#it was wrapped up in so many layers of plastic bag AND YET. i still smelled it

[luveline]

eddie and roan <333 reader is on her period and Roan wants to help, sweet girl is a real-life heating pad

.thank you for your request! dad!eddie x stepmom!reader

"Taste?" Eddie asks, lifting the wooden spoon up to Roan's mouth. "Blow, blow. Super hot."

She's heavy on his hip but isn't yet a weight he can't carry. Eddie thinks he'll probably still be picking her up at eight, at ten. Hell, he'll throw her over his shoulder when she's a teenager if he needs to. But for now she's six, and she's light enough to carry, especially if he props her on the lip of the countertop. 

Roan blows on the pasta sauce, cherry tomatoes and ricotta. Steam billows away from the spoon and kisses his cheek. She licks the spoon tentatively. 

Eddie laughs as her eyes widen and she puts the spoon in her mouth happily. "Yummy?" he asks. 

She nods around the spoon. 

Eddie looks down at his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes. He's not anxious in the day to day beyond the usual family related worries, but your absence is really playing on him. You should've been home twenty five minutes ago, which is super late for you. 

Eddie dips the spoon in the sauce before Roan can burn herself in her own attempt, blows on it, and passes it to her before putting her down gently into a kitchen chair. She's focused on her pasta sauce and doesn't notice. 

Eddie takes the boiling pot of pasta off of the heat, strains it, and pours it into the sauce. Then he transfers that pot into a baking tray, covers it in ricotta, breadcrumbs, tiny diced tomatoes and fresh herbs and puts it in the oven to bake on a low heat and brown the top layer. He washes the dishes he'd made, including the wooden spoon, which Roan goes on tiptoes to deposit at his hip, and is just about finished when the front door opens. 

"Finally!" Roan says. 

"You took the words out of my mouth, babe," Eddie says, dumping the dampened hand towel over the dish rack. 

You shuck off your shoes and sigh. Your back is hunched a little and you're squinting, clear signs of discomfort. A blue plastic bag hangs from two curled fingers. Still, you say, "Hi, my loves." 

Roan jogs up to you and wraps her arms around your knees. Eddie knows exactly how she's feeling, the ache of missing your mom and the relief of seeing her again. 

You don't frown at Roan, exactly, but you don't look happy. Fingers brushing down her hair to push stray strands from her face, you lean down to dot a quick kiss to her forehead. "I can't pick you up, sorry. My tummy hurts." 

Eddie doesn't waste time waiting for you to come to him. You roll your eyes as he approaches, murmuring complaints when he gets his arms around you, Roan included. She oofs at being squished between thighs but she's a really smart girl, moving to your side before Eddie can encourage her away from your stomach. He rubs your back, checking you're all in one piece 

"What's wrong?" he asks, pressing his cheek to your temple for a quick second. "Time of month?" 

"Time of month," you confirm, wielding your blue bag at him. He had a suspicion.

He peeks inside at the assortment of Midol, heat packs, and sanitary towels. "Sorry, babe. Bummer." 

"Super bummer," you say. 

You mention wanting to shower and Eddie ushers you away with the promise of a dryer warmed towel and a bowl of pasta when you get out. Roan trails around after him curiously, knowing vaguely what time of month entails. She can't sit in your lap unless you ask her too, and she can't start a karaoke party without permission. Besides that, not a lot changes for her. She insists on being the one to get your pyjamas out and ready, and when you emerge from the shower she makes herself scarce with a promise —you will be in the company of her very best Teddy, just as soon as she decides which one that is. 

Eddie tries not to stare as you change, but it doesn't matter, you don't mind nor wither under his watching. You wince as you pull your pants up over your stomach and roll them down so the band cinches lower. He winces when you sniffle. 

"Is it really bad?" he asks. 

"No," you say miserably, shirtless and aching. He has a funny feeling that you're lying. 

You don't cry and Eddie thanks whoever for that, but you struggle to raise your arms when a shooting pain nibbles at your spine, so he decides it can wait, and wraps you up in another hug, careful not to touch your abdomen. 

"Midol not working?" he asks.

"Not really." 

"Want a double dose?" 

"Don't joke, I'll say yes." 

He eases his hand down your front and presses it gently to your soft tummy. Not even pressing, simply holding it there. Eddie doesn't know if he could handle it, but he wishes he could take the pain from you. It's brutal, and it's much too often. 

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he says, meaning it emphatically. 

"It's okay," you say. Quieter, "Will you help me with my shirt?" 

Eddie stations you at the end of the bed. He brushes your tacky face dry with his hands and picks up your shirt, bunching it together in his hands to pop it over your head. You slip your hands through the arm holes and Eddie pulls it down, smoothing down the slope of your waist to your hips. "Tada," he says. 

You give him a kiss for his efforts. 

Roan rushes in with a teddy in her hands. She has two favourites, both missing an ear, and when she was a baby baby she'd call them all 'Teddy' without differential treatment, but she's brought Mr. Cool in, named for his dark eyes that look like sunglasses. 

"I've found him," she says urgently, running to the bottom of your bed and climbing up, little nose tipped up as she meets your eyes, "don't worry, mommy. Mr. Cool has super powers." 

You accept Mr. Cool with a hand held over your stomach. He didn't notice when you first came in but you're definitely bloating now. He knows that can make it more painful. The last thing you need is more pain. 

"Let me bring dinner upstairs, yeah? We can eat it in bed, you can keep your shoulders back," he suggests. 

You nod quickly. You'd probably say yes to an exorcism right around now. Dinner in bed doesn't scratch the surface. 

Eddie nips downstairs to gather the trays and drinks and has to bring it up in two trips. When he finishes his final trip, you and Roan are sharing from your plate, the tray on your thighs with your back to a mound of pillows, her smaller stature nestled into your side cautiously. 

A cherry tomato falls off of the knife you'd been using as a fork and onto your clean t-shirt. You groan. Roan laughs and picks up the tomato, eating it without another word. 

"Weirdo," you say fondly. 

"Dad says five second rule," Roan says through her food.

"What if I wanted to eat that one?" you ask, amused. 

Roan swallows her tomato. "Huh." 

"I brought your heat packs up," Eddie says, slotting his tray haphazardly onto the dresser so he can peel open the box. 

You lift your shirt and indulge him, letting him place it against your pouch with a ridiculous amount of tenderness if he does say so himself. Roan pouts a little bit, and her pout soon turns to puppy eyes, and before he knows it she's lifting her t-shirt for him to pat a heating pad onto her stomach. 

"They're for grown ups, Ro, and they get really warm. Please tell me if it's too hot," Eddie says, folding her shirt back down. 

Roan squirms. "It feels weird." 

Your smile tells a different story. "It feels nice. Thanks, handsome." 

Eddie squeezes your shoulder in a shake. You're more than welcome. 

[yawnjzznn]

“are you hurt?”

txt’s reaction when you fall down

• pairing: txt x reader humour

• warnings: injury, swearing, mentions of blood

• i’m open to requests!!

soobin 🐰:

• very dramatic— like, really dramatic.

• you accidentally fell on the way to your usual meet up spot where he’d wait for you so you guys could walk to school together.

• when he sees you walking up to him while dragging your other feet, his golly smile probably fades into a frown layered with a worried expression.

• rushes over to you and grabs your hand— checking your face for some reason even though you’re limping over to him..

• “are you okay? are you hurt? what happened?” his words can’t keep up with the thoughts in his mind as he squats down to check your injured leg.

• even though you try and insist that you’re fine, he’ll probably drag you (carefully) over to a nearby bench and sit you down, pointing a finger at you and telling you to wait with a stern voice even though you can clearly see the worry in his face.

• he takes about 5 minutes to come back with a plastic bag in his hands, jogging back over to you urgently.

• “what happened?” he asks while getting on one knee, inspecting your red ankle, a little scrapped and bloody.

• you sheepishly giggle, embarrassed, “i fell cause i forgot to tie my shoelace..”

• literally pauses and deadpans, lifting his head up slowly to look at you, “how many times have i reminded you to tie your shoes?”

• he cleans it up carefully, handling you with so much care and acting as if your leg was a glass piece— so fragile in his hands.

• he’d finish it off by bandaging your leg with a cute pink bandage, huffing when he’s done.

“sorry..” you mumbled, looking away a little guilty, hands balled up on your knees.

“it’s okay.” he sighed, sitting beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, leaning down slightly to match eye level, “just stop forgetting to tie them.. you do this everytime..”

“.. that was once.”

“thrice.”

“okayyy but i realllyyy don’t mean to..” you whined, turning your head to look at him, pouting.

“awwwww babyyyy it’s okayyyy,” he mocked you mirroring your pout, pulling his arm away to cup your cheeks, squishing them in the process.

• you guys ended up being late for school since you were limping all the way.

• he didn’t mind though, before reaching school grounds he placed a kiss on the top of your head, telling you to: “be more careful next timeee, okay?”

yeonjun 🦊:

• ngl would probably laugh out loud.

• the sight of you falling down in gym class was so hilarious to him.

• it was P.E class, and the teacher had assigned free time for 10 minutes. yeonjun thought it was a great idea to play basketball with you— that was until he was dribbling, telling you to guard him and you tried to— but fell in the process due to him playing around and trolling you.

• he would definitely gasp as soon as you hit the ground, slapping a hand over his mouth and letting go of the basketball in his hand.

• he didn’t start laughing— not yet even though you looked like a starfish sprawled out on the ocean floor with the way you just stayed face flat on the floor, not moving due to embarrassment.

• he’d start laughing when the ball he had let go of previously bounced onto your back— making you flinch before resuming your position.

• his laughter was so loud and contagious even his friends started laughing despite not even being included.

• he’d continue laughing, practically rolling on the floor, slapping it.

• bro would laugh for a good minute before actually going to help you.

• still giggly and with a golly smile, he’d reach over and tap you cautiously, biting back laughs, “a.. are you.. o-okay?..”

• seeing that you didn’t react, he squatted down, continuing to poke you, “i’m.. s-sorry..” he’d literally be stuttering because of how hard he tried to not laugh.

• the teacher probably noticed the commotion, walking over with a stunned look on her face, “is she okay?” she asked, pointing at you.

• “no.. can i take her to the nurse?” yeonjun would ask with such a giddy smile.

• with the teacher approval, he’d carry you on his back, giggling the whole way to the nurse’s office— up until he set you on the bed.

• the nurse is ready to attend to you, kicking him out but before he leaves, he’d bend down to your height and kiss your forehead, “sorry baby.”

• even though he apologized you can still hear his laughter as he turns the corner of the hallway, far away from the office.

beomgyu 🧸:

• he would also laugh out loud tbh..

• during break, he followed you outside to where you’d left your phone— in the outdoor field.

• would probably be on his phone gaming while trailing behind you— then he hears a grunt and a sound.

• he peeks over his phone, unable to find your figure until he looks down— and there you are, on your knees and hunched over.

• he’d laugh so obnoxiously, snapping photos of you while doing so— doing the most and going as far to slap his knee…

• “that was so funny!!” he’d yell through laughter, wheezing at this point.

• you turn behind to look at him, glaring but he can’t even see it— too busy laughing his ass off at a normal fall.

• “i just heard a thump and you’re on the floor!!” he’d struggle to speak, words airy and giggly.

• you’re so tired of his shit. you stand up and walk over to where you think your phone is, ignoring him trailing behind you slowly, struggling to walk.

• you swear you can hear his laughter echo in this outdoor area, so loud and clear.

• he’d probably show those pictures to your family, or send it to the group chat you both are in.

taehyun 🐿️:

• takes it seriously unlike the other three..

• even though he’d be giggling on the inside, he’d quickly rush to your aid, accidentally letting out fits of laughter but covering it up with coughs.

• you were outside, walking around a park with his cat.

• you’re the one holding the leash, and maybe his cat was feeling extra silly today. it ran in slight circles, going unnoticed to you until you trip over the leash that’s now tangled up with your feet.

• you’d try and stop the fall— but instead you just fell on your knees, hurting it more.

• luckily you fell on grass and not harsh concrete— if that were the case, taehyun would’ve taken it more seriously.

• he’d just gasp loudly, like an actual audible gasp, “.. are.. are you.. okay?..”

• you stay silent in embarrassment.

• bro would start scolding his cat to try and make you feel more comfortable.

• would squish his cats face gently, “why would you do that to her?” he’d scold with the softest high pitch voice.

• after his little session, he’d rush over to you, sitting you down on the grass to check your knees.

• he’d rub the dirt on your knees off with his hands, not minding the mud and soil, cleaning it off as best as he can while biting on his bottom lip, so obviously trying not to laugh.

• you’d notice, obviously, and sigh, “.. you can laugh.”

• he’s so shocked when you say that, pauses and looks up at you with the most hurt and guilty expression on his face, “i- i would never..”

• “you just laughed..”

• “i didn’t!” he’d try and defend himself so hard knowing damn well..

• after cleaning it off, he’d try and make his cat apologize to you— pointing at it accusingly, “apologize to her!”

• “it’s okay.. it’s just a cute cat.” you’d sigh, patting it.

• he’d feel so bad and make your favourite meal right after

huening kai 🐧:

• he’d giggle at first, like an evil, “MWAHAHA,” type shit

• watching you fall while trying to jump rope at home was probably the highlight of his month.

• the type to move back and forth while laughing, literally saying, “HA. HA. HA.”

• you’d try and recover from the fall, distraught yourself from the embarrassment.

• after he calms down, he’d tend to you, making sure you didn’t have any serious injuries.

• “you okay?” he’d ask through giggles.

• “.. don’t let me jump rope ever again.. okay?” you’d sigh, staring at him in betrayal as if he was the one that pushed you.

• “the way you fell.. your knees literally bent.” he’d go into details and embarrass you further, making himself laugh even louder and more than just now.

• he feels bad after, placing you onto the corner of the couch, placing a soft blanket over you and tucking you in, surrounding you with his plushies.

• bro would tend to every need, making sure you get everything you want.

• would watch you slowly fall asleep— feeling more guiltier for some reason.

• he’d wake you up, whispering a little, “im sorry.”

• would hug you to sleep and feel better

[sergle]

ALSO i have gotten SO MANY Astrology Discourse Asks tonight that i’d like to announce the end of this era, unless you have something Mean Yet Lighthearted to say about geminis, i’d like to say we’re done but it’s been fun

[dreamgrlarchive]

Self Care 101 🦋

In this post I’ll be outlining my current routines as they relate to self care. I’ll cover everything from head to toe making sure not to skip your spirit. You cannot be a girl of ANYONE’S dreams if you aren’t taking care of the most important person in your world: you.

mornings:

wash face with gentle cleanser from curology, tone with organic Mamonde rose water and finish with rich moisturizer and spf30

brush teeth with activated charcoal toothpaste by Crest and baking soda for whitening and gum clarity

take vitamins : woman’s one a day, hair skin nails, biotin, vitamin c

drink glass of water then a cup of tea

black tea, raw cane sugar, a lemon slice, ginger

good for energy, immune function, and detox

showers:

this may sound so extra (😅), but depending on my hairstyle, I sometimes like to let the shower run for about five minutes with the door closed to create a sauna effect. this is especially if I have a mask on my hair.

my showers usually are about 20-30 minutes

I have a back brush, pink exfoliating gloves, a loofah, and tree hut body scrubs and I use them ALL.

I wash first with my dove beauty bar to assure clean skin before washing with EITHER my OGX Shea So Soft body wash or Dove Renewing Peony and Rose Oil body wash to add scent or silkiness to my skin.

hair removal:

I haven’t yet mastered the art of waxing myself so I’m still riding the shave wave. *when I do I’ll make a post 4 that*

I exfoliate throughly before AND after shaving

I shave my entire body using Tree Hut Shaving Oil and a nice conditioner I’m not using. This leaves my skin super soft and silky and helps the razor to glide without skipping. I use Gillette Venus. no less than five blades, anything less is ASKING for nicks and a hard time.

when I don’t feel like shaving, I use Nair. use at your own risk. yes, I Nair my ENTIRE BODY. only leaving it on for about 7 minutes I rinse in WARM (not hot) water and exfoliate afterwards. it is imperative to moisturize after to avoid irritation. however, Nair is much easier to do than shaving and seems to last an inkling longer.

after shaving, once a month, I pull out my KENZZI. it’s an IPL device and it has helped to slow the growth of my hair. it’s noticeable for us long, thick haired chicks. I use the second to lowest setting as a melanated babe, as the higher settings could burn me.

I know many endorse the hair on women movement and I can understand it. But I personally love my skin silky, hairless, and smooth.

nights:

after eating dinner, I wash my face and apply the tiniest bit of glycolic serum and my curology night cream. my skin has been the best it’s been in a few years. then I brush my teeth and rinse with peroxide.

every four days I give myself a facial

my favorite face masks:

The Ordinary Salicylic Acid mask

The Ordinary AHA + BHA mask

all Tony Moly sheet masks *luvvvvv those*

GLAMGLOW SUPERMUD clearing treatment *fav*

Peter Thomas Roth Pumpkin Enzyme mask

Peter Thomas Roth Cucumber Gel mask

Peter Thomas Roth Irish Moor Mud mask

Peter Thomas Roth Rose Stem Cell Bio-Repair Gel mask

ORIGINS Clear Improvement mask

An at home honey and aloe mask

I apply a rich facial moisturizer and get to bed.

I then write in my planner my new plans and what I did that day if I hadn’t already. then after that I script and make mood boards in my diary. then I read a little. currently reading: Making Faces by Kevyn Aucoin, and Live Like a hot Chick by Jodi Lipper.

emotions:

I talk to my grandmother about my feelings, she helps me sort things out. please try to find one person you trust to talk to, my messages are always open. 💓 I often overthink. I suffer from anxiety and clinical depression. sometimes these things make me FEEL limited. these experiences wax and wane. I remind myself that the darkness is temporary.

I write in my diary what I feel and track my emotions for potential patterns. I don’t manufacture or sugar coat my feelings, I just talk.

sometimes you need a good cry. let it out. clean your slate. you’ll always feel better, sometimes great after a hard, deep sobbing cry.

I try to get out of the house and get some sunlight. it helps brighten my mood sometimes.

baths:

LOVE taking baths I don’t care what the status quo is about dirt. just rinse off. I love wrapping my hair up and soaking in warm-hot water.

first I run the water. as it’s running I add my bubble bath, then body wash, then my Shea Moisture fragrant coconut oil. it smells soooo good, literally yummy. then I inevitably scream from dipping my toe in the hot water. finally I get in, scrub down my body, emphasis on feet. then I wash, and just relax. I’ve even fallen asleep in the tub once, I was so zen.

careful not to soak too long or overdo it with your products. synthetic materials lingering in your lady bits for too long cause cause infections like bv or uti

some women add tea tree oil, acv, or even Aztec clay to their baths for wellness purposes. I love adding essential oils to my baths to relax and the natural scent is just great 🥺

when I get out I always put something that feels lush and soft on. *invest in super soft, comfy bath towels, they’ll make you feel so luxurious and soft after a nice relaxing bath*

flower:

the yoni is something sensitive that needs to be taken care of thoroughly, and differently than the rest of your body. it’s not recommended to use soaps down there, it can unbalance things and make you itch. also make you prone to infection. this is why I use clear warm water to clean. if I use soap it’s a sensitive, gentle formula. don’t ever try to clean the cavity. she’s a self cleaning vessel.

to shave, I trim my hair down as close as possible and use a FIVE BLADE razor with conditioner and take my time. making sure not to pass a spot twice, I apply moderate pressure and move slowly. when finished I rinse and scrub gently. I PAT not rub dry. to finish off I apply TendSkin, and salicylic acid to avoid ingrowns. once that’s soaked in I apply shea butter. very soft and pretty 🌸

⚠️ DO NOT PUT ON TIGHT PANTIES OR RIGHT PANTS AFTER SHAVING. it restricts the hairs and causes irritation and ingrowns. throw on some comfy loose shorts for a while, let it breathe

dietary needs:

drink plenty of water

cranberry juice

vitamin c

minimal red meat

probiotics

at home vagacial for the high maintenance girlies:

*make any necessary extractions with pointed and slanted tweezers *

scrub: 

brown sugar, tea tree oil, a little shea butter

exfoliating and anti inflammatory

mask:

baking soda, fresh lemon juice, vitamin e oil, papaya juice, gelatin

fixes discoloration and brightens the skin while softening

moisturize:

aloe vera gel, rose hip seed oil

smelling sweet:

ah yes, my favorite part. I love fragrance so much. I love to smell like you could literally break off a piece of me and eat it.

