful of the beefsteak slicers and loaded a tote with about 20 lbs of those, and then I took the rest inside and crammed them into the pot. They didn’t fit, so I started a second small pot. Meanwhile I was still working on lunch, so I cranked both pots up as high as they’d go and stirred them incessantly while working, so they’d boil down fast.

I managed to combine them both into one pot by lunchtime. (You generally reduce tomatoes by 50% for canning, which does put rather a lot of steam in the air...)

I had errands to run all afternoon, but when I got back I turned the heat back on and got the pot boiling again, and boiled it down the last little bit.

After dinner I got the water bath going and sterilized jars and canned the tomatoes. 

I fit them into 7 quart jars and 7 pint jars, because the canner holds 7 jars at a go. I was so pleased. There was nothing left over, and all the jars were full. Triumph!

It was a lot of work and very sweaty but that’s what to do with a rainy day. And it’ll be worth it in February, to taste summer again.

[image description: recipe from the Ball Blue Book Of Canning for tomato sauce. transcript: Tomato Sauce. Yield: about 14 pints or 7 quarts ingredients: 45 lbs tomatoes, bottle lemon juice

Wash tomatoes; drain. Remove core and blossom ends. Cut into quarters; simmer 20 minutes in a large saucepot, stirring occasionally. Puree tomatoes in a food processor or food mill. Strain puree to remoe seeds and peels. Cook pulp in a large, uncovered saucepot over medium-high heat until sauce thickens, stirring to prevent sticking. Reduce volume by one-half. Add 1 tablespoon bottled lemon juice to each pint jar, 2 tablespoons to each quart jar. Ladle hot sauce into hot jars, leaving 1/2-inch headspace. Adjust two-piece caps. Process pints 35 minutes, quarts 40 minutes, in a boiling-water canner.]

(I did not strain, the seeds and peels are in it. I used an immersion blender to puree them but only bothered because I had it out to make the tomato soup for lunch; hours of stirring do the job just fine. I sterilized my jars by boiling them in the canner for 2 minutes apiece, and sterilized my lids in a small saucepan of boiling water.)

[sunflowersteves]

bloody & bruised || one night

Mob!Bucky Barnes x Boxer!Reader

𝒄𝒉. 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: You were hoping that you never had to see the mob boss ever again after a one night stand. However, he just so happens to attend your boxing match. It’s only a coincidence, right?

author’s note: woot chapter 3!! god i really love this series, the reader is such a badass! sorry for taking so long, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! 

warnings: blood, gore, swearing, making out, tiny bit of fluff

previous chapter // series m.list // m.list

“You know, you could just let it go.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at Steve who was sitting across from him at the table. Bucky had organized a meeting with his most trusted friends: Sam, Natasha, and Steve. They were supposed to be talking about who stole their last shipments but the conversation had shifted towards the one night stand he had a month ago.

“Let it go? She walked out on me, not the other way around. I won’t let her get away with that.”

Bucky pursed his lips as Sam’s smirk never died. He could only stare at his boss and long time friend with a dashing smirk. Bucky couldn’t help but roll his eyes again at his friends. They didn’t understand, he couldn’t let one woman ruin his empire.

Although, if Bucky was being completely honest with himself, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He couldn’t stop thinking about your laughter after a bottle of whiskey, or your bruised knuckles, or your eyes.

Fuck—your eyes were glorious. The way they dazzled when he talked about nothing in particular or your eyes dilated when his lips met your neck. The way your eyes lit up when you talked about boxing. His heart thumped against his chest like never before.

One night.

One goddamn amazing fucking night.

One night was all it took for Bucky to be completely and utterly taken with you. His stomach churned when he thought about the sweet sounds you made that night.

He was also quite impressed with you. Since the first day you met, you never took any of his shit. Nobody has ever done that before — not even the friends he calls family. You didn’t want anything to do with him on the subway and you didn’t fight for him in the ring, which a lot of people do because of their fear.

But you never gave in, not once.

He couldn’t get you out of his head and it was driving him up the damn wall. When he saw that you had left him there in an empty bed, his heart was crushed into little pieces. Never had anyone ever left him alone in a cold bed. He was always the one to leave first or kick them out.

You were annoyingly headstrong, dumbly naive, stupidly beautiful, and bucky fucking hated it. He hated that all he could think about was your soft skin. He hated that all he could think about was your eyes staring back at him. He hated it so fucking because he isn’t supposed to have these feelings.

He’s the big bad mob boss of Brooklyn. He’s a cold stone killer who gets off on crime. He shouldn’t feel the things he’s feeling with you.

“You like her.” Sam just continued to smirk at his friend. Bucky’s heart thudded in his chest more rapidly at the idea. He did like you. He liked you a lot. For the whole month, he couldn’t get you out of his head.

“You’re being ridiculous. I don’t like her.” Sam’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Normally, Barnes was a cocky little shit and paraded on and on about the women he’s been with. This was the first time he’d ever denied it.

You were different. You rubbed him the wrong way, in every way, but he couldn’t help but think about you.

“Damn, you like like her. You’ve got it bad.” Natasha took a sip of her beer, her right eyebrow was slightly raised. Sam and Steve continued to relentlessly tease and prod him for being infatuated with some girl.

But Natasha knew it was more than that. She saw the little smile he had when they teased him. She saw that he fidgeted a bit and a blush crept up his neck every single time he thought about you.

It looked as if Bucky Barnes, the baddest man in all of Brooklyn, had found love at first sight.

“Shouldn’t we be on the topic of who's stealing my shipments, Wilson?”

~~

Stupid. Punch. Fucking. Punch. Barnes. Punch.

Your knuckles throbbed against your skin, you could feel them bruising already. You couldn’t get that stupid mobster out of your head. For the past month, you’ve done nothing but try to avoid him.

