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readyforthegarden · 3 months

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Eternal - Part Twelve

A vampire!gvf multi-part dark romance AU (Josh Kiszka x reader, GVF x reader)

Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ Only Minors DNI. smut (fingering f!receiving, penetrative sex, slight rough sex), angst, mentions of blood, death, vampirism.

A/N: hi 🫣 i just want to say thank you to everyone who still reads this fic and enjoys it, and the people who have checked in on it's progress (or lack thereof). i got really into my head about this fic and every kind word means a lot to me, really and truly. please enjoy this installment!

WC: 4188

Fall was beginning to take a hold of the world, the trees around the manor beginning to lose their bright summer greens in favor of maroons and oranges. Normally the first signs of fall had you tripping over yourself with excitement, cooler weather, cute sweaters, apple cider and sugary cinnamon donuts all within an arm's reach. But now, all it reminded you of was everything you missed. Would you get to experience the sun warming you on a chilly October day in your future? Or would you spend centuries pretending the moon's rays were just as good?

You had been curled up on a couch, looking out a window in one of the sitting rooms on the main floor, watching a steady rain shower pelt the grounds. It had been nearly a full week of rain, and you were growing tired of it. The gray skies gave enough cover for the vampires of the manor to feel at ease moving about with the curtains opened, but they still stood out of the way in case the clouds broke.

“Hey,” looking up, you saw Danny standing in the doorway.

“Hi,” you hadn’t spoken to him about the new ‘arrangement’ between yourself and the Kiszkas. In fact, you weren’t sure how to. Were you supposed to come right out and tell him you were potentially going to sleep with everyone in the house but him? How would he react to that? And worse, if you told him you fought for him to be added, how would he react then? Danny was a good man, immortal or not, and good men were never typically the ones that were attracted to you.

“I made a few sandwiches for lunch, if you wanna join me?” Danny smiled sheepishly at you. It made you feel guilty, how you had started to avoid him to spare the awkward topic if it came up. His smile was so hopeful, you couldn’t find it within yourself to say no.

You walked with him to the kitchen, the back of his hand gently grazing yours on the short walk to the kitchen. Taking a seat on one of the stools at the counter, Danny went to the fridge and retrieved a platter of sandwiches he made. They were covered in plastic wrap and looked like they were perfect for a picnic.

“You’ve been distant the past week,” Danny murmured softly, setting the platter down in front of you and removing the wrap. You shrugged in response, not knowing what to say. “Listen, if you’re acting weird around me because of the little agreement you have with the Kiszka’s, it’s okay.” Your eyes snapped up to Danny’s. He gave you a half-smile before grabbing some paper plates from a cupboard and placing one in front of you.

“How did you…”

“I’m still Sam’s best friend, even after all these centuries.” Danny winked. “But I’m not judging you for it. I want you to know that.” your shoulders relaxed at his words, more tension than you had realized you’d had releasing from them.

“It wasn’t…it wasn’t just that I was afraid of you judging me..” you took half of a sandwich off the platter, setting it in your plate. You fixated on the leaf of lettuce hanging over the edge of the bread, taking your nail and ripping it.

“What else was bothering you?” Embarrassment swelled in your chest, heat rising through your body and prickling your cheeks and ears.

“That you weren’t a part of it.” you whispered. You didn’t see the expression on Danny’s face. The shock at your admittance, the wave of satisfaction as he realized you felt what he felt too, and the anger that pressed his lips into a thin line for it to all be swept away as quickly as it came.

“I’m sure there’s a good reason,” Danny cleared his throat. There was a sense of dejection in his voice, and it cracked your heart. You sighed, picking at the crust of your sandwich. “The Kiszka’s always have their reasons.”

“Josh just said it was a boundary he wasn’t willing to negotiate.” you mumbled, finally looking up at Danny. He stared at you across the counter before moving around it, coming to your side and turning you on the stool.

You felt a finger under your chin, turning your head up, locking eyes with Danny. His eyes were darting all over your face, lingering on your slightly parted lips. Heart beating wildly, you felt your neck crane in assistance, your movement to meet him halfway beckoning him closer. Eyes shut, his lips met yours tenderly, waiting for a response. When your lips moved against his, he took your face in his hands, cradling you gently and deepened the kiss, his tongue gently and slowly lapping against your own. You could feel as the kiss slowed again, his reluctance to pull away, and yet he did, opening his eyes and gazing down at you with an unreadable expression.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” he murmured. “Thank you,”

“No one’s ever thanked me for a kiss before.” you chuckled quietly, feeling the need to whisper in this secret moment. “You’re welcome?” Danny let out a soft laugh through his nose, bending down and pecking your lips before letting go of you completely.

“This is between us, okay?” you nodded, crossing your heart. In all honesty, you were glad to have this secret with Danny. It filled you with a small giddiness, the feeling of having done something naughty that felt so good making you want to giggle.

He moved around the counter and just in time. The kitchen doors swung open, and Jake sauntered in. There was a glimmer in his eye you hadn’t seen before as he looked at you, then Danny, then the plate of food between you two.

“Sandwiches?!” He reached over the counter, grabbing one and taking a large bite. “There’s something about these dreary rainy days that makes you want the comfort of a good sandwich, isn’t there?”

“I guess?” You chuckled under your breath, finally picking up your half and biting the corner off.

“Isn’t Danny a wonderful chef?” Jake continued, leaning his elbows on the counter. “I taught him almost everything he knows about food.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm,” Jake took another bite of his sandwich. “Danny, Sam is looking for you. Something about moving his bed to the other side of the room.”

“Again?” Danny grumbled. He gave you a soft smile before leaving the kitchen, his sandwich on his plate, barely touched. It was quiet, just the sounds of you and Jake chewing before he took a sharp inhale through his nose and looked at you.

“What did Josh tell you last night?” your forehead crinkled, looking at Jake in confusion. He spoke without looking at you, playing uninterested in anything but the salami on his sandwich.

“What-“

“I saw you and Danny.” Jake sniffed. “Kissing in a communal kitchen is risky.”

“Jake,”

“If I tell Josh, it’s bad for everyone.” Jake shook his head. “But especially you and Danny.”

“What is Josh’s deal with Danny? Hmm?!” Jake finished off his sandwich, licking some mayo from his finger.

“That is not my story to tell, darlin’” pushing back from the counter, you jumped off the stool, beginning to storm past him to find out what the real reason was.

Jake put a hand on your arm, stopping you from passing. Looking at him, his face was stern, if not a bit worried.

“I won’t tell him what I saw,” Jake told you, his voice quiet. “But I will warn you. You’ve gotten away with a lot most people would have been drained dry for. Do not test my brother this way. For yours and Danny’s sake.”

“It’s nothing,”

“Your heartbeat says otherwise.” Jake bit back. “And if Josh fed on you recently he has felt it. I would come up with an alibi, and quickly.” Jake’s eyes flickered with an old anger you hadn’t seen before, one that, for the first time since meeting him, scared you.

Jake let go of your arm, swiping another sandwich from the platter and moving around you to exit.

“It was just a kiss,” you whispered. “It won’t happen again.” Jake looked at you over his shoulder, almost pityingly.

“If you value your life, I hope not.”

Danny didn’t try to kiss you again after that moment in the kitchen. Whether he’d gotten a talking to from Jake himself, he didn’t say. But the two of you worked together on the chores, letting the tension die down into a somewhat awkward friendship again.

You decided to have lunch in the small solarium of the house. It was sunny outside, not a cloud in sight, but a chill had hit the air, making you want to stay inside. Danny joined you at the table, keeping his distance by sitting down from you.

Food was the last thing on your mind, you tilted your head back at the sun and closed your eyes, soaking in the warmth through your skin and clothes. The break in the bleak cloudy weather gave you a much needed mood boost.

“You should put on some sunscreen if you’re going to be doing that all afternoon.” Danny joked, stirring his soup around in the bowl, releasing steam from the thick broth. Smiling, you tilted your head back down, sticking your tongue out at him and scooping up a dumpling from the soup in front of you.

“Do you think you could do it?” you asked, blowing on your food before eating.

“Do what?”

“Give up the sun.” Danny was quiet, the only sound the clinking of spoons against bowls, the occasional soft flutter of a leaf landing atop of the solarium roof.

“Do you think…you could?” you hadn’t been sure of the answer yourself but it bubbled up on your lips before you realized.

“No,” you shook your head. Realizing your steadfast feeling, you straightened in your chair. “No I don’t think I could.”

“Me either,” Danny looked up toward the sky, seemingly relieved. “Sam wanted to try once, after the curse. And honestly I figured I’m already immortal, might as well be a vampire too.. But I didn’t know if trying for a ‘double eternal life’ would negate it all and kill me. We found Morana and asked, but she advised it wouldn’t be good.”

“I don’t blame you,” you picked up the piece of crusty bread on the saucer with your soup bowl, dunking it in and taking a bite. “Who is Morana?”

“She’s the witch Sam found, the one who did the curse.” Danny looked down into his soup bowl, as if the broth and vegetables were showing him a vision of the past. “So you don’t want to be turned?” Danny quirked an eyebrow at you. Shaking your head, you answered.

“I want to live as long as I can and then get old and die.” you nodded. “And honestly, I’ll take turning into a wrinkly leather bag over missing the sun.”

“Gonna retire to Florida?” Danny laughed as you nodded harder.

“Gonna get myself a little bungalow in a senior living facility, meet up with another old lady named Eustace and complain about the clam chowder on Tuesdays.” Danny almost snorted laughing, making your giggles erupt loudly. As the two of you laughed, you couldn’t help but envision spending more and more sunny days with Danny. You tried to envision the same with Josh, but couldn’t place him in the sun the way you could Danny.

“It’s a nice dream, isn’t it,” Danny sighed, settling down a bit.

“Oh yeah, I can’t wait to have dentures and diapers.” you giggled.

“No, growing old.” Danny’s face fell, a solemn look taking the place of the cheerful smile. “Don’t waste that, okay? I would have given anything to do that.”

“I know,” you whispered softly. Your heart broke for him, an occurrence that happened more often than not around him. Danny’s choice was taken away, and you’d be damned if you ended up in the same fate.

You were ready to call it a night early. In your enthusiasm for the nice fall weather, you decided to try and rake a small patch of the massive lawn, just to spend a few more hours in the sun. Even with the gloves Danny gave you from the gardening shed, blisters had formed on your palms just under the skin, stinging with every flex of your hand.

The large tub in your bathroom was calling your name, and you joked to Danny as you entered the house. The closer you got to your room, the more excited you were to run the water, add the bubbles and sink down into the hot water. But as you entered your room, it seemed someone had beat you to it.

Steam was filtering out from the cracked open door to your bathroom, flickering light glinting off a gilded picture frame on the wall adjacent. Slowly you stepped towards the bathroom, hearing water splash around softly, and you stepped into the humid air.

“It’s about time,” Sam smirked at you from your bathtub. “Jake is going to have a coronary when he sees the amount of water I’ve been using to keep this bath warm.”

“Sam, what are you doing?”

“I’m tired of waiting for you to come to me,” he shrugged simply. “You wanted seduction, and what’s more seductive than a hot, candle lit bath after a long day of working?” you took a deep breath, leaning against the sink counter, watching Sam relax back into the tub. “I even brought up a bottle of wine.”

“I’m sweaty and tired, Sam.” he picked up a glass of wine and stretched his arm out to hand it to you, though it only reached the middle of the tub. There was condensation on the glass, making you lick your lips, knowing it was chilled to perfection.

“It’s chardonnay,” Sam sung temptingly, swirling the liquid in the glass to tantalize you. It did look good, and you pushed yourself away from the counter, bending to reach for the glass. Sam pulled it away, a playful, sinful look in his eyes. “You get in the tub, you get the wine.”

“Is there an option where I get in the tub and get the wine and you get out?” you snipped, leaning over the edge of the tub.

“No.” Sam grinned, and you straightened up. Huffing out a ‘fine’, you stripped down, ignoring Sam’s gaze and slipped into the tub, settling at the other end. Sam eyed you for a moment, and handed you the glass of wine, which you gladly sipped and smiled.

“Happy?”

“Getting there,” Sam murmured. He leaned back against his end of the tub, arms outstretched on the sides. Settling back into the tub, you let the hot water soothe your tired muscles. Holding your glass to your chest, you closed your eyes, ignoring the presence of the man across from you, staring at you.

You adjusted your back a few times, trying to find a sweet spot that would work out a sore muscle in your right shoulder. The movement of the water met your ears, and you felt your body be pushed forward. Opening your eyes, Sam was no longer across from you, and instead you felt his body behind yours, his legs on either side of you.

“Let me help you with that,” his voice was low, his hands gathering your hair and moving it to your left shoulder. When he touched you again, he applied pressure with his finger tips, causing you to sigh. His hands were warm, and his thumb quickly found the knot you’d been trying to ease. A sharp, small gasp left your throat as he dug into it, and you felt him chuckle behind you. “There it is,”

Humming, you leaned forward, letting him work down your back and into the water. You downed the rest of your wine and set the glass on the side of the tub next to the bottle and some candles. Sam’s hands came up your back, working slowly before they came up and rounded your shoulders, to your neck. Your head lolled back involuntarily as he reached over you towards your collarbones.

“Did you also work in the massage parlor with Jake?” you asked quietly, a small laugh in your voice.

“I’d help him out here and there,” Sam whispered into your ear, his facial hair tickling your sensitive skin. “Are you feeling good, pet?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. You weren’t lying. Between the chilled wine, the hot bath, and the massage you were feeling less sore and so, so relaxed. Sam’s touch became lighter, his fingers slowly, gently grazing your skin. He teased you, barely dipping below the water and bubbles where your breasts waited.

“Would you allow me to make you feel even better?” a shaky breath and soft nod, Sam's hands dipped below the water surface, caressing your breasts. His fingers found your nipples, pinching them delicately and rolling them between his thumb and forefingers. You arched your back, feeling your legs spread at the warm feeling spreading through your veins.

Sam’s left hand stayed at your breast, softly groping it in his large hand and teasing your nipple. His right slid down your body, grazing your hip before making their way to your center.

“Sam,” you sighed as the pad of his middle finger circled around your clit, the perfect amount of pressure to make your thighs shake with every pass. Moans were spilling from your lips as your hips bucked from his touch. One of your hands grasped his wrist under the water, desperate for something to cling to.

“You sound so pretty,” Sam murmured into your ear, a hint of a yearning whine in his voice. “You feel so soft,” his finger slipped lower, teasing you before sliding in, working against the water around you. The heel of his hand was brushing against your clit as he pumped in and out. Your chest was heaving out of the water as you panted, writhing back against Sam. Water was sloshing out of the tub, bubbles going flat. His lips were pressed to your neck and shoulder, before the hand that was on your breast came up, grabbing your chin and twisting your head back and capturing your lips with his in a searing kiss. You felt the strain in your tired muscles but didn’t care, his kiss was hot and heady, and you only broke away to catch your breath.

“I’m so close,” you shuddered, opening your eyes and looking at him, “Sam, please. Don’t stop.”

“You sound just like you did in my dream, pet,” Sam grinned, between his own panting breaths. “I want you to say my name as you come, will you do that?” Biting your lip, you nodded, and he sped up his movements, causing you to cry out, the sound echoing off the walls.

“Sam!” you cried, your grip on his arm tightening. His name fell from your lips over and over again as your orgasm crashed down on you, your hips bucking against his hand and causing more water and bubbles to splash onto the bathroom floor. You felt a sharp sting on your shoulder, and out of the corner of your eye Sam’s head was ducked down, a moan vibrating off his lips as his own hips pressed against your lower back.

You were dizzy, but you were hellbent on getting more from Sam. At your movement, Sam withdrew his fangs from your skin, small beads of blood left in their absence. You moved his hand from your core and turned, straddling him and sinking down on his hard cock slowly. His head tilted back, eyes closed and mouth agape as you inched down, a brief glimpse of a vulnerable, quiet Sam. You noticed some of your blood on his lips, though none made it to his tongue. It may have been in acknowledgment of his agreement with Josh, even licking it from his lips could be considered drinking from you. Before you could stop yourself, you reached up, your thumb swiping across his plush bottom lip, gathering the ruby red liquid from it.

Sam’s eyes opened, and he watched you meet his eyes, bringing your thumb to your lips. Something lit behind his eyes as he watched you clean the blood off, and his hands took a hold of your hips, moving you as his hips thrust up at a quick pace.

“Fuck!” you shouted, grabbing onto his shoulders to try and keep balance. Sam grinned before leaning forward, biting your breasts, anywhere his fangs could reach, leaving little punctures all over. Without the pull of a drink, it wasn’t near enough to send you over the edge again, but each nip did set a spark through your veins. One of your hands left his shoulder and tangled in his hair, clutching it and tugging his head back, his mouth falling open again. You were still able to taste a little of your blood in your mouth, and you leaned down, lapping your tongue against his.

A low growl emitted from his chest, letting you know he could also, in fact, taste the blood too.

“What a nasty, nasty trick,” he mumbled against your lips. A large hand raised from the water, enclosing around your throat, squeezing the sides. That spark in his eyes was dancing dangerously in the candlelight, and he rutted up into you, causing you to gasp with what little air you could intake. “If I wanted to, I could drink every drop of your blood right now.” Goosebumps raised on your flesh as you panted shallowly above him, your nipples hardening again, and he smirked “Oh, you want that don’t you?” In a flash of inhuman speed, you were on your stomach on the cold floor, Sam pulling your hips up and easing himself back into you. He wrapped a fist in your hair, tugging you up roughly.

Sam’s lips pressed onto your shoulders again, the razor sharp tips of his fangs grazing, causing small rips to the skin there. You were preparing yourself for another bite, but his lips pressed to your ear again, breath hot.

“You want to break the one rule that matters most, don’t you?” his voice was ragged with his thrusting, and you reached back a hand to grasp his tensed thigh, trying to have some leverage. “You want me to drink from you and put you over the edge again. Even the hint of your blood tasted so sweet, I don’t think I could ever stop drinking you.” His hand left your hair and enveloped your throat again, though not squeezing as hard this time.

“S-sam,” you stuttered out, your mind was turning into jelly, your muscles already ahead of it. If Sam hadn’t been holding you up, you’d been face down on the floor, moaning into the tile.

“I do love to break rules, and I know you do too, pet,” Sam’s gravelly voice laughed haughtily in your ear. “Do you want that? Another little secret to keep?” Ice rushed through your veins, the idea that Sam also knew about the kiss with Danny, but it was quickly replaced with the fire erupting in your lower abdomen. Sam’s fangs punctured the skin of your neck, and you moaned. He was huffing out shallow, hard breaths onto your skin as his hips rhythm became frantic, slamming into you. You were sure there were going to be bruises forming on your ass in the shape of his hip bones. Your fingernails dug into his thigh as you came again, crying out his name one last time. Sam’s hips stilled as he found his release, moaning onto your skin.

He took his fangs from your neck when he could muster the strength of movement, holding you to him with one arm while reaching over to the counter, grabbing a washcloth and wiping the small amount of blood from his lips and fangs before his tongue could taste more. Your body was limp, and he moved you both until you were closer to the tub, leaning you against it before standing and opening the drain to the tub. You were watching him, catching your breath. He strode around the bathroom, gathering a few towels and then turning on the shower.

“What are you doing?” you asked softly. Sam glanced back at you.

“We worked up quite another sweat,” he answered. “I don’t think another bath will help, so we’re taking a shower.”

“I don’t think I can stand to even wash my body,” you weren’t joking, your legs almost felt fuzzy, like they’d fallen asleep in your previous position. Sam came over again, leaning down and putting your arms around his neck and hoisting you into his arms.

“Lucky for you, pet,” Sam hummed, walking you to the shower. “You have a bench in here, and I plan on doing all the work.”

Taglist: (feel free to add yourself!)