I find that using fragrant washes and oils make your scent more strong and help it linger. I already mentioned the body washes I use. the tree hut scrubs I use smell amazing also. I alike to add essential oils and man made scents like strawberry and chocolate to my Shea Moisture oil (so yummy).

I also use a fragrant lotion, eau de parfum, and fragrance mist.

here’s a list of some of my favorites:

perfumes:

jimmy choo fever

coach floral blush

yves saint laurent mon paris

victoria’s secret bombshell

victoria’s secret scandalous

valentino

fragrance mists:

victoria’s secret velvet petals, pure seduction, warm and cozy

bath and body works a thousand wishes, fiji pineapple palm, warm vanilla sugar, black raspberry vanilla

oils:

coconut

sweet almond

peppermint

chocolate scented essential oil

strawberry scented essential oil

orange

grapefruit

eucalyptus

sweetest combo ever:

vanilla extract, coconut oil, shea butter, and your favorite perfume. you’ll be smelling like a warm cupcake with extra sprinkles and icing 🧁

layering:

oil, lotion, eau de parfum, mist

pulse points:

inside elbows and knees, in between thighs, inner arms, behind ears, back of neck, ankles

hair:

it’s super important to keep your hair moisturized. quenched tresses move, grow, shine and bounce. dry hair is limp, lackluster, and extremely fragile

my fav diy deep conditioner:

a banana, half an avocado, three spoons of honey, an egg, a spoonful of mayo, a spoonful of coconut, olive, and castor oil each

strength from egg, avocado, mayo and olive oil

moisture from avocado and honey

cover damp CLEAN hair and scalp in mixture and cover with a plastic bag, then towel for an hour, rinse thoroughly, and seal in moisture

fav hair products:

castor oil

fusionplex conditioner and mask

Aussie conditioner

wella goji berry mask

coconut oil

style booster edge control

helpful tips:

when shampooing, concentrate on the scalp and wash thoroughly twice, as the suds will naturally cleanse your stands without drying and stripping them

rinse hair with apple cider vinegar every now and then. it restores your ph balance, smooths the cuticle, clarifies the strands, and adds shine

always add oil and leave ins to DAMP hair, never dry; this will ensure you’re sealing in moisture

try to use smooth fabrics to dry your hair, bath towels encourage frizz and breakage

hands and feet:

and last but not least, let’s cover manicuring and pedicuring.

it’s super important to make sure your nails are either DONE or filed, shaped, and smooth. at home maintenance is super easy. make a point to scrub your hands and feet well when bathing. make sure to stay on top of your cuticles by trimming or pushing them back. I like the look that pushing them gives. I use an orangewood stick, metal pusher and cuticle softener to make the process super easy and safe. after I’m done I add my pineapple scented cuticle oil. I do this on my fingers and toes.

invest in a rasp and pumice stone for your feet and use these gently every two weeks after soaking them in warm foot salts. rough usage can cause cuts and irritation. in between treatments keep your feet soft by slathering them in a moisturizing foot cream, cocoa/shea butter then oil to seal it all in. buy some soft thick aloe infused socks and wear them to sleep. you’ll thank me 😉

for info on how I do my nails click this

well, that’s all I’ve got. I truly hope you enjoyed my post! it’s always fun sharing my advice with you all. any feedback is appreciated and question is welcomed ♡

[jackrrabbit]

cooking at 3am /// Osamu x f!Reader

Request: Imagine cooking together with Osamu at 3am because neither of you could sleep (or because ‘Samu got the midnight munchies lol). You don’t have anything specific in mind; you’re just playing around and feeding each other little bits of what you make.

A/N: bruh you said munchies and my mind said [[ h i g h o s a m u ]] sorry this went in a kinda different direction? but still fun 3am cooking project vibes :P

Tag/warnings: fluff, light drug use (weed), you and Atsumu are lowkey Bros™️, Osamu's kinda baby 🤧

Osamu’s not good at smoking.

He doesn’t really know how to inhale—you know, hold it in his lungs so it can soak in or whatever—and when he does, he coughs. Except he tries to repress the coughs. Even if he wants to hide it, he’s always close enough to you that you can feel his chest moving from trying not to cough when he takes a hit.

And also, like every baby smoker, he can’t really tell when it’s kicking in until he’s off the deep end.

“Can you feel it yet?”

“No.”

You shoot Osamu a glance where he’s sitting on the ground in front of the couch, watching a nature documentary on Atsumu’s TV with a glazed-over look on his face. “You sure? Your eyes are super red.”

“I can’t feel it. Give it—“ He holds out his hand and honestly you’re pretty sure he’s had plenty, but it’s Atsumu’s vape so who cares. You hand it over and Osamu holds it up to his mouth and sucks, eyes fluttering closed as the light on the side of the Pax glows yellow.

God, he looks hot when he does that. Something about a hot guy smoking, yeah? Actually, no. Something about your hot boyfriend smoking.

Except 'Samu holds his breath a second too long and you can see the urge to cough hit him… Wait for it, you think to yourself, and a second later he hacks and wheezes the vapor out in a wispy cloud that reflects silver against the semi-dark. You coo in sympathy and pat his back. “Want some water?”

Osamu shakes his head, hand over his mouth to stop the coughing. On the tv, David Attenborough talks about penguin courtship rituals and Atsumu (who’s been draped on the couch next to you for the past few hours) gives a light little sigh in his sleep. You check the time. 3am. Bedtime. Too bad you and 'Samu are both too high to drive home…whoops. Guess you’re spending the night at Atsumu’s place.

Osamu rubs his bloodshot eyes like they’re itchy, which they probably are. “Hey, can we— uhh… Do we have pancakes.”

“Pancakes, babe? You mean the ones you made for breakfast?”

“Yeah, there’s leftovers…I made you extra and you didn’t want them.” He twists around and gives you an incredibly dirty look, like this is something you did on purpose to hurt his feelings. “If you don’t want them I’m going to eat them.”

“Wait, 'Samu—“ But Osamu's already getting up off the floor to wander over to the next room. You debate pausing the show—it’s a really good scene—but you leave it going for Atsumu's sake because you’re pretty sure the narration is the only thing keeping him asleep. He’s kinda drooling on your shoulder and you have to push him off to go follow your boyfriend to the kitchen.

“What is all this stuff? Ugh…” Osamu's pawing through the fridge. There’s a lot of crinkling, plastic sounds—you catch a glimpse inside and all of the shelves are stacked up with plastic bags and styrofoam containers.

You yawn and hop up to sit on the kitchen island. “Takeout? I don’t think he cooks.” Atsumu's going to get a lecture tomorrow for keeping 2-week-old Indian food in his fridge. God knows you heard it way too many times before you and Osamu moved in together. You don’t envy 'Tsumu.

Osamu sits down in front of the fridge, fumbles with a drawer, and pulls out a bag of moldy grapes. “Gross…who lives like this…”

You snicker into your hand.

“I can’t find the pancakes.” 'Samu's pulling the plastic drawers all the way out now, setting them down on the floor as he inspects the contents of the fridge.

“They’re not here.”

“You ate them?”

“No, I— Hey, put those back in,” you tell him helplessly as he shuts the door of the fridge, ignoring all the leftover food he took out. Yeah, half of it was probably off anyway, but Atsumu's gonna be pissed if he wakes up and there’s takeout going bad all over his kitchen floor.

“You threw away my pancakes?” Now the look on Osamu's face is utter betrayal. He stands up off the floor and glares sulkily at you. “I made those for you…”

“I didn’t throw them away, they’re—“ You hold back a laugh and wish you had your phone on you (where did it go?) so you could take a picture. He’s so cute when he smokes. “—they’re at home.”

“At home?”

“Yep, at home. The place where you and me live, remember?”

“Oh.” Osamu pauses, reaches out absently to grab the edge of your sleeve. You’re wearing one of his hoodies. “We’re not at home?”

“Nope. We’re at Atsumu's place,” you tell him through a giggle.

He plays with your sleeve, contemplating. “Why?”

“Because we’re out of weed and he said he’d smoke us out. And we like hanging out with him.”

“Oh. We do?”

“Yes.”

“…’Kay.” It takes Osamu a second to accept this, but then he nods seriously. “(Y/N), I'm hungry.”

“I know. What do you want to eat? You could probably have any of that stuff, I don’t think he’ll miss it.”

'Samu thinks about it for a moment, scanning the array of takeout containers spread out across the kitchen floor. “I want pancakes.”

“The pancakes are at home, remember?”

“Yeah…” Osamu flips over his grip on your sleeve and traces his thumb down the lines in your palm. “I could make some?”

More pancakes? “I don’t think 'Tsumu has eggs, babe. Or flour. Or…baking soda?” You’re not really sure what ingredients go into pancakes. Whatever cooking skills you possessed pre-Osamu have deteriorated significantly since you moved in together and he took over any and all food preparation for your household.

He pouts at this, and his hair is a little messed up, and he’s so pretty that you can’t stand how much you like him in that second. Mine mine mine, something in the back of your brain says. He’s mine.

You reach up and Osamu obediently ducks his head down so you can smooth his hair back into place and fix the bits that are flipping over his part. “Is there anything else you want to eat?”

“Onigiri.”

“Oh…” Well, at least Atsumu probably has rice. “Sure. Ok. That’s your specialty.”

“I want ya to make it for me.”

“What?” You frown and pull your hand out of his. “You know my cooking sucks.”

“No it doesn’t. (Y/N)’s food’s the best.”

“You own an onigiri shop, come on—“

“Please?”

One of his bangs falls back in his eyes and without thinking you reach up to put it in place. “Okay, fine. But you can’t complain about it if it’s not good.”

He smiles and you want to blush. “Yes! I promise.”

So you do it for him. Even though you’re high too. You measure some rice and water into the rice cooker (Osamu has to give you pointers on how much of each to put in) and you scrounge around Atsumu's depressingly bare kitchen for a few sheets of seaweed and some easy fillings. Osamu pulls a stool up to the island counter and rests his chin on his hands so he can watch you with a bleary look of adoration on his face.

It takes you…maybe half an hour to be done? It’s hard to gauge time when you’re high. You and 'Samu both jump when the rice cooker finishes and plays the little rice cooker song, which will remain stuck in your head for the foreseeable future. 'Samu hums it in a loop while you shape the rice into lopsided triangles and wrap the nori around it.

“Here,” you tell him when you set the plate down in front of him. He looks entirely too happy to be eating your mediocre food for someone who literally does this for a living, but who cares.

He picks one, takes a bite, swallows. And blinks.

“What do you think?” you ask in spite of yourself.

“Umm…salty,” Osamu says.

You grab one to try yourself and it’s salty. Like, ocean salty. Yuck. “I told you it would be bad,” you complain, trying to tug the plate away but Osamu grabs it and pulls it back.

“Noooo…it’s good,” he lies, although his face is giving him away. Still, he takes another bite and chews enthusiastically.

“Shut up.” You tug a little harder but Osamu doesn’t let go.

He swallows, pulls a face, and takes another one. “So good. I love it.”

“Shut up. You sound so fake. You’re going to get sick if you eat that.” You keep pulling, but he insists on pretending it’s edible so you admit defeat and help him finish the onigiri off. God, they’re awful. But he keeps eating and so you do too.

When you’re done, your mouth feels dry as fuck and you want to sleep almost as much as you want to drink about a gallon of water. “Is it bedtime yet?” 'Samu asks, wiping his mouth and then rubbing his eyes again.

The clock over the oven says it’s past 4. “Yes. It’s bedtime.”

“Wait—we’re…we’re not at home, right? We’re at 'Tsumu's?”

“Mhm.”

“I prolly drove here…I dunno if I can drive now,” Osamu tells you slowly, like he’s apologizing. “I think I'm kinda high.”

“Oh yeah?” You hold your laugh back and put your hands up on his cheeks. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy. Blurry? Like…you’re in slow-motion.” His hands come up to layer over yours. “You’re pretty in slow-mo.”

“Prettier than usual?”

Osamu closes his eyes, scrunching them up to think and then looking over your face intently. “Same amount, just slower. So it’s easier to see.”

“That so?” You slip your hands around to drape over his shoulders and get up on your tiptoes to give him a little kiss on the cheek, because he’s earned it. “You know what, I think I'm kinda high too. I think we’re going to have to have a sleepover.”

“On the couch? S’not big enough for us both.”

“You can sleep with 'Tsumu in his bed…or I guess you could sleep on the ground?”

'Samu's mouth twists and his brows draw together. You can practically hear the gears in his mind turning while he considers alternatives. “Can we share the bed?”

“I think Atsumu's gonna want it. It’s his house.”

“But he’s already sleeping.”

True, you can hear Atsumu snoring lightly from the living room underneath David Attenborough’s description of endangered falcons in the Philippine rainforest. You should really wake him up—matter of fact, you should really clean up the kitchen because it’s a huge mess—but 'Samu's already pulling you away. And you’re so sleepy.

“He’s going to be pissed tomorrow,” you tell Osamu through a yawn, but you let him steer you in the direction of Atsumu's bedroom, holding your hand.

“Don’t care…I hate sleeping without you.”

“Yeah,” you say, and you squeeze his hand and he looks back at you like you’re the literal best thing in the entire universe—and you decide you should get him high more often. “Same.”

[sserpente]

A/N: Surprise! Here’s the thing—I don’t normally write sub!Loki at all. However, since Christmas is a time of gifting and making wishes come true and it has been requested quite a few times in the past, I decided to take on an anon request. I can’t write fully-fledged sub!Loki, I just can’t… so I hope this will do! There’s another anon request in there too. I hope you all enjoy it!

Words: 2357 Warnings: sub!Loki-ish, fluff, smut

Additional NSFW warnings: light bondage, oral, usage of anal sex toy

-

You cursed when you stubbed your toe on the door, shutting it aggressively all the while flinging your bag into the corner like it was the reason for all of your problems. You were trembling, anger and exhaustion gnawing at your guts.

When you let out a desperate sigh as you kicked off your winter boots, Loki tilted his head. He had appeared in the threshold leading to the living room on your floor—an entire floor on Stark Tower, all to yourself. Today, however, this very circumstance did not cheer you up in the slightest.

“A good evening to you too, pet.” He said, eyeing you with curiosity.

“I bloody hate working in retail!” You spat in response. “Why are people being so idiotic, can you tell me that? Oh, I want a refund on this obviously used item which I don’t even have the receipt for, oh, can’t you hurry up I need to catch a train—I had hours to spend on browsing but I want to pay for this immediately or I’m just gonna leave, oh, can you recommend a gift for my niece, I barely know her or her interests but surely you’ll find a gift for her because I am too lazy to use my own brain?” You were fuming. Loki chuckled.

“My dear… breathe.” He was never this gentle with any of the other Avengers but then again, you were the only one he had taken a romantic and sexual interest in. You sighed when he approached you to pull you into a tight embrace, forcing you to calm down for him. Your hands wrapped around his middle almost automatically, allowing him to lift you off the ground and carry you into your bedroom.

Loki spent most of his time in your flat here in Stark Tower. Here, he wasn’t always under suspicion of plotting world domination again—and in fact, all he did was reading, stealing your sweets and learning more about Midgardian culture, first and foremost Christmas. Last week, you had forced him through all Santa Clause films and he had actually ended up enjoying them in the end.

Another sigh escaped your lips as you pressed your face against his chest, letting his hand stroke over your head. Perhaps you should finally let the cat out of the bag and tell the others about your relationship. Loki could be so sweet… and he loved being pampered by you, even if you made sure to take your time teasing him thoroughly first.

“Is there a particular reason you left me a gift this morning?” He changed the topic. Oh yes. You had almost forgotten about this. You had shoved part of Loki’s Christmas gift into his green and gold socket above your bed before you had left this morning. It was Christmas Eve and since you would be spending the 25th with the other Avengers, you had decided that him receiving part of his gift in private would be more appropriate.

“Me?” You asked, playing innocent. “That must have been Santa, Lokes.”

“Are you going to tell me what exactly it is?” He probed. You giggled, looking up at him with innocent eyes.

“I was hoping you’d ask. Where did you put it?” Loki conjured it up seemingly out of thin air—you’d never grow tired of seeing him use his seidr—and handed you a black plastic packaging which contained an equally black butt plug with a prostate massager for men. Loki and you had recently had a conversation about toys for men as opposed to women only and much to your surprise, he had shown quite the interest in the topic. The faces of the Avengers would have been priceless, had you put it under the Christmas tree for him along with his main present.

You grinned. “Lie down on the bed for me—and magic your clothes off, will you?” Loki smiled at your request. He did not often let you command him around like that—but when he did he knew you needed it, to have some fun with his arousal for you to distract yourself from work and other sorrows, much like today. You shouldn’t be in such a bad mood on Christmas Eve, after all.

Still smiling gently, he did as he was told and then slightly raised his eyebrows for you to make the next move. You winked at him after admiring his semi-hard cock for a bit, disappearing in the bathroom. Once you had returned, hands washed, clothes changed and sex toy sanitised properly, you got to work. Loki’s eyebrows shot up all the way when you produced the bondage rope you kept in the drawer right next to the bed and then climbed on the bed as well, straddling his strong thighs.

“Please? Let me play.” You pouted. Loki sighed—allowing you to tie his hands together and then to the bedpost. Both of you were very well aware that he could rip himself free at any time—it was more a matter of it looking pretty and downright hot to have the God of Mischief tied up and at your mercy, at least hypothetically.

He shifted on the mattress just a little when you reached for the toy again which you had already coated in a thick layer of strawberry lube and brought it to his anus. It was designed to directly stimulate his prostate and you positively couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

“What are you doing?” His question was a warning; reminding you it was a privilege he was playing submissive for you and that the… situation could change at any moment. You swallowed, your own arousal pooling in your knickers like a waterfall.

“Trust me? It will feel good, I promise.”

Loki sighed once more—and gasped when you slowly and carefully worked the butt plug inside of his rear. His cock twitched, joyful anticipation mixing with impatience. By the time it was snugly in place, he was as hard as rock and moaned upon you wrapping your hand around him, giving him a few strokes with your hands partially still covered in the strawberry lube you had used.