You’d see his bodyguards in front of Carol’s gym so you would use the back door. Sometimes you’d see his car waiting outside or Bucky himself would be standing outside but you’d use the side entrance instead.

It’s not that you didn’t want to see him. You honestly did, that burning desire had settled right into your stomach. However, you didn’t want to get tangled in shit you shouldn’t be tangled in. You needed to focus on your career and boxing career, not some mobster that you can’t seem to get out of your head.

“If Carol knows you’re here, practicing before a match, she’ll kill you.”

A sigh leaves your mouth as you look to see Shuri leaning on one of the other punch bags that was rooted in the ground. You looked down to see your knuckles somewhat bloody—stinging slightly.

“I know. I’m just stressed.”

Shuri grabbed an ice pack from out of the freezer from the corner of the room and handed it over. You pressed them against your knuckles and relished in the cool feeling it gave on your slightly swollen knuckles.

“Thinking about a certain mobster?”

Her eyes twinkled with tease, and she sat on the wooden bench next to the punching bags. Another sigh left your lips and you nodded, walking over to sit next to her on the bench.

“I don’t know, Shuri. It’s like my brain is in spirals every time I think about him. I think about how hard he laughed when I told a story that night. I think about kissing his lips and looking into those damn eyes—those damn blue eyes rarely leave my head.”

She looked at you with sorrow-filled eyes. She opened her arms and you leaned into her touch, resting yourself on her lap. You were lucky to have a friend like her.

“What’s stopping you?”

She moved her thumb up and down your arm in a soothing motion. You close your eyes, letting your emotions settle deep inside within your heart.

“I don’t know anything about him. And I certainly don’t know the things that he’s done but I imagine it’s not all good things.”

You paused, lifting yourself off of Shuri’s lap to look at her fully. You needed to know what the hell was going on with you. You’ve never acted this way around any of your other partners. Bucky made you want to rip your hair out of your head in frustration but also made you want to make love to him on a rainy day.

“But it feels like we’re… I don’t know. It’s stupid-”

“Soulmates?” She inquired, then laughed at the bewildered expression on your face. She knew you didn’t mean soulmates, but she also knew you did mean that too. There was something different about Bucky that made your heart soar.

“Not to that level but, yeah. It’s like we’re meant to be together.”

The idea of soulmates almost makes you want to laugh but maybe it was another cliche like ‘love at first sight.’ Whatever it was, you wanted to get to the bottom of it. You wanted to be near him, to be with him.

“All I know is, you’ve never been this way with a guy.” She looked at the time and sat up, gesturing that the two of you need to run to the stadium before it’s too late.

“C’mon, I want you to come test out my new project.”

~~

Some of Carol’s assistants make sure that your gloves are secure on your hands. Gamora is preparing you for the tournament. You nod at whatever she’s saying but it’s hard to pay attention from all the screaming in the crowd.

You lock eyes with your opponent, Hope Van Dyne. She looks at you with a raised eyebrow but you can’t help but form a little smile. Even though boxing culture likes to pin women against each other, you were never one to follow those rules. All of you were just doing what you loved.

She still has her eyebrows raised, but she cracks a small smile back at you.

You break the contact and look across the stadium. Thousands of people were gathered for this event, and they were cheering like no tomorrow in your presence. Your eyes scan the crowd and you see Shuri and her brother waving at you. You smile back and give a little wave.

However, your whole body freezes as you recognize a face in the crowd. You see Steve’s blonde hair stricken itself in the vast majority of the crowd. He was walking down to the front row which means that if he’s here-

Your eyes trail down to where he was heading and you lock eyes with that fucking mobster, Bucky. His gray ocean eyes were staring right back at yours and you couldn’t look away. You didn’t want to look away.

A smirk settled right on his face, and man, did you want to kiss— uh, punch. Yeah, you wanted to punch him right in those pretty pink lips.

Your attention is diverted as the ringleader lifts the rope and comes inside the ring. Carol is yelling at you, giving you as much advice as she can before the match starts.

You find yourself nodding at whatever she’s saying before your eyes flicker over to Bucky’s again—you tell yourself it’s just for safe measure. He winks back at you, that damn smug smirk still resting on his lips.

“Round One!” the number girl walks around, your eyes locking with Hope’s. The ring girl moves out of the way, the referee stands nearby—watching your every move. You dance around each other for a while, testing and teasing one another.

Hope makes the first swing, which you immediately dodge. You watch as she curses slightly, sweat dripping down her chin. Your gloves started to feel heavy already, despite being used to them.

The heavy sweat on your body didn’t help, you needed to focus. This time, you made the first move. You almost got her too, the uppercut just barely missing her jaw. Her smirk was prominent, which just made you grimace. You hear Carol’s advice ring through your head, so you relax your shoulders and close your eyes.

Immediately, out of nowhere you snap your eyes open and swing to your right. Your glove landed right in the middle of her rib cage. She stumbled back with a gasp leaving her lips, and you watched as her eyes narrowed slightly towards you.

But what you didn’t see coming was the uppercut she gave right back, her glove hitting you square in the jaw. This has dazed you quite a bit, some blood squirting out of your mouthguard. You stumble backward, landing on your knees. You can faintly hear the referee call out so you stumble back up, not letting him count another number.

The two of you dance for a while again—dodging and blocking one another. Round after round, punching and dodging which all the more made you tired. Your jaw was hit three times, she knew that was a weakness. Her rib cage was hit three times, you knew her right foot had a weakness.

The referee looked at the two of you before starting the match again, Carol and Gamora shouting at you—trying to become louder than the crowd. You lock eyes with Hope again, a smirk coming up to her face again as she tries to hit you with another uppercut.