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@allybjt @hippievanfleet @weightofbrokenbells @joshkiszkasbadussy @malany-gvf @ruby0antlers @samofthedawn @sacredjake @aim4thedoublee @diditallforyouu @gvfmarge @highladyofasgard @sammysvanfeet@gold-mines-melting @earthgrlsreasy @mountain-in-springtime @forcebond301 @stardust-and-shadows @llightmyllovee @gretavangroupie @comesofarsomehow @infinisonicosm @indigofallingsky @hellowgoodbye @hearts-hunger @fwzco @dharma-divine33 @lightsofthe-living-gvf @ascendingtothestarsasone @klarxtr @ofthecaravel @musicspeaks @mindastreamofcolours @imleavingyoufornewyork @dammm1256 @jordie-gvf @demonrat444 @misshunnybee @valleydollgvf @brookes-so-done @age0fwagner @starcatcherxstevie @amethystars @jakesguitarsolo @lolidontknowwhat @lyndz2names @godly-sinsx @dannythedog @anthemheatwave @samomf @spark-my-nature @scorpiosunsammy @theindigostre4k @jjwasneverhere @couldbefalling

#josh kiszka x reader #greta van fleet fan fiction #jake kiszka x reader #sam kiszka x reader #danny wagner x reader #greta van fleet x reader #greta van fleet fic #josh kiskza #jake kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner #greta van fleet #eternal fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf smut

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kaeyas-beloved · 2 years

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Rolling Fields, Dazzling Sights

Characters: Venti

Summary: Picnic Dates!!!

Genre: Fluff + Fic

CWs: gn!reader, petnames (love, my Windblume (used more so because of the Windblume festival), alcohol

a/n: This is my white day gift for @serenity-ren-bliss! I hope you like it :D I would've written them all for you if I could... especially Pantalone because I really wanna write him and the new harbingers bUT DON'T KNOW HOW

Also, I split this into two posts because they were getting long,,, Wanderer's is here!

The bard merrily giggled as he held your hand, practically dragging you against your will further into the grasslands, the hustle and bustle of the city quieting with each step you took, "come on love! I promise nothing with happen this time! Don't you trust your darling lover at all?"

A bark of laughter threatened to leave you when you heard that. Yes, you do trust Venti with all your heart, but to deny that many of his previous outings with you led to... less-than-favourable outcomes would be a lie. Whether it was him finding trouble or trouble finding him, you were always the one saddled with tending to his injuries (or hearing him cry the blues for hours). So, it shouldn't be a surprise to any that you're feeling wary.

“Awww, don’t give me that face! Is it so wrong to do something for my Windblume during this festive season?”

You note that you're also deeply in love with the wine-loving, green-clad bard. And, to his credit, Venti always kept you safe when things went south. Therefore, it should also be to no one's astonishment that you continue to go along with him. So, with a quiet no mumbled from you, your lover resumes his journey over the rolling fields of Mondstadt with you in tow.

At first it was easy to recognize a few land points here and there. There was the hillichurl camp that never seems to disappear, then comes the clearing that has the funky-looking tree, but the longer you both walked, the less you began to know. By time you yourself were completely lost, Venti slowed to a near stop.

With a flourish only he could have, you watch as the male proclaims you've both made it to your destination, gesturing to the... ordinary greenery. Silence prevails as you step forward, taking a moment to look around - maybe you missed something? - yet finding nothing, you turn back with a raised brow.

“Uh, Venti…? What am I looking at exactly?” It's as if the very question offends him, a pout forming on the bard's face. Before he could say anything you try again, inspecting harder only to grasp as a loose straw, "is it the... the cecilias??? They're very pretty...?" Letting your voice fade away, unable to stand making a fool of yourself anymore, you let Venti give you a hint. Silently, he shoos you forward, towards the peak of the hill, his way of telling you to find out yourself.

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you take his prompting and take one step, then two, until you finally begin to see what he wanted to show you.

You hadn’t even realized it, but the sun was close to setting, oranges and reds painting the sky above. Just before the dead drop off of the cliff sits a lone tree, a small basket sat against the trunk. Gently picking it up, you peek inside, spotting your lover's favourite wine and an apple pie. With a little more looking there also seemed to be a favourite or two of yours tucked away as well.

The call of his name is on the tip of your tongue, questions of what this all is and why mixed in, but the feeling of arms wrapping around you quiets you down. You let him speak first, “I hope you don’t mind, but I thought a picnic would be a good way to celebrate today.” Still a little taken aback you can only stay frozen in place, watching as Venti slinks away from you, taking a seat against the tree trunk.

Plucking the wine bottle from the basket and a glass, Mond's resident alcoholic pops the cork with an ease and expertise only he could have. Just before the dark liquid falls into the glass, the mouth of the bottle is tilted in your direction, "care for a glass? There are other refreshments too, so you can say no."

Shaking your head to rid yourself of its daze, you finally take a seat beside him, reaching for your own drink, slowly sipping as you glance around. There's nothing but sky, grass and sea. "There's no danger," Venti pipes up, seeing your skepticism, "I made sure of it!" He's already pouring himself another glass, but he really can't help it, you still make him nervous no matter how much time passes.

Opting to believe him - just this once - you try and relax a little more. Ever the talkative, Venti leaps into conversation, telling you about his latest adventures as a bard, asking you if you've been up to anything recently. When your stomach decides it wants to say its opinion your lover laughed a little, digging through the basket for a snack you'd like no he is not an option. You realize the moment he holds it up to you that he didn't intend on handing it to you.

"Venti, I can feed myself..." you whine, attempting to grab it from him, yet he just leans away.

"Please? It's not a picnic date if I can't feed you at least once!" There's some back and forth before you reluctantly relent, if not only to get him to stop. And you hate to admit it, but being fed wasn't half bad.

The next hour or so continues the same, with lively chatter, good food and a wonderful view. From the corner of your eye, you see the sun has almost completely set. About to point it out, the sound of rustling cuts you off. "If I may," standing as if he hasn't drank half a bottle of wine, you watch as he steps away, lyre materializes in his hands.

Giving it a couple test notes, Venti finds it up to his standards, turning his back to the setting sun, pretty teal eyes looking right at you, "I've prepared a melody for this occasion. It would bring me great joy if you allowed me to play it for you." Speaking with the softness of flower petals, he captivated you as soon as the first word left his mouth. The breeze picks up then and you find yourself nodding easily, sinking into the tree behind you. Soon, the delicate sounds of his song take up the space, the warm colours making the moment all the more breathtaking.

As the final notes close the piece off you're quick to your feet, enveloping Venti in a hug. "That way beautiful," you whisper, kissing his cheek.

"I'm glad you liked it my Windblume," he smiles, planting his own kiss to your skin, smiling tenderly, "but we should head home now. It's getting late." Leaving you with one last kiss, Venti moves to pick up the remains of your picnic, returning to your side, his free hand finding yours.

While walking back home, you lean in close, dropping your voice so only you two could hear, even when no one else was around, "by the way, you have some jam on your nose. I didn't want to interrupt you earlier, but I thought it best to tell you now. You know, before we got back to town."

Honestly, for all the gifts you got today, his embarrassed flush was the cherry on top.

Tag list: @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @kaeyaloml // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kaerui-kaisen // @ajaxstar // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs // @leena-shi // @lemontum // @akiria12167 // @ari-the-wr1ter // @dontmindmebeing // @xiaos-wife // @stage-lucida

. . .

Wanna be tagged in future works? Consider filling out this form! And if you want to be removed just DM or send an ask into my inbox!

#giwhiteday2023 #venti x reader #venti x gender neutral reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x reader fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact venti #genshin venti #genshin impact venti x reader #genshin venti x reader

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melanieph321 · 1 year

Text

Lichantony - Lisandro The Babysitter

Thank you @ori0 for this gif that made me want to write Lichantony again.❤️

Summary - Antony is in a bind and needs someone to take care of his energetic four year old son, Lorenzo, for the day. Reluctantly, Lisandro agrees to help, despite having zero experience with children.

Enjoy!

As Antony dropped off little Lorenzo at Lisandro's doorstep, he rattled off a series of instructions, leaving Lisandro feeling overwhelmed. "Make sure he eats his meals, takes his afternoon nap, and keep him entertained. He loves dinosaurs, so try to play with his toy dinosaur collection if you can. Oh, and I almost forgot, he's afraid of the dark, so make sure all the lights are on. Thanks, Licha, I owe you big time!"

"Um....right."

The house went quiet with Antony shutting the door behind him. Suddenly Lisandro wass left with a kid who hadn't been taught that it's rude to stare.

"What?" He hissed at the child.

"What are we gonna do today?"

"Watch TV."

Lisandro helped Lorenzo with his things, hanging the childs jacket and backpack on a hook in thehallway.

"But I'm hungry." Lorenzo said, as Lisandro gave the kid a quick tour of his apartment, settling in the living room.

"You can eat in front of the TV."

Lisandro flipped through the channels to find somthing child appropiate to watch. "Fear Factor. You like that show don't you?"

"No."

Lisandro ignored the boy and left him to make a light snack in the kitchen. He grabbed a caprisun from the fridge and a couple of apples from the fruit bowl, which he cut into ridiculously small pieces, muttering, "No one is choking on my watch."

He returned to the living room to see Lorenzo's eyes glued to the TV, an expression of terror on his faces.

"What? What's happening?" Lisandro rushed forward with the apples and caprisun, joining Lorenzo on the couch.

"Why are they making people eat those bugs?" Lorenzo covered his eyes with his hands.

"Don't look away." Lisandro laughed. "This is the best part."

"I don't wanna see." The boy cried.

"Oh come on."

As the only responsible adult in the house, Lisandro felt compelled to grabbed the remote and shut off the TV. Only then did little Lorenzo drop his hands from his face.

"How about we go to the park?"

"Yay!"

Kids could entertain themselves at the park, he thought, with all the swings and monkeybars they had down there. The first real obstacle Lisandro faced babysitting Lorenzo, came when they got back home to have lunch.

Unsure of his dietary preferences, Lisandro presented an assortment of snacks and a bowl of macaroni and cheese. Lorenzo picked at his food, making a mess in the process that left Lisandro both amused and exasperated. Eventually, after much coaxing and some silly faces, Lorenzo finished his meal, albeit with orange cheese stains on his clothes.

"Bathroom, now!" Lisandro ordered. "And don't touch anything on your way there."

After lunch, it was time for Lorenzo afternoon nap. Lisandro tried his best to create a quiet and calm environment, but Lorenzo had other plans. He resisted the idea of napping, running around the apartment like a mini cyclone. Lisandro finally resorted to playing a soothing lullaby, which eventually lulled Lorenzo into slumber.

"I wanna go home."

Around six a clock Lisandro had some of his friends come over to watch a game played in the Argentinian football league. They were all having a good time, eating take out and being a bit too loud. It is what must have woken little Lorenzo up as he appeared in front of the TV with a blanket wrapped around his body.

"Home, what do you mean?" Lisandro tapped the cuchens beside him. "Come watch the game with us." He hoped that would get the kid to move out of the way, however, Lorenzo shook his head and started to wail, tears flowing like a river.

"I want my, Pãi. I want to go home!"

"Jesus Licha, make it stop." His friends cupped their ears with their hands.

There was a gut groping feeling watching Lorenzo run off with tears in his eyes.

Lisandro stood. "Guys, I think you better leave."

"Leave, why should we leave?" It was Lisandro who had invited them after all.

"Just leave please, I need a minute with the kid."

Displeased, his friends did what they were told, leaving Lisandro alone with Lorenzo. He found him hiding out in the guestroom, which Lisandro had his maids make childproof for the night.

He knocked on the door. "Lorenzo, can I come in?"

"No."

The boy lay on the bed, his little body trembling with his quiet sniffles.

"Come on, don't do that to your uncle." Lisandro entered the room, approaching the bed

Lorenzo turned his head, revealing a pair of bloodshot eyes. "Você não é meu tio." (You are not my uncle.)

"Not your real uncle, no. But your dad is like a brother to me, which means I care about you too."

"Like my tio?"

Lisandro sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to tousle Lorenzo curls with his hand. "Exactly like your tio." He smiled.

"Pãi says that you are his best friend."

"We are more than best friend's. I love your dad very much. Someday you might understand."

Lorenzo nodded. "I understand, I love Pãi very much too."

"Well he'll be glad to hear that."

With Lorenzo finally wiping his tears Lisandro took a moment to catch his breath. He marveled at the unexpected challenges of childcare but found himself smiling at the thought of spending time with such a vibrant and imaginative little boy.

As the two of them still had a couple of hours to kill before Lorenzo's bedtime, Lisandro discovered a newfound talent for pretending to be a dinosaur. He roared, stomped, and chased after Lorenzo throughout the apartment, their laughter filling the air. They spent hours building imaginary dinosaur habitats, complete with makeshift caves and foliage.

However, as the evening approached, Lisandro realized that they hadn't prepared dinner yet. Panicking, he quickly rummaged through the fridge, desperately searching for something easy and kid-friendly to make. With a sigh of relief, he found a frozen pizza. Lisandro popped it into the oven, and soon the delicious aroma filled the room.

Eventually lights started to flicker, signaling dusk. Remembering Antony's mention that Lorenzo afraid of the dark, Lisandro turned on every lamp in the house. The warm glow illuminated the room, creating a cozy atmosphere. However as Lisandro lay in his own bed ready to call it the night, there was a light knock on his door.

"Yes?"

Lorenzo pocked his head through, seeing that Lisandro was still awake the boy rushed over to his bed.

"What is it, can't sleep?"

Lorenzo nodded, stretching his arms up in the air. Lisandro sighed but reached out to lift up the boy, welcoming him into his bed.

"But no kicking." He warned. "Or you'll be left sleeping on the floor, got it?"

The boy gave half a nod before he lay knocked out asleep. Lisandro shook his head in disbelief and reached out to dim the lights in his room.

Lorenzo did not respect the no kicking rule, but Lisandro was just glad that the boy hadn't woken up during the night, scared of the dark or crying for his dad.

When Antony arrived the next morning, Lisandro was at the door, exhausted but content.

"How did it go?" Antony asked.

"Next time you need a sitter get somebody else to do it."

Antony's face erupted in braud smile. "Thanks Licha, I owe you one."

Lorenzo stepped into his shoes and followed his dad out the door. However, halfway towards the elevator he decided to run back to were Lisandro stood watching them in his doorway.

"Bye uncle Lisandro!"

Lisandro stumbled backwards as he was ambushed with a big hug from Lorenzo.

"See you next time." He waved before returning to his dad.

Antony shrugged his shoulders, so did Lisandro. He waved back. "See you later kid!"

#fanfiction #football imagine #manchester utd #man utd #footballer imagine #football angst #lisandro martinez #antony santos #lichantony

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toughbunnyforever · 1 month

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So I came from your insta and saw that you improved quite a lot over two years. I’m in an art rut right now and was wondering your tactics for learning to draw different positions and poses? And fabric? I’m just curious since you don’t have speed draws on YT.

oh thank you!

in the past two years, i think what's helped me improve the most is learning the balance of keeping consistency without taking myself too seriously. i find that when i'm in a rut or i feel like i've stagnated, it's bc i'm too in my head and i'm forgetting to have fun. bc yes, technical skill is good to acquire, but creativity is, in my opinion, more important of a priority because that's where the art comes from. the technical skill is just the tool to help the art get made, so hone it, but don't treat it like it's everything. it's no good being able to draw a bunch of cool stuff if you don't have the spoons to draw any of it or if you're so burned out, you can't even come up with ideas.

on the more technical side though, for me, study and practice time are when i focus on repetition so i can build muscle memory. if i'm studying from references (and not feeling lazy lol) i'll draw each ref at least 2 or 3 times to get those reps in, drawing fast and sketchy, just doing as many as i can. this really helps with things you'll draw over and over again like clothing folds. my hand will start to just have a better intuitive sense for the shapes instead of agonizing over each one cuz i've drawn it enough times. when i'm sketching, it helps me to fall back on that muscle memory so i can put more focus to other aspects of whatever it is i'm drawing.

it's about finding a balance really.. if i study too much, i never actually implement the things i learn but if i study too little, then my work stagnates and all looks the same. finding that balance for yourself will go alone way! when i'm in an art block, what i need just really goes back to remembering to enjoy the process and finding that spark again. if i'm not enjoying my art, then i gotta switch something up.

here are some other things i like to do for practice:

redraw screenshots/stills from my fav shows or manga (good way to study poses, anatomy, and scene composition w/o it feeling too serious.)

or pick a show/movie/comic and choose a character i like. draw them 3-5 times, copying the art style to a T then draw them again in my own style to see what elements i wanna take away from it. (again, a good way to study without Studying. i end up leaving the experience with new staples for my art style)

find fashion photo references and draw my ocs in the outfits.

switch up what i'm drawing with. like if i'm mostly draw in pencil, switch to only pen. if i'm doing digital, i put my go-to brushes in a new folder, don't touch them, then sketch with a brush i never reach for. just change one little thing and see how it affects the process. usually i discover something new.

i wrote a list of things i like to draw on the front page of my sketchbook (just stream of consciousness, wrote down like 100 things i like to draw. ex: oranges, apples, snails, leaves.) and when i don't know what to draw, i close my eyes and point to something then draw whatever i comes up.

hope this helps!!

#ask

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transboysokka · 1 year

Text

A short Zukka h/c story through dialogues. They're just really fucked up.

CW: big themes around eating disorders, small themes around alcoholism, one or two mentions of [emetophobia], general angst

"Zu...?" "Hm?" "You know how you said you'd tell me if things got bad again?" "Yeah?" "Well..." "What?" "When was the last time you had something to eat?" "...Oh."

"You wanna talk about it?" "I don't even know what to say, Sokka. I'm just Like This..." "Well, you know I'm here for you." "I know, babe. I love you so much."

"I'm so hungry..." "Then you should eat something, baby..." "I just... can't."

"Would it help if we went somewhere else? We could sneak out to the night market and find some xiaochi." "Okay, yeah. Some watermelon juice sounds nice." "Okay, but maybe something else too? Would you share some douhua with me?" "...Okay. I'll try." "That's all I ever ask, babe."

"Another headache?" "Mmhmm. Bad." "It'll help if you..." "Can't eat right now. I'd just puke it up." "Okay, let's try some apple juice."

"Babe, you know I don't like to pressure you..." "I know. I love you for it." "I'm just really worried..." "I know. I'm sorry." "I'm sorry too, babe... But I have an idea." "Hm?" "Would it help if every night before we go to bed, you tell me what you've eaten that day? For accountability." "...." "Zu?" "I hate that idea. But I do think it will help..." "Okay, great!" "Today I had some orange juice." "Babe, that's..." "What?" "Nothing. Thank you for sharing with me."

"I had some rice at lunch today." "I'm proud of you."

"Sokka? It's a little early to be drinking." "What? Oh, I just--" "Hang on, I'll get a glass and join you." "No! That's... Really not a good idea..." "Why?" "I mean... on an empty stomach?"

"Babe, I had dinner with my uncle today!" "That's great! What did you guys have?" "You mean, did I eat anything." "Well-" "Yeah, I had a bowl of bantiao and a few servings of cabbage." "That's so great, baby, I'm so proud of you! How do you feel?" "Like I'm gonna be sick."

"Baby, I'm sorry, I try not to be like this with you, but I'm just so worried..." "Sokka, I'm fine." "You haven't been yourself at all. You're having outbursts during council meetings. You aren't training anymore, you sleep way too much. You look... This getting dangerous, Zu." "I said I'm fine! I've made it this long." "Baby. You haven't eaten anything in days..." "That's not even true! I've had juice!" "Zuko. I think it's time we let somebody else help us with this problem." "It's not a problem! I have lots of issues, but this isn't a problem-" "I know, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said-" "Just leave me the hell alone! This doesn't even affect you." "Doesn't affect me?! Do you know what it does to me to see you like this every day, wasting away? You're killing yourself, Zuko, and I can't let you. If you don't eat something tomorrow, I swear I'm going to have to take you to-" "You wouldn't dare." "Babe, I have to. I can't just-" "If you take me there, I'm never speaking to you again. You can't do that to me. I thought you loved me!" "Baby..." "I'm... I'm sorry. Please don't cry. I'm so sorry Sokka, I know I'm fucked up and I love you so much, I'm sorry..." "...I... I can't do this right now."

