#shoving him back into the oven to be burnt into a crisp

[ihatebrainstorm]

guys i love robots and funny transforming robots and cranky transforming robots and robots and funny fellas and funny robots and transformers and cool mechs and medical robots and grrr robots and rheurhherhhghrgeh

[tracybirds]

I know I said this yesterday but it's beginning to feel like Christmas for real with my Sydney family having arrived! I was SO happy to see them last night and we're hanging out all day today and I haven't seen them since before covid so this is the most special thing!! Thank you to @gumnut-logic for reading through the first part of it, although I must admit to running wild this morning with the last part so any weirdness there you can blame squarely on me haha <3

[Day 1] | [Day 2] | [Day 3 - you are here]

Five Days Where Christmas Didn't Seem To Go As Planned

Day Three

Gordon shoved Alan’s shoulder roughly as he walked past, causing Alan to yelp as he overbalanced, nearly falling out of the chair.

“Gordon, play nicely,” said Virgil, frowning.

Typically, Gordon ignored him, tapping his brother’s cheek.

Alan groaned. It had been a long night, called out in the early evening only to return home as the sun peeked over the horizon once more.

“It’s comfy here,” he muttered, turning to nestle his cheek into the curved edge of the chair.

“Yeah, sure bud,” said Gordon, rolling his eyes. “Come on, let’s go Al, those showers have our names on ‘em.”

Virgil yawned.

“I can carry you if you like,” he offered, perfectly earnest.

Alan’s eyes flew open. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he grumbled. “Kayo laughed at me for a week the last time, don’t you dare pick me up.”

He dragged himself across the cockpit, staring blankly into thin air in a daze. Preoccupied with the thought of a hot shower and a morning nap with the sea breeze flowing through with windows, he hardly noticed the figure waiting for them impatiently as the hydraulic lift lowered them into the hangar.

“Scott?” asked Virgil, and Alan snapped back to attention. He’d expected Scott to vanish long before Two made it back to Tracy Island, with no issues that arose during the mission and debrief scheduled for later that day.

Freshly focused, Alan could tell that something wasn’t right, enough that Scott had waited for them and was now speaking urgently to them all. Alan blinked, trying to shape the sounds into words, and it was only when he yawned widely and his ear popped that things fell into place.

“I just needed to head you off before you head upstairs,” said Scott, looking mildly disgusted. “I got out of the elevator and had to come straight back down, it was only luck that she didn’t spot me.”

“Well, we’re all experts in hiding from Grandma and her baking now,” said Gordon, grinning. “Hey Virg, let’s go crash in Brains’ rooms, he’s been wanting to marathon those old school scifi-horrors.” He wriggled his fingers at Virgil. “Oooh, I’m a space alien here to take over your mind. Go forth, do my laundry for a week.”

“He’ll uninvite you if you’re going to be annoying about it,” said Virgil, with a long-suffering sigh. “Thanks for the warning, Scott. We’ll stay low for a few hours.”

Alan, meanwhile, was thinking hard.

He swayed a little, fighting the temptation to close his eyes, searching every scrap of memory, because something about what Scott was describing sounded uncomfortably close to home.

“Grandma’s been baking?”

Scott and Virgil exchanged a glance.

“Keep up, Al,” said Gordon impatiently.

Only Alan had one piece of information that his brothers didn’t.

When the siren had gone off and they’d gathered in the living room, Alan had been baking cookies for Christmas. He’d meant for it to be a surprise.

And he’d turned the oven off, he was sure of it, even through a distorted haze of exhaustion, he could remember the temperature dial spinning under his fingers before he raced upstairs, but maybe it hadn’t gone all the way and even as they’d flown out, his cookies were slowly starting to brown, then blacken into a crisp.

He could have burnt the house down.

He sat down suddenly, right there on the floor.

“Alan!” cried three voices, and he batted them away.

“You’ve gone white as a sheet,” said Virgil, frowning as he crouched next to him. He reached out a hand, feeling for his forehead and Alan rolled his eyes.

“Get off me, I’m just tired,” he said, feeling slightly sick. He couldn’t let them find out, he needed to get out of here.

“Look, Grandma won’t ambush me like this, she’ll just want me in bed. Which is where I want to be too, so if you guys want to hide away instead, be my guest.”

He wasn’t even lying, and he rubbed at the grit forming in his eyes, allowing a yawn to take over his entire body.

“I’ll take you,” said Scott reluctantly, and Alan felt a twinge of irritation twitching below his eye.

“You don’t need to escort me,” he snapped, getting back to his feet. “I can manage it.”

He scowled at each of them, putting as much fierceness into the glare as he could.

For a second, he thought Scott and Virgil would continue to argue, but Gordon leapt in before they had the chance.