Luckily, you saw this one coming so you quickly grab it and put her in a hold. One punch—two—three—and she shoves you off of her, the referee yelling at the crowd while the crowd yells back at him.

You felt slightly dizzy from the shove but you knew she was worse, she just got three punches to the gut. In a sudden flash, Hope latches onto you and traps you in around her. She’s got you completely stuck, and she delivers the same blows except for one, only enduring two punches before you shove her off.

You rest your hands on your knees for a second, trying to steady yourself and you watch as Hope tries to do the same. Your body feels limp from the hours of dancing around each other and the punches you endured from her.

The crowd was practically on the edge of their seat as they watched the two of you stand there and regain your composure. You close your eyes slightly, breathe in and out to calm yourself down. Your mouthguard was red at this point—the taste of copper was overwhelming.

Your eyes snap open in a flash and you run up to her, striking a punch that hit straight into her chest. God, she was really good. You knew professional boxing would be hard but holy fuck this was the hardest match you had ever faced.

The wind was knocked out of her, the referee yelling to the crowd while the crowd cheered back. She was knocked back on her feet, body slamming into the cushioned ring. It almost felt silent, your ears ringing like no tomorrow as you stared wide-eyed at your opponent.

The referee bent down, counting to ten, and watched her closely to see if she was able to stand. Her eyes were closed shut and you almost felt sick to your stomach. You didn’t mean to knock her out.

The referee completes his counting, her team running over to her. The ref walks up to you and holds your arm up in the air—your smile as bright as it can be.

You did it. Your first professional match. And you won.

~~

You sat on one of the benches in the locker room, a cold town wrapped around your neck. You inspected your knuckles, the pressure of hitting and the glove had made them ache and bleed. Your jaw had a large bruise, it started to swell already.

You were inspecting your injuries in the locker mirrors when you saw the all too familiar mob boss waltz right in.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the boxing champion.”

You just rolled your eyes, a string of curses leave your mouth as you disinfect your knuckles. They stung pretty goddamn bad.

“You know, doll, last month-” he watches you fiddle with the bandage, another string of curses leave your mouth from not being able to hold it down.

With two hands throbbing and swollen, it was kind of hard to put a bandage on them. He kneels down, so he’s right in front of you. He gently takes your hand and you watch with an awe stricken face as he delicately wraps the bandaid on the pads of your knuckles.

You look up from the wound and stare into his eyes—noticing that he was already looking at you. Your eyes flickered back and forth between his, those blue eyes were captivating. It was like he was sucking you into a deep void of just him.

Your mouth was quick, blurting out the sentence that kept running through your head, “want to get out of here?”

He smiled like never before, eyes sparkling—teasing almost. This naturally made you become flustered, you started to fiddle with your hands as he continued to not say a word.

Finally, he speaks with that smirk etched across his face, “only if you promise you won’t leave in the morning.”

He took you to his car, which surprised you when it was him that actually drove instead of one of his lackeys. You get into the passenger seat, and he immediately drives off, heading to his mansion.

When you arrived, you noticed that no guards or his friends were around. You assumed there were at least some guards but maybe they were told to try and be hidden. His mansion was large, with gold and yellows fluttering across the walls.

You walk over to the coffee table and pick up a bottle of wine, pour some for yourself and Bucky. He walks over and takes the glass from you, his lips pressed into that dashing smirk. Yeah, you were definitely going to have fun with him.

For the rest of the night, the two of you become quite busy running and dancing around the big house. It was relaxing to be around each other and just be yourselves, you could tell that Bucky was enjoying your company too.

You giggled, swaying your fourth glass of wine in your hand, while Bucky laughed at your demeanor. Bucky walked over and pressed something on his phone, resulting in some jazz playing throughout the house.

Prior to the wine and jazz, you had talked for hours about whatever was related to the conversation. You laughed together and teased one another, enjoying the other’s presence.

His large hands went to rest on your hips, the two of you drunkenly swaying about in his large living room. Your arms were wrapped around his neck and your head was buried in the crook of his neck. He pulled you even closer by securing his hands around your hips.

You lift your head and stare at the mob boss in front of you, trying to memorize every detail of his chestnut hair or the structure of his nose. Bucky moved his hands, so they rested on your cheek, his heart was beating a mile a minute and his stomach was flip flopping at the beauty of yourself.

He didn’t know what this feeling was, but he liked it. Oh, did he really like it. He started to lean in while your eyes fluttered closed, his lips placing themselves on yours. His lips were soft and wet, tongue tasted like wine. Your hands immediately went into fists on his chest, your mouths moving in sync and enveloping each other with passionate promises.

His hands worked their way down your figure, trying to touch every square inch of your body. You tasted oh so sweet, like cherry lip balm and crystal red wine. You were running out of breath but you didn’t care. Your lips were locked, tongues exploring, hands shaking, and you weren’t about to let this go.

Deep down you knew you shouldn’t be here with him. You knew it was a terrible idea. But, you couldn’t stop, you didn’t want to stop. You wanted to touch his lips, tracing your fingers around his face. You wanted to dance like this on nights where you knew you’d be alone together. You wanted to bake cookies with him but let it result in a food fight.

You didn’t want this night to end.

He quickly separated from the kiss and before you could protest, his forehead rested on top of yours. His smile only got wider at the sound of your laughter, his hands coming up to rest on your cheeks again.

Bucky creased his eyebrows in confusion at the buzz that started in his pocket. He told Nat, Sam, and Steve to leave him alone for the night because you were here. He then looked down at his phone, and all he could feel was the dread in the pit of his stomach.

Unknown Number: Pretty girl you got there, isn’t it?