"Sokka, I'm getting worried about all this drinking..." "Oh, you're worried about me! Fucking rich." "Sokka, really, you've had enough." "So eat something, then." "...What?" "Yeah. You're the one doing this to me. I won't stop drinking until you get help." "Sokka, that's... not fair..." "You doing this to yourself is what's not fair!" "Sokka..." "I won't eat until you eat."

"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm sorry I said that..." "I'm sorry too."

"Today I ate-" "You're fucking lying." "...What?" "I asked the kitchen staff about what they've been preparing for you and they said you haven't been in the dining room all week." "So you're spying on me now?" "Baby, you need help. We both do. I'm calling Katara." "I... Fine."

"Katara says I need to eat three meals a day, every day." "She says I need to stop drinking." "She's gonna watch me eat." "She's gonna check up on me every day too." "Why are you laughing?" "How did we get like this?"

"Sokka, I'm sorry I haven't been there for your recovery." "Hey, this is for life. And you know you're not responsible for this, right? It's... always been a problem." "I just want to be there for you." "And I know that, baby. But the best way you can help me right now is by working on yourself."

"How are you doing, Zu?" "This is... really hard." "For me too. But it's worth it." "Yeah." "I'm always... thinking about it." "Me too." "I just feel like I need to be in control, you know?" "Is that how it started? The food thing?" "Yeah, maybe." "Thanks for telling me, babe."

"I just get so angry sometimes." "You want to talk about it?" "I'm angry that I did this to myself, that I couldn't see that I was sick. I'm angry that it took me so long to even want to get help. I'm angry that I destroyed my body. Katara says it will take time, but I want to go train and I hate that I'm not strong enough yet." "You need to be kind to yourself. Your body is recovering from starvation." "I know that. And I'm trying. To be kind. But I hate that I've already starved once in my life and I've done it again to myself, but willingly this time." "Not willingly..." "I'm so weak, Sokka." "No, babe. You're strong. You survived this. And you decided all on your own to get better." "We'll help each other." "Yeah, we will. It's not gonna be easy." "It never is. I knew that when I fell in love with you."

#did i write this just because im Going Through It? lol yeah #maybe ill post this to ao3 but probably not bc its so short #zukka #atla #drabble #disordered eating /#emetophobia /#alcohol /

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adelle-ein · 2 years

Text

going to start posting wips here instead of twt. i want to draw more group scenes and backgrounds and just generally be more ambitious, even though my main focus is and always has been improving how my people look i wanna get better at everything. this is an idea i thought of for an anniversary drawing and i decided to just go ahead and do it now

also soft-painting-small looks bad at big sizes huh maybe that's. why it's named that (i don't have a go-to sketch/line brush in krita i just keep trying different things)

anyway i used csp more again in the last month bc a) i had a new ssd and Could b) still adapting to krita and it was stressing me out and i was trying to improve my anatomy and struggling bc learning to use krita was slowing me down. but being reminded of how much celsys sucks and how i need to not rely on csp sticking around made me start working on adjusting to krita again

thoughts on that below the cut (rambly and definitely not of interest to anyone who isn't also extremely interested in digital art programs)

like i said my main motivation in making the switch: celsys sucks and is untrustworthy. krita's excellent filter variety and way way better brush engines and amazing paintbrushes are huge incentives also though and i think given time and money and support it could easily outdo csp.

csp has so many impressively flashy features that i just...did not use or find useful in application. like the 3d models - couldn't get them working at all on my old computer and then when i could on this one...they're hard to pose, finicky, don't look as good as similar modeling programs, etc etc...i just did not end up using them much and when i did i didn't really know how and they often made things look worse. really they were only good for doing like. fashion poses for outfit design when i didn't want to spend time on the anatomy. vector brushes didn't work for me at all and just made my lineart look really stiff and uglier than ever (and then i decided to ditch lineart altogether which. smart move i think bc it is not my friend.) basically csp has loads of what look like incredible time saving features on its homepage etc, and then in actual execution i didn't really find any of them practical to use. *paul hollywood voice* all style no substance

ANYWAY all of that being said the only things i really miss from csp are the one click export buttons, the change layer to drawing color button, and finally and most of all just the general performance and practicality of it. csp is designed for a reasonable newbie to pick up and use. not quite as much so as like sai or medibang but pretty accessible. krita is just. not. at all. probably the hardest of these programs to learn from a technical standpoint. it just has SO MUCH and is generally made by and for people with above average tech skills which can make it more confusing. like the way layers and groups work is fundamentally different from the common, accepted way ps/csp/sai/everybody uses. and sure maybe alpha inherit is technically Better than clipping masks but it also makes things more challenging and less accessible. very linux design yknow. it is harder to just open krita up and Use It without looking up how to do specific things, it is harder to get away without reading documentation and watching youtube tutorials and memorizing keyboard shortcuts, you need to know how layers work and how to cut down memory usage in a file, basically you can't cut corners in learning krita like you can with similar programs (esp if you are like me and have been playing in said programs since you were. maybe 4)

and of course all that being said krita is a small dev team making an open source free product, whereas celsys adobe etc have massive teams and $$$ at their disposal so of course it is not apples to oranges and this is not a criticism of the krita foundation, just that it makes the product harder to learn and use and i get why people are turned off by that. i'm turned off by it! and all this hinges on your pc even running krita because it is more demanding than most (in most cases i've seen at least. definitely seen some people say they have issues with csp and can run krita, computers weird.) but it sucks that a few features are prone to issues no matter what. as cool and intriguing as so many of the features are...gmic plugin is crashy and liquify tool just lags to the point it's unusable. :(

but i don't want to end on a negative note and make it sound like i hate krita, krita's great, it's just never felt quite as natural as sai and csp have in the past so that makes things more uphill with it. but i'm trying. and trying to get over my Very Bad Social Anxiety to post on krita-artists and ask for help from *shudders* Knowledgeable Strangers when i don't understand things

anyway uhhh krita is hard and art is hard but i think it'll be worth it and also fuck celsys

#txt #lacewip #looking at this now seth's face is Wonky #i will work on that #no matter how i draw him elvis's head always feels weird

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mothellie · 3 months

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hi i just had to share i also got a kitten and had a theme in mind cause he’s a black cat and wanted something spooky so we named him Boo

Please tell Boo he is the cutest ever for me because he absolutely needs to hear it.

For me, the reason I've stuck with a food name theme is because almost all of my previous cats were named after food. It was unintentional but now I wanna keep the theme. When my bio dad found a kitten at the park while he was working when I was about 15, I decided to name her Apple and he really liked it. Technically it wasn't because of actual apples, it was because of this mildly obscure movie we really love called Turbo Kid, which has a character named Apple.

I had a couple cats with my ex girlfriend I gave funny pun names. But when I got my last cat I named him Tuna because I got him when he was very little and that was a name I had held onto for a while. Unfortunately, Tuna passed away in early 2022 due to a very large growth on his bladder. The vet said he was preconditioned for bad health so it was inevitable.

It was really hard on me for a while because that was my first real pet of my own who I bonded with at that level and I still get really sad over it sometimes. But in late 2023 I got a call at work from a staff member asking for access to the warehouse on the campus I work at and I ended up finding out it was because one of the many stray cats on the grounds had given birth and one of the staff there was a foster, so she was gonna take them home and get them weened before finding them homes of their own. Nugget was the only one of the bunch that had the fur pattern he did, mostly white with exclusively ginger calico spots. I fell in love and basically begged for this lady to keep him off the adoption market for me. I got to take him home a little early because the lady really couldn't handle so many kittens at once and I weened him for the final weeks.

He's basically Tuna reincarnated, just a little bit more of that signature orange cat personality (/aff). I named him Nugget somewhat like a tribute to Tuna because it was also a food name. Unfortunately though, I wasn't able to get Nugget neutered as quickly as I wanted to, so I'm still waiting on my appointment. When I had to leave my now ex, I moved in with my brother briefly and he had three female cats, one of which wasn't spayed. I scrambled to get him neutered before she got pregnant but of course I was a little too late lmao so now there are five kittens.

The mama cat is named Millie, which is apparently affectionately short for Miller Lite (they thought she was a boy when they found her otherwise they apparently would've named her Princess Diana and if you met my brother the name choices would not at all surprise you lmao) so we were thinking of temporary names to cross between chicken and beer 😭

But one of the cats is going to me, one is going to my brother and his girlfriend, one is going to our mutual friend, one is going to my bio dad and one is going to my brother's girlfriend's sister. I went by to see them today and they're SO TINY it reminded me of how tiny Nugget was when we found him and his siblings. My new baby kitty is almost all white with grey tipped ears and tail, so I've been trying to think of a good food name for him that fits. Once he's fully weened off of his mama I'll be able to take him home, which should be early August. But I can visit infrequently to visit. I'm really excited to have another fur baby.

I always used to say I didn't have a bias between dogs and cats, because that's mostly true. I also love dogs. But after Tuna, I have to say I'm much more partial to cats. Gonna be the genderqueer equivalent of a cat lady when I get old lol.

#♡ · you've got mail #♡ · moot mail #✉ · from mcplestreet

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 3 years

Text

The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons. Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie.

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Planting a sneaker clad foot on his ass, you shove. Hard.

“Bucky, we talked about this. Remember how you agreed to lower the drama and keep things in perspective? I thought we were under attack.”

“If I don’t get a green gum-ball,” he declares dramatically, “there will be an attack.”

Throwing the cloth bags at his face, you stomp off to retrieve a shopping cart, plunking your purse in the front and hunching over the handlebars.

“I thought you said you were a millionaire now. Buy your own gum-ball.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Like I carry loose change,” he scoffs. “C’mon, just one quarter. Please?”

This time, he gives you the Look. That patented Bucky Barnes stare, with the wide eyes and full pouty lips and faux innocent expression, and if this man wasn’t the love of your life you’d quite happily stab him in the heart.

Instead, you open your purse and fish out a quarter, flinging it at his frustratingly pretty face. It bounces off his forehead and he scoops it up with a grin.

“So just to clarify. You came to the grocery store covered in knives, but you forgot to bring money?”

Giving you an indulgent smile, he jams the quarter into the slot. With a twist and shake, a gum-ball rattles free, and Bucky crows with delight when he sees the green candy. He pops it in his mouth.

“I didn’t forget. I made a conscious decision to remove the temptation. If I bring cash, I’ll spend it. You know I ain’t great with that whole self control thing.”

“How encouraging to hear, from the man with knives pouring out his ass.”

Jumping to his feet, he throws an arm around your shoulders.

“Ass knives sound painful.”

“Depends on how sharp they are,” you mumble, pulling a carefully folded sheet of paper from your jacket.

“Excuse you? My knives are always perfectly sharpened, thank you very much. What kind of expert assassin runs around with dull knives? Damn baby, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Ignoring him, you flatten out the paper and smooth the edges, sighing happily at the block letters and structured diagrams drawn in deep blue ink.

Here it is, your masterpiece. A monument to productivity. The gold standard by which all optimization models should be benchmarked. This isn’t just any list, this is The List.

Everything is grouped, first by aisle, then by product location within the aisle, and then from top to bottom shelf order, to maximize efficiency. This is the dream list. The kind that inspires jealousy. The kind people hold up at TED talks when they talk about time management techniques. Marie Kondo wishes she had this list.

Bucky snorts when he sees the carefully printed boxes.

“God, you’re such a square,” he says adoringly. He plants a sugary wet kiss on your temple and you grind an elbow into his ribs.

“We discussed this, Bucky. Don’t mock my lists.”

“Sorry babe, I ain’t mocking. Your lists are beautiful, they always get me all hot and bothered,” he agrees, dipping lower to lick behind your ear. “And I really love that list you keep with all those dirty, filthy, sex things you wanna do to me.”

“I don’t have a list like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs, “and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop here.”

Reaching under his shirt, you rub his belly consolingly. “Okay then. This weekend I’ll sit down and make you a special list. One so disgusting and dirty and depraved, it would make Wade Wilson cry.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes you tighter.

“About damn time honey. I’m equally parts terrified and horny. So where’re we headed first?”

“Produce,” you answer promptly, plowing forward, Bucky still chuckling beside you.

The whole scenario was ironic, actually. There was no need to grocery shop - automatic ordering mechanisms across the Avengers tower rendered the task meaningless - but sometimes it was a welcome relief to partake in such an ordinary thing. Unable to sleep after one particularly terrible mission, you found yourself wandering the aisles of your 24-hour supermarket, dressed in pineapple adorned pajama pants and one of Bucky’s rattier sweatshirts, searching for ice cream. The unexpected symmetry of products arranged along the shelves, the rainbow hued produce, the hint of baking bread wafting from the ovens, all those everyday trappings of normality, they washed over like a soothing balm. Soon enough, the boiling bad thoughts simmered to nothing more than a cache of blurry memories.

When you got home, sleep came fast, deep and dreamless.

One month later, the idea struck again.

After 36 hours of Bucky tossing and turning, dark shadows bruising beneath weary blue eyes, you took his hand and led him down the dark street for a midnight adventure. He was skeptical, disbelieving that something so simple could chase away the insomnia. But he dutifully followed you, strolling aimlessly through the aisles, throwing odds and ends into the cart.

The tension gradually eased, he began to relax, and suddenly?

He was hooked.

An hour later, after arguing the health benefits of frosted Cheerios over oatmeal, poking each hunk of cheese in the display, and loading the cart with every single flavor of spaghetti sauce on the shelf, the heavy weight of remembering began to ease. When he collapsed into bed, he slept for eight hours straight.

I don’t know what that was, he swore the next morning, munching through his third bowl of frosted Cheerios, but it was magic.

And with that, a midnight ritual was born. Sometimes you make the trek alone, sometimes Bucky does the same, but whenever life permits you go together. This small slice of domesticity brings a warm comfort to this strange life.

There is no doubt, this is your favorite area of the entire store.

Barrels filled with tart oranges and smooth red apples. Tables piled high with bananas, some just shy of yellow, others sunshine perfect, and a few with speckles of black (which are the best). Shelves lining the walls, overflowing with bundles of herbs and lettuce, all coated in a fine layer of mist.

Bliss.

Heading straight for the apples, you plunge into the Gala pile, rummaging until you come up with ten perfect ones. Peaches follow, fingers rubbing along the delicate pinky-orange fuzz. Squeeze, smell, squeeze, smell. Five are chosen for a pie (Sam pleaded shamelessly until you agreed to make him one), and in the cart they go. Heading toward the wall of herbs, you’re reaching for the basil when a metallic bang makes you jump. Spinning around, you find Bucky lobbing coconuts into the cart.

“We need these.”

“We really don’t, Buck. I hate coconut, it tastes like suntan lotion.”

“They’re not for eating,” he grabs an apple, wipes it on his shirt, and takes a juicy bite. “They’re for security.”

Sticky juice drips from his lip, catching in his beard. When you reach over to swipe it away, he nips your finger with a grin.

“Explain please.”

“See it’s like this. We’re just here shopping, doin’ our thang -”

“Don’t say thang.”

“- when someone attacks. What happens? BAM. One of these furry beauties breaks their face. Problem solved.”

Giving him a slow perusal, you raise an eyebrow.

“Were the 47 knives you’re carrying not enough to deflect this attack?”

Finishing off the apple in three sloppy bites, he carefully tucks the price sticker in his pocket so he can scan it before leaving and sets the mangled core beside your purse.

“Babe, these are my back-up plan. A good soldier always has a back-up plan.”

While you grab a bottle of extra-pulpy orange juice, Bucky picks two jugs of chocolate milk, snaps one open and takes a swing. Ever the thrifty shopper, he pulls a familiar bag from his back pocket, fishes out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and dangles it before you.

“Found a coupon for this,” he says gleefully. “Buy one, get one free. It’s called a BOGO. A BOGO. Hilarious, right? Fuck me, I love the future.”

Still laughing, he takes another long drink of chocolate milk and smacks his lips.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you discovered this particular habit. Walking into the living room, you found Bucky buried in a sea of Sunday newspaper, tongue between his teeth and scissors in hand while he clipped coupons. He wasn’t picky, if it was remotely interesting, it went into the YES pile. It was one of those random things that brought him inordinate levels of joy, so of course you encouraged it. On his last birthday, you gifted him with a green zippered bag decorated with angry looking owls and official looking letters stitched across the front:

Bucky’s Coupon Bag Thriftn’ Machine Since 1917

He laughed for five straight minutes and then stuffed it full. The bag accompanies you on every trip and the sight of Bucky excitedly rifling through his wad of coupons still makes your heart swell.

Setting aside his BOGO, Bucky continues down the aisle, leaving you to pause in front of the yogurt. While you contemplate the merits of blackberry vs strawberry, Bucky slides over holding three cans of Reddi-Whip.

“Are you actually planning to eat that? I thought you said whipped air is for, and I quote, ‘spineless, tasteless trash heathens’?”

Bucky shakes the can of spray whipped cream and wiggles his eyebrows, leveling you with a sultry stare.

“Hell no I’m not eating it. This is for the bedroom. Last week I watched this god-awful movie where some blond guy - who looked exactly like Steve, by the way - made himself a whipped cream bikini for his girl. Decided I’m gonna do that for you. You’re welcome.”

“That sounds gross and unsanitary.”

“If by gross and unsanitary you mean spicy and sexy, then yes. Yes it does.”

Whistling what sounds like the theme music from a bad porn, he adds two tubs of honey swirled Greek yogurt, pats your butt, and strolls ahead, throwing a roughish wink over his shoulder. Imagining the melted whipped cream soaking into your bedsheets, you mentally add more laundry detergent to the list.

“Hang on, turn here.”

Tugging the cart behind him, Bucky stalks toward the feminine hygiene display. It takes him a minute to scan the products before squatting down to the bottom shelf. Grabbing two jumbo boxes of tampons, oddly enough the brand you prefer, he pops back to his feet.

“Dare I ask why you need these?”

A faint pink flush crawls up his neck.

“Well, you know, two reasons. They’re really great for stopping bloody noses, you know? Just poke ‘em up there and they soak it all up.”

He mimes the execution and adds a thumbs up.

“And the second reason?”

Squinting at his boots, he shuffles his feet a bit. The pink flush deepens.

“Um, you know - I know you’re out, since I stuck the last one up Steve’s nose last week, and yeah. Anyway. It’s about that time. Of the month. For you.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches for his chocolate milk, but you grab his wrist.

“You know when my period’s going to start?”

He shrugs self-consciously and fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.

“Well yeah. You think it’s just a coincidence when all your favorite candy shows up every month?” Looking up, he shoots you a crooked smile and leans over the cart to kiss your forehead. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you haul him in for a real kiss instead and his startled laughter tickles your lips. When you break away, those bright blue eyes are shining.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmur.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers.

This is the aisle where the cart officially explodes.

Lasagna noodles.

Egg noodles.

Spaghetti noodles.

Penne.

Linguine.

Fettuccine.

Literally one of every noodle is selected, because Bucky Barnes is a self-proclaimed noodle slut.

As you organize the boxes and search for orzo, you see him furtively add an extra bag of elbow macaroni. A quiet cough hides your laughter.

The last time Sam’s four-year-old niece came to the tower, she and Bucky spent hours making glittery elbow macaroni necklaces, which they ceremoniously gifted to everyone. When Sam casually mentioned her enthusiastically telling everyone at pre-school about her friend Bucky and how much fun she had visiting him, Bucky ran to a craft store and bulk bought supplies of glue, string, paint, and glitter, just in case she comes over again.

Months later and the entire team are still finding puddles of glitter all over the tower, but the delight on Bucky’s face anytime someone mentions that arts and crafts afternoon?

It’s worth the mess.

Gathering up brown sugar, instant oats, and chocolate chips, you turn to drop them in the cart when Bucky makes a strangled noise. Glancing over, you find him bouncing on his toes, vibrating with excitement.

“Babe. Babe. Are you making monster cookies?”

Adding a can of raisins, you search for the good vanilla. The kind that actually tastes like vanilla, not a cheap car wash air freshener.