“You guys promised you’d treat him like an adult when he’s wearing the uniform,” he reminded them. “Are either of you going to start volunteering to be supervised in the shower and tucked in tight? I’ll do it, I don’t care.”

 Alan shot Gordon a grateful look.

“I’m going to bed then,” said Alan, and he spun on his heel and walked slowly and calmly towards the elevator door.

That is to say, he bolted.

When the doors next opened, Alan found Scott hadn’t been kidding about the smell, the smoke still evident despite the air being cleared.

He ran down the steps two at a time, holding his breath as he skidded into the kitchen.

Kayo looked up from the magazine she’d been reading and put it aside.

“So,” she said. “These are yours. I’m assuming they’re not chocolate.”

She swung around a plate of dark brown cookies, burnt black where the butter had melted onto the tray while baking.

Alan collapsed onto the barstool next to her.

“Is it bad?”

Kayo shrugged. “They’re just burnt. Nothing major.” She grinned, her eyes sharp and mischievous. “I saw Scott making his escape earlier. Did he come down to warn you all away?”

Alan could only nod miserably.

“Do you think it’s genetic?” he asked. “I just wanted to do something nice.”

“The only thing you did wrong was not pull the tray from the oven when you turned it off,” Kayo said cheerfully. She chose one of the cookies and neatly broke it in half. “See? They’re not burnt burnt, they’re just a tad overdone. I spotted them when Grandma was preheating the oven earlier and rescued them for you.”

Alan lifted his head, hope stirring in his chest. “So, the smoke?”

“Oh, that was all Grandma.” She bit into the end of the cookie and pulled a face. “These aren’t that great either, if I’m being honest.”

“Well, thanks,” said Alan, feeling stung. He yawned. “I suppose we should just chuck them then.”

“We can probably save them for something,” said Kayo. “Make them into ornaments or something.”

She jostled his shoulder. “What’s up though, Al? You didn’t come racing up here because of bad biscuits.”

“I kinda did,” said Alan. “I dunno, I thought maybe a fire had started. Like if something went wrong here, it’d be all my fault.” He yawned again. “I guess that seems silly.”

Kayo slung an arm around him, pulling him into a hug.

“We can handle your mistakes, Alan. Best part of being one of the youngest is everyone else has already made them and they’ll help you out. It’s not all on you.”

“Does that mean the others have all nearly burnt the house down?”

She grinned down at him. “Oh, the stories I could tell if I weren’t sworn to secrecy.”

Alan grinned back, a spark of mischief shaking off the bleariness momentarily. “I can keep a secret. Was it Virgil? John?”

“You’re getting nothing out of me,” said Kayo with a laugh. “Go to bed, Alan. We’ll fix these when you can sit in that chair without falling onto your face.”

He slipped down from the stool and stumbled, the sway of exhaustion rushing up to meet him once more.

“I might need a little help,” he admitted. “Promise you won’t tell Scott?”

Kayo mimed locking her lips and smiled at him, fond and warm.

“I promise.”

[giggly-squiggily]

🧍‍♀️ behold, it is I, again.

Okay oKAY LAST ONE I SWEAR AKSNDKBCJDB

okay sk8 pART TWO

OKAY OKAY SO !!!

I think that Hiromi is someone who grew up in a lower class household. He’s never understood the lives of those who grew up differently.

He totally follows behind the kids in the restaurant, turning off every light that they leave on. “We don’t own the utility company!” He’d say.

Here’s the HC-

Hiromi is always the first person on EVERYONE’S mind whenever they are at a place with mementos.

At the bookstore? Langa’s buying him the newest volume of his favorite manga.

On vacation? Reki is buying the DUMBEST tourist trap knickknacks. (I’m talking a sticker that says the name of the vacation destination but it’s misspelled and there’s clip art of a lobster on it)

At the grocery store? Cherry is buying a box of brownie mix and some walnuts so that he can make him a little treat. (Joe gets absolutely LIVID over the fact that Cherry would insult him by buying boxed mix)

THESE ARE JUST A FEW SILLY IDEAS 🤭

ILY SQUIGGLY THANK YOU FOR DOING WHAT YOU DO

{Headcanons to Dabbles: CLOSED!}

SHADOW BELOVED KLJRJKEKJRKJERKJEWJKRJKE I freaking love this-GAWD! ILY too Ducky- these are so beyond sweet and I'm grateful for the kind words! I've gotcha covered :3

Growing up in a low income home, Hiromi made it a point to practice fugal behavior in his day to day life. It was rare he ever treated himself or let himself be treated to nice things.