Unknown Number: It would be a shame if somebody killed her.

next chapter

marvel: @harrysthiccthighss​ @fandomsandxfiles​ @rebekahdawkins​

bucky barnes: @harrysthiccthighss​ @rebekahdawkins​

bloody & bruised: @xoasalxo​ @raven-rust​ @widowbite-legit​

permanent taglist: @captainchrisstan​ @angstysebfan​ @teenagereadersciencenerd​ @rebekahdawkins​ @hailmary-yramliah​

[no-mercy-bby]

No one asked for this execpt my brain, anyways here a slightly dark Handyman!Johnny x reader imagine :))

Light angst and some fluff ahead! Also light stalking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Johnny glances at his phone and noticing the time he realizes you were gonna be home in a few minutes.

Quickly leaving his apartment, Johnny walks around back to the small shed that was connected to the building of apartments. He hadn't wanted to do this but it seemed the more he tried to talk to you, the more you seem to drift away from him.

You had moved in a few weeks ago and Johnny had confidently thrown himself at you, only to be shut down because "you weren't ready for a relationship" or something like that. But, you hadn't said no to him, in fact Johnny could have sworn you liked him. You always laughed at his jokes, smiled at him, and waved at him as you left for work in the morning.

Which after following you one day he had realized you were a receptionist at some office.

Johnny needed a way for you to come back to him instead of him coming back to you.

Pulling open the electric panel, Johnny flicks his finger across the first switch that was labeled for your apartment.

Hoping that would be enough to get your wanted attention, Johnny closes the panel door before leaving the shed with a smirk.

Going back into his apartment, he plops down into a chair, checking the time on his Ericsson. You should be home about now...

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

Shoving your bag over your shoulder, you climb out of the car, keys jingling in your free hand as the other holds the strap of your bag.

You walk to your front door, feet aching the whole way, why the hell were heels attractive anyway?

You slid the key into the lock, twisting it swiftly before having to shove your bodyweight against the old door to open it.

After shutting the door you turn to flip on the lights of your living room and kitchen. It takes you a second before realizing that they didn't come on.

"Just great...Completes my fucking day.." You grumble, tossing your bag to your loveseat that you could still make out as the sun was setting, casting a warm dim glow into you living room.

Your day had been horrible to say the least. Not only did you have to work your job, you also had to do the other receptionists' job since she was now on maturity leave. You also had to revise all the paperwork from last year because supposedly there had been a mistake that costed the company thousands of dollars but, you hadn't even worked there last year so you were basically completely lost.

You set your keys on the kitchen counter before starting down the small hallway that lead to the bathroom and your bedroom.

Strolling into the bathroom, you flip the light switch and to your suprise at your luck, the light came on!

You turn around and continue down the hall, going into your bedroom and flipping on the light, which also turned on.

You sigh in relief as you kick off your heels towards the small closet, going over and sliding your feet into your comfiest slippers.

You debate back and forth with youself as you stroll back to your front door. Did you really wanna ask Johnny to take a look at the lights? It was then you realized that your fridge probably didn't have power either and it would be hard to find an electrician that wanted to work on a weekend.

Deciding to bite the bullet, you shuffle down to Johnny's apartment. Right after you knock, the door opens up immediately to your suprise, with your luck today you figured he'd be out working late.

"Hey," Johnny says casually with a smile, leaning against the door frame," You finally decided to come over and let me cook dinner for you?"

"No..." You laugh quietly, smiling back at him, his damn smile was infectious. "I came to ask you something."

"Fire away." Johnny nods at you before glancing down at you slippers, edge of his mouth quirking up.

"I know that you're probably exhausted from working all day but the lights went out in my living room and kitchen and I-"

"Of course," Johnny cuts you off, still smiling, before turning around and hefting up his beat up red tool box with one hand.

You step aside with as he steps through the doorway, shutting the door behind himself.

Trailing a step behind Johnny, you follow as he walks around the building to a shed you've never realized was there.

You watch Johnny curiously from the doorway, before glancing around at the various tools within the shed. Taking a step closer, you try to see over his shoulder at what he was doing.

"Can you please step back?" Johnny asks, glancing back at you with a smirk before returning to pretending he was fixing your lights.

You were so damn cute.

"Oh, yeah.. Sorry..." You say softly, going back to the doorway and crossing your arms over your chest.

Flicking the switch for your apartment, Johnny continues to smirk as he shuts the door, time to make his move.

"I think that's it." Johnny nods before turning around, smirking before stepping closer to you.

Surprising him, you didn't step back, only met his eyes with a sweet smile.

"I don't get paid till next week but, if you want to you could come over for dinner? I have a frozen deep dish pizza I've been saving for a rainy day... Its got cheese stuffed in the crust too.." You say trying to appeal to him, a deep dish pizza with stuffed crust meant just friends, right?...

You needed to have at least one friend here...

You and Johnny's friendship had started out great, he introduced himself and had helped you carry boxes in and unpack. He would hit on you occasionally but you easily brushed it off. Then he had asked you on a date while helping you position your new loveseat in front of the tv he mounted on the wall.

"I just don't think I'm ready for a relationship now..." You told him with a shrug off your shoulders, as you tossed pillows from a basket onto the loveseat.

"One date doesn't make it a relationship," Johnny countered, making you roll your eyes before throwing a pillow at him.

But still, Johnny boy has persisted on, every now and then asking you to dinner, making sure NOT to ask you on a date.

And yet here you were standing in front of him in your fuzzy slippers, while the sunset continued to set, asking if it wanted to eat a frozen pizza with you.

Guess you were gonna make a move instead of him, not that it turned Johnny away any, really only made him want you more.

"That sounds amazing," Johnny agrees with a bright smile," Just let me put this away real quick." He shakes his tool box, making the tools rattle as he goes back to his apartment.

You try to keep up with Johnny's long strides but by the time you got to his apartment Johnny was shutting the door again, no toolbox in hand, only his apartment key.

You smile as you stroll back to your door, hearing his footsteps behind you.