“I promised I would,” you remind him. Bucky plasters himself against your back, wrapping you in an enthusiastic hug and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love those fucking cookies,” he declares. “They’re my favorite thing ever. Next to you I mean.”

Finding the vanilla, you spin in his arms and return the squeeze.

“I know you do. But you have to share them this time, okay? You can’t just eat them all yourself like the last two times. Agree?”

“Agree…to disagree. They’re wasted on other people, no one else loves as much. It’s for the best when I eat them all, it’s proof how much I love you. I’m doing it for you. I’m supporting you. Because I love you.”

“You’re completely full of shit,” you reply.

“I swear I’m not! Just listen!”

The excuses grow longer and wilder as Bucky outlines his rationale against sharing, walking backward and dragging the cart with him as he pleads his case. He’s diving into the science of super soldier metabolism levels and caloric requirements and the fact that his sister never shared anything with him, when he bumps into a tall display.

He pulls up short, eyes narrowing. Plunking his fists on his hips, he growls a disgruntled sigh and glares at the rows of packaging.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Lined up in neat rows, you see boxes of Jell-O organized by color and flavor. On the cover of each are an assortment of familiar images.

“Are these Avengers themed Jell-O?” you ask, picking up a box with Sam’s image and the words Wild Berry Wilson. The rows extend further, filled with Lime Green Hulk and Blue Raspberry Rogers and Black Cherry Widow and Strawberry Lemon Stark. Exasperated, Bucky grabs the Sparkling Orange Spider flavor.

“Is this for real? The kid gets one and I didn’t? Someone in PR is getting fired.”

“Well there’re only so many flavors, Buck,” you point out practically, but Bucky’s not in the mood for logic. Instead, he swipes an entire shelf of Jell-O flavors into the cart.

“I swear to god, I have to do everything around here. Fine then. I’ll make my own flavor, Blackberry Kiwi Soldier or Winter Watermelon Rainbow, or something.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ll work on the name. But I’m bringing it to dinner tomorrow night and everyone is gonna eat it.”

He dumps in a bag of mini-marshmallows and grabs sprinkles for topping, before marching down the aisle. Cringing at the volume of sugar in the cart, you make another mental note to schedule a dentist appointment.

“Go do your manly duty and find the meat. We need two 5lb rump roasts.”

“I like your rump roast,” he instantly responds and reaches over to smack your butt again. Anticipating the move, you catch his arm and twist it behind his back. He barks out a breathless laugh and you slap his ass in return.

“Your innuendos are tragic.”

Releasing him with a gentle shove, Bucky snatches up his three coconuts and ambles away, laughing while he juggles them. When he returns, he has the requested rump roasts, several packages of bacon, and a bundle of cocktail shrimp.

“If my innuendos get better, then can I touch your butt?”

“Maybe. But they better be real good.”

An added benefit to shopping at midnight? Not a soul in line.

Loading everything onto the conveyer belt, you automatically organize for bagging. Boxes together, produce together, meat together. Bucky adds a pack of batteries, a tin of mints, and some trashy magazines.

The last three items in the cart are his coconuts. They rattle around until you toss them at him, motioning back to the produce department.

“We made it out alive. Go put them back.”

Still chomping his tasteless green gum-ball, he shakes his head and plops them down.

“Nah, I have another idea for them. Got all those craft supplies at home, I’m gonna make you something.”

“Should I even ask?”

Bucky blows a huge, wet bubble and looks you up and down.

“Have you every worn one of those coconut bras? Like on TV, with the ladies in grass skirts? I’m gonna make you one. I already have string and glue. And glitter.”

“I think you may be overestimating your crafting abilities.” Digging out your credit card, you wait for the final tally.

“Well, if it’s terrible then you’ll just be naked. Either way, I win.”

Shaking out your grocery sacks, he packs everything with Tetris-like efficiency and slides all of them up the vibranium arm.

“How about I make you a deal. I’ll wear a coconut bra, if you’ll make yourself something to wear as well.”

Bucky blows another sugary bubble, pondering the idea.

“Like a coconut man thong?”

“Exactly like a coconut man thong.”

“Deal. Add it to that special dirty list you’re making me honey. We got loads to do.”

Outside, the night air smells sweet and cool, the barest hint of a spring rain and fresh grass lingering on the breeze. Already, your eyes are feeling heavy, tonight’s quiet adventure ushering in that sought after peace.

In your right hand, the three coconuts swing gently in their plastic sack. Humming under his breath, Bucky yawns, reaching for your other hand. His warm, calloused palm squeezes tight, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin.

He turns to you with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

Midnight and coconuts.

It always does the trick.

***

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine

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shiftylookingcrow · 3 years

Text

A (not comprehensive) List of Little Self Care Things I Do When Everything Feels Like Too Much:

Bathing

Wash just your body, or just your hair. You may not be completely clean, but you ARE cleaner

Still feels like too much? No problem!

Take off any jewelry from your hands/wrists and wash your hands up to your elbows, just taking your time

Then wash your arm pits and groin, those are the stinkiest parts of the body

If you're feeling up to it, wash your face too

Once you're done washing, take your favorite body lotion and massage it in anywhere you washed

Shaving

Shaving takes time and patience (especially if you prefer to be mostly hairless), but you don't have to go through the whole process every time

Wanna wear that cute tank top/crop top but don't feel comfortable with how hairy your pits are today?

JUST shave your arm pits then

Wanna wear shorts/capries/a skirt, but feel your legs are too fuzzy?

Where on your legs do the cuffs/hem sit? JUST shave from there down

Facial hair looking kinda scruffy? Got an electric shaver? It won't give you as close a shave as a razor, but it'll help neaten you up a bit

After any shaving, get back in there with your lotion and work it in well

Laundry

Don't have the energy to drag that big basket you've been avoiding down to the washing machine? Out of clothes but need something to wear tomorrow?

Wash ONLY what you'll need for the next 1 or 2 days. A smaller load means less to put away after

Need a bra/binder/mask/etc for tomorrow? Wash ONE, then hang it to dry with a fan blowing on it.

The air movement will help it dry faster, and while it may not be 100% dry by morning, it should be dry enough to wear comfortably

This can be done for underwear and socks as well

Dental

Mouth feeling like sandpaper, but you still can't find it in you to go through the whole tooth care routine?

JUST brush your teeth before bed. You can floss in the morning

No energy to get in there and really scrub like your dentist told you to? Even just a quick scrub is better than nothing

You know those little Gum brand toothpick things? With runber bristles on them? They can't replace proper flossing, but the CAN at least get the worst of the gunk from between your teeth

Food

Hungry but can't bring yourself to put together a whole meal? That's okay!

Get all the fixings for a sandwich (bread, spreads, cheese, meat, etc), put them on a plate and eat that. You're still eating a sandwich, it's just not an assembled sandwich

Want a smoothy, but don't want to fuss with the blender? Put it all together as a yogurt bowl instead

Want a salad? Grab a couple lettuce leaves, a stick of celery, half a tomato, or whatever else you'd have in there, and toss it on a plate. Grab some dressing (or not) and you've got a personal size veggie platter

Cut an orange in half and eat the pulp out with a spoon

Cut an apple in half, and eat JUST one half. You can save the other half for later, or eat it right after the first if you feel up to it

Cutting a banana in half and squeezing out the fruit means you don't have to worry about those gross stringy bits

Simple Smoothie Recipe:

1 banana

1 egg

1 tsp vanilla extract

1 tsp honey/sugar

Milk (dairy, soy, almond, whichever)

Berries, yogurt, chocolate chips, jam (optional)

Directions

Put all ingredients except milk in a blender (or 4 cup measure if using a hand mixer)

Pour in milk until ingredients are ALMOST covered. There should be about 1 inch/2.5 cm of solid ingredients visible

Blender/mix for 30-60 seconds, or until desired consistency. Pour into your favorite glass, or drink straight from the container

Simple baked potato:

Clean a medium to large potato and use a fork to stab holes down the sides and at each end. Depending on the size, you should have stab your potato somewhere around 9-12 times.

Place the potato in the microwave just off of center, one end facing the center of the spinning plate

Microwave for 15 minutes, flipping the potato end for end after every 5 minutes

Put the potato on a plate with some sour cream or ranch dressing, and dip it like a big ol' french fry

House Cleaning

Feel like there's too many dishes? Pick ONE place setting (bowl, plate, knife, fork, spoon, cup), and ONE pot/pan, and clean those. Do the same at the end of each meal, and while it might take a while, you'll eventually get things down to a manageable level

Dust bunnies breeding in the corners? Pick ONE room or hallway every couple days and just clean there. ONE clean room is better than NO clean rooms

Your room is so messy you don't know where to start? Every time you enter your room, put ONE thing back where it belongs. Every time you leave your room, take one thing that doesn't belong out with you and put it where it belongs.

Sink looking kind of gross? Give it a quick wipe down the next time you wash your hands

Toilet needs a clean? Pick a part (lid, seat, back or bowl) and just clean that bit. Even if you're just wiping some of the dust off the back.

Scum ring building up in the shower/bathtub? Give it a quick scrub next time you bathe. Maybe you don't get the whole thing, but you DID make a start.

Fitness

No energy for a full walk? If you can, walk around your house/apartment building. You might not have gone far, but you were UP and you were OUTSIDE.

Can't get out for whatever reason? Are there stairs in your house? In your apartment building? If you can, walk up and down those a few times.

Not really able to do stairs? Do some simple stretches instead.

Reach down and try to touch your toes, holding for 20 seconds. Reach up over your head as high as you can, holding for 20 seconds. Repeat 5 times

Sitting in a chair, reach your right hand across your body and over your left shoulder and try to grab the back of the chair without lifting your butt. Hold for 20 seconds. Do the same with your left arm, holding for 20 seconds. Repeat 5 times

Standing, or sitting on a chair, gently pull your head towards your shoulder (right hand, right shoulder; left hand, left shoulder), reaching the other hand down towards the ground. Hold for 20 seconds, then gently push your head upright again (lifting your head with just your neck muscles can cause them to seize after a stretch). Repeat 5 times

Miscellaneous

Need to trim your nails, but don't feel like sitting through both hands? Pick one finger on each hand, and just trim that nail. Do another nail on each hand tomorrow, and another the day after that. You don't have to do them all at once

Having trouble remembering to drink enough water? Find a water bottle/mug/glass that you like and try to keep it near you as much as possible. I find actually having a bottle with me helps me remember to keep sipping.

Still having trouble with your water intake? Fruit and veggies (specifically like apples, oranges, tomatoes, bell peppers and avocados to name a few) have high water content and can help keep you hydrated

Even if you can't get to sleep, lieing in bed with your eyes closed is more restful than trying to wear yourself out by reading or something

Alternatively, doing some mild stretches, or a few sit ups/push ups/jumping jacks can help wear you out without engaging your brain too much

You are aloud to say "no". You don't even need to give a reason. If everything feels like too much, taking on more responsibility will only make it worse, which will only make your output poorer as a result.

A reminder that this is by no means a complete list, just some things I've found helpful in my journey through adhd, depression, and anxiety. Not all tasks need to be done all at once. Maybe you can't do much, but that doesn't invalidate the some you did. Just because you take longer to do a task doesn't mean your bad at it, or that it isn't worth doing. You'll get there when you get there.

Please feel free to add to this post, I'd love to see what self care tricks other people are using!

#long post #mental health #self care tips #depression help #adhd help #anxiety help #autism help #there's probably others i can't think of right now #also i can't for the life of me figure out how to do a 'read more' on mobile #so i'm really sorry for this

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kiridarling · 3 years

Text

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒.

katsuki bakugou | birthday gone wrong (aha), f!reader, baker!reader, pro hero!katsuki, blizzards, angst and smut, exhibitionism, cockwarming, begging, confessions. minors dni!

— 4.7k words

Wanna blow off some steam?

“Surprise!”

Katsuki jumps ten feet high, and the plastic grocery bags precariously balanced on each finger tear without a second thought. Apples hit the ground with a thud and the egg carton with a depressing slap; one that signifies the crack of at least half a dozen. Katsuki looks at the crowd, red-faced and livid, and Eijirou Kirishima intercepts the awkward silence with:

“Happy Birthday Bakubro! I know y—“

“Said that I didn’t want a fuckin’ party?” Katsuki growls, groceries forgotten on the forgotten. Eijirou looks guilty and chuckles, scratching the back of his head.

“W-Well, yeah, but—“

“Everybody out.”

People sigh, and you think you hear Denki whisper told you he’d kick us out. You hate to say that you foresaw a similar outcome. Katsuki’s never been one for people.

Especially you.

“Awe come on, Kacchan,” Izuku says with hands on his hips. “We came all this way! Just let us stay for a little bit.”

“Yeah!” Eijirou seems to cheer up once given a sliver of hope. “Plus, we got cake and stuff. And Just Dance.”

Katsuki narrows his eyes, but you know better—he’s always had a soft spot for the redhead. You all wait with baited breath, wondering if this entire evening was a bust, as Katsuki weighs his options in a pool of fallen groceries.

“One hour.”

Eijirou gasps so hard he chokes, and Katsuki’s generosity earns him applause from the audience. (Plus whoops and hollers from Denki and Mina.)

“And I mean it—y’all have sixty fuckin’ minutes before you’re gone without a goddamn trace. Kapeesh?”

“Kapeesh!”

Katsuki sighs, rubbing at his temples as he steps over the mess at the front door. You assume he’ll make Eijirou clean it up. “Whatever. Where’s the fuckin’ cake?”

Ah.

“In the kitchen, my good sir!” Denki says as he ushers the ash-blond into the said kitchen, the rest of the party hot on their heels. Eijirou grabs the cake from the fridge and you’re tense until the plate hits the marble of their island.

“Flavor?” Katsuki asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, I dunno, [Y/N] made it,” Eijirou throws you under the bus, just like that, and you want to scoff at the way Katsuki freezes—if only for a moment. Eijirou’s oblivious as ever, “[Y/N]?”

“It’s red velvet,” you say, trying not to burn under Katsuki’s carmine eyes. You don’t know why he doesn’t look away.

“Frosting?”

“Buttercream.”

As if you’d give him anything else.

Eijirou tries his best to cram 26 candles into the cake before being forced to opt for 23 lest he ruin your decorations. Denki presses him to make a wish and Katsuki rolls his eyes as he blows out the candles. Eijirou wipes an invisible tear because ‘his boy is getting so old.’ Mina and Jiro cut the cake and people seem to enjoy it, and you think that maybe, reuniting with your high school friends after so long isn’t as bad as you thought it’d be.

Even if he said he never wanted to see you again.

“—due to the incoming blizzard, we highly suggest all those who reside in the red and orange zones stay inside until it passes; which should be around ten am tomorrow morning.”

You spoke too soon.

Katsuki turns to the crowd, and you know what he’s going to say before his lip curls.

“Out.”

“Kacchan, don’t be unreasonable!” Izuku says from his comfortable position on the couch. “We’d get caught in the storm if we leave now.”

“Not if you’re fuckin’ fast enough,” Katsuki growls, pulling the greenette’s to his feet by his hair. “Get out, I’m not bunking with you fuckers overnight.”

“Dude,” Denki points to the window, and if you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought the blizzard had already started. “If we leave now, we’ll literally die.”

“Die, then.”

Eijirou sighs, clapping his roommate on the back. “C’mon, man. You know we ca—“

There’s a whirr then a click, and the lights and tv die at once. You can’t see a thing but you definitely hear Katsuki shout:

“Motherfucker!”

Eijirou turns his phone flashlight on first; Katsuki’s busy angrily flicking at the light to no avail. You sigh, turning to the ash-blond (and ignoring those ugly fucking butterflies in your stomach.)

“It’s a blackout Katsuki. The lights aren’t going to work.”

“Don’t you think I fuckin’ know that, dumbass?” And your chest tightens because even though he’s not eighteen anymore, he sounds the same—but you aren’t sure why you expected him to sound so different either.

You lift an eyebrow (not that he can see it), “It doesn’t look like you do.”

Denki snorts at that, hollering about how you just owned the ash-blond as Katsuki yells at him to shut the fuck up. It’s...familiar and comfortable, like you’re all in high school again, before you had to worry about your friends dying in their line of work because you couldn’t be there with them.

Before you got injured.

“Well I mean, we have a few blankets,” Eijirou offers, and as your eyes slowly adjust to the dark, you’re convinced you see his figure cross the living room. “And like, sweatshirts if it gets too cold.”

“It’s already getting too cold,” Mina says, and you can’t help but agree. The quickly cooling room has the goosebumps raising on your shoulders, and you’re starting to regret forgetting your jacket at home.

“Okay! I don’t have that many, but,” Eijirou hollers from somewhere, before returning with a handful of cloth. He drops it onto the coffee table. “Plus Hanta and Denks left their hoodies here last time.”

“Oh shit, we did?” Hanta says, and you assume it’s his figure who starts digging through the clothes. “Totally thought I lost this, lol.”

“Did you just saw lol out loud?”

“I did.”

“Ooh Ei, do you still have that old Red Riot hoodie?” Mina asks, and all of a sudden, she’s all over the pile. She finds it before the redhead can answer and snatches it away with a gasp.

You watch the pile dissolve in the darkness, one by one, and by the time you reach for something, your palm hits the cool wood of the coffee table. Fuck.

“Oh [Y/N]! Do you need some of my blanket?” Mina offers, but the blanket is small, and wrapping it around both of your shoulders just renders it utterly useless. You shake your head after she tries for a while.

“It’s fine Mina, I’m not that cold,” you laugh, but she shakes her head vehemently.

“No! Girl c’mon, you look like you’re freezing!”

And, well. Freezing is a stretch. Sure, you’re a little cold, but you’ll live.

“Do you need my sweatshirt?” Eijirou asks, already pulling at the hem. You roll your eyes.

“I’m serious guys, it’s not that bad,” you say, waving your arms for emphasis. They all grumble but they give up, and you feel like you can finally relax.

Something soft and army green drops into your lap. You pick it up in confusion, before looking up to see who dropped it.

Katsuki looks down at you, face glowing white from the phone flashlights. His eyes pierce your soul nevertheless.

“I don’t ne—“

“Take it.”

Katsuki takes a seat next to you on the couch in his own hoodie. You don’t realize until you put it on that he gave you a sweatshirt themed after his own hero costume.

You can’t sleep.

You can’t sleep, and you’re sure it’s due to the temperature. The wind howls and it sounds like you’re in the eye of a tornado, loose branches knocking against the rattling glass, and upon looking through the window, you see nothing but stark white. You sigh, checking the time on your phone for the fiftieth time this hour. Yep. Still four am.

“Stop fuckin’ movin’, dumbass.”

You all decided to bunk in the living room for warmth. You’re surprised Katsuki stayed, though; you figured he would just head to his room and let you all fend for yourselves while he slept in a comfortable bed. But here he is, sleeping next to you on the cold fucking floor.

“Sorry,” you say, but it’s hard when your shivering and your jaw aches from stunting your chattering teeth. Katsuki and Eijirou only had a limited amount of sleeping bags, meaning you’ve got to share a blanket with the hulking ash-blond.

“You cold?” He grunts. You don’t know why he’s asking.

“No.”

Katsuki sighs, and you hear him adjust, the blanket sliding from your neck to your shoulder. “You’re a shit liar.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows to glare his way, and you look to notice Katsuki’s laying the same way.

“What’s your point?”

Katsuki doesn’t answer for a moment, but it doesn’t seem like he’s looking for an answer, either—his neon red eyes glow through the dark and straight into your soul, and the next time you shiver, it isn’t because of the temperature.

“You’re stubborn.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing, “Thought you figured that out senior year.”

Katsuki’s face flashes with an emotion you can’t quite pinpoint before it’s gone again. “Yeah. You’d think almost dying would fuckin’ fix that.”

You sigh. Looks like you’re having this conversation now, then.

“I didn’t almost die—“

“Yes, you fuckin’ did,” Katsuki snarls, and Denki almost stirs at his raised tone. “You took that bullet and you didn’t get up for months—“

“And then I woke up and everything was fine! Seriously Katsuki, what’s your problem? I lived.”