 On Hiromi’s shelf, an assortment of items sat.

~~~

“Langa! Turn off the lights when you leave a room! You don’t pay the- oh, you’re in here.” Hiromi blinked when his gaze fell upon the blue haired teen. “Sorry- I should have checked.”

“It’s fine. I erm- I have something for you.” Langa shuffled on his feet before shoving a bag forward, pressing it into Hiromi’s hands. “You’re reading them, right? The newest issue came out- and I figured you’d deserve a new copy instead of those bent ones you always buy. Okay later!” He was out the door as quick as he came.

Hiromi stared down at the bag, eyes wide as he pulled out the crisp manga. “Oh…he remembered…wait-LANGA THE LIGHT!”

~~~

“We’re BACK!” Reki yelled in glee as he walked into the hotel room, a bag of souvenirs over his arm. Miya shuffled in after him, eyes glued to his gaming system before he tumbled into the bed, still playing. “They had the coolest things, Shadow! Look what I got!”

“Reki, I know you like knicknacks, but don’t you think they’re a bit of a waste? They’re so overpriced-is that a dog?” Hiromi blinked as Reki cackled, waving the dog statue keychain around in glee. “‘Welcome to Shiboobya.”

“I KNOW! What a wild find!” Without much warning, he pressed the keychain into Hiromi’s hands, closing his fingers around it. “I couldn’t find one with your name on it, so you are now called ‘Hito’! Take pride in your new identity!”

“You should see Reki’s. He’s now known as “Rin”.” Miya shrugged, earning another round of cackles from the redhead.

~~~

“You FIEND.”

“You’re just mad I thought of this first.”

“That’s not the issue- BOXED MIX? Who do you think you are, bringing that trash into this house?”

“Tch. So dramatic.” Cherry rolled his eyes as he poured the remaining brownie batter into the greased up tray, pushing the bowl and spoon over to Hiromi with a cheeky grin. “Boxed batter is just as tasty as homemade, you elitist gorilla.”

“Oh that is RICH coming from the guy who’s favorite snack is Castella!” Joe fumed, shaking his head as Cherry put the brownies into the oven. “I hope they’re as burnt and dry as they look on the box when they’re done.”

“Good, they’ll match your complexion.” Cherry snickered, laughing harder when Joe tasered his ribs from behind.

Hiromi watched them with a soft smile, taking the abandoned spatula and giving it a lick.

Joe really was being dramatic. Boxed brownies were delicious.

~~~

A manga- the only one in the series with crisp edges still, a fading Hachiko Statue with a misspelled city and wrong name, an assortment of pictures of their slightly dry but delicious brownies, and a framed photograph of all of them together. 

These were Hiromi’s treasures.

[luminescencefics]

you feel like home - part three

He’s smiling then, and Jackson takes that as his cue to continue snuggling Luna into his lap. Ryan’s eyes shift from her new small friend to his father leaning against his doorframe wearing slouchy grey joggers and a graphic t-shirt that shows off his decorated toned arms that she can’t seem to stop looking at.

“Is this our new thing? Meeting up in hallways?” Harry asks, and Ryan can feel the butterflies take flight in her stomach, stretching their wings along her ribcage and floating up through her body, leaving her feeling far too many things all at once.

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***

Luna’s Great Escape

It’s been two days since Ryan last saw Harry in her doorway, and she’s grateful for the rainstorm that’s been plaguing north central London ever since he left her heart racing that afternoon. The rain hasn’t stopped roaring, presumably ruining Jackson’s playtime in the park, allowing Ryan a short period of time to catch her breath.

She’s spent the past two days in a bit of a drunken stupor. After Harry uttered those words to her in the hallway before entering his own flat, Ryan ripped open the parcel and finished her work for the day, sending over her inspections and adjustments to her supervisor in a daze before the clock struck five. Afterward, she tore off her flannel pajama bottoms and shoved them into the depths of her drawer to hopefully never be seen again, traipsing into her bathroom to turn the tub on, a few bottles of Carlsberg nestled tightly under her armpit.

It’s not that Ryan was avoiding her feelings, because she truly didn’t understand them. After two beers, she came to the conclusion that the bubbling in her gut and the warmth on her cheeks, the fluttering of her heart and the pinch in her breath—was all due to the fact that she found Harry annoyingly attractive.

Ryan’s no stranger to attractive men. Her awkwardness practically disappears after a few shots of tequila have settled into her bloodstream, allowing her to hold a conversation with a handsome man without the overwhelming urge to stutter over her words or shift in her heeled boots from nervousness. Most times, in her debilitated state, she’s gotten lucky with a quick shag and a fumbling exit hidden under the darkness of the night. But now, as she sits in her bathtub nursing her fourth beer, a Kiehl’s face mask hardened over her skin, she’s not sure how much alcohol she would need to consume in order to appear seemingly normal in front of Harry.