Once again you shove open the door, turning to flip on the lights, which thankfully they turn on!

"Hey! You actually fixed it." You say exclaim happily. You knew he was technically a handyman but didn't know if he knew all that much about electrical.

"Wouldn't have agreed to fix it otherwise," Johnny says bluntly, slowly shutting the door behind himself, watching as you go to the small kitchen area.

"I guess I should have expected you to know what you're doing," You joked, grabbing the pizza out of the freezer and preheating the oven.

"You need anymore help?" Johnny asks sweetly, walking over and leaning against the counter.

You hesitate for second, you really didn't wanna bother him more than you already had.

"..Could you put this in the oven while I go take a shower? I've been on my feet almost all day an-"

"You don't need to explain yourself to me, I think I can handle a frozen pizza." Johnny assures, taking the pizza box you were struggling to open and opening it easily before setting it on the pan.

"Thanks so much Johnny!" You thanked him, turning around and going into the bathroom, locking the door behind yourself.

Johnny smirked loving the way you said his name, you were so sweet and he hated that you didn't say it as much as you should.

You were his after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oop- what have I done :)

Part 2 tomorrow (hopefully)

@kingkarate @luv4fandoms @atmostories @solar-pxwered

Here y'all go ;)

[mickeymouse-moshpit]

street lights, people

A/N: Hi, hello, greetings, happy Monday! Woo lord I did it. February was hell on earth from a schedule perspective, and the people I worked with completely drained my creativity. Thankfully, I’m now on a service that is incredible and the creative thoughts are BACK BABY! That said, thank you to all you kind people who stick with me when I can’t keep up. And please enjoy this (spicy) chapter! 

Warnings: SMUT (fingering, grinding, descriptions of masturbating with a vulva/vagina, service top!Fennec has arrived, dirty talk, a dash of like light loving degradation if you squint?? probably not considered this), vague descriptions of a meal, I have no excuse for this, peds!Reader is just really tired okay

Rating: Explicit, 18+ ONLY

Word count: 3.1K

February 3rd

Dinner at my place?

You pressed send on the text, hoping your offering would be accepted. You wanted her company and to share food with someone so some of the fresh prep wouldn’t go to waste. You really needed to learn the art of making halved recipes actually produce half of what they usually did.

Something wrong? -fs

No, just wanna share food

...and see you

Time? -fs

You checked your watch. 4:30. 11.5 hours until you had to be awake again.

Can you do 6?

Course. -fs

You slipped your phone back into your coat pocket and went on with your afternoon. Only thing left was to check in with the night team and drop your white coat off in your office. You just wanted to be home.

***

Fennec perched on the counter. She wasn���t sure that she had seen you so focused since that night in the bookstore. But this was different in a way. Then, you had floated through the shelves, letting your hands have their own mind. Now, you were the picture of intensity. You had welcomed her into your home with a quick kiss and a squeeze of her hand, but you hadn’t said much as you led her into the kitchen and gestured at the island to a place that was empty, but had a glass sitting next to it. She took the hint, hopping up and watching as you went back into a flow state.

Every once in a while she would want to make a comment, but every time your hands started moving at a speed she didn’t think was possible for a human to achieve. She wondered how you had learned to cook like this, what prompted you to learn to cook like this, with a million spices and minced vegetables, in bulk. How did you have time to do this?

She got lost watching you, almost slipping into her own meditative state, but was pulled out by your touch. It was brief, if she had been doing anything but watching your hands she would have missed it. As you passed by her on the way to the pantry, her hand brushed over her forearm as though it had its own brain. She searched your face for any sign that you knew what happened, but all she saw was focus. And the dark circles around your eyes.

That was new.

But she didn’t bring it up, not yet. Not when you brushed her knee as you took the plates from the cabinet to the small breakfast nook you had created in the kitchen by the window. And not when you did it again bringing the pan of goodness to the table too.

“Come on, let’s eat.”

Your voice was quiet as you appeared in front of her, holding out your hand to her as she slid off the counter. She let you lead her to her seat, glass in hand. She couldn’t believe the volume in the pan, wondering how you would ever finish it.

“That looks amazing, but I think you would be more suited cooking for a little league team, not me.”

“Oh no, I’m sending leftovers with you. And some are going in my fridge. Others are going in my freezer for a rainy day.” You let out a little huff of laughter as you served the meal and sat down in your usual spot.

“Oh good,” she said simply, wondering when the right time to bring up the elephant in the room that was apparently obvious to only her. You looked content for the most part. You glanced at her every once in a while between bites and sips of water, eyes full of what she couldn’t describe, but surrounded by those damn dark circles.

“So I have to ask. Are you sleeping?”

You stopped what you were doing, wrinkled your brow.

“Uh, what do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean. Your eyes look like you’ve been punched and you’re in this state I haven’t seen before. Whether you’re in some kind of flow state or it’s one step away from being a brain eating zombie I’m not sure.”

She really hoped she hadn’t just upset you beyond repair.

“Can’t sleep,” you whispered, using the volume that made people question if it was you or their conscience speaking.

It was Fennec’s turn to look confused.

“I can’t sleep,” you tried again, “I’m so tired all the time but when it comes time to go to sleep my brain just won’t shut up. I’ve tried everything over the last week since it started. I’ve exercised, that makes it worse. I’ve tried chamomile tea, it just makes me sleepier and causes me to almost cry because I’m so tired and want to sleep but I just can’t. I’ve tried masturbating, but the whole brain-running-in-circles-thing just stops any progress from being made. I’ve tried going to bed early, going to bed later, reading on the couch, reading in the library, reading on the floor, reading medical journals in the bed,” you took a breath finally, “Nothing helps. I eventually go to sleep but then I wake up and it’s like I didn’t get any rest at all.”