Loki bucked his hips almost immediately, growling when you drew your hand away again. You chuckled. “You look pretty adorable like that, you know… desperate for pleasure…”

He growled in response. “You will be the one desperate for pleasure and begging me for my touch if you keep this up for long.” He threatened. Your giggle intensified. You felt so much better already.

“Just you wait.” You said, pressing the button of the small bullet vibrator inserted into the butt plug. Loki tensed up when it hummed to life, sending continuous vibrations through his anus and stimulating his prostate.

Then, taking mercy on him, your hand returned to his impressive length, jerking and pleading for attention. A few drops of precum had already formed on his red tip—it was too tempting to ignore. Unceremoniously, you bent down and closed your lips around him, licking over his slit and lapping up all he had to give for now.

Loki tugged at his restraints. A little more strength and he’d tear them apart altogether and he was barely just containing himself anymore already. Knowing he could stop this anytime and pin you down underneath him to just take what he desired for some reason only fuelled his arousal. He bucked his hips in an attempt to plunge himself deeper into your mouth but you were being particularly relentless today. He growled once more, watching how a grin formed on your lips. With a smacking sound, you released him again, continuing to stroke him all the while the prostate massager kept vibrating inside of his rear.

“Does that feel good?” You asked, almost timidly. Loki was an experienced lover, you knew this much. How many Asgardian women had had the pleasure to learn what had earned him the nickname silver tongue you did not want to know and yet, even though his confidence in bed and knowledge of pleasing a woman was exciting, at the very same time it intimidated you.

Loki nodded, blue eyes locked with yours. “Yes. Keep going, my dear.” It almost sounded like an order—one you’d do better not to defy. You took it as an invitation and pressed the button of the vibrator again.

The setting was on high now—but not high enough to tip him over the edge just yet. You needed to hear him whimper first. You had managed once, a few weeks back when Loki had allowed you to tie him up and tease him for a while for the very first time. In the end, it had resulted in him flipping you around and fucking you roughly from behind so hard you had been unable to walk the next day. Your cunt clenched upon remembering how deliciously sore you had felt. It was a risk you were willing to take again.

Loki bucked his hips once more, thrusting up in a steadier rhythm now and desperate for more friction… which gave you another idea. Biting your lower lip, you stood from the bed and peeled off the comfy trousers you had changed into, right along with your underwear. If only Loki could see the wet spot on them as you stepped out of them, he would be grinning like a cat who got the cream but fortunately for you, you were in charge tonight—or at least, for now.

He eyed you like a hungry wolf, growling in an animalistic manner as soon as your slick pussy lips rubbed against his tip and you massaged your clit with it for a while before slowly, painfully slow, sinking down on him and sheathing his cock deep inside of you. You moaned, throwing your head back. Riding him always felt so much deeper than when he was on top… unless he hauled your legs over his shoulders that was.

“More…” He choked out, his blue gaze getting almost feverish, about to turn him into a mindless beast. You stilled, not moving an inch and just kept him inside of you all the while the vibrator in his rear kept stimulating him. He gritted his teeth when you failed to move, bucking up his hips in a desperate attempt to get you to ride him but you decided to take your time. Leaning forward, you began covering his chest and neck in light kisses, tongue darting out every now and then to taste him. Loki was already sweating, his limbs shaking and you knew then just how badly he needed his release. The restraints keeping his hands above his head on the bedpost gave a suspicious tearing sound as he thrust up into you once more.

He was close. He was so close. Smiling, you kissed him and moved back up and into a sitting position. Your fingers found the switch of the vibrator, turning the setting even higher. There was no need for you to move and ride him anymore. Loki came by himself and finally, gave you the whimper you had so desired to hear from him. Your lips parted when he starting twitching inside of you, spilling himself with a groan. His warm seed coated your walls, his cock jerking until he was all but spent. Once he had caught his breath, you turned off the vibrator… for now.

“Get that lovely quim of yours up here.” He ordered with a hoarse voice, once more raising the question whether you had ever truly been in charge of his pleasure. But who were you to defy him? Biting your lower lip, you let him slide out of you, whimpering at the loss of feeling so deliciously full, inched forward until your most private parts were only inches from his mouth and then carefully sat again, your thighs to either side of his head.

Loki wasted no time. Humming contently, he licked over your slit and clit, suckling on your outer lips and circling your sensitive bundle of nerves, tongue pressing against it, massaging it, until you dug your fingers into his raven hair, urging him on. You were so incredibly wet for him it wouldn’t take you long to gush all over him either and so you did. Loki ate you out like you were his last meal, pampering your clit until your body couldn’t take it anymore and you fell, seeing stars as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in pure pleasure. You only realised once you lifted yourself off his face because he would not stop that he had wrapped his fingers around the bars of the top of the bed. The bondage rope was torn apart beyond repair.

You smiled, allowing him you wrap you in his arms as he flipped you both around so you came to lie on the bed more comfortably.

“Feeling more relaxed now, my dear?” He asked with a sly smile.

“Much better. Thank you.” Loki hummed in response. “I’m pretty hungry… how about an early Christmas dinner? Just the two of us, without the others.”

“That sounds promising. But first I will need you to get that thing out of me.” He said, eliciting a devilish grin from you.

“I think I’m gonna leave that thing where it is for now. You’ll get a taste of your own medicine. Remember that golden butt plug you made me wear on Christmas last year? Revenge is sweet. So…” You paused. “Are you going to help me cook?”

Loki’s expression darkened, sending pleasant shivers up and down your spine. “You are going to remove that right now.”

“Nope,” you announced smugly, freeing yourself from his embrace and climbing off the mattress. “I’ll be in the kitchen, whenever you’re ready.”

Truth be told, you never made it to the kitchen. Loki was after you in a matter of seconds, dragged you back into bed and made sure you came to regret teasing him like that. Oh, and you most definitely lost count after at least five more orgasms.

-

A/N: There’s a hint in there for another smutty Loki Christmas Imagine soon to come. Can you find it? ;-)

If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥ 

[sxcret-garden-archive]

Seonghwa ✧ Tingle Attack

✧ Ateez Seonghwa x reader ✧ words: ~1k ✧ genre: fluff, humor

Desc.: Seonghwa trying to teach you how to do ASMR, and you failing miserably.

You’re sitting next to Seonghwa in the living room of the dorms, and there is pain on his face. His brows are furrowed, his mouth frowning, and you’re ducking away, because you feel like you’ve just made the biggest mistake in your life.

“What was that?” your boyfriend asks, not daring to speak louder than in a whisper. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how I made that noise either!” you answer, whispering as well. You’re both wearing headphones, wired to the mic placed on the table in front of you. It’s a rather quiet evening, and you’ve been begging Seonghwa to teach you how to do ASMR for so long that he finally gave in, invited you here after practice, and is trying to show you the basics now. He had insisted that he’s not good enough to teach others yet either, but judging from your very much nonexistent abilities, you probably do have a thing or two to learn from him after all. There’s a box of chocolate snacks in front of you, as well as some other random things you found at the dorms that you thought might give good sounds - a mug, some paper and pens, and a tote bag. Seonghwa has told you not to bring too many things for starters, so you put the rest you found back to its rightful place and brought only these five things. You have just taken out the snacks from their paper box, which went pretty well, but as soon as you tried to open the plastic wrapping, you heard such a horrific sound that for a second you wanted to tear the headphones out of your ears on impulse, but that would’ve meant you’d have had to drop the snacks, possibly resulting in even worse noise, so you beared with it.

“M-maybe you want to open these?” you ask and are already shoving the bag of snacks towards the guy sitting next to you. He takes them from you, his facial expression making it apparent that he still hasn’t recovered from the initial shock, and when he sees the way you tore a tiny bit of the plastic, he complains.

“How did you even open that?” The layers of the plastic are torn and stretched out in such a way that it’s pretty much impossible to open it silently and without much force.

“Try the other side,” you suggest, but Seonghwa shakes his head while putting the bag aside.

“Let’s just… try something else first, okay?” He reaches for the mug carefully and then brings it up to the mic, tapping his fingers on its surface to demonstrate. “You can do it like this and use your nails… or like this and only use your fingertips,” he explains and then hands the mug to you, before adding, “But I think this one sounds better if you use your nails.” You nod, and get right to work, using way too much force, so that through the headphones it sounds more like someone is trying to put actual nails through the mug. Really, whatever you’re doing here has nothing to do with ASMR whatsoever. Again, Seonghwa’s face distorts as if he was in great pain, and you give him an apologetic expression.

“S-softer, Y/N…” he reminds you, and you try again. You don’t fail to catch the way he readies himself for another bomb to drop onto his eardrums, but this time it’s at least bearable. Even you yourself can hear that you’re not doing very well, though.

“This isn’t working,” you sigh eventually, putting the mug back on the table, and, of course, using too much force again, causing both you and Seonghwa to jolt from the noise resulting. You can see the way his hands flinch, ready to take off the earphones, but he leaves them in so as not to hurt you.

“You just need some practice, baby,” he tries to comfort you, but all motivation has already left you. 

“I don’t think I can ever be as good as you, though…” you say. “Maybe doing ASMR just isn’t for me.” Your boyfriend doesn’t answer. Instead, he shoots you a smile that makes you assume he agrees, but wants to spare you the verbal confirmation of that. “Just tell me, I can live with it,” you say, while taking off the headphones and putting them on the table in front of you.

“You were begging me to teach you for so long though,” Seonghwa answers, removing his headphones as well, so you two can talk at a normal volume. “I feel bad seeing you fail this hard…”

“Oh, so you do think I suck at it after all!” You pretend to be offended by his words, and he buys right into it, immediately turning into a stuttering awkward mess in front of you.

“I-I mean… that’s not what I said! I mean… it kinda is but… it wasn’t supposed to come out like that and-” You decide to end his suffering for today by leaning forward and placing a kiss on his lips.

“It’s okay, I was just messing with you,” you explain and shoot him a smile. You see the tension leaving his body as he lets out a huge breath of relief.

“You were messing with me… I see…” he repeats, barely any energy left in his voice.

“I think in the future I’ll just leave this to you,” you continue, pointing you chin at the mic and the equipment you carried here. “At least people can actually relax when you do it, and don’t feel like their ears are being assaulted,” you add, laughing, and Seonghwa laughs too.

“For having zero talent you did well though,” he adds, teasingly, and immediately apologizes when you lightly hit his shoulder. Even though you didn’t even push him that hard, he somehow ends up on the floor with you hovering above him, and he puts his arms around you to pull you close once he realizes what position you two are in.

“Thanks for trying to teach me, though,” you eventually say, before forcing yourself to sit back up, in case one of the guys comes in. “I appreciate that.”

“Always.” Seonghwa too comes back up, and he puts his arm around you to place a kiss on your temple.

“Let’s choose something I can actually learn next time,” you giggle, and then you two gather the things on the table to put them back where you took them from. 

[masonscig]

kiss it better

pairing | mason x sofía

word count | 3.6k

warnings | mentions of broken bones and blood. nose setting scene but not in gory detail. smut. minors dni

author’s note | i literally could not shut up with this one smh. anyways this is for day 6 of hot in wayhaven – worship. 

•─────────────────•

“Have you broken your nose before?”

She asks out of the blue, running a gentle stripe down the bridge of his nose with the pad of her finger.

He scoffs. “The better question is, how many times?”

She blinks, shaking her bangs out of her face. “I guess I hadn’t considered that.”

“Yeah it’s somethin’ you get used to after a while.”

“It can’t get easier, though,” she murmurs, reaching up to pull a strand out of his eyes. She holds her hand there, fingertips grazing the hair above his ear.

“What?”

“Breaking bones, I mean. It’s still painful, right? Even if it’s a little sting?”

“Yeah, the nose is nothin’. Just a pinch and it goes away as soon as it sets. Ribs on the other hand…” he trails off, grimacing. “Not fun.”

“You’re pretty brave to be running headfirst into missions knowing you’ll probably hurt yourself every time,” she smiles, tucking the same piece of hair behind his ear.

He rolls his eyes, unable to hold back a smile of his own. “Why’re you trying to flatter me all of the sudden?”

She laughs, crossing her hands over his bare chest, balancing her chin on her knuckles, her hazel-eyed gaze mischievous and warm.

“I thought maybe you’d let me practice resetting your nose.”

He cocks a brow at her. “You thought wrong.”

She leans forward over her hands, just enough that she has room to press a kiss on his bare chest.

“I could go another round, you know…” she trails off, easing her thigh between his legs, rubbing just enough that he groans and tightens his arms around her.

“You’d wanna fuck me anyways,” he teases, sliding her back up till they’re nose to nose.

She peppers a few kisses down the bridge of his nose, hovering when she reaches his lips.

“I think you’re underestimating my self control,” she whispers, grazing his lips with her own. 

He runs his palms down the swell of her ass to the top of her thighs, gripping the skin there. She sighs, but clamps her mouth shut. She pulls back, a soft giggle already bubbling off her tongue. “Nope.” 

“Do you hate my nose that much, sweetheart?” He chuckles.

“Oh, no, I love your nose,” she says, kissing it again. “I was just thinking that I learned how to reset a nose back in undergrad and I wanted to try it out again.”

“You know how to do that?”

“I think so,” she muses, shaking her bangs out of her face again. “A kid in my bio class sophomore year learned how to reset his own nose because he’d broken it a couple of times playing soccer. He showed us how on a CPR dummy once during class and I practiced a couple of times.”

“So you want me to be your dummy?”

“You’re already my dummy,” she flashes a smile, laughing when he grunts in faux annoyance at her. “If you don’t want me to, that’s okay. I like your crooked nose.”

She nuzzles his jaw with her nose, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

“Ugh,” he grunts once, and taps her ass. “Okay, get on with it. I don’t have all fucking night. I’ve got things to do.”

Sofía’s head pops back up, her messy bun springing with the sudden movement. “Wait, really?”

He shrugs. “I trust you.”

Grinning, she kisses him deeply, just as sweet as the first time she kissed him like this. He doesn’t normally think about past missions that much, but now he has reason to.

Yeah, he was in the hospital bed after fighting off Trappers, but he’d gotten a kiss that’d stuck with him more than any of his wildest sexcapades.

“Sit up, please,” she says, always polite, despite the fact that she knows he likes it when she’s rude.

He hasn’t had her fiery side aimed at him in a long time, and he’s not sure if he misses it (or if this version of her is his favorite).

Scooting so his back is against the armrest of the couch, he keeps his grip tight around her waist. She shifts, straddling him, her eyes fluttering at the brush of his cock against her.

“If you distract me, I’ll do it wrong,” she breathes, squeezing her thick thighs around him.

“Practice makes perfect,” he says, curling his hips ever so slowly, feeling himself slot between her –

“No. I wanna do this right,” she says, her brows furrowed in determination. “I’ll be right back.”

She hops off of him, stark naked, and tiptoes across the cabin to the kitchen. He’d never get sick of the sight of her.

He watches as she grabs an old rag from the drawer, a box of tissues, and a plastic bag, filling it with ice.

She bounds back towards the couch, her face bright.

“Sit with your back against the cushions, please,” she says, before tugging the blanket over his bare lap, straddling him again.

“Oh, so I don’t get the privilege of skin to skin contact? ‘S’kinda cruel of you,” he smirks.

“Ah, stop it. You get enough skin to skin contact with me,” she laughs, before combing her hands through his hair, gathering the top layer into one hand.

Yanking the hair tie out of her bun, she shakes it out, pausing to resituate her hair for a second before she’s onto the next thing.

She gently twists the elastic around his hair. “Is this alright?”

He’s watching her face, which is screwed up in determination to get it right the first try. “Mhmm.”

No one’s ever taken care of him the way she does. He’s always been averse to the idea of being babied (both in and out of bed), but maybe it’s because he hadn’t met a person who balanced the task of challenging him and caring for him the way Sofía did.

And now that he has that balance, he couldn’t really imagine his existence without it.

Deep down, he’s always craved this, he thinks, but figured that he was itching that scratch with physical gratification. No one told him how good sex is when the other person actually cares about you. Nate probably tried, but he wasn’t listening.

She brushes his hair off of his shoulders, runs her palms down his shoulders and chest. “You always look so handsome with your hair back.”

Compliments without ulterior motives didn’t come easy to him. For the longest time, when a person complimented him on his looks, he’d assume that was the ice breaker before tumbling into bed with them.

He’s gotten used to Sofía’s mindless affirmations, and he kind of… liked them.

It wasn’t hard for him to fall into the pattern of telling her what he liked about her. It was truly so damn easy to praise her.

While he muses, she tucks the old rag underneath his chin, splaying it out across his chest as far as it’ll go.

“What’s this for?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know if you’ll bleed or not.”

He chuckles. “Can’t remember the last time I had a nosebleed.”

“I still wanna keep you clean, dummy,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Hold out your hand, please.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She plops the box of tissues in his hand, then the bag of ice on top of that.

“Okay, I’m not so sure if I’m strong enough to re-break your nose, Mason.”

Her hands are forming a triangle, her thumbs pressed together. She places her nearly cupped hands around his nose, massaging the bridge of it with a gentle touch.

“I think this might be for freshly broken noses –”

He cups his hand around hers and snaps his nose, just enough that it curves to the left.

“– Mason!” She jolts in surprise, and he raises a brow at her.

“You’ve got about ten seconds before it resets, sweetheart. Hop to it.”

He thinks she’s gonna bicker with him, but instead she springs into action, tightening her fingers around the bridge of his nose, squeezing lightly and pulling downwards towards the tip of his nose.

When he winces, she mouths a quick “sorry” and resets her hands, tugging down over and over, the sting nearly gone by the third round.

“It’s healed.”

She drags her hands till she’s cupping his jaw with both palms, inspecting his nose thoroughly.

“Oh shit, it’s actually straightened out,” she murmurs, her pretty, pretty face an inch away from his own. “Not bad for a rusty bio student, huh?”

“You did a great job, Sofía.”

At the mention of her name, she meets his eye.

He doesn’t use her name that often. When he does, it’s a reward for the both of them – she notices, and he gets to savor the taste of her gorgeous name on his lips.

“You haven’t even seen it yet,” she smiles, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Don’t need to,” he shrugs.

She snatches a tissue and delicately dabs away at his cupid’s bow. “Just a little bit of blood,” she murmurs. “You’re okay.”

When she says it, he actually believes her.

“Keep that away from me,” he gestures to the bag of ice balanced on top of the box of tissues.

“Fine,” she agrees, snatching the bag from his hand, before tearing it open and tossing a small ice cube in her mouth, crunching away.

“It’s just frozen water. I don’t get it.”

“It’s water that you can eat. What is there to get?” She laughs between chews, attempting to stand up.

He tosses the tissue box to the ground and flings the rag across the room with lightning speed, snaking his arms around her waist before she can react.

The bag of ice topples out of her hand and onto the wood floor, cubes littering the ground around them.

“Agh, really? You know I’m gonna have to clean that up, right?”

“Don’t care. I told you I’ve got things to do,” he smirks, turning up the charm as high as he can. She’s nearly immune to it at this point, but not completely.

“Okay, okay,” she laughs as he trails kisses up her collarbone and nips at her neck.

He stands with her still wrapped in his arms and flips them around. She’s sitting on the armrest of the couch and he’s on his knees in front of her, the thin blanket they’d been using abandoned on the floor with the ice.

“What… Mason…” she’s panting his name and he hasn’t even touched her yet.