That was last night. Now, as her hangover starts to settle in, Ryan’s decided that she needs advice. The brutally honest kind that usually fell unapologetically from the lips of her best mate Fiona. 

“So let me get this straight, your new neighbor just so happens to be fit as all hell, and you’ve had a handful of conversations with him without making a complete fool of yourself, and you still haven’t shagged him? What am I missing here, Ry?” Fiona’s voice calls out from Ryan’s mobile that’s leaning against her porcelain fruit bowl, the camera angle allowing her to be able to see Fiona while attempting to cook some sort of pasta dish to cure the throbbing in her head.

“Fee, I got fucking rug burn on my knee from tripping over my own bloody feet the first time I met him!” Ryan recalls, the memory causing her head to shake aggressively, trying her hardest to expel it from her brain.

“Well, I did say complete fool,” Fiona retorts, causing Ryan to roll her eyes as she tries her hardest to follow the vodka sauce recipe she found on Pinterest. She’s eyeing the heavy cream she just added to the saucepan, wondering if the color should be pinker.

“I think it’s for the best if I just continue avoiding him for the rest of my life,” Ryan says, opening the box of ziti and throwing it into the boiling pot on the back left burner. 

She can hear Fiona laugh over the hiss of the water. “Stop with the dramatics! You’re starting to sound like me.”

Ryan just ignores her friend, stirring the sauce that’s starting to smell. She instantly reaches for the parmesan cheese, adding more aimlessly to change the viscosity into something that doesn’t resemble broth. 

“This could be great for you, Ry,” Fiona says through the screen once Ryan’s reappeared in front of her.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Ryan asks, a bit distracted with the way the saucepan on the hob begins to gurgle inconspicuously.

“Because he’s fit. And he literally lives right next door. This is fantastic news! You can get laid without even leaving your building! Especially during quarantine with the entire city on lockdown!” While Ryan loves her friend, she hates the way Fiona says certain words, her voice level rising with each stressed syllable. She’s speaking so loudly that Ryan thinks back to how Harry referred to hearing Mrs. Bingsley banging about in the kitchen when she used to live in this unit, and immediately Ryan lowers the volume on her mobile, grabbing it from its spot against the fruit bowl and turning into her living room to be as far away from the thin walls as possible.

“I’m not sleeping with him, Fiona. I literally just met him,” Ryan says, sitting on the arm rail of her couch, watching Luna in her periphery continue sleeping soundly against the throw pillows. 

“But you want to.”

Ryan stays silent, wondering if that’s what the bubbling and fluttering and pinching of all her insides means. Wondering if all of these feelings can simply be associated to sexual attraction.

“Why don’t you knock on his door and ask for a plunger or something?” Fiona says, breaking the silence. Ryan instantly disagrees, her eyes widening in fear.

“No, that’s a terrible idea! I don’t want him to think I’ve clogged up my fucking toilet,” Ryan shrieks, knowing that move would definitely work on a girl like Fiona—confident, unrelenting, and fearless. But for a girl like Ryan, whose cheeks turn red whenever a boy like Harry even looks in her direction, she knows there’s no way she can handle that.

Fiona sighs. “You’re probably right.” 

Before Ryan can respond, the blaring sound of the smoke detector going off from the kitchen interrupts her thoughts. “Shit!” she screeches, jumping up from her seated position and running into the kitchen, her mobile clutched in her fist as she approaches the stovetop. The saucepan with the once pinkish-red sauce has now turned black, the edges burnt to a crisp, smoke rising from the top because Ryan forgot to lower the heat to a simmer. The pot with the pasta has boiled over, water falling onto the burner with a loud fizzle. “Fuck!”

“Christ, Ryan! Only you can burn fucking pasta!” Fiona shouts through her mobile, and Ryan immediately discards the device on the countertop, flicking the burners off. She reaches for the dishtowel near the sink, waving it under the smoke detector to make the incessant noise cease.

“It won’t fucking stop!” Ryan bellows, switching the towel to her left arm. If Harry didn’t hear her before, he definitely heard her now, and the thought is enough to make her wave her arms frantically, praying for the smoke detector to shut off.

“Open the front door, get some airflow in the flat, you twit! Twenty-seven and still can’t cook a bloody meal, it’s a shock how you’ve survived this long on your own—”

Ryan doesn’t stay in the kitchen long enough to hear the rest of Fiona’s comment. Instead, she’s spinning on her heels towards her front door, opening it up partly in hope to get the smell of burnt food out of her flat.

Just as she walks back into the kitchen, the beeping finally stops, and Ryan feels as if she can finally breathe again. Her cheeks are stained red from the exertion of flailing her arms about, the stray hairs from her low ponytail sticking to the nape of her neck uncomfortably. She takes in the state of her kitchen, annoyed with herself that she got too preoccupied with Fiona’s ramblings instead of focusing on cooking her pathetic meal.