You went back to the last few bites on your plate, looking to all the world like you might actually fall asleep. She watched you while she finished as well.

“Okay, Doc. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to go find whatever book you’re loving the most right now, you’re going to go sit on that couch, and you’re going to read it while I clean up.”

“But--”

“No buts. Go. Chop chop.” She waved a hand at you as she stood up and grabbed the plates off the table to take back to the sink.

“But you don’t--”

“I’ll figure it out. Go. Now.”

You just nodded, not sure why she was so upset with you. You went into the library to grab the book you were actually enjoying in the midst of your exhaustion. You took it back to the living room, perched on the couch. You let yourself sit back for a moment and take in what was happening around you. Your favorite thing was the sound of Fennec in your kitchen. The clink of the dishes, the sound of the water running occasionally. You wanted her to come sit with you but you just listened and eventually let yourself read. The pages started to turn, you fell into the story. You came to the end of the chapter as you felt her presence in front of the couch.

“Feeling better?”

You nodded simply, tucking your feet under you and gesturing for her to sit by you.

“Listening to you in there helped the most,” you said quietly.

“Yeah?” She sat down facing you.

You just nodded, distracted by the way she was watching you and the way her hands rested on her legs. You wanted to reach out and touch them.

Your hands, of course, were moving before you had finished the thought. Your fingers skimmed over the backs of her hands and you shifted to sit on your knees to get closer to her. Your hands continued their journey up to her shoulders as hers cradled your face. You let yourself have a quick inhale as her thumb caressed your cheek and started tracking toward your mouth. As it moved over your lips, you placed a kiss to the pad of the digit. You were focused on her face, saw the way her eyebrow quirked as she pressed down on your bottom lip every so slightly.

You let her.

And you let your tongue slip out for a kitten lick that didn’t surprise her, just made her press further into your mouth. When the first knuckle was at your lips, you let your teeth rest on it while your tongue swirled around her thumb.

Before you could get carried away, she replaced it with her own lips, letting you explore her mouth and rest your arms over the tops of her shoulders. She coaxed you to move to kneel over her lap, letting her arms wrap around your waist while one hand pressed into the middle of your back and the other grabbed the back of your neck. She pressed you closer to her and you groaned against her lips (and against your will) when the movement caused you to grind down against her. Her mouth trailed kisses across your jaw, not breaking contact with your skin until she could whisper against the shell of your ear,

“Do it again, sweet one.”

You moved with hesitancy, just letting yourself brush over the apex of her thighs, testing out the way the seams of your pants felt. She grabbed your hips, giving you more stability. Sensing your reluctance, she encouraged you ,

“That’s it. Keep going, harder if you want to.”

As you experimented with the angles, you found just the right one, started rutting against her with more force. She kissed at your neck and your head fell to the side and your mouth fell open with a soft moan. She mouthed at the place where your neck and shoulder met, but didn’t leave a single mark. She pulled back a few centimeters, your hips stilled.

“What time do you have to be up tomorrow?”

Not what you were expecting.

“4am, same as it’s been for the last couple weeks.”

She faced you, held your gaze, took in your rumpled hair and the slight sheen across your forehead, your lips parted just so as you tried to catch your breath.

“I want you to sleep. Will you let me help you with that?”

You nodded.

“Alright, sweet one. Stand up for me.”

When you were on your feet facing her, she tapped at your hip.

“Go lay on your bed, take these off.”

You heard her doing something as you padded into your bedroom, clicked on the soft lights that you liked when you were intimate. You decided you should probably brush your teeth so you could pass out at some point. You pulled the pants and underwear off, considered removing your sweatshirt. When the slight chill of the room hit your legs, you decided against it but did remove your bra. You turned on the radiator before you went to finish following her instructions. You weren’t quite sure how you should lay, so went for comfort. You leaned against the pillows at the head of the bed, propped up so you could see her come in, and pulled a throw blanket over your legs while the room warmed up.

When she came in, she had taken off her own sweater and pants, leaving her in a tank top and her underwear. She climbed up in front of you just out of reach.

“I have an idea, sweet one. You said you get too far into your own head when you try to touch yourself at night. How about, you tell me how you would usually do it, and I’ll do it for you. You’ll have to stay focused on what we’re doing, and that should shut that pretty mind up long enough for you to come and go to sleep.”

“But…” you trailed off.

“But what?”

“But what if I want to feel your mouth on me?”

“I know how much you like that, but not tonight. Tonight you need to sleep. Tonight I want to know how you make yourself feel good.”

“I understand.”

“Good, now sit up for just a second.”

As you did, she moved to sit behind you so that you were between her legs and she had you lean back against her.

“Go ahead.”

“Um, first I would see if I could play with my nipples through my sweatshirt, see if I could feel my thumbs through whatever shirt I was wearing.” You took a steadying breath as you felt her hands cup you through the sweatshirt. “I’d use my thumbs to test it out.”

Her thumbs brushed over where your nipples stood out, hard still even though you were warm. Not satisfying.

“If I couldn’t feel it, I would slip my hands up under it and play with them directly, just enjoy the sensation.”

She got the hint and you both let out a heavy breath when she rolled the hard buds between her fingers.

“How long would you do it for?” she whispered behind you.

“It depends on the day, usually just until I’m squeezing my legs together and a little desperate to touch myself.”

“Mm, I bet. How are you feeling now?” She pressed wet kisses up and down your neck, wishing she could mark you as hers again but not certain if your turtlenecks were clean. Another time.

“I--I’m a little desperate for you to put your hands on me.” You squirmed in her grasp and she hooked her knees under yours, holding you still.

“Yeah? Tell me what you would do next, sweet one.”

“I would sort of, I guess cup myself is the right word? Put some pressure on my mound, tease my inner thighs with my other hand, start to stroke my outer lips.”