“My problem is that you shouldn’t have been there in the goddamn first place!” Katsuki says through grit teeth. You watch his temple roll underneath his hairline. “That was my fuckin’ fight. I don’t need some chick jumping in front of a bullet for me just ‘cause she thinks I can’t take it!”

You scoff, looking around to see if any of your other sleeping friends are listening because get a load of this guy. Naturally, they don’t respond.

“That’s what this is about? Oh, well I’m sorry I bruised your dignity because I didn’t want to see you get fucking shot!”

Katsuki chest inflates with disbelief before it deflates again, and he’s rolling his eyes before he says, “That’s not—you fuckin’ know that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh really?” You laugh, and goddammit Katsuki, you just had to bring it up, didn’t you? “Because waking up after two months to your best friend telling you to give up doesn’t preserve your dignity at all, huh?”

“I didn’t tell you to fu—“

“You said those exact words, Katsuki. You said give up, and you left the hospital.”

The ash-blond has nothing to say to that, because he knows that you know you’re right, and trying to jedi mind trick you into believing he isn’t an asshole won’t work.

“Well you fuckin’ listened,” he grumbles, more to himself than you, but enough emotion flares in your core to make you want to scream.

“I didn’t have a choice,” you say, huffing, before turning your back to him, deeming this conversation over. “Good night, Katsuki.”

There’s a lull and it has you convinced you’ve won, finally relaxing (as much as you can) onto the cold floor. At least arguing heated your blood up a bit.

“The fuck do you mean?”

You roll your eyes even though they’re closed before you hop back onto your forearms to give the ash-blond a nasty look. “What?”

“You...said you didn’t have a choice,” Katsuki says, and it’s the first time you think you’ve heard him sound weary. Unsure. “The fuck does that mean?”

“It means I had to give up on being a hero either way.”

Which sucked. Because you had spent the past four years of your life working your ass off to save others, and you wind up out of commission before you even got started. You...suppose you didn’t tell Katsuki the whole story. Well, you hadn’t had a chance to—today’s the first time speaking with him since you woke up in the hospital.

Katsuki eyes you out of his peripheral, but only for a second. “And that means...?”

“It means that if I land on my spine the wrong way, there’s a high chance I’ll be paralyzed from the waist down.” You growl, frustrated that it was easier to coax the truth out of you than you thought.

The bullet buried close to your spinal column. You had to do PT for months, relearning how to walk as you slowly regain your motor functions. That’s when you started to bake.

“Oh.”

The howling of the wind turns from somewhat soothing to aggravating as Katsuki’s unimpressive “oh” hangs heavy in the air, and you find yourself sighing, the puzzle pieces finally clicking in your head. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Katsuki asks—he’s still not looking at you.

“Blaming yourself,” you gesture to his figure, which is lax with depression, lacking its sturdiness and usual fire. “You didn’t shoot the gun.”

Katsuki snorts at that, running a hand through his hair, “I might as well.”

“Stop.”

“You got shot because of me,” Katsuki says as if it were a fact. “They were trying to kill me. Not you.”

“And they didn’t kill me. I’m here and you’re here. If I hadn’t been there, you’d be six feet under right now,” you reason. Katsuki shrugs because he’s just as stubborn as you are, and you figure he’s been carrying around this baggage for too many years.

“Does your back hurt often?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I mean sure, I get flare-ups sometimes, but it’s not too bad. Doesn’t really get in the way of baking as long as the table is high enough.”

Katsuki thinks for a moment, teeth worrying his bottom lip. “Is the table high enough? At your café.”

You shrug, failing to see where he’s going with this. “I have a platform thingy, so. It’s mostly for decorating cakes and things—“

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

“What?”

“I’ll buy you a new table,” Katsuki says, nodding to himself as if he was confirming the idea. “A higher one.”

It takes a second for his offer to process, but once it does, you’re fighting a smile. Still the same kid. “Kats, I don’t nee—“

“An—And if you need a new chair. I’ll pay for that shit too.”

You shake your head—mainly in disbelief, “I don’t need a chair, Katsuki.”

“Then what?” He asks, and it almost sounds desperate with the speed he rushed the sentence, “Y’need a car? That hunk of junk you drive could use some work.”

You ignore the jab, because your car works perfectly fine thank you very much, and snort at the suggestion of such an outrageous purchase.

“What? You tryna be my sugar daddy or something?” You joke. Katsuki gives you a look, and it's dead serious.

“D’ya need one?”

“I—no!” You laugh, and have to remind yourself to reel it in before you actually wake Denki up. “I’m fine financially I just—what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothin’.” Katsuki quickly grumbles, facing forwards again. “I just...”

You raise an eyebrow, “You just..?”

“I dunno. I dunno,” Katsuki shakes his head. You let him gather his thoughts in silence before he tries again. He doesn’t.

“Then fuck me.”

In your defense, your mouth moved before you thought it through.

Katsuki has an unreadable look on his face, but his voice is anything but steady when he says, “What?”

Fuck. Fuck.

“U-Uh, I mean,” you recoil. Stupid big mouth. “I—you—don’t worry about it.”

“You said you wanted to fuck me,” Katsuki deadpans. You choke.

“I—no, that’s not—“

“That’s exactly what you said.”

“No, I meant as in I’m pent up. Obviously,” you defend with a huff, crossing your arms on the pillow as you glare daggers his way. Katsuki matches your stare.

“Not as pent up as a Pro Hero,” he scoffs, lifting an eyebrow. You take it as a challenge.

You click your tongue in faux pity, “Awe, the number two hero Dynamight doesn’t get laid?”

“No fuckin’ time,” he grunts, though you don’t find much remorse in his voice.

“Well, you have time now,” you say, completely unsure of where this confidence is coming from. Either way, you’ll take it and run.

“I do,” Katsuki confirms, leaning in closer. He’s close enough that you can smell what’s leftover of his cologne, and see the hint of a grin that makes his upper cheek shine silver in the moonlight. You find yourself leaning in just as much as he does.

“Wanna blow off some steam?” You dare to question. Katsuki’s grin only grows wider.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Katsuki’s kisses are surprisingly soft, you think, and so are his lips. But you don’t have much time to think about it as he pulls you in by the waist, quietly groaning into your mouth while he lays you down on your back.

“Always thought you were the prettiest fuckin’ thing,” he growls, trailing butterfly kisses down your neck. “‘M gonna make it up to you, yeah? Make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

A hand hikes his sweatshirt above your chest before Katsuki’s latching onto the skin under your collarbone and sucking, teeth digging into your skin hard enough to bruise.

“Y-Yeah, that’s fine,” you whimper, intoxicated by the way Katsuki’s lips flush pink as he pulls away, eyes locked on the fresh hickey on your chest. They flicker up to you; he grins.

“Good?”

“Mhm.”

Katsuki hums at that, licking his lips before diving back in. You hiss when he bites too hard, prompting him to bite harder, but he always soothes it over with his tongue, topping each bruise with a kiss. You flinch when his lips wrap around your nipple and he chuckles at your meek whimper; a hand removes its grip on the sweatshirt in favor of sliding it up your thigh.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Katsuki says once he pulls away, enjoying the sight of you writhing in anticipation. “And it’s all for me, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, ‘m all yours just—“ you kick a leg in frustration at the thumb playing with the hem of your panties, “—do something already.”

Katsuki raises an eyebrow, “Do what?”

You frown, huffing, “You know what.”

Katsuki shrugs, adjusting so he’s caging you to the floor. Ghosting a thumb over your panties, he says, “‘Course I do. You gotta ask nicely first.”

You tighten your hands into fists. He would.

“I’m no—“

“Beg, Princess,” Katsuki growls, his stare unwavering. He presses an inquisitive finger to your clit through your panties either as a promise or a threat—which, you’re not quite sure.

You crumble.

“I—fine, just—finger me.”

Katsuki doesn’t move. Asshole.

“Please.”

The ash-blond grins, finally pushing your panties to the side.

“Good girl.”

When Katsuki slides his first finger in, it’s much too easy, and you blame it on the foreplay. You shudder, hands moving to brace themselves on his big shoulders, and the ash-blond muffles a moan as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Another,” you moan, bucking your hips into his palm. Katsuki’s heated gaze flickers from your body to your face.

“Already?” He chuckles, the rasp in his throat giving his arousal away. You nod—he clicks his tongue.

“Fuckin’ dirty.”

Two fingers feel like so much more than just one, and they have your eyebrows folding in a poor attempt to muffle a whimper. Katsuki’s fingers still move tentatively but they’re getting comfortable, curling and searching for that place that’ll make you tremble. And then he finds it.

“F-Fuck,” your body jolts, and Katsuki’s shushing you against the pillows.

“Keep your mouth shut, Princess,” he purrs, head dipping down to nip at your neck. It adjusts the angle ever so slightly, but enough to make you hiss, and he chuckles. “Unless you wanna get caught.”

“Oh yeah, because that sounds fun right now,” you snort towards the ceiling. Katsuki pulls away with an unimpressed look as his thumb comes down over your clit.

“Can’t wait to fuck the brat outta ya. Maybe then you’ll actually shut up for once, huh?” Katsuki inserts a third finger without you asking him to, and you gasp, clawing at his back.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he laughs against your mouth lowly, as if the light kisses will do anything but make more noise, “Good God sweetheart, you’re really pent up, aren’t ya?”

“Shit—I doubt you’re much better,” you try, scoffing at what you can see of his painfully hard cock in his sweatpants. Katsuki looks down before sending a huff your way, with a cute little blush dusted on his cheeks.

“Shut the fuck up,” he grunts, pulling out his fingers. You whine at the loss. “How d’ya want me to fuck you?”

You need to take a step back from how crude the question is. Right, sex.

“Right um,” you look around, trying to find the least obvious position—and one that doesn’t make a shit ton of noise. Laying on your side, you tuck an arm under the pillow, before turning around to Katsuki to suggest, “Cuddle-fucking?”

“Cuddle-fucking.”

“Yep,” you say with finality, popping the p. Making big grabby hands his way, you say, “C’mere, big guy.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes but moves behind you anyways, warm arms easily finding themselves around your waist under the blanket. After a few adjustments and ensuring you're both fully covered, Katsuki’s hard cock presses against your entrance as he hooks his head over your chin with a huff.

“This is so not on fuckin’ brand.”

“I don’t think fucking in a living room with sleeping friends is on-brand for a pro hero or a baker,” you say casually. Katsuki breaks out into a snort, pressing his face deeper into your neck.

“God, I fuckin’ missed you, ya know that?” He chortles. Your chest blooms with something it hasn’t in years, and for the first time, you find that you don’t mind.

“Don’t be such a dick and maybe I’ll stick around this time,” you quip with a smile he can’t see. Though you feel his against the base of your neck.

“Noted.”

Katsuki’s last words hang in the air, unusually heavy, and your eyes catch the snow beating against the window with a less than angry howl. Katsuki’s chest shudders against your back but he doesn’t move, hands frozen at your waist.

“Hey, I thought you were gon—“

“I’m getting to it,” Katsuki snaps, and you gasp as he starts to push inside. “So fuckin’ impatient, goddamn.”

He pulls you down until he fills you completely, and you suppress the urge to shout at the speed he did it with. Katsuki moves a hand to slap over your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up.”

You reach around to pinch him in the side with a huff, he calls you a bitch. It’s a little hard to hear you behind his hand as you say, “Then don’t catch me off guard like that, asshole.”

Katsuki snaps his hips and does exactly what you tell him not to do—prompting another surprised whine out of you and a dark chuckle from the ash-blond. His cheek presses into your jaw as he finds leverage in hiking your lower half up until your puffy cunt is level with his cock, and fucking you until you drool all over the pillow.

“What a pretty fuckin’ thing,” Katsuki grunts, and you can tell he struggles to keep quiet in the way his chest sporadically shudders. You have to grip the pillow for some semblance of purchase and Katsuki chuckles at watching you struggle, before he’s hiking your leg up to fuck you that much deeper.

“I always—always knew you’d sound so good,” he pants, the grip around your mouth bordering on clammy. You want to tell him that if he keeps making so much noise he’ll wake up everyone in this fucking room, but there isn’t much time between moans to get more than a word in. “Fuck baby, keep tightening around me like that, and I might fuckin’ cum.”

You find it amusing how close he is so quickly, until two fingers land on your clit and start rubbing in slow, small circles. Your walls flutter around him and Katsuki digs his teeth into your neck with a curse, his grip around your raised thigh contracting as he tries to hold on for as long as he can.

And that’s when Denki starts to move.

First, he rolls to the left. Which would’ve been fine, seeing as it’s in the opposite direction until he bops Eijirou straight on the nose and promptly rouses the redhead from his slumber. Katsuki’s hips still.

“O-Ow, dick,” Eijirou curses under his breath, quickly scrambling to his forearms. It’s hard to tell through the darkness, mostly because you’re squinting your eyes to feign sleep, but it seems like Eijirou rubs under his nose, only to blink back at a bloody hand.

“...Shit.”

Katsuki’s hips shift, ever so slightly, but enough to nestle his cock deeper and force you to bite back a whine. And another. And then another.

You try your hardest to be discreet when you reach to pinch Katsuki in the side, and he breathes a laugh down your neck.

“What?” He whispers, though it's more than a rasp than anything else. Good to know you’re not the only one struggling to not cum, here.

“You know 'what,'” you quickly hiss. But Katsuki’s hips don’t stop as Eijirou weighs his options to cure his bloody nose in the dark. The fingers on your clit return their usual pressure and you inhale sharply, nails digging into Katsuki’s forearm as your orgasm begins creeping up on you.

Eijirou sniffles and gets up, stumbling through the darkness to turn down the hall that leads to the bedrooms. Katsuki sees that as fucking freedom and his hips really start to pick up so much speed that you struggle to breathe through it all.

“‘M gonna cum,” Katsuki whimpers into your neck, burying his face deeper in a poor attempt to stunt any sound. “Fuck, fuck ‘m gonna cum, you close baby?”

“Y-Yeah jus’ a little more,” you whimper, eyes rolling as Katsuki finds some inhumane energy in him to fuck faster. He nods at that and bites into your shoulder with a growl, “C’mon, fuckin’ cream all over my cock—atta girl, fuck, fuck—“

Katsuki fills you up the moment you clench around his cock with a sigh, the weight of your orgasm knocking you forehead-first into your pillow as you bite the urge to squeal. Katsuki doesn't growl as much as you expect, moans breathy and light as his hips finally stutter to a stop—but you suppose some things have to change over the years.

Katsuki collapses next to you in pure exhaustion and you’re sure that’s his cum leaking down your thigh, but for some reason, you don’t really mind.

“Hey you,” he speaks first, eyes blazing red in the darkness. You snort.

“Hey, you.”

Katsuki chuckles with a stupidly giddy smile on his face, "Y'know, you still fuck really well."

You drop your head on his chest to snort, and his hands find their rightful place around your waist.

"Better than high school?"

"Yeah..." Katsuki grumbles, before his eyes narrow. "Wait—hey, yo—"

"I haven't fucked anyone since," you snuff the fire before it even starts, and Katsuki relaxes, though his eyes stay slim. He pulls you closer and you sigh—it's comfortable.

"Good," he grunts. And then after a pregnant silence: "I haven't either."

That's...strangely reassuring.

Your arms wriggle until they fold over his shoulders to play with the small hairs on the back of his neck, and he hums, eyes fluttering shut with a final peck on the lips. As Katsuki's breathing evens and the white of the snow dyes the highest points of his face white, you smile. He looks older.

You think he's asleep until he nudges your waist.

"Be my girlfriend."

You don't even hesitate.

"Okay."

By the time Eijirou comes stumbling down the hall, both you and Katsuki are passed out—with his body encompassing yours in the most intimate way, face tucked into your hickey-ridden neck as your arms and legs lock around his being. The redhead gives you both a soft smile as he passes, snorting to himself.

“Took them long enough.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY THOTSUKI

#— 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 #bnha smut #bakugou smut #mha smut

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wormstacheangel · 3 years

Text

Suptober Day 1: Harvest

wc: 1.7k tags: fluff with the side of tiny case fic, established relationship, spoilers but cw they are drugged with cider,

It was a long hunt. One that they accepted as their last one, but, of course, they can never sit still enough not to take an easy local hunt. By local, he means a two-day trip away, but still, they saved a couple of old folks from a ghost, which was fun. Dean sure enjoyed getting thrown around until Cas finally burned the dentures.

Like he said, long hunt.

They stayed at a nice little Airbnb overnight. During breakfast, their waitress told them of the Harvest Festival a town over. Cas was still a little bruised up, but Dean convinced him to go, at least to try their famous apple cider.

“We’ll make a day of it! Just me and you.” With that, Cas agreed, taking Dean’s waiting hand across the table.

The festival was lively when they arrived in the afternoon, with more people than they expected considering the small town they were in but apparently when they say famous they meant it. The tents lined up with food from funnel cakes, donuts, chicken, and some pumpkin spice beer that Dean chugged down even though it tasted like shit.

They eventually ended up with bags filled with treats and souvenirs to take home to the kids--Sam and Eileen fall into the kids’ category. They each held a bag while Dean held Cas’ hand tight in his own, dragging him around from seller to seller, buying and tasting as he went.

“We should start heading home, or soon you’ll be too full to drive.” Cas teased as Dean finished off their bag of apple crisps. “You think we’re feeding an army.”

“Considering how Jack eats, we might as well be.”

“He gets that from you, you know.”

They continued their banter as they made their way out of the festival and to the parking lot.

Then they were stopped by a woman wearing a volunteer pumpkin shirt, “Aw, leaving so soon? Don’t ya wanna stay for the fireworks?”

That quickly took Dean’s attention, brightening up his whole face so much that once again, Cas couldn’t find it in himself to refuse. Instead, earning himself a small kiss on the cheek as a thank you before being was dragged to the car to drop off their items.

Once back in the festival, they walked around until another volunteer told them about the amazing view of the fireworks at the middle of the corn maze.

“It’s a small maze, but in the middle is a little hill. So it’s usually first-come, first-serve. But I haven’t heard of anyone taking it as of now.”

Once again, Dean was easily hooked in and took Cas along for the ride. Not that he was complaining. He enjoyed watching Dean get excited over small things, things he wouldn’t have permitted himself to get excited for before. Of course, it helped when Dean hooked his arm around Cas’s waist to tug him close, whispering, “Ever kissed someone in a corn maze, Cas?”

“You know I haven’t, Dean.”

That did it for Cas. A promise of a spectacular kiss that will put the fireworks to shame.

At the entrance of the maze stood a cider cart, and Cas made a beeline for it. “I at least wanna be warm if you are going to make me walk around in the cold.”

“On the house.” The saleswoman winked at them, and something uneasy passed through them, but they ignored it as she motioned them to go right on in that the fireworks should be starting soon.

They took their hot cider and walked right in, taking hold of their hands as they walked through the maze in comforting silence. Watching the sky above them change from orange and pinks to the dark night sky.

When the maze opened up to a clearing, Dean started to run—taking the small space on top. It was tall enough to see over the cornstalk and watch the lights twinkle from the festival up ahead. They could even see groups of people exiting the maze from their left, and for a second, Dean wondered why they didn’t run into anybody on their walkover. It looked like a lot of people were going through the maze, but nobody passed them.

That thought was quickly dismissed as the first firework lit up the sky, cheers from the crowd echoed the loud boom, and Dean felt secure with an arm hooking around his shoulders to bring him in closer. So they sat there watching the firework show and polishing off their now cold cider until Cas couldn’t wait another second.

Gently, he turned Dean’s face just enough so they could start the kiss slowly. The snap crackle pop of the fireworks above their heads just kept lighting up the fuse between them until Cas asked for them to find another place to spend the night.

“Should we go now?” Dean kissed down Cas’s jaw, feeling the hastily nods instead of seeing it. “Okay. Okay, let’s go.”

They both stood up and took one last look at the view before they got down. Turning left, where they were sure they saw the other folks exit from before. Every few steps, they pulled each other for another kiss-- smiling into them like giddy newlyweds--until they started to realize they’ve been walking for way too long.