“Have you died?” The sound echoes from the countertop where Ryan left her mobile, and for a moment Ryan forgets that Fiona was waiting for her. She saunters over slowly, leaning her mobile on the toaster oven so that she can rest her bent elbows on the countertop, her hands falling over her cheeks in embarrassment. 

“Knew I should’ve gone with the boxed mac and cheese,” Ryan mumbles, catching her breath.

Fiona laughs. “I appreciate the attempt, Jamie Oliver. You’ve probably scared Luna half to death, poor thing.” 

At the mention of her kitten’s name, Ryan immediately swivels her head around to the living room, eyes falling to the spot on the couch her white British Shorthair was just occupying. But when she looks closer, she realizes that Luna is gone.

She quickly stands up straight, telling Fiona she’ll call her back before ending the FaceTime call, entering the living room to search every nook and cranny for her kitten. Luna’s small body is nowhere near the couch or armchairs, her cat tree is empty, and when Ryan takes a look in her bedroom and finds absolutely nothing, she’s suddenly filled with fear at the fact that her kitten has disappeared.

Before Ryan can have a full-blown meltdown at the loss of her meal and kitten in the span of ten minutes, she hears the faint echo of a meow from the other side of her front door. A tiny giggle follows after, and suddenly Ryan’s head is peering out into the hallway, falling on the sight of Luna laying on the carpet with her tummy up in the air, and Jackson’s small hands rubbing soothing circles in her fur.

“What would your dad say about you leaving the flat without him?” Ryan calls out from her doorframe, watching the way Jackson’s face lights up when he realizes it is her speaking to him.

“Daddy will probably be mad. But I heard the kitty outside when I was playing! I didn’t know you had one!” He’s smiling so wide it causes Ryan to immediately do the same, despite her borderline breakdown a few moments prior. She trots over towards the pair, crouching down in front of them and balancing on the heels of her socked-clad heels, watching the way Luna purrs at Jackson’s soft strokes.

“I do. This is Luna,” Ryan answers, grinning when Jackson begins cooing at the tiny animal.

“Hi Luna, I’m Jackson. You’re so soft.” He’s whispering to her and Ryan isn’t quite sure why, and when Luna suddenly flips over and sits on Jackson’s lap, Ryan feels her heart swell at the sight of two tiny things cuddling up to one another.

The silence is broken by a gruff, frustrated voice. “Jackson! You can’t keep runnin’ off—oh.”

Three pairs of different colored eyes look up at the intrusion, and suddenly Harry’s anger dissipates at the sight of his son holding a cute kitten in his lap. A cute kitten that just so happens to belong to his even cuter neighbor who he seemingly can’t stop thinking about.

He’s smiling then, and Jackson takes that as his cue to continue snuggling Luna into his lap. Ryan’s eyes shift from her new small friend to his father leaning against his doorframe wearing slouchy grey joggers and a graphic t-shirt that shows off his decorated toned arms that she can’t seem to stop looking at. 

“Is this our new thing? Meeting up in hallways?” Harry asks, and Ryan can feel the butterflies take flight in her stomach, stretching their wings along her ribcage and floating up through her body, leaving her feeling far too many things all at once.

Ryan just smiles shyly, swallowing harshly when Harry crosses his arms over his broad chest, his large palms cupping his bulging biceps under the thin material of his shirt. She coughs into her fist, realizing now that she probably should stand up from her crouched position so that she’s no longer staring up at him underneath the cover of her eyelashes.

“Daddy look! Ryan has a kitty!” Jackson squeals, his cheek squished against Luna’s tiny face as he pets behind her ears, causing her whole body to vibrate with a deep purr.

Harry looks between Luna and Ryan, that slow smirk grazing his lips that causes Ryan’s cheeks to burn with a deep blush. “I can see that, Bubs.” His voice is so deep Ryan can feel it settle into her bones, and suddenly she wishes her hair wasn’t tied behind her head in a ponytail so that she could hide her reddened cheeks under the deep brown tendrils. 

Before she can speak, a loud whistle from Harry’s flat breaks the silence. His upper body shifts away from the doorframe so that he’s standing straight, arms falling back to his sides as he peers behind the entranceway to ensure that the steam is blowing from the spout of the kettle on the hob.

“Fancy some tea, Ryan?” Harry asks once he’s turned back in her direction. 

Ryan quickly stumbles to stand upright, wiping her sweaty palms on her cotton biker shorts. An oversized band tee she stole from her ex-boyfriend swishes with her hasty movements, and she can feel her head shaking before her mouth can say no.