“I wanna take care of you, now,” he mumbles against the skin of her inner thigh.

She hums as he kisses higher, each press of his lips to her skin eliciting a crescendo of soft whines.

When he makes it to the crease of her hip, she’s trembling in anticipation already. He wasn’t a fan of denial until her.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he’s whispering, more to himself than anyone else.

“Thank you,” she responds, peering down on him with gratitude before his tongue even touches her.

“You don’t have to thank me every time I compliment you. Stop being so damn polite all the time,” he says, running his palms up and down her thighs.

When he made it back to her knees, he pushed them open wider, wider, till she was spread for him, wanting and waiting.

“It’s a reflex, I think,” she huffs, her stomach stuttering as he suckles against the skin of her inner thigh, face close enough to devour her.

“There’s no one to impress here, sweetheart,” he smirks, kissing and nipping at her flesh again. “I’m the last person you have to be nice to.”

He’s so focused on lavishing every inch of her inner thighs with attention that he doesn’t realize she’s staring at him, only catching on once she reaches down to brush a stray hair away from his face.

“Well, you’ve earned it,” she says, no hint of humor in her tone, just raw sincerity. “I’m nice because you mean a lot to me.”

He’s not used to this level of candor in any relationship he’s ever had. It’s not that he hates it or anything he’s just… not sure how to respond. He’s still learning.

“I dunno, I kind of miss when you’d argue with me. It was kinda hot,” he laughs breathily. Just as she’s about to give a bratty retort, he drags the rough pad of his thumb as slowly as he can from bottom to top.

She sucks the words back in and exhales a soft whine instead, her head lolling to the side when he circles his thumb on her clit.

“You… liked it when I stood up for myself?” She snorts, her laugh devolving into another moan. “I thought it was pretty unbecoming.”

“You know I don’t give a shit about what’s appropriate. All that matters is if we’ll ‘be coming’ or not,” he chuckles to himself at his joke, and she’s even giggling.

“Oh my god, you’re so corny,” she sighs, trying to concentrate on the conversation while he’s graduating to a finger (knuckle deep) inside of her. “Maybe I miss yelling at you just a little bit.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you bossed me around a little bit,” he smiles against her skin, pumping his finger slowly, curling it the deeper he gets.

“Like what?” She pants, grabbing onto the back of the couch for support.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you and don’t be nice about it.”

He’s watching her face, waiting for her reaction, and he’s excited. She’s always known what she’s wanted, but she’s too considerate.

He’d already made up his mind that tonight’s about her and her only. He’d gotten his fill earlier, and he could care less if he did again.

Mason wants nothing more than to make her come until she’s putty in his hands.

He knows he’s not good with words, so this is the way he’ll show her just how much he cares.

She’s screwed her eyes shut, focusing on the movement of his finger, so he encourages her again.

“What do you want, baby?”

She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth before releasing it. “Eat my pussy like you mean it.”

He grins, her no bullshit tone sending shockwaves down his spine straight to his cock. “Don’t have to ask me twice.”

His lips are around her clit as soon as the words are out of her mouth. He licks slow, soft stripes until her hips are grinding faster than his tongue.

He’s testing her – teasing her.

“I said like you mean it,” she pants, and he feels her palm pressing against the back of his head, his mouth and nose nearly submerged.

His tongue’s moving faster now, focusing every flick against her clit. She’s huffing a few soft “don’t stop”s and “right there”s so he knows he’s doing it just like she likes.

Her thighs clench around his face when she finally comes, and she digs her fingers into the back of his head. It stings, but it eggs him on.

“Oh my god – Mason – I’m –” She’s sensitive and barely able to get a grip on the English language, so he takes advantage of that.

He hooks his arms around her thighs and rises – she falls back onto the couch and he’s dragging her hips back until her pussy’s in the air, her lower back balanced against the arm of the couch.

She’s fully at his mercy in this position, and they both know it.

She’s flushed and her chest is heaving, her half lidded gaze watching as he bends down and hooks her legs over his shoulders, delving back into eating her once again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” her voice raises an octave and she’s already tightening her legs around him.

They both know there’s another orgasm on the horizon and she’s barreling towards it, and he’s guiding there albeit roughly (just like she likes it).

He’s added two fingers this time, pumping in and out while he’s alternating soft and rough flicks of his tongue.

“Don’t you – dare fucking stop –” she demands between pants, grinding her hips against his face and mouth.

She shakes this time, just a soft tremble of her thighs, but he notices the soft tremors, already grinning to himself. He loves how much practice he gets in perfecting his formula – he’d gotten real good at making her come over the years and he was damn proud of himself for it.

She was the prettiest woman on the planet when she came, and he’d do anything to witness it over and over and over.

“Goddamn,” she groans, throwing an arm over her eyes.

“What, you don’t want another round?” He asks, still bent between her thighs.

“I don’t know if I can handle it,” she says through a breathy laugh.

“You can make it to three,” he murmurs, kissing her tender clit again, revelling in the way her hips bucked when he did so.

In a flash, he’s laid on the couch and she’s on her knees above his face, bracing her palms on the arm of the couch.

“Shit, Mason, why’d you move that fast –”

“Doesn’t matter, sweetheart. You up for another one?”

She sits back, ass on his chest, looking down at him. He can’t resist leaning up to grab the swell of her ass.

He thinks she’s going to say some sweet anecdote about the first time they fucked or something very Sofía, but instead, she’s not breaking character.

“I’m gonna ride your face till I’m spent,” she says, peering down at him, cheeks pink, bangs clinging to her forehead.

“Yes, ma’am,” he winks, before giving her cheek a soft push upright, and then he’s nothing but a means to get off, and he’s savoring every second of it.

She’s grinding against his open mouth, her chest heaving, her expression slack jawed.

The mix of groans and heavy breathing are echoing off of the walls. They’re both slick with sweat, their skin sticking and sliding against each others’ with each buck of her hips.

When her movements get erratic, he hooks his arms around her thighs and takes lead.

With each firm stripe of his tongue, she’s struggling to stay upright. She doesn’t manage to stay up, instead falling forward, bracing her forearms against the soft leather couch.

“Shit, keep going – just like that –” her words are unintelligible at this point, just a chorus of whines.

Her hips arch and stutter against his mouth and she goes limp, lungs heaving with effort.

He slides out from underneath her, gathering her in his arms while she catches her breath.

“What’re you doing?” she asks, voice hoarse, curling into his chest.

“Taking you to bed, whaddaya think?”

Her half lidded eyes widen and she shakes her head. “I can’t handle another one right now – let me rest up first, please –”

“– I mean to sleep,” he chuckles, kicking her door in, shuffling in sideways. “You’ve got tomorrow off so we’ve got plenty of time.”

“Oh, thank god.”

He slides her onto the bed and she lays back, making no move to get under the covers. The apartment’s in a perfect spot – the moonlight always manages to sneak into her room and dimly light it.

It’s streaking through the window, across the bed, her torso, her cheek, hitting the sliver of gray hair in her bangs. She looks ethereal, practically glowing on top of her dark comforter.

He knows he’s staring, and she’ll catch on soon, so he cracks a joke to play it off.

“So much for the self control you speak of.”

“Hey!” She laughs, chunking a pillow at him.

He catches it with ease, tossing it right back, it smacking her on the leg. “What? I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to say it.”

“You just hate when I’m right.”

“No, I just hate when I can’t resist you,” she rolls her eyes, patting the bed next to her.

He hops onto the bed, jiggling the both of them. “Sounds like a you problem.”

“Shut up,” she laughs, smacking his chest with her palm, cuddling up to his side.

Before he can tilt her chin up to kiss her, she’s already pressing her lips to his, the taste of her lingering on his mouth.

“Thank you,” she whispers when he pulls away.

“What’d I say about being polite?” He says, voice low, holding himself back from leaning in to kiss her again.

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” she smiles against his mouth. “You would know.”

His eyes flicker up to the crumpled pack of cigarettes on her nightstand (the ones that hadn’t moved from that very spot for months).

Needs turned into wants and wants turned into waning cravings which turned into the most futile efforts to match whatever the fuck Sofía does for him.

He’s still figuring out how to navigate this existence of his with her in it, but he knows he wants it to be like this for as long as she’ll let him stay.

And yeah, Mason’s awful with words, but as long as he can show her, he knows it’ll be alright.

[mldrgrl]

Mulder realizing how much he loooooves kissing scully

Honestly, he realized that before he even kissed her.

A Lot A Lot A Lot

By: mldrgrl Rating: R

(1 - 19)

Sunday is his favorite day now.  It’s the day they’ve agreed upon is theirs to waste and do whatever they want with.  Together.

He always wakes earlier than she does and lets her sleep in.  They’re at his place this weekend and when he rolls over, she’s sprawled adorably across the left side of the bed like a frog, limbs akimbo.  Her hair is mussed, frizzing at her temples and back of the neck from the humidity of last night’s lovemaking.  He can still smell and taste the salty tang of sweat and passion on her skin as he presses his lips to the back of her shoulder.

As gently as he can, he brushes the hair off the back of her neck and puts his lips there as well, branding her cool skin with his warm mouth.  He kisses her between the shoulder blades and then stretches his neck to kiss her cheek before he rolls away and slips out of bed.

He grabs his running clothes and gets ready in the bathroom with the door partially shut only to block the light from waking her.  Before he leaves, he crouches by the side of the bed and nuzzles her neck.  She grunts softly, lifts her fingers and catches his chin.  He kisses her all over the exposed side of her face, whispering to her at the same time that he’s going for a run, to go back to sleep, he’ll be back soon.  She grunts again and he moves back to take her hand and kiss each one of her fingertips.

(20 - 33)

She’s still sleeping when he gets home and he doesn’t feel so bad about waking her now.  She’s curled on her side, hugging his pillow like a teddy bear.  He lays down diagonally across the bed and kisses her bottom lip, repeatedly, until she scrunches her face.

“Mulderrrrrrr,” she groans.

“Hm?” he answers, peppering her face with soft kisses.

“What time is it?”

“After nine.”  He tries to capture her mouth again, but she turns her head.

“Morning breath,” she protests.

“Don’t care.”  He holds the back of her head and manages to snag the upper curve of her mouth.  She scrunches her face again and he kisses the wrinkles at the side of her nose.  “I stopped at the deli on my way home.”

“Don’t tell me.”

“Egg and cheese.  With bacon.”

“Mmm…”  Her hand moves into his hair to pull him closer, but he backs off.

“I need a shower.”

“Don’t care,” she whispers, bringing back to her mouth.

He manages a few deep kisses before her stomach growls.  She groans in embarrassment and he chuckles against her mouth.

“Guess you don’t want to keep the egg and cheese waiting,” he says, crawling backwards off the bed.

“Where are you going?”

“I was serious about the shower.”

“Have breakfast with me and I’ll join you later.”

“Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

(34 - 67)

She makes good on her promise and stands naked at his sink, clipping her hair up and off her neck as he adjusts the temperature of the taps of his shower.  He’s first in and she’s just behind him.  She makes soapy circles on his back as he washes his hair.  When he’s finished, she presses herself against him and he presses one hand to the tiles as she slides her hand around his hip and starts to stroke him.  He pulls her other hand up from where it rests on his chest and holds it to his mouth, occasionally sinking his teeth into her palm as he moans in pleasure.

They switch places and then it’s her turn.  He kneels down behind her, apologizing to his knees and at the same time assuring them it’ll be worth it.  He kisses her ouroboros tattoo, licks it from head to tail with the tip of his tongue and she puts both hands on the wall and spreads her legs like she’s about to be frisked.  He kisses her hip, moves lower and sinks his teeth into the plump swell of her right buttcheek.  She jerks in surprise and he sucks the sting of his bite away.  He has her writhing before he even turns around and buries his face between her legs.  

The great care she took to try prevent her hair from getting wet is all for naught.

(68 - 72) She blow dries her hair in her bra and panties as he sits on the closed toilet in his boxers and clips his toenails.  He throws on a pair of jeans and stands behind her, rubbing her hips and telling her about a flea market he thinks they should check out as she applies a thin layer of eyeliner and mascara to her lashes.

“Yeah sure,” she says, shrugging him off her shoulder as he lifts her bra strap and kisses her.  “Stop jostling, I’ll ruin my make-up.”

“You don’t need it anyway,” he mumbles and drags his bottom lip across her shoulder to her neck.

“Just a little.”  She shrugs again and he places a hard kiss in protest to her neck before he lets her go.

(73)

They keep wandering away from each other at the flea market.  Not on purpose, just by nature of browsing.  They always end up in the same place eventually though.  Mulder finds her admiring a glass vase that’s such a dark color of blue that every time she shifts it in her hands it looks purple.

“How much?” Mulder asks the man at the stall.

“Twenty,” he answers.

“I was just looking,” Scully says, setting it back on the shelf.

Mulder already has his wallet out and is passing a twenty dollar bill over to the little stallkeeper that reminds him of Frohike.  The vase is wrapped in newspaper and put in a plastic bag, which he gives to Scully.

“Mulderrrrr,” she says.

“I think vases are the traditional one month anniversary gift.”

She blushes and chuckles at the same time, dipping her chin to hide her face from him, but only for a moment.  “Thank you,” she says, and puts her hand on his abdomen, thumb dipping into the waistband of his jeans as she lifts up onto her toes and gives him a kiss.  He grins at her and slings his arm around her shoulders, tucking her against him as they continue to browse.

“I should find something for you,” she says.

“You’re more than enough,” he answers.

(74 - 77)

He pulls over suddenly on the way home and stops abruptly.  

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Nothing.  Be right back.”  

She’s unbuckling her seatbelt, ready to act as backup for whatever situation he’s about to run into, but she quickly realizes he’s stopped in front of a sidewalk florist.  His back is to her, but she can see him pointing and nodding and gesticulating.  He’s back in the car only a few minutes later with a bouquet of white and yellow daisies.

“Can’t let the vase go empty,” he says, as he hands them to her.

She places the flowers on her lap and rests her hand on his cheek as he leans across the seat to kiss her.  Three kisses later, he finally starts the car to keep heading home.

(78 - 100+)

There’s a creature feature marathon on TV, but they’re both drunk on pad Thai and each other and hardly pay attention.  Scully is flat on the couch, her feet in Mulder’s lap, accepting a well-deserved massage as he slouches with his head back and eyes closed.  The vase full of flowers and water and a tab of aspirin that Scully said will help them last longer is sitting on his desk.

“I should go.”  She sighs.

“You can’t.”  He wiggles one foot back and forth.  “I haven’t gotten to a hundred yet.”

“A hundred what?”

“Kisses.”

She raises one eyebrow.  “You’ve been counting?”

“I figure, we’ve known each other for seven years.  I definitely owe you at least one kiss a day for lost time.  That’s 365 times seven.  And plus leap years.  Which is...you know, a lot.  A lot, a lot, a lot.  If I can make it to a hundred every Sunday, maybe, just maybe, I can make up for it.”

“Mulderrrrr…”  She smiles and flexes her toes.  “That’s absurd.”

“It helps that you’re so damn kissable.”

“Oh, am I?”

He stops rubbing her foot and pulls on her calf, sliding her down the couch closer to him and then pulling her up so she’s in his lap.  She wraps her arms loosely around his neck and cocks her head at him.

“How many more do we need?” she asks.

He squints one eye and wrinkles his brow.  “22,” he answers.

“Good thing you’re also so damn kissable,” she replies, taking his face in her hands.  “I intend to surpass that goal.”

“Then, I very much intend to let you.”

He loses count after a hundred and twelve.

The End

[sylvie-writes]

hi um can i request a steve rogers x reader with fall/winter vibes? like fluffy parkas, hot chocolate, bonfires, kissing cold noses, idk. i'm soft

a/n: babe this is the best idea ever! I may have turned this into a one-shot...

Snow Day

The first snow of the season was one of the most beautiful sights. Seeing unique flakes flutter in the air, falling onto anything in sight, coating the world in a white layer of fascinating snow piles.

Today, you and Steve were just going to go out and enjoy some late fall, early winter festivities. Last night you even dug around in the coat closet to pull out for parka. It was your first winter coat of the season!

With the snow not falling to heavily, you and Steve were still able to keep your plans for the day, first stop, the farmers market.

You’re parka clad arm was wrapped in Steve’s. The man was only wearing a sweater, no jacket. Boy, had 70 years in the ice done him good.

The two of you strolled around the market, enjoying the little snowflakes falling on your hair. Like a child, you playfully stuck out your tongue to catch a snowflake as Steve looked over the apples in the crate. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of you out the corner of his eye. With a chuckle and turned back to the apples, with a free hand inspecting them. You heard his laugh and knew he had been staring at you.

After inspecting the bruised apples, you finally found some good ones at the bottom of the barrel. With the help of Steve, your numbly held the plastic bag and put in the apples. So maybe you should have brought gloves. As you put the apples on the scale, Steve paying the cashier, he once again caught sight of you, but this time seeing you warming your freezing hands. He politely said goodbye to the cashier and grabbed the bag of apples, walking over to you. The only thing that sucked about going to the farmer’s market while it snowed was that all of the “buildings” were outside.

Steve set down the bag and grabbed your hands in his, making you confused until his warmth encased your hands. He smiled at your blissful expression and you felt your cheeks warm under his gaze as he continued to warm your hands with his own.

Once your hands were sufficely warned, you grabbed Steve’s free hand, wanting to hold it, but with the cold, you held it in your coat pocket. Steve just smiled and kissed your temple.

You and Steve ventured around the farmers market, visiting some of the handmade items stands, where many talented people displayed handmade soaps, paintings, and even hand-sewn apparel. The farmers market was much more than fresh produce, it was a place where people came and expressed them selves. You always enjoyed talking with the stand owners, each of them telling you about their stories. The farmers market often attracted old souls and they were just so kind and friendly. In particular one older woman said something that made your heart warm.

You were looking over the scarves, an array of hand knitted accessories. Steve stood by your side, complementing you every time you asked his opinion on a scarf. Each answer was along the line of “you look gorgeous in anything, honey.”

Finally, you found a cream white chunky knit scarf, perfect for this weather. Yes, you were still cold.

As you handed the older woman some cash, you complimented her handiwork, to which she smiled and told you how the money was going towards her grandkids Christmas gifts this year. Just as you were about to walk away, she motioned for you to lean close.

“Darling, that man you have over there. Might I just say, he’s a keeper. Y’a know my husband used to look at me like that.”

She smiled reminiscing as if the man was gone, which you had inferred from her sad tone.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he looks at you like you are his everything. Honey, he’s in love with you and might I say you look to be in love too.”

She offered you a kind smile and sweetly patted you on the shoulder.

Her words weighed in your mind as you thought about taking your relationship with Steve to the next level. Lately, you’d been imaging a future with him and the kind stranger’s words confirmed your daydreams.

“The scarf looks good, doll.”

You were met with Steve’s charming smile as he held out an arm for you.

“Well, thank you, Monsieur!”

Steve started to walk, and you just followed, not sure where you’d both end up.

“I saw this drink shop around the corner, they have hot chocolate! Whaddya say?”

You outstretched a hand in a “lead the way” mannerism.

A few steps later, you were at the shop, where only four people stood in line. You had only suspected that a small amount of people would be crazy enough to be out in this weather.