The fireworks had long been over, and they soon realized it was their only source of light. It soon became so hard to see anything that they didn’t dare let go of each other’s hands. They tried to go back to the hill to see if maybe they could see the trail from there, but it was like it never existed in the first place.

“Fuck!” They turned the corner to find another dead-end. “Isn’t this shit for children!”

“You know we haven’t seen or heard anyone in a while. Not since-”

“We came in here. I know. I was thinking the same thing earlier when we were on the hill.”

“Why didn’t you say anything then?”

“Cause you stuck your tongue in my mouth and impending doom took a backseat.”

They started to run, calling out for help as they did, but it only felt like they were going in circles.

Then Dean yelled, “Hallelujah!” When a flashlight shined into their faces.

“There you two are. It’s time to go.” The old man sounded so relieved to find them. He didn’t look sinister. He didn’t even make it sound like they were gone for that long. “You two okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. We got lost, I guess.” Dean shrugged, watching as Cas stared ahead of him.

“Many people do. But they always find their way out, though.”

They followed the man out of the maze while Dean’s knuckles brushed alongside Cas’. They were listening to the man recite a memory when suddenly Cas tugged at Dean’s arm.

“Dean.” It was a shocking gasp.

“Cas?” Dean turned around to watch; Cas’s eyes rolled to the back of his head before dropping like a ragdoll. “Cas!”

And just like that, Cas was out to the world.

Dean fell to his knees to take Cas into his arms, but it was useless. He was heavy, and Dean’s body was starting to tingle, his muscles becoming weaker with every passing second.

“Don’t you worry about your little friend.” The man flashed his light on Dean’s face. Blinding him, but Dean kept glaring up at him. “Just like you, he won’t feel a thing.”

“What did you do to him?” He tried to growl, but it came out too breathless for it to be threatening.

“Same thing we did to you. Same thing we do every year to a couple of tourists.”

Dean could feel himself slipping out of consciousness, but he kept trying to shield Cas from whatever was coming.

“Don’t fight it, boy.” The man walked over to him, raising his flashlight high above his head. “Hate it when they struggle.”

And with a single hit, Dean was knocked out. Falling over Cas. Hoping that at least he gets killed first this time around.

Dean woke up again when he felt someone kicking his legs with little to no effort. His arms were numb, and he realized it was because they were pulled back and tied around some huge boulder.

“Dean?”

Dean recognized the voice and happily groaned out a complaint. “Hate small towns. Creeps. All of them.”

Cas chuckled in relief. “Glad you’re okay.”

Dean blinked a couple of times before his eyes focused, looking across from him to find Cas in the same position as him. Cas looked dirty, a few scratches on his face from being dragged, which made Dean furious—tugging at the ropes that hold him back from checking for any more injuries.

“Fuck! Shit! You okay? They hurt you?”

“Not as much as they did you.” Dean didn’t feel much pain besides the stretch on his shoulders and a raging headache. “I guess that’s not true. You have a swell on your head.”

“Yeah, well, I went down swinging. Unlike you.” Cas didn’t look amused, but he looked concerned. Dean followed his gaze, looking for an explanation or a way out. “I guess we’re either bait or dinner.”

“I’m used to being bait.”

“And I’m used to being dinner. Well, aren’t we a match made in heaven?” This time Cas glared, and weirdly enough, it made Dean relax a little. “Okay, so what’s the plan?”

The plan was simple, while Cas may not be a full-powered-up angel, he was still an angel. And he was stronger than an average human. So with a little more force, Cas had his arms free, rubbing his wrist while shrugging at Dean, “I always see humans do this.”

“Yeah, cause it hurts, so if you can just-” Dean motioned for his arms and Cas quickly reached to untie him. Then, when they were both free, they once again started to look around the empty cornfield. “I say leave now and call for backup; come back in the morning.”

“Considering we have no weapons, I think that would be for the best.”

“So much for date night.” Dean took Cas’s hand, and they quickly started to get themselves out of there. Running like maniacs as they pushed through the endless corn.

“I actually enjoyed myself today. You know, before the whole being drugged and left for dead part.”

“Really? That was my favorite part.” Dean joked, squeezing Cas’s hand as they made their way to safety. “You think all the stuff we bought was drugged?”

“Won’t stop me from having another donut.”

“Man, I love you.”

#suptober21 #wormstachewrites #fic #destiel #deancas #sorry its so late. work today was draining emotionally #established destiel #case fic

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jungwonenthusiast · 4 years

Text

I’ll Take You to Heaven

pairing: dom! Jeno x fem! reader

genre: smut

warnings: protected sex, oral (female recieving), degradation, Jeno has a small pain kink

word count: 2.9 k

A/N: in this fic jeno kinda just dives into being a dom without a conversation with the reader if they are okay with the things he’s doing. i know for most this is a given but do not do this in real life!! please make sure your partner is consenting to being a sub and genuinely wants to do everything. sorry just felt like saying that :)

The place is a little bit dark and there’s only a few people.

“I’m nervous.” you say, following him close behind.

“Don’t be, it’ll just be us.” He gets into the square and looks at you. “I’m gonna teach you how to fight in case anyone other than me pushes you over at the skatepark.”

“Other than you?” you eye him.

“Yup.” He says while wrapping white tape around his hands.

“And why do you get special privileges?” you cross your arms.

He stops. “Because we’ve been friends since the beginning of time?”

You giggle. “That’s reasonable.”

He grabs your hands and pulls you to be standing in front of him. “Alright now hold your fists up, guard your face.”

You do as he says.

“Good,” he nods and holds his hands up, palms facing you. “give me a punch.”

“Like hard?” you ask nervously.

“As hard as you can.” he says.

You give him a solid punch. You’re not afraid of hurting him, you guys used to fist fight all the time.

“Come on, harder.” he says.

You try again.

“Harder.” he says firmly.

You hit him as hard as possible and his hand flies back.

“Atta-girl.” He smiles at you. That makes you tingle a bit. You can feel your cheeks get hot. “Now keep going.”

“Oh my god,” you exhale maybe half an hour later. “I’m tired.”

“But we’ve only gotten started.” He shakes your shoulder.

“I’m tireddd.” You whine.

“Come one darling I know you’ve got a few more hits in you.” he says. Darling? Jeno has always been charming, but never so upfront like this.

“I’m confident that I don’t.” You start to sit down.

He grabs your hands to pull you up and he nearly does but you let gravity drag you down.

“Come on get up.” He tugs at you again.

“Nope.” You shake you head.

“Come onnn.” He grabs your ribcage, ready to pick you up.

You squeal. “No no no.”

He stops. “Get up then.”

You don’t move.

“You’re asking for this.” he says before sweeping you off the ground. Jesus he’s strong.

“Hey!” you’re both in a giggling fit. “Let fucking go!”

“You’re the one with your legs wrapped around me.” He says and you freeze, embarrassed.

You unravel from him and he puts you down.

“You ready to go again?” he says.

“I told you I’m tired dude.” You groan and start to sit down again. He’s about to grab you when you roll away from him.

“You’re so lazy man.” he scoffs and plops down next to you.

“I know, I’m not ashamed.” you cross your arms over your chest and shut your eyes, the dim lights glow orange behind your eyelids.

You hear him moving next to you, then you feel something on your shoulder. Your eyes fly open to get a peek, and it’s him, laying down next to you with his forehead pressed against you.

“I missed you,” he pulls away to look at you, his face is alarmingly close to yours. “Why are you always so busy with school?”

“Because I actually want to be successful.” you joke and he rolls his eyes.

“Hey now,” he says. Wow he’s handsome. You always knew that he was cute, but in the last few years he got all tall, his voice dropped, and his figure got insane. Sometimes you catch yourself staring at him a little too long whenever he comes over to swim. “I don’t want to go home. Can I stay at your place?” He overlaps your ankle with his.

“Yeah,” you agree. “You wanna go now?”

“Sure,” he leaps to his feet and holds a hand out for you. “I didn’t really get to teach you much though.”

You adjust your shirt. “We used to fight all the time, I think I have enough practice from that.”

“You were pretty good.” he picks up his backpack. “I’ll never forgive you for shoving that clump of dirt in my mouth.”

“You deserved it alright.” You follow him to the car.

“I did not!” he argues.

“Telling your best friend’s crush that she likes him is a perfect reason to get a clump of dirt in the mouth.” You hop in and buckle your seatbelt.

“I’ll get you back one day.”

Jeno drives with one hand. The other is always out the window or on the gear shift. You secretly wish his free hand was on your thigh though, and you’ve been thinking that for a couple of years now.

He plops down onto your bed as you put your purse down.

“Why are your covers so soft.” you turn to find him cuddling your duvet.

You laugh and get on the bed next to him. “Let’s watch Shameless.” you grab the remote connected to your Apple TV.

“Fionaa,” he ogles.

“She could be your mom.” you remark, only a little jealous.

“I love me a good milf.” he says, making you laugh.

Your room is dark a little chilly. You’re under the covers now and getting nervous whenever you feel his leg against yours.

Get it together, why are you being weird? This is normal. But is it?

“I don’t get why she’s with him,” he sneers. “I’m so much hotter than Jimmy, don’t you think?” he turns to you.

“I’m not answering that.” you look away and he pokes your side. “Hey!’

“Come on, I’m hotter than him no?” he persists, grabbing at your side.

You slap his hand away. “I’ll kill you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” he sits up and throws the blanket off of you. “I will tickle you.”

You get ready to run away but he grabs you before you get the chance. He throws you down, scratching lightly at your ribs and pinching your sides.

You try to be angry but you can’t help but laugh. “Stop stop stop!’ he doesn’t. “Truce!”

“I’m not stopping until you say I’m hotter than Jimmy!” he climbs onto of you, knees beside your hips. You’re laughing too hard to think about it though.

“Literally everyone is hotter than Jimmy!” You yelp. “Stop it now!”

“Not good enough!” He’s still going. You can feel your shirt starting to shimmy up.

“Fine, fine! You’re hotter than Jimmy!” You exhale when he stops.

“See how easy that was?” he smiles, still on top of you. His cheeky smile fades though, and soon you’re both sitting there in silence. Your shirt is hiked up high enough to see the bottom of your bra.

You’re trying to think of something to say when he leans down and kisses you. A long, soft kiss. His hands are warm on either side of your face.

You’re too shocked to move.

He pulls away quickly. “Shit, sorry. I-” he stops. “Sorry.

He’s about to get off when you grab him and crash your lips against his. He catches himself and melts into the kiss, his hand finding your bare waist.

You pull away from him, breathing embarrassing heavily.

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” he says softly.

You frown. “You’re so corny.”

He rolls his eyes. “You really have to ruin every moment huh?”

“This isn’t a moment,” you argue.

He cocks and eyebrow. “You sure? I’m on top of you and you’re half-naked.”

You tug your shirt back down. “I am not.” He pouts. “See, you just lost torso privileges.”

He groans. “So bossy.” then dips back down to kiss you.

You’ve made out with people before, but with him it just feels so different. Maybe it’s because you’ve wanted it for so long. He smells like Prada and his lips are like velvet.

He kisses hungrily. To be honest, most boys do, but it doesn’t feel like he’s starving, it feels like he’s savoring you.

He pulls away and goes for your neck, kissing you like you’re made of glass.

You slither your fingers underneath his hoodie. “Take it off.” you say and he complies, throwing the garment on your bedroom floor.

You flip him over onto his back, desperate to get a taste of his skin.

You trace every bone and every muscle on his stomach and place tender kisses everywhere you can reach.

He pulls you up, wanting another taste of your mouth. He grips your hips tight and pushes you down onto his hard on, earning a small gasp from you.

You can feel yourself getting worked up, that fire inside of you burning brighter than ever.

You grind down on him and he groans into your mouth.

“Fuck.” he whispers and wraps an arm around your waist and lays you on your back. He pushes your shirt up and plants kisses from your neck all the way to the band of your pants. He looks at you, asking for permission and you nod. He tugs your pants off and throws them to the side. Your knees fall together, trying to cover up.

“Hey.” he chuckles at you. “None of that.”

“I’m shy.” you whine.

He rolls his eyes. “Since when have you been shy?” He spreads your legs open and settles between your thighs.

He kisses the tender skin of your hips and inner thighs. Your heart is thumping in anticipation. His thumb skims over your clothed core and you shiver. He leans down again and you’re ready to feel something but all you get is a kiss on the edge of your underwear. You whine.

“What’s wrong?” he looks up at you.

You roll your eyes at him.

“You’re gonna have to tell me.” he comes up to kiss your neck. “Or I’m just gonna stay here,” he kisses your thigh “and kiss you until you’re begging for me.”

“When did you start to think it’s okay to tease me.” you huff at him.

He bites lightly at your soft skin and you flinch. “Come on,”

You want him so bad it nearly burns, but your ego is getting in the way.

“I know you need this,” he licks a stripe up your thigh, “you’ve been so stressed about school lately. I bet you haven’t gotten off in months.”

Your knees knock back together and he bumps them open. “Come on, when’s the last time you hooked up with someone?”

“Maybe-” you start.

“The last time where someone actually made you finish.” he cuts you off.

That makes you laugh. “December I think?”

His fingers are trailing up and down your clothed core. “That’s way too long ago, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” you exhale, trying your best to control your breathing. “So do something about it.”

“Only if you ask nicely.” he says.

You swallow your pride with a big gulp. “Please?”

He smirks. “Say it again.”

“Please?” you squirm.

“Please what?” he tugs at your underwear.

“Please… please eat me out.” you say softly and you see him smile.

“Your wish is my command.” he throws your leg over his shoulder and pulls your underwear to the side, like a fucking professional.

He gives you one long, gentle lick and you feel your body relax.

He kisses your thigh again before diving in and running his tongue over your clit in delicious circles. You tug at his hair and you let out a loud whine. You feel him moan against you and you let go of your grip.

“No, no, keep doing that,” he says and you give him a questioning look. “I like it.” he shines you a smile.

He goes back to tasting you and he’s so damn good at it that your eyes roll back. You haven’t felt this good in so long.

He runs his tongue over your clit over and over in waves and soon your legs are starting to tremble.

“Fuck,” you whisper and he smiles. Your thighs start to close but he pushes them up, keeping you spread and pretty for him.

You start to roll your hips onto his tongue and he moans.

You’re so, so close to seeing those stars behind your eyelids when he pulls away.

“The fuck was that for?” you complain and he laughs.

“Why? Were you about to cum?” he snickers. “Do I make you feel that good?”

“Yes,” you admit, “please keep going.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Please? Please I need it.” you beg and you watch his eyes change from teasing to deviant. He smiles and leans back down.

He’s sucking your clit when he slides one finger nice and slow into you. You gasp a little when he pushes up.

“So fucking wet.” he whispers and pushes in another.

He curls his fingers and you whine out loud.

“Fuck yes.” you say.

He turns to look at the mirror next to your bed. “Look at yourself.” he says.

“What?” you ask.

“You heard me,” he says, still pumping his fingers into you. “Look at yourself, I want you to see how good I make you feel.”

You almost cum just from hearing him say that. Since when was he likes this. This Jeno is so different from the Jeno you usually know, but this alter ego makes everything so much hotter.

You obey and look at yourself. Spread open and eager for him, taking his fingers as you should.

“Feel nice?” he comes up to give you a kiss, you can taste your juices on him, syrupy and cloying.

You nod and look into his eyes, he slaps your cheek lightly. “Keep your eyes on the mirror.” You listen and he starts to drive his fingers into you harder.

“Fuck!” you grab his wrist. “Don’t stop.”

He leans down again to get another taste of you when you start to shake.

You watch your face contort from all the pleasure when finally, you’re shot into the clouds and you’re touching the fucking moon.

Jeno kisses you again. You crave him so bad, you want him inside of you and not just because you know it’ll feel damn good, but because you want to be connected.

“Fuck me now.” you say softly.

“Really?” he asks, smiling. So bipolar. “Do you have a condom?”

You roll your eyes and reach over to your nightstand to dig through the drawer for a condom.

He tugs his sweats down and strokes his length before rolling the condom on.

He’s hard as a fucking rock and you point it out.

“I can’t help it. Nearly everything you do makes me hard, how do you expect me to react when you’re cumming on my face.” he says while gliding the tip over your pussy.

You hiss. “That feels good.”

“Yeah?” he kisses your neck. “How bad do you want me to fuck you?”

“Really really bad.” You look at him pathetically. “Please fuck me,” you say. “I want you to fill me up.”

He shakes his head and chuckles. “What a good slut. You were a brat for bit but look at you, already learning to be good for me.”

Your body is still zinging from the last orgasm and you nearly cry out when he pushes into you.

“Fuck,” he growls. He’s big, just the perfect amount of big to hit your g spot with every thrust.

“You feel so good.” you whine.

“I bet I do.” he says while fucking you agonizingly slow.

“Faster.” you plead.

“Only because you’ve been good.” he starts to pick up the pace and you grab at his back, digging your nails into the ridges of muscle.

He groans and bites softly at your neck.

How does this feel so fucking good? You think to yourself as the tip of his cock brushes against your spot.

He kisses your collarbone before pounding you, holding the headboard above you for leverage.

You curse loudly and hold onto him as tight as you can.

“Touch yourself.” he tells you and you do as you're told right away.

His cock fucking you deep and your fingers on your clit make your eyes roll back for the hundredth time of the night.

“Do you wanna cum?” he asks.

You nod, desperate for release. “Yes, please.”

“Good girl.” he smiles. “Go on then, cum on this cock.”

His words finally send you over the edge. You have to remind yourself to come back to Earth as you're floating in space.

“Fuck.” he groans into your neck. He takes his hand through his hair and kisses you. “You’re so pretty.”

You blush, then blush even more because you’re blushing just because he called you pretty after fucking you like a pornstar.

He slumps down next to you then pulls your body close to his so that you’re face to face.

“Was I okay?” he asks. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I was so rough.”

You giggle. “No it’s okay, I liked it. Is your back okay?”

He turns his head to try to get a look. “I don’t know,” he flips around to show you. “how does it look?”

Your eyes widen. “Holy shit.” You touch the streaks of red going from his shoulder blades to his lower back. “I’m so sorry.”

“Is it bad?” he laughs. “Take a picture, I wanna see.”

You reach at your nightstand for your phone and snap a picture.

“Don’t kill me.” you wince as you hand him your phone.

He takes it and laughs. “Holy fuck. Guess I was dicking you down good.” he smirks at you and you punch his arm. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think I was doing it that hard.” you say, a little embarrassed.

“Nah, I think it’s hot. I can’t wait to show Jaemin.”

You punch him again. “Don’t you dare. He’s gonna think I’m a fucking psycho!”

#nct #nct smut #jeno smut

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stuckwith-harry · 3 years

Text

cried out to you alone

“It becomes a part of who you are”, Harry says, some sort of clarity coming to him. “Death, I mean. Grief. It doesn’t have to swallow you whole, but there is a little bit of it in every part of you.”

Impossible, is the only thing Harry can stand to think. That there is still sunlight in the world after everything.

Still, it pours out over the Burrow’s kitchen table in bright, luminous yellow, warming the veined wood. Harry and the Weasleys watch it creep over the tabletop, sitting elbow-to-elbow. Molly and Arthur are touching shoulders and brushing through hair as they pass around steaming mugs of tea, as they pour milk and stir in spoonfuls of sugar, the bags under their eyes swollen and purple like figs.

When Harry tries to open his mouth, to offer help, Molly quickly shakes her head at him; pleading. Like she wouldn’t know what else to do with herself.

So Harry stays, cramped between George and Ginny, and lets her place her palm on his back as she places his tea in front of him. Through the open window, a sweet-smelling breeze comes pouring in, the smell of warm soil and flowers and summer rapidly approaching, which seems impossible, too.

Tomorrow morning, they’re going to get out of bed and make breakfast. They’re going to feed the chicken in the yard, do the dishes and read the newspaper. Still, the sun is going to come up.