“Uh, I’m okay. Don’t want to impose or anything,” she stutters, the sound of her thick woolen mid-calf socks scuffling against the carpeting with her incessant shuffling due to the influx of nerves that begin creeping up her spine.

“Please, Ryan? I can play with Luna! I’m a great sitter,” Jackson proclaims loudly from his seated position behind her. Once again, Ryan finds herself struggling to say no to her new friend with just one look into his beady green eyes. With nothing but a small smile, Ryan’s nodding in Jackson’s direction, her grin growing larger when he scoops up Luna in his little arms, ducking past his father and entering the flat.

Harry chuckles, holding the door open a bit wider so that Ryan can follow him inside.

She’s watching as he ducks into the kitchen, shutting off the burner so that the whistling kettle can quiet down. Ryan watches Jackson plop Luna on the soft emerald rug, laying on his stomach so that he can observe her every move. After guaranteeing that her kitten is in good hands, Ryan enters the kitchen, settling on one of the dark leather barstools and watching Harry grab two tea mugs from the cabinet above the sink.

As his arm extends to reach the top shelf, Ryan can’t help but take note of the contrast between his right and left arm. His left arm was ornamented with various black etchings, flowing across his skin in a strange way that somehow looked beautiful. When Ryan watches his right arm reach out to grab the tea bags, the untouched skin practically blinding against the harsh overhead lights, she feels her throat suddenly dry up—and she’s left wondering if she should add this to her growing list of symptoms she feels whenever she’s around Harry.

“Sugar? Milk?” Harry asks, his back still to her as he rummages around the drawers to prepare their tea. 

“Sure.” She’s distracted by the way his thin t-shirt practically hides nothing, the ebb and flow of his back muscles constricting with each gentle movement he makes as he grasps the sugar from the counter and grips the milk from the fridge.

When he turns to meet her at the kitchen island, he clutches both mugs in one hand, the other holding both the sugar jar and milk carton. Ryan’s forced to look away, her mind completely fogging over at the site.

The sound of the ceramic mugs clinking against the granite counter causes Ryan to look up, smiling softly when he pushes the tea in her direction. Just before her hands can clasp around the handle, she regards the black script tattoo above the crook of his elbow, the words Jackson in lowercase lettering make her breath hitch in her throat.

“How have you been, all right?” Harry asks from across the island, reaching for the milk and adding a generous amount to the murky tea. His eyes are busy focusing on the task at hand, and Ryan can finally feel herself calm down a bit.

“Yeah, been okay. You?” she responds, blowing a bit on her tea before bringing the mug to her lips, swallowing deeply and reveling in the taste of the brew. Harry’s eyebrows arch when he notices that she takes her tea black, but he doesn’t make a comment about it, choosing instead to rest his forearms on the counter, pushing his mug a bit closer towards Ryan’s as he leans against the island, infiltrating her personal space just the tiniest bit.

“Yeah, okay. Bit shit with the weather, though. Jackson’s been going crazy,” he comments, his mouth far too distracting when he licks the spilled over tea on his lower lip. Ryan flicks her head over in Jackson’s direction, thankful that she can look at something other than Harry’s stupidly good-looking face.

Ryan hums in agreement, bringing the tea back to her lips as she swivels back in her stool, her eyes back on Harry’s. 

“That cat of yours will give him another reason to talk about you for hours,” Harry says with a grin.

“If it weren’t for his knack of sneaking out of your flat, Luna probably would have ended up on the seventh floor. Guess I owe him a proper thank you,” Ryan counters, smiling at the fact that she made Harry laugh.

“Little shit never listens to me,” Harry says lightly, and Ryan suddenly wonders if he has any help looking after Jackson.

She starts to look around the kitchen for any hints of a feminine touch. The state of his flat is disgustingly clean, and when she observes the fridge to see if there are any photographs of Jackson’s mum, she’s found that there’s nothing but artwork most likely done by the hands of a four-year-old.

When she shifts her head to the other side of the room, where the kitchen flows into the living room, she doesn’t really find anything new. The walls are still filled with records, the instruments are still lining the walls, the couch is still void of throw pillows. Ryan tries to visualize the entranceway, trying her hardest to remember if she noticed any heeled boots or women’s jackets on the coat rack.

She hasn’t known Harry long, barely a month at this point, and in that short period of time she’s never heard him speak about a woman before. Ryan’s not stupid—she knows that both sexes are needed to produce a child—but she’s truly never seen a woman enter or exit Harry’s flat.

Granted, it’s only been a month. And she isn’t really sure if she can call him her friend yet, therefore she feels a bit odd in asking. Ryan’s come to the conclusion that maybe Jackson’s mum is an essential worker, a nurse perhaps, a profession in which she has the luxury of leaving her home to go to work.