Putting in your orders, you waited a few minutes, soon having a large mug of steaming hot cocoa, large marshmallows floated atop, caramel drizzled over the fluffy squares, resting in your hands. You looked to Steve who had a hot cocoa mustache, making you laugh. He quizzically looked at you when you just shook your head and reached for a napkin. Gently, you dabbed his upper lip and he too started to laugh as you both looked into each other’s playful stares.

Hot cocoas finished, the day at the farmers market had been successful. Earlier, Nat and Bucky had invited you and Steve over for a bonfire that very evening and you both were more than happy to go. You calculated the time correctly as you and Steve were able to enjoy the farmers market, leaving just enough time for you to make it to Nat and Bucky’s.

You and Steve did a quick once over of the farmers market, making sure you hadn’t missed anything. Seeing as you’d hit up all the stands, you both started to head for the car. The sun was setting meaning the time was the bonfire lighting was nearing.

At Nat and Bucky’s place, they both welcomed you in with open arms, literally. Nat engulfed you in a hug as you hadn’t seen her in ages. Bucky doing the same. The two stood, arms wrapped around each other, making small talk with you both as you and Steve shed off your coats. Nat and Bucky were recently married and you only hoped to have a love as theirs with Steve. The way Bucky held her hand, or the way Nat kissed his cheek while they laughed over a joke, made you long for that feeling with Steve. They had recently moved into this lovely house and there was no better way to have a house warming party than by hosting a bonfire with your closet family friends.

Nat led you to the kitchen while Bucky and Steve went out back to light the fire. Your best friend had managed to remember your love for s’mores and got all the ingredients.

“Tasha. You did not.”

She smirked and popped a marshmallow into her mouth, eyes rounding.

“I very much did. Babe I haven’t seen you in ages!”

You looked down to the granite countertop, “I know. We haven’t seen each since Steve and I helped you move in three months ago.”

Looking up you saw her sad smile, as she assembled a tray with the s’mores ingredients.

You walked over to help her, “Never mind that, all that matters is that we are here now!”

Her lips tugged into a happy smile and she engulfed you into a hug.

“Girls! The bonfire is ready.”

You saw Bucky pop his head in through the sliding glass door, smiling at the two of you.

Natasha nodded and picked up the tray as you grabbed the roasting sticks.

Outside, the snow had stopped and now a minimal layer of white coated the grass. Regardless, it was still cold and you curled into Steve’s lap. There were chairs surrounding the fire and both you and Nat sat in your significant other’s lap.

Steve wrapped his arms around your waist, holding his own marshmallow over the fire as his head rested on your shoulder, allowing him to see. Nat and Bucky mimicked the actions and the four of you chatted and laughed, just like old times.

You turned to Steve who held a freshly-toasted marshmallow to your lips. The corners of your lips formed a smile as you laughed, mouth open. Steve loved seeing you laugh and he enjoyed these little moments. In the light of the fire, he could see you slightly shivering and went to kiss your ice cold nose. You smiled sweetly and stole the marshmallow from his grasp making even Nat and Bucky laughing at your antics.

The four of you stayed out till dark, wrapped in blankets as you all reminisced about the old times.

Little did you know, that this time next year you’d be in the same place, but as Mrs. Rogers, enjoying yet another snow day with your husband and your married buddies.

[baby-grayson]

Sweet Enigma|Part 9

Tag List:  @wheezeatmedolans​ @styles-dolan​ @prettyboydolan​ @evergreendolan​ @baby-turtles​ @dolanstacoma​ @kombuchagray​ @not-gbd​ @graysavant​ @someonetogray​ @dolansficsandpics​ @batgirl009 @voguekristens @letsgoget-high​ @crossedbone-kat​ @thecoletomysprouse @graysonsbailey

tw: pregnancy and mental health discussions

//

Kate didn’t tell Grayson she was pregnant. At least, not that night. The emotional blows and exhaustive moments had knocked her around more than the tide had when she splashed into the ocean. She left the triage room and Dr.Ocasio as if she was leaving the trenches of a battle: moving, but feeling emptier on the inside (despite sharing her body with the fledgling traces of a new life). She was quiet as she slumped beside Grayson in the car ride back to his place. Tired and angry, he chattered on about paperwork and the nurse’s demeanor as a distraction from the searing hatred burning in his heart that was oxygenated by Sherry’s actions. Not yet ready to face that emotional storm, he settled on ranting about the hospital while Kate leaned her head against the windowsill and gently thumbed her hip, wearing a pensive look framed by dark eye bags and sullen skin.  

She followed Grayson into his bedroom when they got home. He waved his hands madly in the air while he continued to rant. She dropped onto his bed, surrendering to the events of the night and instantly wanting to fall asleep and retreat the craziness that had become her life. 

Grayson looked when she sighed audibly. He stopped ranting and laced his lips together, going dry at the mouth. “Hey,” he started softly as he went to sit next to her. He draped an arm around her shoulders and leaned over to place a gentle kiss on the side of her head, “I’m sorry...bunny” he mumbled the word with his lips pressed to her skin. 

She tried to feign a smile but instead only lifted her mouth and let it fall again, as if it was weighted down by the tons of stress and trauma she wore from the past few weeks. She leaned into Grayson, letting her hair fall over his shoulder as she nuzzled into his neck. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in, letting her fall into his form and feel the warmth emanating from his body. She closed her eyes against his skin, letting her body relax as she gently played with her fingers against him. 

In that moment, Grayson smelled the salt of the ocean on her hair. He would have liked to say that the scent reminded me of the stresses of the night: her sweet, citrus scent overpowered by the storm they had weathered together. In all honesty, he recoiled slightly at the smell of fish and sweat. He kissed the top of her head and mumbled into her hair, “Go take a shower, I’ll get your pajamas out of your bag.” 

Kate nodded softly before dragging herself up to a standing position and moving into his on-suite bathroom. She slid off Grayson’s jacket, folding it neatly and placing it on the bathroom counter. She let her dress drop to the floor, kicking it aside. She turned on Grayson’s shower and sat on the marble bench, letting the water fall on her from above. She leaned back and rested on the bench, trying her best not to think about anything. 

She laid naked and wet: her body housing two lives but feeling dead inside. 

Grayson unbuttoned his shirt while sulking out of his bedroom and into the living room, where Kate’s backpack was still slung over the couch from yesterday morning. He started to shimmy out of the shirt when he looked up and spotted Ethan at the kitchen island, sitting next to their assistant, Isla. Isla was a full-figured, curvy Latina who spoke in a pointed, but caring manner. Her namesake was forever imprinted as a tattoo sleeve on her right arm and by a signature blue streak of hair in the front of her face. 

“Hey,” Grayson’s tone was low while he approached his brother. 

“You’re welcome,” Ethan’s tone was flat and his eyes were too tired to fully commit to the joke. 

Grayson looked from Ethan to Isla and back to Ethan, “For what?” 

“For saving your--your” Ethan held a a hand in the direction of Grayson’s bedroom and waved it, trying to find a word to describe Gray and Kate’s relationship.  “-amor” Isla finished his sentence with a delicate smirk.

Ethan snapped his fingers in her direction and nodded, “Thank you.” 

Grayson rolled his eyes slightly, “How are you holding up?” He leaned over the counter next to Isla. 

“Damp” Ethan replied emphatically. 

Grayson let out a laugh that partially relieved him of the invisible weight on his shoulders. His laugh slowly quieted until the room was silent once more: Isla, Ethan, and Grayson sneaking awkward glances at each other. “I’m glad you’re okay,” Grayson said before sighing, “What are we even supposed to do about this?” He was speaking louder than he would have liked, ever the booming presence in a room. 

“Well you could--” “You should--” Ethan and Isla spoke over each other. 

“Sorry,” Isla whispered. 

“No you go,” Ethan started. 

Isla shook her head softly and fiddled with her phone in her hands. 

“We need to do something about Sherry,” Ethan started, “I’ll call the legal team in the morning.” 

Grayson nodded and locked his jaw, “Is that just another add on to what happened to Kate’s apartment?” 

Ethan gave a defeated shrug “Dunno- but have they even tied that back to her?” 

“Who else would it be?” Grayson didn’t hide his anger.

“You know Gray,” Ethan started, “There are a lot of people who don’t like her- Kate- right now.” He sighed and gave another surrendered shrug, “She didn’t exactly give the world the best impression.”

Grayson huffed, “I know” he stated. He wanted to add: and that’s my fault. He was torn up by the fact that so many people openly hated the woman who single handedly brought happiness back into his life. He was utterly confused, caught in a rabbit hole of doubt and anger: wondering if he would ever wake up from this nightmare and angry at himself for bringing only dark clouds to Kate, when she radiated in his eyes. 

By the time Grayson got to bed that night, Kate was already laying there. She was draped in one of his old sweatshirts and resting on top of the covers. Grayson tried his best to slide into the covers and pull her near him while staying silent. Little did he know, she was very much awake. In the dark, she didn’t even try to close her eyes.

The low grumble of Grayson’s snores did not lull her to sleep. On the contrary, they amplified the anxious voices inside of her: crying out about her life, her baby, her family, Grayson, Sherry, boats, nighttime, splashes, treading water, and washing away. She broke out in a cold sweat, the events of the night echoing in her head. 

If sleep washed a layer of relief on Grayson’s soul, waking up energized him to seek a vengeance for the day before. He looked at Kate, who’s eyelashes were fluttering against her cheekbones while her mouth sat in a frown. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and used a large arm to grapple her into his chest and start placing a series of soft kisses on her head. He didn’t check to see her frown fade, “G’morning beautiful”

“Morning Gray,” her voice sounded almost hoarse. 

“You sound sleepy,” he nuzzled his face against her soft dark hair. 

She shrugged, “I’m still tired.” She conveniently left out the part about not sleeping a week. 

“Stay in bed while I take a shower,” Grayson smiled against her hair before placing a final kiss on the crown of her head.

It was only once she heard the patter of Grayson’s shower again the marble bathroom floor that she finally closed her eyes and relinquished her body to it’s exhausted state.

She slept until the late afternoon, waking up to a dry mouth and a disoriented mind. Grayson was long gone, running between meetings and phone calls while trying to quell the chaos of the night before.

She lifted herself from bed and trudged into the bathroom where she smoothed out her hair in the mirror. She looked at her own face: wondering if that girl was ready to be a mother. Wondering if that girl could be a mother.

The fear of being recognized in public was not enough to stop her from ordering an Uber to the nearest drug store, where she promptly bought a box of pregnancy tests to verify what the emergency room doctor had told her.

She tiptoed into the house, the plastic of the shopping bag peaking out of her purse while she swiftly moved into Grayson’s bathroom. She was somewhat thankful that Grayson was working late and wrapped up in the chaos of their lives.She turned the lock on the bathroom door, not wanting to risk being caught.

Any good scientist knows the key to valid data is reproducibility: an experiment is no good if it can only be done once. The general rule of thumb, was to preform trials in triplicate to prove validity. Ever the doting, committed scientist, Kate took six pregnancy tests that night.

She stood, staring at the counter and her six positive tests staring up at her. They were daunting. Almost fearsome. Staring at her like a small army ready to attack.

She cupped her face in her hands, deciding that it was real: that it was true.

She heard Grayson enter his bedroom before he knocked on the bathroom door, “You in there?”

“Yeah! Just a minute” She did the smartest thing she could think of and quickly slid all six tests into her purse, not knowing how and when she would dispose of them. She looked in the mirror again, wondering if she looked difference: if housing a child had already started its barrage of physical changes on her body. Could Grayson tell?

She hoped not.

Grayson was emptying his pockets on his nightstand and sitting on the edge of the bed when she creeped out of the bathroom, “Hey,” he started, not even looking up at her as he tossed his wallet near his lamp. 

Even Kate’s anxious mind could see the physical signs of exhaustion on Grayson’s face: heavy lidded eyes, a low mouth, and distinct creases on his forehead. She sat next to him, “Hey,” she started quietly. 

Grayson sighed before he looked at the floor as he spoke, “Talked to Joe and Rob about what happened--” 

“Who are Joe and Rob?”

“Oh- uh manager and lawyer-”

“-right.” Kate gave a small nod. She bit the corner of her mouth and decided against asking anymore questions: lest she be faced with all of the details she didn’t know about Grayson’s life. Should she feel guilty for being pregnant by a man and not knowing the name of his manager? Internal, she shuddered and reflected on just how weird a place Hollywood was, to make her ask such a question. 

If Grayson could sense her inner struggle, he didn’t show it. Instead, he droned on for a few minutes about assault, battery, nautical laws, and the California jurisdiction. Kate gave small nods and folded her lips whenever he would look up to get her reaction. 

“It’s a lot,” Grayson leaned his upper body down against the bed. He wrapped his face in his hands and moved his fingers through his hair, “I feel like I just went to law school in a day- I- this is crazy.” 

“It is,” Kate’s voice was small and her posture erect as she sat on the edge of the bed, her hands folded neatly in her lap. 

She jumped at the feeling of two large arms folding around her and Grayson leaning his head against her shoulder, “I’m so sorry bunny,” his voice was low. “I-I-” he sighed again and squeezed her tiny frame, “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling.” He placed a gentle kiss on her temple. Kate’s posture didn’t falter. 

Grayson cleared his throat before saying the next part, slowly and deliberately, “After the break in-- the one that happened before we met-- I was really freaked out. Didn’t sleep for nearly a month. I felt like my even my own mind wasn’t safe anymore. The point is, I went to a therapist a few times. Talked a lot out and I think it really helped me. And this isn’t me sending you to someone else, I’m here for you, wholly, with everything you need. But if you need more” he reached out to hold her hand in his, “I’m by your side always.” 

Kate’s lips slipped into a smile for the first time all day, “Thank you Grayson.” 

He squeezed her hand once more, “We’ll get through this together mama.”

She stiffened in his arms, “What?!” 

“Sorry,” he let out a low chuckle. He rolled his eyes softly at an angle she couldn’t see, “bunny.” he corrected with a loving but mocking tone, “I should know better, I’ll get better I promise.”

Kate gave a small nod before falling back onto the bed. 

The second night mimicked the first, with Grayson snoring like a lion on the prowl and Kate rolling around, trying to find a space that felt comfortable enough to lull her to sleep but failing to find it within herself. How could someone sleep when their soul was too busy operating on decisions that would change their lifetime? 

She feigned sleep while Grayson slipped out in the morning. She closed her eyes while he bent down to kiss her cheek and whispered, “Sweet Dreams.” Before she head the sound of the door close behind him. 

She felt guiltier, that second morning. Once the door creaked shut, she instantly remembered the sullen and long face Grayson gave when he came home the night before. She felt guilty that he was out, fighting her battles and trying to protect her, in a mess of paperwork and legal times, his least favorite things in the world, while she got to stay home and contemplate their love child. 

She felt twisted about the fact that this thought made her happy. In a weird way, it proved Grayson’s committment to her, his dedication, and his faith to whatever they had. It calmed some of her nerves that he would be the future father of her child. 

Her musings were interrupted by a slurry of emails from her advisor: asking where she was, if she was okay, what was happening. They made her head spin. She felt that the fabric of her mind was being invaded by the complex task of balancing her personal future with the future of her own career and well being. Surely, she hadn’t wanted a child. But now that one was in her sights, and literally in her, maybe it was somehow fated to be this way. 

She shut her phone off entirely in an effort to delete the emails. 

She threw on one of Grayson’s wakeheart t-shirts and a pair of sweat pants and pattered out into the kitchen for a meal. The hardwood felt cold against her toes. She picked a banana out of the fruit bowl and opened a cabinet, in search of peanut butter when she heard a thumping noise coming from the other side of the house. 

She dropped her banana. It bounced against the floor. Her mouth went dry. She picked up a pan from the top of the stove and held it at an angle in front of her and she stalked forward. She slowly pushed open the door to Ethan’s room: unsettled by the fact that it was already ajar. She knitted her brow together, still hearing a beating sound coming from his bathroom. Against her better judgement, she opened the door a crack, motivated by the fear of an intruder, and peered through the space between the door and the door frame. 

She jumped back and immediately closed the door. From her crevice, she could see Ethan firmly, strongly, and expertly pounding the plump ass of a girl from inside of her shower, where a strand of blue hair bounced around as she picked her head up to say his name. 

Kate blushed and pressed her back against the wall of Ethan’s bedroom. Feeling embarrassed about the whole situation. She quietly tiptoed out of his room and brought the pan back to the kitchen while reflecting on the ordeal. She was paranoid, afraid of monsters in the closet and scenarios she was building in her head: not real fears, fears that her mind was making up to keep her from enjoying the life that was being laid out in front of her. 

She turned on Grayson’s own shower and quickly rinsed off, hoping the water and his Wakeheart bodywash would help wash away the negativity from her psyche and the embarrassment from the last 20 minutes. 

She wrapped herself in Grayson’s large, cotton bathrobe and sat cross legged on his bed. She pulled her laptop from her backpack and began writing to her advisor, requesting a meeting to explain the timeline for the rest of her doctoral program. She took a breath before pressing send. 

Grayson came home that night looking like more of a wreck than the night before. He slumped himself on the bed and rested his head on her lap while Kate gently brushed his hair away from his face. “Long day?” 

“Yeah,” Grayson mumbled and nuzzled his face into her midsection. 

She sucked in her top lip and sat up straighter, “Want to talk about it?” 

He shook his head, “No,” he sighed and opened his eyes to look at her, “It’ll all change tomorrow anyway.” 

Kate didn’t want to ask what that meant.  

He held her hand from where he leaned on her, “What about you? What did you do today?” 

She swallowed hard, touching her tongue to the outside of her lips and exhaling before speaking. “Actually Grayson--” she took a deep breath mid-sentence, “There is something I wanted to tell you.” 

He raised his eyebrows curiously while she wished she wondered how fast she could run across the room and pull out the half a dozen pregnancy tests from the night before. She looked him in the eye, ever the direct speaker, “I’m pregnant.”

When Grayson’s mouth gaped slightly she added, “It’s yours.” 

Grayson shot up, lifting his head from her lap and sitting up straight, “You’re pregnant?” At first, his voice held nothing but pure shock but it faded quickly into something happy. 

Kate nodded surely, not letting a smile hit her lips. This was a factual conversation. 

Grayson had started to flash a grin but quickly lost it when he looked her in the eye to ask, “Do you want to keep it?” 

She maintained composure, “I do.” 

Grayson’s entire face lit up. In a swift move, he jumped from the bed and began pacing around the room in front of Kate, waving his arms joyously in the air and starting sentences without endings about family, his mother, Kate, this year, the baby, him being a father. Kate could barely keep up with him, so she giggled and smiled at him: appreciating every ounce of whimsical, loving energy that was Grayson Dolan. 

He made a sharp turn on his heel, stopping his arms from waving, “Do you want to--” he licked his lips as his face quickly transformed from happiness to anxiety, “Do you want me to-to-to marrryyeee you?” Kate didn’t know what word got so many extra letters.

She shook her head, “I uh- I didn’t think about that but I don’t think it’s” she moved her eyes from side to side, “necessary?” 

Grayson nodded, “Right.” He bit his bottom lip and looked at her with large, kind brown eyes. He stared straight into her big brown eyes and saw the same gold flecks he noticed that day on the beach. She was his girl, his soul knew it. “I could still, ask you to marry me?” If she was the say yes, he would have dropped to his knee in that moment and started an impromptu speech about everything she meant to him. If she were to say yes, he would have changed everything in his life to make her as comfortable as possible. She was everything he wanted in his life, and now she was caring for a child that was nothing but the proof that they were destined to be together. 