For a moment, he catches Ron’s gaze; Ron, whose face is oddly contorted and whose eyes are glassy and bright red. Harry can’t bear the sight of it: he stares at the old mug in his hands, examining the faded red dots, hand-painted. Anything that soothes.

Poppies, he realises. On the inside, near a chip at the rim, he can make out the small letters spelling out Ottery St. Catchpole, and below that, half-drowning in sweet tea: Flea Market, 1988.

A memory, then. One he wasn’t a part of, but one he can envision, anyway, the bright red summer day, the bustling and shuffling of the little village, the shrieking of children, strawberry ice cream rapidly melting and dripping on bare knees; a younger, happier Ron –

The scraping of a chair yanks him back, as Ginny abruptly gets to her feet and walks out without a word. No one tries to stop her, and the small, pathetic sound of her bedroom door closing from atop the stairs sounds down to them as though she slammed it.

After that, only silence. No pots stir in the kitchen sink, no footsteps thunder from several floors above, and no chatter, no yelling, no laughter holds the walls of the house together. No explosions sound from the twins’ room.

Death is an awfully quiet affair.

One by one, as the stripes on the tabletop grow long and orange, the Weasleys crawl into their hiding places. Harry knows he’s intruding, so he wanders outside, following the soft clucking of the chicken pecking away at the dirt behind their wooden fence, the only things alive and making a sound.

The solitude is a relief: he has never wished to flee the walls of the Burrow so desperately, only stayed long enough to change out of the black funeral robes and into an old Quidditch jumper. Then he pushed Ron’s bedroom door open far enough to slip out and disappear, and mercifully, Ron didn’t try to stop him, either.

The jumper is Ron’s, technically. It feels like being held, Gryffindor red and worn and entirely too large for Harry. Somehow that only makes him feel worse.

The Weasleys did not hesitate to take him home with them after the battle, because that was their way. They put up the old camp bed in Ron’s violently orange bedroom like they always had, and Ron silently handed him a pile of hand-me-downs so Harry would have something to wear other than the clothes that still reeked of the tent, of sweat and of blood.

Harry props his elbows up on the weathered fence and buries his face in the soft sleeves, breathing deeply. For a while, he simply listens as the hens, who do not know or care about anything, cluck away happily, as the urge to slip under the invisibility cloak, to disappear and never make a sound again, keeps on rushing over him.

“Hi.”

His heart jumps painfully into his throat at the quiet greeting and the sound of footsteps on dry grass that preceded it, and when he turns around to face it, he’s looking at Ginny. She’s changed out of her black dress robes, too, back into worn-out denim dungarees and a striped t-shirt. Scarlet and yellow. Her hair has come out of the braid from earlier and falls wildly to her collarbones again, no longer to her belly button, like it used to.

“I couldn’t stand the silence anymore”, she says, voice oddly throaty.

Harry wants to say, you don’t have to explain, but before he can, she pushes out: “And then I was in my room and it was just as fucking quiet, and I just – I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

She looks older, Harry thinks wildly. He hasn’t let himself look at her, not really, doesn’t even know why, just that he’s been avoiding her most of all. Ever since May 2nd, the quiet between them has stretched and stretched over miles and oceans and continents of wasteland. Harry knows it’s his fault, that he should say something, but he has no words, no words at all.

The first morning after the battle, when he came stumbling into the common room and found her there, they just held each other, and he had no words then, either. There was sunlight there, too, he remembers suddenly, poking through the shattered windows and lighting up every particle of dust floating around the empty room.

“Can we go somewhere else?”, she asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Anywhere else?”

Harry nods, mouth dry. For a moment, her eyes seem to linger on him, but then she turns away without another word, and he follows her lead without question or objection. They don’t speak again until they reach the old broomshed, and Ginny suddenly turns to look at him again, face unreadable.

“Any chance you wanna go for a fly?”

“Wh-What?”

She shrugs. “Do you?”

It’s a strange time capsule, the shed. Ginny pushes the wooden door open and sends flurries of dust into the air, catching sunlight; Harry, who is standing behind her, catches a glimpse of Arthur’s old Muggle trinkets and the old brooms lined up against the wall. Ron and Ginny’s are closest to the door; the twins’ brooms are up on a shelf opposite the square window.

For a moment, Ginny is perfectly still, and Harry knows she is looking at them, too. Then she reaches for her broom and silently pushes past him. Harry grabs Ron’s and closes the door of the shed behind him, and together they wander away from the Burrow, over the hills that surround it, where wild poppies are peeking through the unkempt grass and weeds.

Harry thinks he knows where she’s going: their makeshift Quidditch pitch hidden between gnarly old trees from summers long lost, where they used to chuck apples and tennis balls at each other, during all those afternoons spent playing Quidditch two against two.

Tall, sweet-smelling yarrow brushes along their bare shins as they walk, and pink clover, the soft heads bending back to the earth under the weight of bumblebees passing by, thick dandelion leaves spread all across the ground amidst the weeds; and everywhere poppies, peeking through the tall grass, the paper-thin petals fluttering in the breeze.

Tucked behind another hill, Harry remembers, a few minutes on foot further north, is the lake where they whiled away happier summer afternoons than this. The image comes to his mind in bright, sunny colours, Ginny’s wide, toothy grin as she sneaks up on Ron, the thundering splash and Hermione’s piercing shriek, and Ron, emerging, spluttering and yelling, his sopping hair plastered to his face.

But that was centuries ago, and their full-bellied laughter seems miles and countries away already. Here, only silence. Harry wants to ask, are you okay?, or say, it’s going to be alright, but what good would it do?

The poppies are early: they’re not supposed to bloom for another month. There’s no end to them, no matter how far they walk, a sea of red stretching out all over the soft hills. Harry can’t tear his eyes away until the first beech trees they used to climb, black pines and yews throw cool shadows over their heads.

Strange, that it looks the same. The leaves up above their heads rustle softly as they mount their brooms, and Ginny shoots into the air, a quiet cannon. For the better part of an hour, they zoom in circles through the rapidly cooling air, chucking an old Quaffle back and forth at each other. Ginny’s throws are hard and unrelenting: they’re not keeping score, but she’s playing like it’s the last game of the season, like the House Cup depends on it, so Harry lets her exhaust herself. By the time they sink back to the ground, the sky over the meadow is dotted in shades of pink and red.

Ginny hits the ground with such force her knees buckle under the impact and hit the dry grass. Harry gasps, but she is already getting up again, brushing off the dirt without comment.

They find a spot at the outer edge of the pitch and slump into the tall grass with their backs leaning against an oak tree, where they can see the sunset falling on the soft hills and the Burrow in the distance, bright red like poppies. Ginny’s hands are uselessly holding her ribs, her warm eyes staring off into nothing.

“Feel any better?”, Harry asks after a while.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

She shifts next to him, tucking her scraped knees to her chest. They look like she’s spent all summer climbing trees and rolling down the grassy hills around the Burrow and crashing her broomstick into her brothers in a spectacular grab for the Quaffle.

“At least I feel a little less like I was buried with him”, she mutters.

I’m sorry, Harry wants to say, but that seems useless, too.

“I wanted to leave, too”, he says finally. “It was so quiet in there.”

“I hate it”, Ginny says softly. “It doesn’t feel anything like home when it’s like this.”

“I’m sorry”, he says despite himself, for what feels like the thousandth time since everything. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Ginny's brows furrow slightly, as if to say, yes, you should. “If you weren’t, I’d still be shut up in my room right now. Going mad, probably.”

After a short pause, she adds: “I wouldn’t know who to talk to.”

It strikes Harry like lightning: she was looking for him.

She looks over at him as though searching for something. Her brown eyes glow golden in the warm light, like honey, her whole face painted in reds and oranges and pinks.

“How do you do it?”, she asks finally, voice quiet, but steady, as the soft breeze continues to rush through the trees. “How do you lose everyone you’ve lost – and go on living? How do you live with the dead?”

Harry looks at her, the way she sits cross-legged and hunched over in the grass next to him, arms hugged to herself, and it sinks in, what she’s searching for, what she’s asking of him.

“It’s not the same”, he says softly.

She scoffs quietly. “How is that not the same?”

Harry looks around their hiding place. Maybe it’s the creaking of old branches around them, almost a murmur, the smell of the trees, that brings them back: his parents in the Forbidden Forest, walking towards him, Sirius’ bright grin, Dumbledore at King’s Cross Station.

The thought of them cuts through him, every beat of his heart sharp and stinging as they remain dead and he does not.

“Your speech”, he says finally, and watches her jaw clench. “I couldn’t have said anything like that about my parents – or Sirius …”

“I can’t believe I wrote him a fucking eulogy”, Ginny mutters, staring at the weeds to her feet, the patches of moss creeping across the earth under the wild, entangled grass. “It makes it feel so fucking final.”

“You did really well”, Harry says. “It was beautiful.”

She merely shrugs, and he doesn’t blame her.

“I’m glad I got to say something, I think”, she says after another stretch of silence. “But, Merlin, he was walking and talking and making jokes just a week ago, and now he’s six feet underground and I’ve written a double-sided page on how sorely he’ll be missed.”

She wipes her nose on the back of her sleeve.

“Up until today, I really thought he might jump up and laugh it off and make fun of us for falling for it.”

You made it feel like that today, he wants to say, but doesn’t.

“I’m so sorry, Ginny.”

She read it out with a completely steady voice, both fists clutching the slip of paper in her hand. She did not bother to find a silver lining this time, or to look for meaning at all; but every word seemed to bring Fred back to life a little, even earning a few teary chuckles from the other Weasleys. Every anecdote and every prank she recounted was a testament to the fact that Fred Weasley had been alive, that he had mattered, that he had left an impact on her, on all of them.

“You know my Mum had brothers”, Ginny says suddenly, looking over at Harry’s hands. “Fabian and Gideon Prewett.”

She points, and Harry realises what she’s really looking at: Fabian Prewett’s battered old watch on his arm.

“They died in the first war. Bill, Charlie and Percy say they remember them a little, but the rest of us just grew up hearing stories.”

She picks at the shallow wound on her knee, where droplets of bright red blood have pushed to the surface through the cracks in her freckled skin. “It’s why Fred and George are named after them. A little bit, anyway – you know, Fred and George … Fabian and Gideon … Mum was pregnant when they died.”

Harry swallows. “I didn’t know.”

Ginny smiles sadly. “I liked the idea that they got to live on in the twins a little. I never thought to ask Fred and George how they felt about it, actually. I can’t imagine … how Mum feels.”

Harry watches her wrap her arms around her legs, watches the strawberry blond hairs on her shins stand on end as the air cools around them. She looks tired, but her eyes are dry.

“I never made that connection”, he says softly.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you”, she says. “It seemed important.”

Even over the rustling of the trees, the chirping and creaking all around them, he can hear her clearly, her voice steady, unwavering.

“Do you miss him?”

“Yes.”

She looks around at him. “Do you not miss your parents?”

“I don’t know how”, Harry mutters. “Your speech … it was full of memories.”

She doesn’t respond, understanding silently. Then: “What about Sirius?”

Harry shrugs. “He never really got to be my godfather, did he? Not the way he was supposed to, anyway … there wasn’t time. And I don’t remember when my parents were alive – I’ve never known anything else.”

He looks at her, the way she’s quietly watching. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you were hoping to hear.”

Ginny dismisses it with a half-hearted gesture, lost in thoughts somewhere else.

“Do you think grieving someone is the same thing as missing them, then?”

“No … do you?”

She seems to consider it for a moment, then shakes her head.

“I just – I just want to talk to him and tell him what’s going on, and I think about how long it’s been since I’ve talked to him and how much I wish he were here and how I’m not gonna get to talk to him –”

She pauses mid-sentence, as though looking for words, and doesn’t find any.

“And then I think about the fact that he’s dead. That his life is over. And that I helped bury him today. And they’re both – awful, but it’s different, I guess.”

Harry nods, more to himself than to Ginny this time.

“And now, I just – I need to know what to do. So it doesn’t swallow me whole.”

Harry is still watching them walk towards him before his inner eye, his parents in the Forbidden Forest, his mother’s hungry face.

“I forget, sometimes”, he says. “For a moment, I think I forget they’re gone. Or I’m – I don’t know, distracted, and I’m not thinking about it – it slips away, and then it hits me again.”

Ginny’s teeth dig into her bottom lip. “I … honestly can’t fathom it right now.”

Harry looks over at her, the way she sits next to him, curled into herself, her hands still uselessly holding her ribs. Like it is physically hurting her.

“I dunno. Maybe forgetting is the wrong word. But when it happens, it always feels like it’s happening to someone else, like I am someone else.”

Ginny watches him intently as he stumbles to the end of his sentence: it feels pathetic already, having said it out loud like that.

“Like you are who you would’ve been if they hadn’t died?”, she asks, in that quietly remarkable way of hers, where she doesn’t treat him like something delicate, but she doesn’t ask for more than he can give, either.

“Yeah, I reckon. But I don’t recognise him at all.”

Ginny hums in understanding. She leans back against the bark of the tree and pulls her knees to herself again. “You would’ve been happier, anyway.”

Harry turns away at that, suddenly not trusting himself to speak.

“I know it doesn’t make sense or anything –”

“No, it does, Harry.”

“I mean, I know they couldn’t have lived. Everything would have to be different. We probably wouldn’t be here.”

Ginny sits in silence for a while.

“Do you ever wonder?”, she asks finally. “What you would’ve been like?”

“I guess … more like them. In ways I can recognise, anyway.”

He gestures helplessly at nothing, and Ginny takes that as a sign to push no further.

“I don’t recognise Ginny a week ago, either”, he hears her say, and the muffled sound of her voice tells him she’s wiping her nose on her sleeve again. “Every time something terrible happened, I guess I didn’t. It’s like remembering an old friend. One whose address you lost or something.”

“Cheery”, Ginny says in a hollow voice.

“It gets less all-consuming”, he says softly.

“Good”, she mutters. “Right now it’s pretty fucking all-consuming. It’s there when I wake up in the morning, and it’s – in my tea, and on all my clothes, and it’s in everyone I talk to and everything I say.”

Harry stares at the sky overhead, the red rapidly paling. Still, there is that whispering in the treetops, the feeling of being transported back into the Forbidden Forest. Still, his parents, reaching out for him.

“I’m sorry”, he says truthfully. “That’s all I’ve got.”

Ginny shakes her head. “It’s all I needed.”

He watches her tug at a poppy near her feet, struck by how long he’s managed to stay away from her, when her company is so comforting. The resolution comes to him all on its own, that he’s going to tell her everything. The Forbidden Forest. King’s Cross Station.

“Do you want to head back yet?”

Ginny looks at him, and she seems calmer somehow. For the first time since they got here, she doesn’t seem to be searching for anything – just looking.

“In a little while”, she says.

Harry looks back at her, really looks at her, and for a long time, neither of them speak, having arrived at some quiet understanding. Still, there’s a murmur in the trees around them, but they pay it no mind, and they don’t turn to look.

#i never posted it in obnoxious long text post form so :-)#here we are.#hinny #hp #fanfiction #cried out

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sunjaesol · 4 years

Text

because your kiss is on my list

alternatively: four times juke snuck up on each other for affection and the one time they didn’t have to | based on the achingly beautiful fanart by @lovelyrugbee

Luke was being manic again. And not in a cute: “Oh my God, he’s so passionate about music!”-way, but in a: “He might actually tear his eyes out from these infuriating lyrics that aren’t working”-way. Every once in a while, songs didn’t flow out as easily as they usually did. The topic was a bit trickier, or the instrumentals didn’t mesh, or something was just off. Julie wasn’t too stressed about it. They had plenty of time to rework and fix things before the gig in two weeks.

Unfortunately, Luke didn’t have the same mindset.

He has been holed up in the studio all day, cramped on the windowsill to the point of submitting himself to a hernia and scrapping writing scrapping scrapping scrapping. The sound was infuriating, Alex being the first to poof out and Reggie following soon after when Ray became far more interesting than a guitarist going haywire. Which was sad, cause her dad was just unloading groceries.

Alright. She had to do something. Standing at the doors of studio with a somewhat amused expression, she took in as her boyfriend was oblivious to the world and her. In any other situation, he’d notice and compliment the orange dress she was wearing. She thought about calling his name, maybe singing or jamming her fingers on the piano, but then a better idea came. A fun one.

Quietly slipping closer, a mischievous grin crawled on her lips. Thank God she was barefoot, or else her sneakers would’ve squeaked against the cement floors. He still hasn’t noticed her, the pinch between his brow so deep and lost in thought.

Three, two, one...

“Ah!”, she cried out like a warrior, snapping her arms around him from behind and snatching the damned songbook from his grasp. Before he could react, she smacked a wet kiss on his cheek and added a “Mwah!” for good measure.

The startled Luke began chuckling, trying to get his book back, her peppering more kisses on his cheek in retaliation. He had to get out of this funk! Breathe a little! Turning his cheek to look at her, he smirked. “Sneaking kisses now, Jules?”

Julie hummed against his skin, eyes sparkling. Whispering in his ear, she said: “Stop breaking your head over these lyrics and relax. We have time.”

His smile softened, gaze tracking the way she hugged him and then- “I like the dress you’re wearing.”

Ah, yes. There he was.

Julie Molina truly made the afterlife less boring and a whole lot more bearable. Which became really apparent whenever she had an avalanche of homework and couldn’t hang out. Luke loved his boys, but damn did he miss his girlfriend a lot now. If the situation were different (you know, had he not been head over heels in love with her), he’d poof up to her room and annoy her until she came to the studio. Alas, he respected his girlfriend and her interest in getting good grades, so he had to deal with it.

Bleh. “Dealing with it” was like a curse word to him.

He hasn’t seen her all day though. She left early for school and didn’t pass by the studio when she got back. All he needed was a quick look and talk and maybe a hug and then he wouldn’t be so antsy.

(What he’d give to wrestle her into cuddling right now. He was honestly blessed he found a girl who saw all of his need for affection and then gladly gave triple the amount.)

Yup. Screw homework. He had to see her. Without telling the boys, he stood up with a huff and poofed out. The offended “hey!” from Alex he ignored.

Dropping into Julie’s room, a smile instantly bloomed on his face at the sight of her. She was on her bed, textbooks and notes splayed out in front of her while her curls danced with each breath she took. Even when tired, his girlfriend was pretty as hell.

“Hey,” he grinned.

She didn’t look up and mumbled: “Hey.” A page turned. “What’re you doing here?”

Luke sat down on the edge of her bed, far enough so her pens wouldn’t roll away. “Haven’t seen you today. I missed you.”

This time she did look up, her weary eyes softening and smiling. “I missed you too. I have homework though, so...” The implication was there: please leave so I can finish. His hope for a hug quickly dwindled.

“Yeah,” he muttered, not ready to go back and get slapped by Alex. “Uh...” His eyes fell on her right hand, slightly more outstretched then the other. It just... laid there. Teasing him. Freaking tantalising him when he knew how good it felt whenever those fingers brushed his cheeks or raked his hair.

It happened before he thought about it. Crawling onto the mattress, he snatched her hand and pressed soft kisses on the knuckles. Julie caught his gaze again, that smile he loved so much melting into an adoring puff - like she couldn’t believe this idiot was her boyfriend.

He didn’t mind being her idiot.

Sometimes, Julie was just that more adorable. Like now, with her hair spread around her shoulders and that small smile stuck on her lips and her eyes that seemed impossibly soft today. All for him, only for him.

Sure, it was probably because they were working on one of their personal songs, but the fact remained that his girlfriend still left him rendered speechless months into dating.

“What if we try it in a lower key?”, Julie proposed, nodding at his guitar.

The song in question was a song about them. It wasn’t so lovey-dovey that it would turn the guys off, but it was still blatant. Only they would write about ‘the sea glass green of his eyes’ and ‘the smile that put Mona Lisa to shame’.