As you spoke, her hands found their way under the blanket, doing exactly as you told her. You would say it felt like when you did it, but that would be a lie.

“You’re so methodical. Am I doing it right?”

“Feels diff--” your breath caught as her fingers found your clit, skimming over it but making your hips jump nonetheless, “Feels different but so good, want to try and make myself feel like this next time I’m by myself.”

That got you a nip to where your neck met your shoulder.

“Keep talking, sweet one. You stop talking, I stop touching you. What do you do next?”

You nodded quickly, adjusting so sitting spread out for her was easier on your hips.

“I would let my fingers tease my labia open, seeing if I was wet enough to keep going, adding a little lube if I wasn’t.”

“I say you’re wet enough, you’re dripping. What’s got you so excited?”

“Mmp, it’s you, you holding me, touching me, feel like I’m on fire,” you managed to get out between the noises she was pulling out of you.

“On fire, huh? Think you’re warm enough to uncover a little? Want to see you.”

You didn’t say anything, just pushed the blanket far enough back that you both could see in your lap.

“I would start to rub at my clit some, just figuring out what feels good today. Other hand would just kind of drift over my skin, pads of the fingers lightly brushing over it. If I really got into it would play with my nipples more.”

You were pretty sure you were going to need a day or two to process just how well she could follow what you were asking for. You knew they were her hands, knew the difference in sensation that was another person touching you, but it still amazed you.

“Let me guess, this is where that pretty little brain of yours would start to drift.”

Under her touch, you were starting to pant, couldn’t do anything more than nod.

“I’m going to do things my way now, little one. But you have to let me know what’s feeling good and what’s not. I need to hear every beautiful sound that comes out of that mouth, I need to feel how you move against my touch. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah, ‘course I can.”

“Good. Would you like me to tell you what I think about at night?”

“Yes, Fen, please,” your voice became more high pitched as she slipped a finger inside of you, caught your clit under her thumb, tweaked one of your nipples.

“I think about that night when you first let me touch you. How you squeezed me with your legs while I ate this perfect pussy of yours,” she slipped a second finger in, crooked them ever so slightly, not quite trying to find your G-spot just yet, “You tasted so good, loved the way you got so messy when you came.”

Her other hand came back to give your clit some attention.

“A little to the right, please, down just some, ooohmygod right there.”

Your hips had a mind of their own, twitching up against her, chasing that delicious friction, needy whines starting to spill out of your mind.

“I also think about the next morning, you had already had a whole morning before I woke up. When I found you in the kitchen cooking breakfast you had just showered, your hair on top of your head, that black silk robe moving with you,” she went in search of your G-spot now, stroking the spongy area with her two fingers, gave some more pressure to your clit that was positively aching.

“Please don’t stop, please!”

“I’m not going to, baby, wouldn’t dream of it.”

“T-tell me more about that time, one of my favorite memories.”

“Anything you want. I know it was so sweet, you just talking about your morning, making your second cup of coffee. I heard all you said, but all I wanted was to take you back into the library and spread you out on that couch again. I wanted to find all the different ways to make you come apart, wanted to learn more about you like I am now.”

“Want to do the same, want to do it n--” your orgasm cut you off. Tiny little whimpers and a refrain of, “Fenfenfenfenfenfen.”

“That’s it baby, so perfect for me.”

“For you,” you whispered as you came down, her fingers leaving you before you ended up overstimulated. You caught one of her hands, bringing it up to clean yourself off of her.

After you had given the other hand the same treatment, the two of you moved in sync, you curling into her side, your favorite place to be these days.

“Hey,” she whispered as she pet your hair, rubbed your back. “I wasn’t mad at you earlier.”

You looked up at her, curiosity etched on your face.

“I was mad at the way they’re treating you. You do everything for that place, and they take your help away from you, leave you working so hard, not leaving you any time to take care of yourself.”

“It’s really o--”

“No. It’s not. I just wanted you to have some time for yourself, to get you feeling like you again, get you to be able to sleep tonight.”

“I’ll sleep better if you stay,” you hoped the smile on your face and light tone would convince her.

“How did I know you were going to say that? Okay, I’ll stay, but only if you go take a shower and promise to try and be asleep before I’m out of mine.”

“I can handle that.”

You were true to your word. You were mostly asleep when she slipped under the covers beside you, just settling down more and tucking yourself against her.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging: @promiscuoussatan @phoenixhalliwell @ifimayhaveaword @maybege 

[dudeandduchess]

“Hmm? Oh sorry- I kinda zoned out while looking at your face . . . what are we talking about?” and “I really love you” pleaaaaase? Tyvm!

Hope you like it, bby! 🥰🍉

Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Cold Coffee (Fluff + Smut, Modern AU, Slight NSFW Scenario)

Warnings: Smut, Groping, Language, Biting, Marking

***

On what could possibly have been the chilliest night of the month, Kyōjurō had absolutely no idea why his wife would even want to drink cold coffee out of all the things she could have had. It just didn’t seem normal to him.

Then again, he was someone whom had still kept on eating sweets despite his tooth already aching; so there really wasn’t any room for him to judge.

A soft chuckle passed his lips at the thought, and he shook his head as he went on to add the coffee ice cubes that (Y/n) had put in the freezer— all to feed her fixation on the cold drink, especially when it was raining.

When the drink was done to what he’d memorized as her preference, the blond cleaned up the mess he’d made— washing the French Press that he’d used, and putting things back in the refrigerator.

He then picked the metal tumbler off of the counter and padded over to where the light switch was, flicking the switch before he made a beeline back to where his wife had set up a futon right by the panoramic windows in their apartment.

It had been such a splurge to have gotten it in the first place, but the look on her face when they’d viewed the space was too heartwarming to even say no to.