But at the offer of a proposal, Kate shot up from the bed and took Grayson’s hands into hers. She took a deep breath, “No Grayson. I don’t want that.” She wanted to say that they weren’t even actually dating, but that would break Grayson’s heart at the moment it was most full: so she didn’t. Instead she opted for pulling body close to his, so he could get drunk on her sweet citrus scent and saying, “I don’t need a boyfriend, or a fiance, or a husband.” His eyes held onto something sad before she added, “What I need, is a partner,” she squeezed his hands, “I need you to be my partner Grayson.”

He squeezed her hands before giving her a slow, gentle kiss and letting his lips rest on hers warmly before pulling back, “You’ve got me bunny.” He placed another kiss on her forehead. 

[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

Smashed

(Hayffie ❤️. Sensual angst and relationship building during the 72nd Hunger Games. Raw and vulnerable Effie is without a doubt the most gorgeous muse I’ve ever had. — Thank you for sharing the prompt. Writing this story brought up memories of a young man who died in his sleep in November 2019. I’d known him since he was 5 years old. Someone who has been drinking heavily, which can mean as few as 5 drinks, give or take, on an empty stomach, may need help. Watch for signs of alcohol poisoning, and don’t let them fall asleep unattended. The young man I knew had little experience with alcohol. If someone had been caring for him similarly to how Haymitch takes care of Effie in this fic, then he would likely still be alive. I think about him often.)

***

Haymitch startled awake and clutched his knife. His ears rang with an echo of shattered glass followed by humming. The sounds were muffled but too loud to be the residue of a dream. Dawn hadn’t yet broken, and it took a moment in darkness to remember whose bed he was in. ...The Capitol’s. The penthouse. The same room he’d slept in for 22 Julys but would never stoop to call his own.

This was supposed to be his day to sleep in if he could. The tributes from 11 and 12 had been killed during the bloodbath at the Cornucopia the day before, and he’d spent the afternoon with Chaff. Everything between then and now was a bit hazy. There’d been Vodka shots, and then a *pick-up* game in the betting lounge to see which of them would be the first to be propositioned for sex.

Not ten minutes in, Haymitch was approached by a woman with pale blue hair flowing down her back, a jeweled collar around her throat, and breast implants the size of cantaloupes. “Hey, victor. Wanna get out of here?”

“Not tonight, sweetheart,” he muttered low enough for Chaff not to hear. This was his buddy’s game, not his. The last thing he wanted in the middle of the Games was to be a piece of meat for some Capitol bitch.

A waif like creature with tattooed olive skin and an unusually large ass for her tiny frame sidled up to Chaff soon afterward. ‘I win,’ he mouthed as he walked out the door with his hand already sliding into the back waistband of her pants.

Glass shattered again, shaking Haymitch from his fog covered memories. What the hell?! As the humming grew louder, he dragged himself out of bed and followed the sound into the living room.

Effie sat on the sofa wearing yesterday’s clothes. Her ankles were crossed on top of the coffee table. “I’ll have another, dear!” She called to a red-clad Avox. He stepped out from the shadows and handed her an oversized champagne flute. She dropped her feet to the floor and promptly filled the new stemware from a large, nearly empty pitcher of orange liquid. Her flute overflowed. The liquid pooled on the table, then dripped over the edge to the purple rug. The Avox stood by with a handtowel draped over his arm, but she didn’t call for one so he remained inconspicuous.

“You know...” Effie spoke to the pink wig she’d taken off at some point and set beside her on the couch, “I’ve always thought that rug needed more color. Orange goes with purple like wildflowers on a mountainside.”

She tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, bent forward at the waist, put her mouth to the rim of the glass, and sipped the drink with a loud slurp until it was emptied enough to not spill further. As she raised her head, she caught sight of Haymitch.

All traces of the lipstick she’d worn the day before were gone. Her lips glistened with whatever she was drinking. A thought flashed through his mind of what it would be like to kiss her. He’d wondered before. As she licked her lips, looking at him like she was, he had a hard time thinking about anything else.

Neither of them glanced away nor said a word as he watched her swallow the rest of her drink. The spell broke when she smashed the flute to the floor and started humming again. The tune this time was unmistakable. It was the same melody that played in the arena when images of dead tributes were projected into a darkened sky.

“Effie, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m having brunch!”

“Brunch? It’s 5am.”

“Mimosas make any meal brunch!”

“I don’t see a meal here, sweetheart. Have you eaten since yesterday?”

“Yesterday we had dinner with the children. You remember. They picked at the food, but they had the decency to use silverware.”

“That wasn’t yesterday. That was the day before. Have you eaten anything since then?”

“I never eat on the first day of the Games. Nothing settles well...”

He’d been too wrapped up in his own miserable sense of responsibility and tension on Day 1 to notice her eating habits or lack thereof.

“...But these mimosas certainly are delicious.” She snapped her fingers and the Avox stepped into the light again. Effie held up the empty pitcher. The Avox took it as soon as he was clear that she didn’t intend to throw it on the floor. “Bring us another round and two more glasses.”

“Hold up,” Haymitch said to the Avox. “Bring a pitcher of water and a plastic cup. Make sure the pitcher is plastic too. And bring some crackers. ...And an empty bucket, thanks.”

“And crepes! With strawberries and cream cheese, chopped candied pecans and a drizzle of maple syrup... and mimosas!” Effie added.

The Avox looked to Haymitch who quietly shook his head. “Let’s start with crackers and work up to the rest. I think you’ve had enough alcohol this morning.”

“Amitch Habernathy! Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot have!”

“Sweetheart, I’m just trying to help.” He went the long way around the rug to avoid stepping on shards of broken glass, and he sat beside her on the sofa.

Through worn layers of makeup, he couldn’t tell if her cheeks were pale or blazing. He raised his hand slowly to her forehead. She held her breath as he touched her. Her skin was clammy but held some warmth. “How many drinks have you had?”

The back of his hand still grazed her forehead as the answer barely escaped her throat, “I lost count.”

He assessed the pile of broken glass on the floor and believed it was enough to be concerned about her. Her body was slight under all those layers of clothes she wore. He’d stared at her enough to know it. Besides, she hadn’t eaten in a day and a half.

As he dropped his hand from her forehead, she caressed along his cheek, his jaw, his neck, then down the front of his rumpled T-shirt. “You’re so pretty,” she said.

She’d never touched him so personally. It almost scared the shit out of him because she felt so good. “I ain’t so pretty. You’re just drunk,” he reminded himself.

“I ain’t so drunk...”

Effie Trinket saying “ain’t” was drunk for sure, but he knew it would be pointless to argue with her.

The Avox brought Haymitch’s requested items in a bucket. They nodded to each other: Haymitch in appreciation, and the Avox in relief that Effie was no longer breaking champagne flutes.

“You’re pretty too,” she said to the Avox. All six of your eyes are pretty. But not quite as pretty as this guy.” Her palm still lingered on Haymitch’s chest, and she whispered to the Avox, “Have you seen him naked? Holy Mary Mother of God, he’s so fine!”

Haymitch wondered if and when Effie had actually seen him naked. He blacked out too often to know. “I don’t think any mothers of gods want to see me without any clothes. Let’s leave them out of this.” Making light of her comment was safer than picturing himself naked with Effie.

The Avox poured water into the plastic cup and left the crackers in the bag instead of laying them out on fine china. Haymitch waved him off with gratitude then handed her the cup of water. “Drink this slowly. It’ll help you sober up, and when you wake up later you’ll feel like a small train hit you instead of a big one.”

“I don’t want to be sober!” What she wanted was to forget all the death she’d witnessed that day, but she took the cup of water and drank anyway. Haymitch’s attentiveness was more intoxicating than the alcohol had been. “...Is this what it takes?”

“What? Water?”

“Me being drunk. Is this what it takes?...” For you to touch me, she didn’t say. She gripped his T-shirt.

“You’re not making sense, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me ‘sweetheart.’ It means you’re pissed off, or worse it means nothing. I’m more than nothing. I want to mean more than nothing!” She let go of his shirt and shoved him. “I don’t want to look at you.”

But her eyes were still on him. Like inlets of a wild sea, he could drown in them if he let himself. She’s even more insane drunk than sober. But he couldn’t look away from her regardless.

“I have to go.” Effie set the water cup down and stood up. The room started spinning, so she plopped back down. “...My shoes are broken. I can’t stand up because my shoes are broken!”

“Your shoes are fine, honey. Do you want to take them off?”

“I love these shoes. Can’t you understand? How can you be so blind not to see that I LOVE them?”

“Okay, they’re great shoes. Maybe they’ll work better if you have something to eat.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a couple of crackers, eating one and handing her the other. “Food will keep some of the alcohol that’s still in your stomach from getting into your bloodstream.”

As soon as Effie ate the cracker, her long-empty stomach craved more. She took the bag from Haymitch and popped a handful into her mouth.

“Go slowly,” he said, “Like with the water.”

“Stop interfering!”

“Fine!” He sat back on the couch and folded his arms behind his head. “Do whatever you want.”

As she chewed the crackers, she bent forward to unstrap her shoes. Using his foot, he slid the table forward so she wouldn’t bang her head on it. She didn’t seem to notice his ‘interference.’

With a bit of food in her stomach and the high heels off her feet, she stood up and managed to remain standing even as the room spun. Haymitch put a leg up on the table, barricading her from walking in the direction of smashed glass. With an unsteady gait, she took the long way around the room. He followed her with the bucket of crackers and water.

As she wobbled through the living room, she unzipped her dress. “Is it hot in here? Or is it just me?”

“It’s definitely you.”

By the time she got to the hallway, she’d slipped the sleeves down her arms, and the dress spilled onto the floor in a puddle of chiffon.

His jaw dropped as she stood there in a baby blue corset, matching panties, and lace trimmed thigh high stockings. “...Holy Mary Mother of God.”

“I thought you said we were leaving mothers of gods out of this.”

“You changed my mind.”

“Oh...” Her stomach lurched, and she felt its contents pushing up against her esophagus. Shit. Throwing up was one thing that annoyed Effie more than bad manners. She commanded her stomach to settle down, but the will of her body to get rid of those last few mimosas and that large handful of crackers was more powerful.

She rushed to her bathroom, and vomited in the toilet. She crouched there in stillness while her guts churned inside.

Haymitch knelt behind her. “I’m right here, honey.” He touched her head gently and gathered her hair up into his hands. He’d never touched it before. Each strand was light and soft like a feather. Why she’d want to cover up this delicacy with wigs, he had no idea.

She threw up several more times until her stomach was empty. By then she was crying. He stroked her hair, feeling dangerously close to the brink of something inescapable. “How about I get you some water and help you into bed, okay?”

She nodded almost imperceptibly, completely defeated. “Everything’s spinning.”

“Put your arms around my neck.”

She did what he requested. He picked her up off the floor and carried her to the edge of her bed. She was very drunk but not unaware of the sensation of his arms. Being there felt warm and safe and insanely good. When he let go, she didn’t like the absence. She cried some more, unable to contain the tears, emptying the contents of her heart as it had been with her stomach.

He poured her another cup of water and sat beside her, drawing small circles on her back while she sipped slowly. “The bucket’s here if you need to throw up again. I know you’re dizzy.”

She shivered. When those shudders turned to shakes, he knew it would be best to get her warm. “When you’re ready, let’s get you under the covers.”

“My corset...” Her throat hurt to talk. “Will you help me loosen it so I can take it off?”

Haymitch had loosened a fair number of corsets in the past twenty years. He didn’t know why he was so affected by this raw and vulnerable version of Effie. His hands trembled untying the laces at her back. He stopped when the corset was loose enough for her to unhook in front. If she couldn’t manage the hooks, then it would be staying on, because if he took off her corset there was no way in hell he’d be able to stop there, not with the way he was feeling.

“What do you need? A shirt? The robe on the hook in the bathroom?”

“The robe is fine,” she whispered.

He stepped away to get it for her, and when he came back, the corset had slipped several inches. There was no avoiding a view of her breasts, and he was only willing to be honorable to a certain extent. He was going to look for as long as she, drunk or not, would let him look.

She was refreshingly different than the woman he’d met yesterday in passing. Effie’s lingerie and the other’s hair were similar shades of blue, and maybe that’s why he thought of the comparison just then. Effie’s breasts were small enough to fit fully in his hands. They were firm from the fastidious care she gave her body, and he vowed right then to never taunt her again about those efforts. Her nipples were pink and upturned. She must be nearly 30, but her breasts probably hadn’t dropped a centimeter from where they’d been at 18. His mouth watered just looking at her.

When he glanced up at her eyes, they were on his, watching him watch her. He didn’t know whether her lack of embarrassment came from pride in her body or her altered brain state. Maybe he’d find out another time, or maybe this would be the only time he’d ever see her breasts bare. Either way, this had to be enough for now because she was still shivering.

He sat behind her and helped her into the robe. She fumbled with the corset hooks until the garment fell away. She tied the robe closed then peeled off her stockings. Bending forward made her more dizzy, so she sipped more water and ate a cracker before sliding under the covers.

Haymitch propped pillows behind and in front of her to keep her lying on her side. Then he lay facing her. He stayed on top of the covers because to climb inside with her, especially now, would be as much folly as unhooking her corset would have been.

Her eyelids were heavy.

“I’m gonna be here if you need anything. I’m gonna wake you up several times the first hour, then maybe once each hour after that. I’m warning you, so hopefully you won’t be as pissed at me. I know you’re tired, honey, but you drank a lot on an empty stomach, and your body has to process it. Throwing some up helped, but the alcohol in your blood could still rise for a while as you sleep. I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

He thought of the thousands of times he’d subjected himself to the risk and certainty of alcohol poisoning. None of those times mattered to him because that was his life. But this was Effie, and for whatever reasons, her staying alive mattered a hell of a lot more to him than he would have expected.

As she dozed off, he listened to make sure her breathing was regular.

The first time he woke her, she hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep. She touched his face the same as before. “Sometimes I feel like my heart’s going to burst. You know?”

He really didn’t know what she meant by that, but he knew from personal experience that drunk people rarely make sense, even to themselves. He checked her pulse at her wrist. “You’re heart’s gonna be fine.”

When he withdrew his hand she said, “Don’t. Don’t let go.” She fell asleep again with him lightly holding her hand.

The second time he woke her, she teased, “I finally got you in my bed.”

“Finally?? I don’t remember you ever trying.”

“Trying appears differently to different people.”

The third time he woke her, she said, “I want to kiss you.”

“Another time,” he assured her, “When you’re gonna remember it.”

“I’ll remember it now.”

“I don’t think so, and I’m not willing to risk it. Someday when I kiss you, you’re for damn sure gonna remember it.”

The fourth time he woke her, she said, “You’re getting on that train tomorrow, and I hate it. Every time it takes you away from me, I hate it more.”

He was afraid of what she might say next. Soon she was going to forget this conversation, and that reality was a mixture of relief and agitation. Because he wasn’t going to forget.

The fifth time he woke her, she asked, “Why do you keep waking me up?” The bubble had burst.

The sixth time, she pulled her hand away. “Haymitch! Quit waking me up!”

The seventh time was an hour later. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Making sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

He lay in bed with her until noon, listening to her normal, even breathing and periodically checking the temperature of her skin with the back of his hand. He didn’t wake her again — because he didn’t want to hear her tell him to leave.

She woke up in the afternoon alone. Her head was throbbing, and the daylight hurt her eyes. She dragged herself out of bed, pulled herself together, and put on a pair of dark glasses.

The dress and corset she’d worn the day before were laying at the foot of the bed. Why didn’t I hang them up? She did so belatedly. I must have been exhausted last night. She’d worked the floor until early morning, making connections, trying to help escorts and mentors from other districts secure sponsors.

She passed through the living room and saw her wig on the couch and her shoes on the rug. Did I take those off here before bed? I can’t remember. I must have had too many drinks. That would explain the headache. She gathered them up and returned them to her room.

Haymitch was eating in the dining room. The Avoxes had laid out a full spread. “How are you feeling?” he asked her.

“Like I was hit by a train.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes. My stomach hurts, but yes.”

“Eat a bit then. It should help.”

She sat down, and looked awhile at Haymitch’s eyes. Almost remembering... something. She took off her dark glasses and looked again.

“I think I had a dream about you last night.”

“You’re dreaming about me, eh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Still, something danced along the edges of her memory. It was almost... beautiful.

Haymitch smirked like he knew a secret. “What do you remember about the dream?” he asked.

“I licked my lips...” I wanted to kiss you. DID I kiss you? “...And you touched my forehead the way my mother used to when I was sick.” I wanted to touch you too... your face, your neck, your chest. DID I touch you?

“So, in your dream I was your mother?” He teased.

“No!”

“...Holy Mary Mother of God, no?” His grin was big enough now to show the gap between his teeth.

It was rare to see him gleeful. Effie loved it, but... “Wait. Those words were part of the dream somehow. Did I say them or did you?”

“Maybe we both did.”

She eyed him suspiciously. The dream had been sensual, erotic at times. I took off my clothes.. Or did you? You carried me to bed. Did we sleep together? Did we...

“You touched my hair.”

“It’s soft like feathers.”

“In the dream?”

“Sure. Why not.”

She recalled confessions of a bursting heart and wanting him...

Effie’s heart was racing now. She pushed her chair away from the table, stepped into the kitchen and started opening cabinets. To the Avoxes she questioned, “Where are all the champagne flutes?”

Of course they couldn’t answer. Confusion spread across her face. “Haymitch?...”

“You smashed ‘em up real good, honey. Like cannon fire.”

Honey? “In the dream?”

“Nope. On the living room floor.”

“What happened last night?”

“Last night I was asleep.”

“Then what happened this morning?”

Haymitch took his time before answering.

“I demand to know what happened between us this morning!”

“You were drunk. I took care of you.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s ALL?! You try taking care of somebody who’s drunk. It ain’t easy.”

She dropped back into her chair with chagrin. “I feel like I should thank you.”

“You already did.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah. You showed me your breasts.”

“What?” Effie’s face flushed pink all the way through her makeup.

“I figure we’re almost even now, since apparently you’ve already seen me naked.”

“What?! How do you know that?”

“You told my friend here early this morning.” He looked to the red-clad Avox for confirmation. “Right?” The man shrugged his shoulders, and quickly escaped to busy himself in the kitchen. “I recall your words were, ‘Have you seen him naked? Holy Mary Mother of God, he’s so fine.’”

Effie pressed her palms to her cheeks to try to temper the blood rushing there. “So THIS is what mortification feels like.”

“You’ve got nothin’ to be mortified about. You think I’m fine, and I think you’re just about the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” You make me want to do things to you that I’m terrified and thrilled to think about. “See? We’re even.”

“Did you sleep with me?”

“I watched you sleep to make sure you stayed alive.”

The way he said it, all of it, set something warm into motion. It buzzed along her spine and down her arms. The sensation throbbed in her fingers. She felt it pulling her to hold his hand, but other forces kept her frozen. Just reach across the table and hold his hand! Why is that so intimidating?

Full of uncertainty she asked, “What’s going to happen?”

“I’ll get on the train.”

“Haymitch... when you do, I’m going to hate it.”

“...I know.”