He did what she asked, her singing the same verse again. It held more depth now, soulful and lively. The rasp in her tone made it playful and egged him on to join, like it was truly banter between lovers put to music. It was them. It was her. It was-

Luke abruptly stopped playing, pushed his guitar aside and grabbed onto her. She hardly had time to chuckle as he pressed his lips onto her forehead and held her as tight as possible. Warmth filled his chest, that strange sensation of being loved and loving back twice as hard, as she clutched his body. He almost got choked up. Here he was, in the sundrenched studio with the girl he adored playing the music they created together and she was singing it in such a quintessentially ‘them’ way. No one but them would ever truly understand the magic they conjured. How it was only explained through grins melting on skin and the giddy skip in his heartbeat.

“What’s that for?”, she smiled.

His hand trailed from her back to her cheeks with an elated shrug. How could he explain to her her ‘Julie-ness’ was dialled up to two hundred without sounding insane? Caressing the skin, he murmured instead: “I guess you’re just irresistible today.”

Her eyes squeezed shut at his words, like she was embarrassed how much delight it brought her, and pressed her face back in his shoulder.

Letting that giddy skip in his chest kiss her again, he gently pulled away to sent her a wink. “Let’s finish ‘Wicked Love’, yeah?”

“So, Flynn’s been thinking-”

“Mh-hm.”

“-about a new poster for the gig we’re playing. The old one is a little amateur and she made some new concepts. Wanna see?” Julie held her phone at his face, his hand leaving the strings of his guitar to gently push it back. Falling back on the bed, she frowned.

“Maybe later, I’m figuring out this progression...” His back bend over his guitar again, only giving her a view of the black muscle tee.

When Luke told her he wanted to hang out that Saturday afternoon, she had hoped it would be a bit more ‘Julie and Luke’ and not ‘Luke and His Guitar’ - alas, the girlfriend was competing with a piece of wood and some metal. While texting Flynn about graphic design was fun, it was time for Luke to start doing what he promised her.

Then again, she was a sucker for music talk. “Why don’t you try switching up the chords? Start with G instead of C.”

He tried it out, a grin crawling on his cheeks. “Yeah... yeah, that works. Thanks, Jules.”

“So?”, she sang.

“Hm?”

With a sigh, she grabbed onto the strap of his guitar and gave it a tug. Luke’s neck rolled backwards in surprise, catching her playful smile.

Chastely pecking his forehead, she said: “Your head is in the clouds.”

The teasing look of his matched hers. “You’re kissing my head right now.”

“Mh-hm,” she mumbled, loving the way his hair had that perpetual scent of apple and something inherently Luke. Kissing the locks, she added: “And you’ll be getting a lot more if you actually start hanging out with me.”

His book and instrument slid off his body just like that as he speared her into hug. Luke collapsed onto her body with the cutest grin and she knew she caught him. Their laughs chimed throughout the house for the rest of the day.

+5.

Luke poofed onto her bed with a grin, his girlfriend automatically snuggling into his side and finding each other’s lips with ease. For a beat, they’re cherished the quiet passion shared between them. They didn’t need to do a lot to feel loved by the other.

He pressed his nose into her curls. “How was school?”

“Good,” Julie whispered against his neck. “How was the studio?”

“Chill. Reggie scared a spider.”

She giggled, the sound making his grin widen and hide his face so she wouldn’t see how ridiculously giddy she made him. Turning her head so she’d see him anyway, her nose scrunched. “I know you’re smiling.”

“That’s my line, Molina,” he huffed, the teasing glint shimmering in his eyes.

A signature brow quirked. “You got that on paper?”

He didn’t miss a second. “I love you.” He didn’t need to ponder or linger or rewrite or scrap or workshop the thought. It wasn’t even a thought. It was a truth and he’d repeat that truth over and over again until the universe knew it too and kept it in their books for centuries to come. He loved her, he loved her, he loved her.

The smile that came was worth the truth, how her love for him broke through without a moment of hesitation. Now she’d say the same, over and over and over again, so the universe knew they were talking about each other and would always keep their names together in said books.

Julie kissed him again, long and sweet and as easy as breathing. Her utters were barely audible, but his heart caught it. “I love you too.”

Locked in their embrace, they shared earphones listening to their favourite music until they fell asleep. (How Luke could fall asleep, but only when in her loving touch, he wouldn’t question. Some oddities of the universe were best unsaid.)

@blush-and-books @unsaid-emily @bluefirewrites @willexx @ourstarscollided @alexjulies

#its after midnight so excuse if its a jumble #ophelia? using metaphysical similes? why of course its the libra in me #juke #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfiction #otp: i think we make each other better

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boxesandrings · 3 years

Note

For the fic request

Shane x F! farmer pls they want to tell jas and Marie about them dating. and their going to to do it at a dinner at marnies ranch.

Hi! I finally wrote this piece and had a lot of fun with it! It took me a while because I had a lot of ideas about how this could go, and wanted it to be fun! I hope you enjoy!

Title: The Set Up

Rating: G

Summary: Shane and the Farmer have been seeing each other for a few months, and want to tell Shane's family over dinner. Marnie, who's unaware of what's been going on, has a different plan for the couple.

Characters: Shane, F!Farmer, Jas, Marnie

Word Count: 3141

Story under the cut, and also on my AO3!

Shane had just finished buttoning up his shirt when he heard Jas yell and slam the door. He ran out of his bedroom, head swiveling as he searched for her, afraid she had fallen or gotten hurt somehow. He listened for her sobs, but sighed a breath of relief when he heard her excitedly talking to someone outside of the ranch. He checked his watch— 4:45. Marnie must be home. He headed towards the door, determined to rescue his aunt from the excited 7-year-old, who had been just a little too excited about dinner with the Farmer tonight.

Jas and Marnie liked the Farmer, quite a bit, which Shane was incredibly grateful for. He and the Farmer had also gotten incredibly close over the past year and a half, something that Marnie had wholeheartedly approved of, as the Farmer had somehow pulled Shane out of his depression, sobered him up and set him on the right path again.

What Marnie hadn’t realized was that two months ago, Shane and the Farmer had spent the day in Zuzu city exploring, watching the Tunnelers and taking tours, exchanging quiet confessions and kissing in every darkened alleyway they passed. They had been dating since but hadn’t told anyone yet, afraid of the newness of the relationship. The pair had finally decided to tell Marnie and Jas about them, and when Marnie had invited the Farmer over for dinner last week, they decided that it was the perfect time.

Shane got to the door and opened it, taking a step out into the brisk fall air. He was surprised to find that instead of Marnie, Jas was excitedly trying to jump on the Farmer, rapidly asking questions and attempting to pull things out of the brown paper bag the Farmer had brought with her. The Farmer was laughing, spinning in circles so that Jas couldn’t reach inside of the bag, carefully holding a wrapped package and some kind of bottle under her arm, answering the few questions that she could.

“Jas, get off of her.” The Farmer looked up, noticing Shane for the first time. She smiled, and Shane noticed her cheeks grow pink as she quickly scanned his body and felt his own grow warm.

“I like that, your shirt. You look nice today.” The Farmer readjusted the items she held, shrugging her arm so that the bag made its way back to her shoulder, her hands holding the package tighter. Shane bit his lip— she was wearing some kind of black, sleeveless dress, made seasonally appropriate by a dark, rich orange turtleneck underneath. She looked beautiful.

“You’re early,” is what he said instead, but he could tell by the Farmer’s curling lips and mischievous look that she might have guessed what he had truly been thinking.

“Marnie told me 5?” Shane shook his head.

“Oh, I thought-- Maybe I misheard.” Shane motioned to Jas. “Come on, let’s let her in the door.”

Jas groaned but walked over to Shane, reaching up to take his hand as he led her back into the house. The Farmer followed behind, setting everything as carefully down on the kitchen table as she could. She began to unwrap the package she had been carrying, taking Jas’ attention once again.

“What are you carrying? What did you bring?” Jas was gripping the edge of the table, jumping up and down hoping for a better view. The Farmer smiled as she worked.

“Your Aunt asked me to bring a pumpkin pie, and I figured I’d bring some apple cider too!” Jas ‘ooh’d’ as the pie was finally revealed, but her attention quickly turned to the bag as she grabbed at its edge.

“And in here?” The Farmer laughed and took the bag away, lifting it to her own face and taking a look inside.

“Well, it’s mostly just a bunch of stuff like vegetables that I thought you guys might like, but I think I did have something for you…” The Farmer reached into the bag and pretended to dig around, tongue sticking out as she looked up at the ceiling. Jas was beside herself with excitement, but Shane rolled his eyes, trying to hide his smile.

She was so sweet with Jas. He had never said anything to the Farmer about it, even before they were dating, but he could tell the Farmer understood that Jas was always going to be the most important thing to him. Jas’ parents were dead and Shane was incredibly protective of her, helping raise and take care of the girl with his aunt.

The Farmer finally pulled out a deep purple flower and Jas gasped, carefully accepting it as she stared at the petals. The Farmer crouched down to Jas’ level, watching the girl’s face.

“Do you like it? Shane told me they were your favorite.” Jas nodded, turning the flower in her hand.

“Yes! Thank you!” She gave the Farmer a hug, wrapping her arms around the woman’s neck. She pulled away, smiling, then turned around to face Shane. “Look!”

“I see! How cool!” He took a step forward and picked Jas up, resting her on his hip. She was getting big, he wouldn’t be able to do this for much longer. He looked at her face, where something blue and sticky was on it. “Dude, what’s all over you?” He tried to rub a thumb against her face, but the gunk didn’t budge.

“We made slime at school today! It’s in my room, do you wanna see?” He set Jas down.

“Later tonight, sure! But I think we’re going to eat really soon, why don’t you put your flower in your room and clean up?” Jas nodded and sped off, closing the door to her bedroom behind her.

Shane looked at the Farmer, who had stood up and was now leaning against the table. She smiled when their eyes met.

“Hi.” Her voice was quiet, and Shane smiled now and walked closer to her, their bodies only inches apart.

“Hi.” She wrapped her arms up around his shoulders, their bodies now pressed together. He had his arms wrapped around her back. “Did you bring anything for me?” The Farmer pressed her lips together, an over exaggerated thinking look on her face.

“Hmmm… nope?” She looked back up at him, their faces getting closer. Shane heard the faucet in Jas’ bathroom turn on.

“Oh, but I had something for you.” His forehead pressed against hers.

“Yeah? What is it?” Shane kissed the Famer, their lips finally meeting as he held her. He could kiss her forever, but pulled away after a few seconds. They hadn’t told his family yet. “You look nice today.”

The Farmer giggled, pressing her face into Shane’s shoulder. He heard a muffled ‘thanks’ from his shoulder, and had been preparing something else, some other compliment when he heard the oven timer go off. He took a sudden step back and made his way toward the oven, the Farmer swaying forward and letting out a small ‘ah!’ as he did.

“Sorry! Chicken’s done. I think.” He grabbed a pair of oven mitts and put them on, reaching for the oven door. He heard the Farmer grab something behind him and make her way toward the fridge, opening the door.

“I’m gonna put the pie and the whipped cream I made in here.” Shane pulled the chicken out. Did it look right? He hoped he followed the recipe right. Where was the meat thermometer, he better check.

“Wait, the pie in the fridge? Aren’t they supposed to be warm?” He opened a drawer, searching for the utensil.

“Maybe? My family always put the pumpkin ones in the fridge at least. I like them cold.” Shane found the thermometer and stuck it in the chicken and sucked in through his teeth.

“Geeze, I don’t know if we’re gonna work.” He looked over at the Farmer and smiled, who in turn stuck her tongue out through her teeth and scrunched her nose. He turned his attention back to the bird— the temperature was good.

The Farmer made her way to a cabinet, searching for utensils to lay out. “That smells really good.” Shane smiled.

“Thanks, I just showered.” He heard her snort behind him, and the rattling of the forks in her hands.

“Hardy-har-har. I meant the chicken.” Shane nodded, taking off his oven mitts and heading toward the refrigerator, where Marnie had put the salad she made earlier.

“Thanks. I’ve never made it before so I hope it’s alright?” He put the salad in the middle of the table, then took half the utensils from his girlfriend and started on the other side of the table. “It’s Marnie’s recipe, so if it’s gross we can just blame her.” The two were now standing on the same side of the large circular table, and when they bumped into each other made eye contact and smiled.

“My ears are burning, someone must be talking about me!” Marnie sang as she walked into the kitchen, setting her purse down on the counter. Her eyes were flicking back and forth between the couple, a large smile on her face. Shane scooched away from the Farmer awkwardly, but the Farmer didn’t flinch, instead walking toward Marnie with her arms outstretched.

“Marnie! Thank you for inviting me over today. It’s been so busy this season, so it’s nice to take a break and actually eat a proper meal.” She gave Marnie a hug, but wasn’t prepared for the force of Marnie’s hug back.

“Of course! You’re always welcome here.” Marnie finally let the Farmer go, scanning over the other woman’s outfit. Marnie turned to Shane, obviously about to say something, but paused as she took Shane in with an approving look in her eye.

“Well, that’s quite a nice shirt.” She nodded at him, but Shane scrunched his face.

“It’s a shirt! I can wear nice shirts sometimes. Why is everyone bringing up the shirt?” He moved toward the hallway door. “I’m going to get Jas, she was washing some… weird… goo off of herself.”

Shane made his way to Jas’ room, the chattering of the women behind him still audible. Marnie’s loud and warm laughter, the Farmer’s sweet giggles. He knocked on Jas’ door and waited for her response, opening when he heard her tiny voice.

Jas was at her little desk, coloring a picture when Shane walked in. He saw the Farmer’s flower in a large cup by Jas’ bed, water practically up to the bloom. He’d have to pour some out later, but admired Jas’ efforts.

“Dinner’s ready, kiddo.” Jas looked up at him, smiling.

“Do you like it? I’m drawing the flower.” Shane nodded, admiring the purple and blue image on the table.

“It’s very pretty.” Jas smiled, and set her crayons down. “Now let’s go eat!” Jas didn’t move.

“But Aunt Marnie told me to give the adults some space tonight.” Shane cocked his head.

“What?”

“Yeah, she said before she got home to let you talk with your friend for a bit.” She smiled at Shane, so proud that she had followed her Aunt’s instructions so perfectly. Shane felt even more confused.

“Well,” he said, shaking the feeling off, “now I’m saying to come eat dinner with us. Let’s go.” Jas hopped up, running out of the room.

In the hallway, Shane and Jas ran into the Farmer on her tiptoes, reaching up into a closet. Shane stopped, but nudged Jas ahead to the kitchen.

“Do you need any help?” The Farmer stepped back, nodding.

“Your Aunt asked that I get some tablecloth out, that she was too short to grab it, but I don’t think I’m doing much better.” Shane scratched his head. Since when did they use a tablecloth? He peered up into the closet, spying the fabric far overhead.

“I don’t think either of us would be able to get that without a stepstool. There’s one in here somewhere, I think.” Shane dropped to his knees, sorting through the boxes below until he found what he was looking for. He pulled it out and pulled the bars apart.

“Oh, thanks!” The Farmer climbed up both steps, reaching far up into the closet overhead. The tablecloth was still a little high up— who even put it there?-- and the Farmer was still reaching far above, her heels lifted, wobbling slightly. Shane steadied her with a protective hand on her back, ready to hold her if she started to fall. The Farmer stretched as far as she could, finally pinching the fabric between her fingers.

“Got it!” She pulled down the tablecloth with a swift motion, almost falling backwards as she did. Shane steadied her, concerned as he held his girlfriend.

“You good?” The Farmer nodded.

“Yeah.” She looked down on Shane, smiling.

“Oh good! The tablecloth is out.” The couple turned to face Marnie, who was leaning against the archway leading into the kitchen, her lips pressed tightly in a way suggesting she was trying to hide a smile. Shane moved his hands back to his side, realizing that he still had them around the Farmer. “Well, shall we eat?” Marnie turned around and quickly headed into the kitchen. The Farmer and Shane looked at each other, and followed behind.

Once the tablecloth had been laid out and the placemats reset, the group sat down to enjoy their dinner, chatting amicably about nothing at all; the season was going well, the animals were producing at a nice rate, Jas had gotten an A on a test. A few times, Marnie would ask a question that would give the Farmer pause, asking about past relationships, what she thought of certain people in town, and Shane would throw his aunt a look, mentally pleading for her to change the topic. Or suddenly, she would grow very complimentary of Shane, talking about past achievements or how he was with Jas, and Shane could tell the Farmer was holding in laughter.

“You know,” Marnie finally said, “We’re really so glad that you came into our lives. Shane’s been doing so much better since the two of you met. You’re really such a positive influence on him.” The Farmer bit her lip, her jaw tense trying to hold back a grin. Shane’s face flushed red.

“Oh, thank you.” She looked briefly at Shane, then back to Marnie.

“Marnie, I— yes. But I don’t think we really have to—” Marnie cut Shane off, kicking her nephew under the table.

“I mean, the two of you make such wonderful friends, I’m sure he agrees. Right Shane?” Shane didn’t know if he could blush any harder, his cheeks were burning. The Farmer’s eyes were wild, practically eating her lips to hide her smile.

“Yeah, we’re real good friends.” Shane cleared his throat.

“Actually, we were, uh, gonna—” Marnie cut him off again.

“I really think you two should hang out more, even. I mean, you get along so well, and who knows where things could go.”

“Marnie!” Shane jumped in his chair and grit his teeth. “What are you doing?” The Farmer covered her mouth with her hand, shaking with laughter. Much like the rest of his family, it seemed, she loved to see him worked up. Jas, holding her cup with both hands, was taking a long sip, her eyes darting between the adults at the table. Marnie turned to Shane.

“What? You were obviously never going to make a move, I thought I’d help!” the woman stage-whispered, her voice loud enough that everyone at the table could hear her. The Farmer lost it now, tears streaking down her face as she laughed.

“Marnie!” The Farmer's head was on the table as she tried to contain her laughter, her hair well into the food, but she hadn’t noticed. Even Jas now was giggling behind her cup at the spectacle unfolding before her.

“I see the way you look at her! Nothing is ever going to happen if you keep mooning at her from a distance!”

It all made sense now. The two different dinner times. Jas’ weird statements. Marnie waiting in the hallways. The table cloth. His aunt had been trying to set them up, unaware that they had already done it themselves. The Farmer lifted her head, shaking still.

“Shane, do you have a crush on me?” He could barely make out the words between her giggles.

“I— Marnie!” He turned back toward his aunt. “I— you don’t need to set dates up for me! I’m a fully grown adult!” Marnie shrugged.

“It really looked like you needed the help.” The Farmer’s head hit the table again, causing Jas to spill her apple cider as she laughed.

“I don’t need the help! We were going to talk about this tonight!” Marnie tilted her head. Shane cleared his throat, trying to settle down. “We’re already dating. We were just waiting for the right time to bring it up.” Jas set her cup down, a large smile on her face. Marnie clasped her hands together over her chest.

“Oh! Shane, why didn’t— is this true?” Marnie turned toward the Farmer, who lifted her head and nodded, still crying. At least she was having fun.

“Yeah, it’s— it’s true,” the Farmer said through giggles, and Jas immediately began to fire off questions at the Farmer. Marnie clapped again.

“Oh! Shane, I’m so happy. You two really would— do— make a good couple, I was so hoping this would happen.” Shane rested his head in his hands, massaging his temple.

“It was just so new that we didn’t want to tell anyone, in case...” Marnie laughed.

“There’s no way it’d go bad.” She looked toward the Farmer, who was still shaking but trying to answer Jas’ questions. Marnie herself began to laugh, the giggles almost uncontrollable. “Looks like you didn’t need any help after all.”

Shane looked up, thoroughly prepared to be annoyed with his aunt, but as he looked at the women at the table— Marnie laughing in her chair, Jas asking rapid fire questions as his girlfriend did her best to answer them while she giggled— and realized that maybe this was just okay. His family already loved his girlfriend (maybe more than him, even) and were rooting for the relationship, even when they didn’t know about it.

The Farmer caught Shane’s look and winked before turning her focus back to Jas, and Shane smiled. While Marnie had somehow gone about things in the worst way possible, the night had gone well. And now, Shane could do what he had wanted to do since the Farmer had caught him in the barn working with the chickens, all those months ago— call her his girlfriend, to make it known how he felt about her, how she felt about him. The night had definitely gone well.

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