“Ryan?” Harry’s oaky voice breaks Ryan out of her headspace, and suddenly she’s blinking in Harry’s direction, embarrassed at the fact that she wasn’t listening to anything he had just said to her in the last few minutes.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” she responds lamely, bringing the mug to her lips with the goal of hiding the lower half of her flushed cheeks.

Harry just laughs, cocking his head to the side to observe her intently. “Doesn’t matter. Lost you for a minute in there.”

“Right. Sorry about that,” Ryan responds, wishing Harry would stop looking at her as if she were the most fascinating creature on the planet. 

“Does that happen a lot?” Harry asks quietly, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to know every little thing about her.

Ryan’s eyes squint in confusion. “Does what happen?”

“That,” Harry starts, taking a sip of his tea without tearing his eyes away from Ryan’s. “You getting lost in your own head.”

Ryan quietly contemplates Harry’s comment, watching the way he watches her with intrigue. As a serial overthinker, Ryan knows that she retreats sometimes, mulling over her words intensely before speaking. Unlike Fiona who blurts every thought that runs through her head, Ryan’s always been more critical, obsessing over every detail before verbalizing. It’s the only thing that helps subdue her social anxiety.

But she’s found that whenever she’s around Harry, she can’t bring herself to think about anything, really. It’s as if her mind is blank, encouraging her to speak what she truly feels, without all the thinking that usually comes along with it.

She’s not quite sure what that all means.

So she just shrugs, sipping softly. “Sometimes, yeah.”

Harry nods before changing the subject, which makes Ryan feel relieved. “So, my quiet, reclusive neighbor is also a cat lady? It’s far too fitting, Ryan.” He’s teasing her a bit and it’s enough to make Ryan giggle, the sound practically causing Harry to splutter his tea over the rim of his mug. 

“I’m all about clichés, clearly,” Ryan responds, her eyes zeroing in on the hollow dimples that appear around his mouth whenever he laughs. She finds herself enjoying the sight very much.

“She’s cute,” Harry says, his eyes shifting from Luna to the woman sitting across from him. Ryan assumes he’s talking about her kitten, and she smiles, swiveling around in her chair to watch Jackson giggle whenever Luna’s paws graze his arms. But when she feels Harry’s gaze on her cheek, she’s wondering if he’s talking about something else, too.

“He’s good with her,” Ryan acknowledges, impressed with how gentle Jackson was with Luna. Most toddlers his age were too handsy with her, scaring her off before she even got the chance to get used to them. But Jackson is proving to be a natural, allowing Luna to grow comfortable around him before he started playing with her.

Harry finally looks over to his son, smiling at the sight in the living room. “Yeah, he’s a good kid.”

Ryan turns round to face Harry again. “He really is. Guess he has you to thank for that. And his mum, I suppose.”

Harry’s face suddenly loses its grin, and Ryan’s wondering if she’s said too much. His eyes have lost their shine, and the granite countertop seems to be more interesting than Ryan’s face. Before she can say anything, an apology or some version of one, the computer in the corner of the living room begins to ring loudly, causing Harry to stand upright and peer at the clock on the microwave screen.

“Shit. Forgot I had a four o’clock meeting,” he says quickly, gathering his mug in one hand and crossing the threshold so that he’s entering the living room space. Ryan stands up, frowning down at her half-emptied cup of tea, wondering what blend Harry uses because it’s just that good, and she’s a bit sad to leave it unfinished.

Harry turns around, catching the frown on Ryan’s face. “You can finish it at yours if you’d like,” he offers with a small smile. 

“Oh, no it’s okay, I wouldn’t want to—”

“—Ryan,” Harry says, cutting her off and walking towards her so that he’s fully in her line of vision, “It’s fine. ‘S not like I don’t know where you live.” The smirk is back on his face and the blush is back coating Ryan’s cheeks, and suddenly the balance has been restored in their small universe.

Ryan nods, clutching the mug tightly in her hands and side-stepping Harry in order to reach Jackson and Luna on the living room floor. “‘M sorry, champ, but Luna and I have got to go.”

“Really?” Jackson says, tearing his eyes away from Luna and onto the two adults standing in front of him. He’s frowning and Ryan instantly feels bad.

“Yeah, Bubs, daddy’s got work to do. I’m sure you can see Luna again very soon, if Ryan’s okay with it,” Harry says, causing two pairs of green eyes to fall onto her frame.

She nods quickly, crouching down in front of her small friend and grabbing Luna in her unoccupied hand. “Of course, champ. We’ll schedule a playdate.”

Jackson grins enthusiastically, wiggling on the floor with excitement. Before Ryan can respond, Harry appears in front of her, a small smile on his face.

“I’ll see you later, Ryan,” he mutters in a low timbre.