[imnotwolverine]

The marriage pact - Maple syrup dreams

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 21 | Part 22 Maple syrup dreams | Part 23 >

Disclaimer: Just fluff

Author’s note: Do you know what I just can’t get enough of? Whenever I’m writing my fanfics I keep Tumblr open in the background and there’s nothing more fun than seeing you, the reader, pop up in my notifications every few minutes or so, liking yet another chapter of a long fic. At some point I even know when you’re having a tea break, or taking a moment to make yourself some food. It makes me, as a writer, feel all gooey with happiness (and I quietly enjoy the fun along with you whenever you’re reading my works, my mind bringing me back to when I was writing that particular chapter you just liked). Ugh! I’m such a sap today! I love you darling readers! ❤️

Word count: 2.042

(Link to my Masterlist)

Dear readers,

I am writing this blog from a far, far away place. My fingers a bit numb from the everlasting cold, the taste on my tongue remembering I had far too much Maple Syrup Taffy and my everyday schedule suddenly consisting off shoving snow and rubbing down snowy dog paws.

Me and chocolate cake are in Canada, where we’ll be for the next 2 months as he’s working on a movie here. A movie? Chocolate cake? Hold on, you may think. Tell me more about this mysterious chocolate cake that you seem to be getting serious with! Well dear readers, though many of you know by now whom my lovely chocolate cake is, I’d still like to keep our privacy a little while longer. So let us just say; talk, dark, handsome and a very practical human heater when sleeping together. Especially when you are staying in this freakishly cold country and the actual heater is broken.

Today I’ll be visiting the movie set for the first time, and thereby a part of a new life starts that may have seemed totally ridiculous had you told me I’d be here a few months ago. But alas(ka), here we go!

Ali

‘Morning love.’ Henry chuckled, watching me shuffle through the tiny hallway of the trailer, my body clad in probably every sweater and wool sock I could find. ‘Hmmpff..’ I grumbled, plopping down beside him on the small bench in the kitchen nook.

It felt a bit like my student days. Living on each others lip, this shared living space no bigger than some 24m2, the heating unit broken and the food..well..not great.

‘Need me to warm you up?’ He smiled, gesturing me to scoot over to his lap. Silently nodding I moved up to him, feeling his arms snake around me and pull me snug against his broad and warm chest. ‘Ungh..how can you only wear one sweater and not be cold?’

Henry laughed. ‘It’s called 4000 kcal a day intake and lots of exercising.’ He kissed my cold cheek, his slight stubble scratching my skin. I sniffled and shook my head. ‘Does not sound like my cup of tea.’ - ‘Doesn’t have to be. I’ll keep you warm.’ He hummed, pushing a warm hand beneath my layers of sweaters. ‘Besides, the maintenance team is going to check on that heater this afternoon, so with a little luck we get home tonight to a nice and warm trailer.’ - ‘Goooood.’ I hummed, then squealed, feeling him tickle my skin ever so slightly. ‘Very good.’ He smiled, sniffing my hair before placing a kiss atop my head.

‘Hmm..In case I haven’t mentioned it, I’m so glad to have you here.’ He whispered, nuzzling my hair some more. I chuckled. ‘Oh you only mentioned it about a hundred times or so.’ I leaned back a little so I could turn my face towards his, our noses touching.

He was SO warm.

‘I wouldn’t miss this for the world.’ I murmured, laying a pillowy kiss on his lips. ‘Besides I got some small tasks to help the team out with today, so I don’t have to wait for you to come home like the good housewife I am.’ I winked, making him snicker. ‘Very good wifey.’ - ‘I mean, I’m no wife..but..you know..housegirlfriend sounds weird.’ I shrugged, turning to steal a sip of coffee from his large mug and thereby missing the loving glint in his eyes.

He watched me for a few more long moments, enjoying his coffee and staring into the abyss of 6 AM nothingness, Kal still snoring quietly on his dog bed. He didn’t want to ruin the moment as it was, but there sure was a whole lot going on in his head.

I was his first girlfriend to join him for such a long movie shoot. And for the first time in a long time he didn’t feel so very alone. Didn’t feel like it was just another fleeting moment of a good life. This was going to last. He would make sure it would.

‘Oh are you going to finish that.’ I pointed at a leftover bite of his breakfast toast. He laughed aloud. ‘Go ahead. And, I’ll make myself a mental note to make double the amount of breakfast tomorrow.’

I blushed slightly as I felt his gaze on me, chewing that bit of toast. ‘Sowwyy.’ I gulped, quickly swallowing the toast. ‘You really don’t have to..-‘ - ‘No please Ali. You travelled half the world just to be here with me. The least I can do is make you breakfast while you wrap yourself in not one, not two..but THREE of my sweaters.’

My blush became even more fierce when I felt his chest rumble with mirth.

‘Mwu..they’re just really nice sweaters.’ I mumbled, pouting at him. ‘Hahah. Oh Ali-bear. I have missed you so.’

Ali-bear? I raised an eyebrow at him as my blush slowly faded. ‘Ali-bear?’ I asked with mild confusion. ‘Yes, since you call me Henry-bear and you ARE part of the bear pack now.’ He winked, nodding at Kal who was blinking open his eyes, the large Akita stretching out his paws with mild exaggeration. We both laughed. ‘A-ha..so I’m a bear now, too?’ I looked at him and he shrugged innocently, making me laugh even harder. ‘Oh Henry..you are un-BEAR-able.’  

—

The days on set were crazy long, crazy cold, but also crazy fun. After a week or so I got into a routine of helping for a few hours on set - moving and cleaning props, cooking meals with the cook, walking Kal -, followed by a few hours of working on my upcoming book and help out the Jersey Gazette with editing articles.

My life in Jersey felt like lightyears away, but I didn’t miss it as much as I had anticipated. All I really needed was Henry, silly as it seemed. Be it because we were crazy in love, or because we really had found great soulmates in one another. Even on 14 hour workdays we’d find the time to be there for each other, making life in general really rather pleasant.

Did I have a good idea for one of my stories? I’d pitch it to Henry. Henry needed to practise some new lines? I’d play his villanous counterpart. Did either one of us feel a little on edge? We’d have a quickie in the trailer.

Yes, life was good.

—

‘Hi mom..hello?..Mom? Can you hear me?’ The line crackled and my mom’s voice distorted in a wild flurry of screeches and blurred speech. ‘Let’s try again.’ I ended the call and waited for her to call me in turn, this time the line thankfully much more stable.

‘Oh! There we go!’ Mom exclaimed, hearing me giggle. ‘Hello Ali dear. Oh baby we miss you soooo!’

‘Hi mom. Miss you too! How’s everything at home?’

‘Quite exciting times over here..we finally adopted a dog! A four year old poodle mix, named Cookie. And she’s a lovely gal. Chewing on some shoelaces as we speak hahaha.’ - ‘Quite lovely indeed haha. So you truly miss me THAT much, hmm? Empty nest?’ - ‘Terribly. So how’s everything over there? Are you okay? Eating enough vegetables?’

Moms will be moms.

‘Yes mom haha. Plenty of vegetables. And I exercise everyday because it is crazy cold and there’s practically no other way to get warm..-‘ - ‘The things you do for love, hmm? I remember you experiencing your first snow. How you immediately ran back inside, not liking it one bit. And now you are living in meters of snow!’

‘Yes. The things we do for love.’ I heard the trailer door open behind me and looked over my shoulder, seeing two snowy bears enter, bringing with them a gust of icy cold air.

‘Close it..close IT!’ I exclaimed, waving at the door when Henry let it open, his arm filled with a number of plastic bags. Smiling, his nose also slightly red with cold, he bumped the door closed with his buttocks, Kal taking the moment to shake off the remains of snow in his fur and launching it at the both of us.

‘KALL!!’ I warned, the akita panting at me happily, acting as if he didn’t do anything wrong.

‘Shall I call back later dear? Sounds like you have some men to take care of.’ My mom’s voice sounded in my ear and I slowly nodded, my eyes tracking to Henry as he zipped out of his jacket and started rubbing Kal down with a towel, the dog continuing to circle away from him, thinking it was playtime.

‘Yea..call you back mom. Looks like Henry could use some help haha. Have fun with Cookie and send pictures!! Love you. Give dad a hug from me.’ - ‘I shall my dear. Kisses back!’ And that was the end of the call.

I quickly stood up and helped Henry dry off Kal, our smiles growing as the dog started to bounce up, licking our faces. ‘Who’s a good boy?!’ I cooed, rubbing him behind the ears, squatting down and allowing the dog to lean into me, going in for a big bear hug. The dog was more than glad to get all this attention, his head ducking down and pressing into my chest, eager to get even more pets. I laughed and looked up at Henry, seeing him get up and moving back to the bags that were now on the small kitchen counter, his hands digging through the contents

‘Whatcha got..-?’ - ‘Close your eyes!’ He stopped me mid sentence, looking over his shoulder with a mischievous glint in his ocean blues. ‘Ohhhkay..’ I said, slightly unsure, settling down so Kal couldn’t topple me over, the large Akita folding his large paws over my lap and also looking at Henry.

What was he up to? With a slow breath I closed my eyes, my hand continuing to trace languid circles through his fur. And then I felt something being pushed down on my head. Warm, soft. REALLY soft. A..hat? I wished to open my eyes but Henry clicked his tongue in warning, now picking up my hands and slipping them carefully in what probably were two mittens. My lips curled up in a smile, and I turned my head up expectantly.

‘Can I look now..?’ I asked quietly. Henry chuckled. ‘Almost.’

Then I felt something shift beneath my hands, Kal sitting up slightly.

‘Okay, now you can look.’

I opened my eyes and first saw Kal, wearing the cutest purplish blue knit scarf, and then the mittens on my hands. Also knit, but with a teddy-like material inside to keep my fingers nice and toasty. Reaching for my head I could feel a hat there. ‘With bear ears.’ Henry sniffled, nodding. ‘I know you don’t want me to get you presents. But it’s a bit of a special day.’

‘Special..day..?’ I quirked up an eyebrow, then smiled feeling the two small bear ears on my head. Slowly I lowered my hands again and gave Henry a studious look. ‘Special day.’ Henry smiled, sitting down beside me and Kal, his eyes glittering.

‘Did I ..miss..something?’ I gave him a suspicious look.

Henry chuckled. ‘Perhaps a calendar.’ He reached for my mittens and pulled me to his chest, noses nearly touching. ‘Happy half year anniversary sweet little icicle of mine.’ He said with a smile in his voice, his lips trying to brush against mine, but failing as I gasped in horror. ‘OOOH…I FORGOT.’

Henry laughed all the harder, shoulders shaking and Kal shifting so he could lean into the both us, head squeezed in between our chests. ‘That’s quite alright. Now c’mhere.’ He snickered, pulling my embarrassed face to his, our lips finally melting together.

And how hot and cozy that moment was.

Nothing big and outrageous. No hours of driving just to get to some half decent restaurant. It was just Henry, me and Kal. The three of us enjoying a first home cooked dinner in weeks whilst laughing at the extra warm clothes Henry had gotten me - he could not stand it seeing his girl be cold, and though he loved sharing his sweaters..he did need some of them for his own use too, especially when we went out for our morning runs.

It was sweet, thoughtful, simple and much of what I expected of true love. A maintenance kind of love.

And from here on any next steps in our relationship didn’t seem so scary. I had not even given the whole donorship thing a second glance since we had arrived in Canada. This? This might very well be it, you know? 

--

General tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss​ @tumblnewby @magdelen69​ @thereisa8ella​ @mary-ann84​ @darkbooksarwin​ @summersong69​ @madbaddic7ed​

Fluff lovers squad: @star017​ @perhaps2remember​ @pterodactylterrace​ @witchersqueen​ @desperate-and-broken​​ @toomanyfandomsshreya​​ @deliciouslysassyarcade​​ @pamacs-macs​​ @cavilladdict​​ @scorpionchild81​​ @lebguardians​​ @sofiebstar​​ @amberbabem​​ @mis-lil-red @aestheticqueenb​​ @misslalaland-blog-blog​ @ilieherecharmed-fics2readnrec​ @michelehansel​ @henryfanfics101​

Want to be added to or removed from the tag list? Shoot me a message!

[bananapie99]

Bites

Bucky Barnes x Reader

*****************************************************************************************************

Inspired by the many, very itchy, very real mosquito bites that currently cover my body.

*****************************************************************************************************

You know you aren’t supposed to scratch, but you just can’t help it. In an attempt to save your skin, you even put on a thick pair of sweatpants and a hoodie borrowed from your boyfriend. It didn’t matter. Your nails still scraped at your skin through the fabric, attempting to relieve the nagging itch, no, pain. The red bumps were everywhere. It seemed every minute that passed by you managed to notice a bump that had been unknown and not itching just before. This was ridiculous. The bites were on your face, making your already slightly blemished skin look even worse, your neck, shoulders, back, all down your arms, even on your fingers! All that aside, your legs were the worst. Mosquito bites wrapped all the way down your legs, thighs and calves inflamed. Only your ankles and feet have been spared. The stupid mosquitos always loved you, but this was one of the worst experiences yet. The stupid bugs bit you all night, getting past your jeans with no problem (obviously), and your mosquito spray seemed to have done little to deter the pests. Each scratch at a bite hurt, tearing the top of the bite, but temporarily relieving the itch. The relief was short lived, as the feeling returned shortly after, and usually magnified. Ignoring your brain’s command to leave the bites alone, you scratched furiously at three bites clustered on your right thigh.

“I told you doll, stop scratching or I’m taping mittens onto your hands!”

Bucky’s deep voice pulled you from your thoughts and you let out a whimper.

“But Buck-“ He cut you off, gently covering your mouth with his hand as he sat on the edge of your bed.

“No buts, (Y/N). You know the more you scratch, the more they’ll itch. And on top of that, they will scar if you don’t let them heal.”

You know he’s right, of course he is. That doesn’t change the fact these bites are driving you crazy and you’re in desperate need for some relief.

“Well then what am I supposed to do to stop this itching? I can’t even concentrate!” Your lips turned into a pout, which elicited a deep chuckle from Bucky.

“Well, growing up we would always smack at the bites. It would shock the skin a bit and stop the itching sensation momentarily.”

Bucky stood from your bed and walked towards the kitchen. He returned a moment later with a few ice cubes.

“Here.” He handed the ice to you. “Put these on your bites and it will numb them. I’m going to run to the store quickly, and I’ll be right back.”

He kissed your forehead and grabbed his keys, heading towards the door. Right before he shut the door behind him, he turned back towards you and yelled, “and no scratching!”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, which was shortly followed by a laugh. You loved when Bucky tried to take care of you. You wanted to do as he said but the bites just itched so much…

Twenty minutes later Bucky returned to your apartment with a plastic drug store bag in hand. He made his way over to your bed.

Sitting on the edge, he pulled back your covers.

“Take off the sweatpants and hoodie, doll.”

You looked at him, eyebrows pinched in. “What?”

“I’m trying to help you doll, just take them off.” His eyes were soft, and his words grew gentler with each one.

Obeying, you slipped off the sweatpants and hoodie, sitting up against the pillows of your bed.

Bucky pulled a box out of the bag and opened it, revealing a tube. Bucky squeezed some of the pink lotion onto his hand. You recognized it quickly. Caladryl.

You let out a sigh of relief as Bucky started covering your various bites with the lotion. He worked it into your skin, then left a slightly thick layer on top of each bite. Once he finished, he kissed your shoulder and picked up your sweatpants and hoodie, helping you slip back into both.

Quickly he changed into another pair of sweatpants and laid down on your bed, pulling you into his chest. You let out a soft hum, happy to finally feel some relief from the non-stop itching.

“I’ll reapply it again in a few hours, alright? Try and get some rest.”

You drifted off to sleep with Bucky holding you tight, rubbing his hand firmly on your back, afraid light touches might accidentally trigger more itching.

*****************************************************************************************************

Requests are open!!

*****************************************************************************************************

Taglist: @belladonnabarnes @moteldwelling

[beeblebrox-be-damned]

Drive Him Crazy (Part 7)(A bit of Christmas Fluff!!)

Dark!Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader

Christmas normally gets me really down (moreso than usual), so I wrote bit of Christmas fluff to cheer myself up. More to come later uwu

Without the lab to go to, you were at a loss of what to do. Over the next month after the incident, you spent your time trying out various hobbies.

Sewing was a bust. It seemed you fingertips were magnets for the sharp ends of needles. Knitting went in much the same way, though the needles weren’t as sharp and mostly you just got your hands tangled in yarn. It seemed that everything you tried was either too boring or too frustrating to keep up with.

As the holidays drew nearer, you made up your mind to take up cooking. You were decent, but you were sure you could improve. Surprisingly, you took to it fairly well. Steve seemed quite impressed, and the domesticity of it was quite pleasant for both of you. At times Steve almost felt like he was back in the 40’s, with a doting housewife and baby on the way. It was addicting.

The domestic bliss carried over into the rest of life too. You threw your heart into being the best Omega you could, since you couldn’t distract yourself with working outside the home. Days spent cleaning, something you used to hate, now were rather enjoyable. You could work without Steve hovering over you as though you were made of glass. 

One month before Christmas, you decided you wanted to decorate. With quite a bit of cajoling, you managed to get Steve to relent to your whims. A trip to the store, with Steve accompanying you protectively of course, yielded strings of lights and classy ornaments, as well as a few other odds-and-ends. (Which included a very odd little kit that Steve insisted on getting but would not let you see yet. All you got a glimpse of was the silhouette of a very pregnant lady on the package cover.)

Of course, no homey Christmas is complete without a tree. Clutching Steve’s hand tightly in your own smaller, mitten-clad one, you trudged merrily through the snow. The Avenger’s Compound was located on many acres of woodland, which included many stands of evergreens. You had been fine with settling for a plastic tree, but Steve insisted upon having an authentic pine.

Breath clouding in front of you, you turned and looked at Steve. He was carrying an ax, sharpened and ready for whichever tree you determined to be suitable. Unbothered by the cold, he wore a plain plaid shirt covered with a thick jacket you had forced him to wear. Snow flakes settled in his hair and the scruff of a beard he’d been cultivating. You wanted to kiss him until each one melted away.

You, unfortunately, were dressed very heavily. Steve wouldn’t let you out of the compound into the bitter winter air without every stitch of winter wear you owned covering your body. You had protested, but he was every bit as stubborn as you and won out eventually. Your jacket puffed out everywhere, and he had cheerily forced a hat upon your head that even covered your ears. You swore you looked like the Stay-Puffed Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters, much to your chagrin. When you had said this, Steve only grinned and patted your belly, telling you it looked terribly cute.

The snow wasn’t too deep, thankfully, or your legs would’ve hated you. You were in good shape, you were an Avenger after all, but the layers of heavy clothing, huge snowboots, and the baby-weight you’d put on were all very hindering to your general movement. Finally tired of walking, you stopped and plopped down on a fallen tree after swiping some snow off of it.

“I’m done walking,” you huffed, “we can find a tree here, yeah?” Steve glanced around the small clearing you’d entered, nodding.

“Looks good to me, little one. See anything you like?” He gazed over the trees, taking off his jacket so he could better maneuver his ax. His muscles rippled beneath his shirt delectably as he tested the weight and swing of the tool.

Your tongue swiped over your lips as you watched him. “Well, for one, you standing right there in front of me.” It was no secret your libido had been sky-high as of late, something Steve often took advantage of. 