So, he had insisted on getting the apartment— even taking his father up on his offer to pay for half of the mortgage, as a wedding present.

It was for (Y/n), after all; and he wanted to give her the world, if he could.

Slowly, he made his way around the coffee table— making a mental note to finish off the chicken nuggets that she didn’t eat earlier, while they watched a movie. And, with a newfound spring to his step, made his way over towards the silhouette of his wife, which was barely illuminated by the city lights outside.

(Y/n) really was too beautiful for her own good, and it was only made more evident by the soft smile that played at her lips.

She was too enamored with the falling rain outside, gently pattering against the windows, and washing everything out in a blurry curtain that provided some semblance of privacy from the world.

Kyōjurō felt his chest tighten up at the sight of her like that, smiling softly and barely blinking tears away when he started to realize just how lucky he really was to have her in his life— as his wife, even. She was the one whom had been destined for him all along; the other half of his heart that he’d long been waiting to meet.

And he couldn’t believe that she really was there, when so many people could only dream to be with their soul mates.

“Kyō, sweetheart.” The words finally pierced through the young man’s train of thought, making him blink away his stupor before he answered her.

“Hmm? Sorry, I kinda zoned out while looking at your face…” He admitted sheepishly, smiling all the while— especially when he heard her giggle at his blatant honesty. “What are we talking about?”

“I was saying that it took you long enough to make my coffee,” (Y/n) answered playfully, while stretching her hands out and making a grabby gesture with them— which prompted Kyōjurō to give in to her silent plea.

He then crossed the remaining paces between them— taking his slippers off at the foot of the futon— before handing her the tumbler of cold coffee. And, with puckered lips, he got down on his knees and claimed the kiss that she had been offering to him as thanks; even smacking his lips loudly and diving in once more for another one.

With their quiet laughter rising over the pitter patter of rain against the windows, Kyōjurō gingerly made his way to sit behind his wife; placing her between his legs, and wrapping an arm around her waist, as she leaned back against him.

And when her back was flush against his chest, the young man pressed his lips to the back of her head, before perching his chin against her shoulder.

“Cold coffee in this weather? Are you sure that you won’t get a cold, my love?” He was worried about her, but he couldn’t reprimand her for it. Or anything at all, really.

“I’ll be fine, Kyō,” She brushed it off with a laugh, then took a dainty sip of the drink— licking her lips as she bit down on her bottom lip to suppress the grin that wanted to tug up at her lips.

“See, you’re even smiling for no reason. You always do that.”

“Of course I would smile, since I have a reason to do it.”

“Which is?” He couldn’t even deny how curious he was, even if he tried. So, he deigned to just go along with it, especially since he wife was in such a playful mood.

(Y/n) took another sip of her iced coffee, looking out at the rainy sky before glancing back at the tumbler in her hands. “It reminds me of you, because on the day we met… you’re going to think it’s so dumb.”

“Never.” His answer was instantaneous, as he began playing with the hem of her shirt; twisting it between his fingers, all to have something to do to stave off the anticipation that ate at him inside.

“Remember how it was raining then? I was having an iced coffee in that coffee shop right by the university, and…” The young woman paused, scoffing in place of the flustered giggle that wanted to bubble free from her lips; only to yelp in surprise when she felt her husband’s cold hands on her stomach.

In retaliation, and out of sheer impatience, Kyōjurō bit down on the side of his wife’s neck; latching his lips to her skin as well, and moving to suck a love bite right there— all to teach her a lesson. Since it was also one of her weak spots, which was only proven true when she moaned, before practically melting against him.

“Alright, alright, no more teasing,” (Y/n) piped up with a grin, but made no move to pull away from Kyōjurō— whom had begun to leave little love bites all over her neck and right shoulder.

“Good. Now, tell me… please.” His gentle words were so at odds with his hands, which had trailed up beneath her shirt to cup her bare breasts; pinching and rolling her nipples between his fingers, all in an effort to tease her.

A moan spilled from her lips at that, as she twisted her legs together, in an effort to clench her thighs to alleviate the lust that was building up between them.

“Okay, fine,” The young woman gasped out, while gripping her tumbler in one hand— all so she could hold on to one of her husband’s hands, which was still pinching her nipple.

And with one last teasing tug on the hardened nub, Kyōjurō settled for merely cupping her breasts in his hands. He punctuated his actions with a gentle kiss to the crook of her neck, even taking the opportunity to leave one last love bite on her skin— as a smug grin played at his lips.

Silence stretched between them briefly, while (Y/n) tried to calm her heart— and her lust— down from Kyōjurō’s teasing. And, eventually, she composed herself enough to continue.

“I was having iced coffee during my break, and you came up to me then… asking if we could share a table,” She whispered with a fond expression crossing her face, as she looked out once more at the city before them. “And I swear, when I saw you smile, it was like you chased away the chill I felt— because you were so warm and bright like the sun. And… I don’t know… it just made me like iced coffee even more, especially on rainy days.”

Deciding not to ruin the mood with his perverseness, the young man let his hands trail down to either side of (Y/n)’s waist; gently kneading her skin with his thumbs, as he tried his very best not to melt right on the spot.

However, that was proving to be such a hard feat to do— what with his heart already beating so fast in his chest, and butterflies already fluttering around in his stomach.

The goofy smile that made its way onto his face was automatic as well, and he didn’t put in any effort to suppress it at all. Especially as he began to press soft and adoring kisses to (Y/n)’s shoulder— trailing up her neck, her jaw, and eventually the corner of her lips.

“I really love you, (Y/n)...” Kyōjurō whispered reverently, in a tone that was only reserved for her. “More than I can ever say.”

And really, even if it took numerous lifetimes for him to get her to understand the real extent of his love for her, then he would do it in a heartbeat. Because it was (Y/n), and she was everything to him.