He grinned and shook his head. “Woah there little girl, it’s too cold for that kind of talk.” He stretched one more time, just to tease you. “I meant, do you see a tree you like?”

You scanned the area, finally settling on a modest sapling. It was around six feet tall, not too big or too small to make a good Christmas tree. It was coated in snow, but the green needles peeked out at you invitingly. You lifted your hand and pointed, then realized it was probably a bit hard to see where you were pointing considering it was a bit hard to see your fingers, removed your mitten, and pointed again. “That one looks nice. What do you think?”

Steve walked over to the tree, brushing away snow. “Looks perfect to me,” he said, clearing snow away from the tree’s base. 

“Are you sure it isn’t too big? We walked quite a way and I don’t want you to have to carry it so far if it’s too much,” you fretted. Steve chuckled.

“Honey, this tree is tiny. I’ll have no trouble with it.” He took a swing at the tree’s base, making a sizable dent at the first try. “Y’know,” he said as he worked, “once I carried Bucky two miles in two foot-deep snow?”

“Really? Dang. What happened?” You leaned over as a wood-chip flew past your ear. 

Steve laughed, beginning to explain the story as he finished cutting the tree and the two of you trudged home. “Well, you see, Bucky had gotten a bit too tipsy the night before at the base…”

Steve made sure both you and the tree made it home in one piece. By the time you got back, all the snow had fallen from its branches, leaving it ready to be decorated. Once the two of you had wrangled it in and out of the elevator and got it into the apartment, you were buzzing with excitement. While Steve situated the tree in its water-filled base, you set to work unboxing ornaments and lights and tinsel.

The tree looked perfect. You and Steve had worked for over an hour to get it decorated just right, the display looking stunning. You grinned as you looked at your handiwork, handing the star to Steve. “One last touch.”

Steve pressed the star back into your hands, then grabbed your hips and lifted you easily. It wasn’t that far to the top, and you were light as a feather. You placed the star on the tree, connecting it to the strand of lights so that it lit up too. Steve sat you back down, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin atop your head. “Perfect, ‘Mega. Good job.”

You grinned at the praise, a chill of happiness shooting up your spine. You tilted your head backwards and planted a kiss on the underside of his scruffy chin, then wriggled out of his grasp. You reached for a strand of unused tinsel, winding it around your neck like a fancy feather boa. You shot Steve a playful look, grinning. He shook his head and laughed, then a look of excitement flashed over his face. “I’ll be right back,” he said and left the room.

He returned a moment later with an unopened shopping bag. “Sit down and close you eyes, okay?” You looked at him warily, but sat back on the couch and let your eyes fall shut. You heard the rustle of packaging and raised your eyebrow. “Just what are you up to, Rogers?”

“Hush and let me work,” he said. You could practically hear his shit-eating grin. You flinched and giggled as he pushed your shirt up over your belly. You felt something cold on your belly, and you yelped. It tickled, whatever it was. “Hold still, little one,” Steve said, concentrating.

The ticklish torture lasted several minutes. Finally, Steve sat back and let you open your eyes. You snorted as you looked down at your belly, laughing.

The kit Steve had gotten was a Christmas-themed set of skin-safe paint, intended to be used to decorate a baby-bump. Steve had done just that, painting a large green wreath with a red bow on your skin. In the center was something you couldn’t quite read all the way. Steve grinned.

“It says ‘Alpha’s Christmas present’,” he said proudly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. You smiled, face burning with embarrassment and affection for the valiant Avenger.

Before you could react, Steve had whipped out his camera, snapping a photo of you. “I plan to get one of these every year,” he said, swiping his tongue over his lips. You raised your eyebrow.

“Every year?” you asked incredulously. Steve had talked like that before, but it was during coitus and you’d never thought about it seriously. 

Steve smirked and nodded, standing up and pulling you to your feet. “Every year,” he said, planting a quick kiss on your nose and then a longer, more sensual kiss on your lips. “Now, how ‘bout you let alpha get a sneak peak at his present?”

You blinked, stepping back and trying to process what you’d just heard. “Steve, every year? That’s a bit much, don’t you think?” You could hardly imagine it, bouncing young pups on your hips while struggling with more on the way.

Steve frowned, nudging you to sit back down on the couch. He kneeled in front of you, kissing your painted belly. “No,” he stated simply, “I don’t.” He trailed kisses down your belly, leaning you back so he could reach every bit of the skin between your navel and pelvis.

“B-but, I can’t take care of that many,” you stammered. You’d be overwhelmed, and likely never able to return to work as an Avenger.

Steve chuckled, reaching the rim of your sweatpants and tugging them down your hips, your panties traveling shortly behind. “Yes you will, Omega. And I’ll be there to help.” His lips ghosted over your folds, his breath warm against the sensitive skin.

“But you have work!” you exclaimed, shaking your head. “I can’t take care of that many kids every day, especially not if I’m pregnant. I have a hard enough time doing regular tasks as it is without having to worry about taking care of pups!” Your belly was quite a struggle to work with as it grew.

Steve smiled and placed a firm kiss over your clit before he rose and pressed a kiss to your lips. “You won’t be alone all day,” he rumbled, nipping your lower lip. “I’m going to cut back on missions.” His hands caressed your swollen breasts, teasing your sensitive, pert nipples through your shirt.

You raised your eyebrows. “What? But the team needs you. They need me too, we can’t just abandon that!” You pushed at his shoulder, trying to stave him off while you discussed this matter.

With one hand he unzipped his pants, baring his cock. He rubbed himself as he smiled at you, groaning as he spoke. “Omega, I’ve made it clear you aren’t going to be back on missions for a long, long time. I already told the team.” 

Your jaw dropped. “You wha- ah..!” Your protests were cut off as he parted your legs and entered you in one swift motion. You fought back a moan as he rocked his hips.

Steve’s lips found your’s once again as he started to fuck you roughly, getting his point across. You were his. “And with all the new members, I only need to go on major missions. Maybe twice a year, or even less.” His hands locked on your hips as he rutted into you.

You whimpered as his thick, pulsing cock massaged you walls, dragging in and out of your soaked cunt with a learned precision. He knew every part of you, every place to hit in order to drive you towards your climax. “I’ll be here for you all the time,” he rumbled, his lips dragging over yours, “with all our pups. It will be perfect.”

His lips found your bond-mark, mouthing the sensitive scarred area. You shivered and whined, melting beneath him despite yourself. The sensations were clouding your head. “St-eve,” you panted, “I-”

“Shh,” he soothed, silencing you once more with a kiss. His thumb rubbed your clit. Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes as waves of pleasure washed over you. Your body jerked and your walls spasmed, milking his cock. He spilled into you with a loud groan. “Shh, it’ll be okay, ‘Mega..”

Knotted and unable to separate, Steve lifted you up and laid back on the couch, sitting you on top of him, straddling his hips. His hands kneaded your sides as he admired your painted, burgeoning belly. “It’ll be perfect, Omega,” he repeated. “A perfect family.” TAGLIST:

@stupendousshepherdloverpony @imsonick @auroussss

[lastoneout]

Comfort Food

Fandom: Persona 5

Rating: PG

Summary: 

Akechi has a food blog, Futaba thinks that's hilarious, Akira is a good friend, and Sojiro needs a drink.

Notes:

This was supposed to just be me projecting my issues on to Akechi because he's my emotional support bastard boi but somehow it turned into nearly 2500 words of tooth-rotting slice of life fluff. Whoops.

A03

Goro learned the hard way that hiding things from Futaba was impossible.

To be fair it wasn’t like he was trying to hide his food blog, he mentioned it in passing a few times and he knew that most of his followers were his fans, but he never really expected any of the Thieves to actually read it, let alone read it out loud, in front of him...while laughing at it.

“What are you, a high school girl?” Futaba said with a snicker after she finished reading his latest post aloud, “I’ve seen little girl’s diaries with more class.”

“Oh my god.” Akira choked out from beside Futaba behind Leblanc’s bar, desperately trying to muffle his laughs as Goro floundered.

He knew he shouldn’t care. The Thieves always poked fun at each other. ‘It’s what friends do,’ Akira had said. If anything he figured he should be grateful that Futaba considered him enough of a friend to playfully mock his hobby. But Goro was never good at regulating his inner emotions, and so as much as he tried to not let it get to him, it did.

Truthfully, he never meant to get into food. For the longest time, he considered it a pointless expense. In the various foster homes that he was tossed between food was almost a luxury. And to someone who often wondered where his next meal would come from it was hard to justify the cost of a fancy dinner when the same money could get him a month's worth of instant ramen and convenience store bento lunches.

But when he got into high school and wormed his way into the police force he suddenly was financially stable enough to justify luxury spending. Nijima-san was kind enough to pull some strings to get the agency to act as a guarantor so he could move out of the foster home and into a small apartment, and after he paid his bills and rent he was left staring at the remaining sum in his bank app, trying to wrap his head around how that money was his, and he could do whatever he wanted with it.

He tried to keep a level head and decided to go to a nearby department store to pick up things to furnish his new home, but on the way there he passed a diner and was stopped dead by the incredible smells drifting out the door. His stomach growled, and he found himself trying to remember the last time he had eaten something that hadn’t come wrapped in plastic and styrofoam.

His stomach growled again, and before he had time to think about it, knowing that if he did he would decide against it, he hurried into the restaurant. He was seated quickly, and despite feeling weirdly giddy and anxious he smiled at the kind waitress who took his order. The simple latte and plate of pancakes were probably the most delicious things he had ever tasted, and he couldn’t help how his eyes watered after the first bite, the food filling some empty part of himself he hadn’t even known existed.

Looking back on that day he’s grateful that he wasn’t famous yet, as no one cared to pay attention to the skinny teenager in the booth by the wall trying not to get tears in his dinner.

After that, he ate out at least once a week. He spent little on necessities, picking up most of the things he needed at the ¥100 store and buying used clothes, saving every extra bit that didn’t go into bills for food. Eventually, he started looking up new places to eat, and after finding a few food blogs he decided on a whim to start his own. It didn’t take off until after his big break, but he didn’t mind. The simple pictures and reviews he posted weren’t really for anyone else, and on days when he felt empty and angry, he would scroll back through them and feel a little bit better. Almost happy at the little niche he had carved out for himself.

Shortly after that Akechi’s entire life quickly became a delicate web of lies. He was a double, even triple agent, under so many layers of falsehoods even he struggled to keep it straight sometimes. If anyone ever bothered to break him down to his bare parts there really wasn’t much he actually did for himself. Every single facet of his life and personality had been carefully crafted to ensure he would be able to get the revenge he so desperately craved. He hardly ever did anything just for himself. Every interest he shared in interviews or mentioned around his ‘friends’ was for show, not something he honestly cared all that much about. It was annoying sometimes, having to pretend to care for things he felt apathetic towards, but it was necessary.

But food? Food stayed safe. It helped his Detective Prince facade once he got popular, after all the only thing teenage girls seemed to like more than cute boys was trendy food. And cute boys who love trendy food? That’s a check that writes itself. It made him look soft, approachable, and normal. So he indulged. Actually enjoying sharing the one part of himself that wasn’t fake.

Maybe that’s why Futaba’s mockery stung so much. He wouldn’t care if people made fun of his fake interests, but when it was the real him? It hurt.

He tried to laugh it off, blushing and begging her to stop. He insisted it’s just for his fans, he’s not really that immature or girly, it’s just for show! But each plea seemed to only make the situation worse, so he gave up and silently begged for her to get bored soon, his face an unnatural shade of red.

Akira, ever perceptive, seemed to notice something change in his demeanor, and without a second thought, the teen reached forward and plucked Futaba's phone right out of her hands.

"Hey!" She shouted, grabbing for it.

"Alright, alright, that's enough." He chided, holding the phone just out of Futaba's reach, "We all have our hobbies. But since we're in a sharing mood how about I tell Akechi-kun all about your Featherman shipping blog?"

A chill came over the room. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I would." He turned to Goro with a devilish smirk, "See she loves the red and blue rangers together-"

"Akira I'll end you!" Futaba yelled, diving forward and attempting to tackle him. Akira, however, was taller, and easily deflected her blows.

"She was telling me about this doujinshi she read the other day-"

"I'll spread rumors about you on websites you've never even heard of!"

"It was so romantic-"

"I'll leak your bank info on the dark web!”

"It's by her favorite author too, she buys everything they release-"

"I'll destroy you with malware, you won't be able to BREATHE near a circuit board without getting a virus!"

"Tell me, Akechi-kun, do you know what smut is?"

"AKIRA!!!" Futaba shrieked, and it was quickly followed by the sound of clanging pots and Sojiro swearing loudly from the kitchen.

“Would you two cut it out?” He shouted, poking his head around the corner.

“Sorry Boss, just giving Futaba a lesson on being a good friend,” Akira replied with an apologetic smile.

“Well next time can you do it outside? You’re lucky I don’t have any customers in here right now.”

“You never have any customers...” Futaba mumbled.

“I heard that. And Futaba, I thought I asked you to tie up your hair when you’re behind the counter.”

“On it...” She grumbled, pulling her hair back into a lazy bun with the scrunchie on her wrist.

“We’ll keep the noise and health code violations to a minimum, Boss,” Akira said, shooting a lazy salute Sojiro’s way. The older man eyed them for another second before sighing and mumbling something about herding cats as he turned back to the curry.

With the situation defused, Akira and Futaba stared at each other, having a silent yet very animated conversation, but eventually, Akira seemed to win and Futaba sighed heavily, "Okay, okay,” She turned to Goro and gave him a bow, “I'm sorry for making fun of your blog Akechi-kun."

Goro hardly knew what to make of the display, let alone her apology, but it made him feel a bit better, so he relaxed and gave her a genuine smile, “It’s alright, Futaba-chan, I forgive you.”

“Can I have my phone back now, please?”

“You may,” Akira replied amicably, handing the hostage technology back to Futaba.

She smiled triumphantly before another dark look crossed her face. She eyed Goro, suspiciously, before blushing and tapping her fingers together “A-and Akechi-kun...you won’t tell anyone else about the...shipping thing, right?”

“To be honest...I’m not sure I fully understand what you were talking about,” He replied, “But your secret is safe with me.”

“I’m so proud of both of you,” Akira said with a fake teary-eyed sniff, “My two little introverts, making friends.”

Goro and Futaba broke out in protests, but a quick glare from Sojiro shut them both up.

“Wow, you’ve really got that ‘disappointed dad’ look down, Sojiro.” Akira quipped.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than raise hell in my cafe?”

“As much as it breaks my heart, yes.” Akira said, untying his apron and heading around the counter, “I’ve got a date with a pile of dirty dishes in Shinjuku.”

“You’re not taking Morgana?” Futaba asked as he grabbed his bag and jacket.

“Nah, he hates The Crossroads, says the alcohol smell makes his nose itch. When he wakes up from his nap just let him know where I went.”

“Roger that.”

“Thanks,” He said, “See you guys later! Oh, and try not to get into too much trouble while I’m away.”

Futaba rolled her eyes dramatically, and Goro, still feeling a bit lost, simply shrugged.

“Akira, text me when you get there! You know I don’t like you going to that part of town so late.” Sojiro called, and Goro had to suppress a smirk. Akira had faced down far worse threats than the red light district at night. But it must be nice, he figured, to have someone worry about you.

“Got it!” Akira replied, the bell jingling as the door closed behind him.

Futaba seemed to deflate in his absence, looking anxious. She had explained once that Akira was something called a ‘key item’ that gave her ‘a plus ten confidence boost’, and he assumed that just meant she was shy when he wasn’t around. Goro turned back to his discarded coffee, grimacing a bit when a sip revealed it to be lukewarm.

“Uh, I can make you another cup...it’s my fault that one went cold anyway.” She said, clearly trying to make things up to him, “Sojiro’s been teaching me. It probably won’t be as good as his though. I’m still totally stuck on tutorial mode.”

“Oh, um, that would be lovely.” He replied, “Thank you.”

She started the process, carefully measuring grounds as the kettle heated, “You know, you should write about Leblanc on your blog. You like the food here, right?”

“I-”

“Absolutely not.” Sojiro interrupted, joining Futaba behind the bar to supervise the brewing.

“But Sojirooo! Akechi-kun is popular, you might actually get some business for once!”

“I don’t want that kind of business. Sorry Akechi-kun, but hundreds of fangirls in here every day ordering fancy drinks and asking when their beloved Detective Prince is coming back? I can feel my blood pressure skyrocketing just thinking about it.” He replied with a chuckle, “A man my age can only handle so many loud teenagers at once, and Akira’s band of hooligans already pushes the limit.”

“Don’t worry, Saku...uh, sorry, Boss. I understand.” Goro clarified, “There have actually been several cases of popular food writers unwittingly causing small restaurants to close due to their articles increasing interest to an unmanageable level. I wouldn’t dream of doing that to Leblanc.”

“Glad we’re on the same page then.”

Futaba finished making the coffee, grinning when Sojiro complimented her technique. She eagerly pushed a fresh cup to him, practically vibrating while she watched him take a sip. It was true that it wasn’t as amazing as her father’s, but it was still good and had its own charm.

“You did well.” He said, and he couldn’t help chuckle when she broke out in a wide smile, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest at the sight.

“Yes! I leveled up! Plus five coffee making exp!”

“We’ll make a barista of you yet.” Sojiro said fondly, “Now, it’s getting late. Akechi-kun, do you have dinner plans? I’ve got enough curry back here to feed an army, you’re welcome to stay.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose...”

“Just say yes.” Futaba whispered to him with a smirk, “Sojiro put all of his stat points into feeding wayward teens.”

“Then...yes, I’d be honored.” Akechi said, too confused to be offended by being called ‘wayward’.

“The honor is ours,” Futaba replied solemnly, giving an overly formal bow before breaking out laughing.

Sojiro wasted no time serving up three plates of curry, chatting idly with Futaba as she went to flip the open sign to closed. The two of them managed to herd Goro into a booth just as Morgana trotted downstairs, asking about Akira and demanding food. Futaba poked the poor not-cat a few times while Sojiro retrieved Morgana’s food bowl and popped open a fresh can of cat food.

“Sorry,” Sojiro said, pulling up a chair and making room on the table for Morgana’s dish, “He throws a tantrum if he doesn’t get to eat with us.”

“I do not!” Morgana shouted indignantly, “I’m just too civilized to eat on the floor.”

“Chatty cat,” Sojiro replied, giving Morgana a few chin scritches.

“Morgana is family,” Futaba said sagely, “And a family that eats together, stays together.”

‘...Family, huh...’ Goro thought to himself.

“What’s up Akechi-kun?” Futaba asked, and he blushed lightly as he realized he was staring off into space.

“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s nothing,” He deflected, “The food looks delicious, Boss. Thank you.”

“Thank you for the food!” Futaba yelled before digging into her plate, and the rest of them quickly followed suit.

As the four of them shared the meal, Goro felt the warm feeling from before grow and spread through his chest. Futaba was using her fork to flick small bits of meat at Morgana despite Sojiro’s half-hearted complaints, cheering as Morgana somehow managed to catch every single one. The smell of curry and coffee and cat food mingled in the air with laughter and shouts, giving the whole room a feeling not unlike a comforting hug.

Goro allowed himself a small smile, sure that the only reason he felt so happy was the food.