“Bye, Harry. Thanks again for the tea,” she responds, heading towards the doorway in her socks and leaving the confines of his flat, trying her hardest to catch her breath in the silence of the empty hallway.

It’s only once she’s back in her own flat, her sad attempt of dinner disposed of in the bin and in its place an oversized bowl of cereal in one hand, with Harry’s mug in the other, Ryan comes to a startling realization.

Harry’s tea mug was a far better alternative than the fucking plunger.

*** A/N: Hi guys, here’s part three of you feel like home! I hope you enjoyed it. Part four will be posted on Thursday November 19, so feel free to chat with me in the meantime! This was a submission for the 1DFF Quarantine Challenge, which has other amazing writers participating as well, so feel free to check out the page! x

taglist: @stylishmuser @vikki1220 @greatestview @verorax @cronias13 @adoremp3 @ilovegolden @taintedwonder @stepping-into-the-light​ @onlyphysicallypresent​ @dontwanttobealone​ @justsaying20​ @elemayox​ @awomanindeniall​ @ihearthemcallingforyou​ @halloweenniall @live-at-the-forum​ @kakayam​ @harryinsweatersandbandanas​ @hopelessly-harry​ @ficnarry​ @morethanamelodyy​ @niallgolden​ @harryswinterberries​ @caramello-styles

[xenolithium]

If you’re still doing the domestic ship meme, Could you do AmeLiet? 🍀💜

Who reaches out to new neighbors?

Alfred, not that Tolys wouldn't act friendly and cordial with them. But he's not rushing over as fast as his legs can take him to say "hi", tail wagging behind his back like his hyper boyfriend would. But he will follow after Al to make sure he's not causing any trouble (though he also wants to stay close to his side.)

Who remembers to buy healthy food?

Technically Tolys, but Alfred likes buying everything for the two of them so he's always tagging along to make sure that his lover isn't the one swiping his credit card for him.

Tolys: "Would you stop that? I can purchase groceries as well."

Al: "But...!"

Tolys glares at him before tapping his own card right in front of his face defiantly whilst Al pouts.

Who remembers to buy junk food?

Tolys gently pushes Al's hand away as he moves to shove chips into their cart. "You don't need that."

Turns out no one's allowed junk food.

Who fixes the oven when it breaks?

Alfred, it doesn't take too long for him to do so either, he's just a naturally handy person. Of course Tolys is looking on either in concern for Al's safety (he's a little overprotective of his bae), or he has the manual open, giving Al instructions that he doesn't really need. But Al thanks him any way as he goes. Then gets up, wipes off his hands and pecks him on the lips when he's done.

Who waters the plants/feeds the pets?

Tolys has no problem helping Alfred around the house, even if he's not working for him anymore. It's just become a habit and Alfred's always so grateful towards everything he does that he doesn't mind. He especially doesn't mind when he's rewarded in the bedroom or by getting a surprise breakfast in bed. They do their best for each other.

Who wakes up earlier?

Usually Tolys, because for as much as he loves Alfred, he can't deal with the snoring sometimes. He'll have to constantly adjust him and push him from side to side to stop him from being so loud when they're trying to sleep together.

Who makes the bed?

Tolys, he doesn't mind, especially because Al makes him coffee and breakfast. And they have a nice time in the shower together before starting their day.

Who makes the coffee?

Usually Al but Tolys will for old times sake. He used to make them both coffee when he worked for Al every day, but the tables have turned as of late and he's not sure if he likes it. But he knows he doesn't dislike it.

Who burns breakfast?

Alfred, he gets distracted very easily. One moment he'll be cooking and the next he'll be texting something stupid to Matthew, then he turns back and his pancakes are burnt to a crisp. Usually if Tolys is around and not in bed, he'll rush over and quickly turn down the heat before taking over himself. He'd turn and give Al a look which would cause his boyfriend to chuckle sheepishly. "Be more careful!"

How do they let each other know when they're leaving the house?

Alfred will kiss Tolys awake and whisper it into his ear, causing his boyfriend to chuckle and pull him into a slow, long kiss. It makes Alfred melt, wanting to stay all day if he could. "Stay safe, okay?" And Alfred would nod dumbly. If Tolys is already up, he'll run up and hug him, give him a big wet kiss, then run off leaving a flustered brunet in his wake.

Tolys will simply walk up to Alfred, give him a light peck on the cheek and tell him he'll be heading out. Otherwise he'll leave a note or send a text to make sure Alfred knows. He worries if his boyfriend doesn't tell him, so it only makes sense to give Alfred ample notice too.

How do they greet each other when one of them gets home?

Alfred will run up like he's ready to tackle his poor boyfriend to the ground, like he has the ball and he's about to score the opposing team more points but he just lifts him up, spins him around and kisses the heck out of him. Tolys would be giggling and laughing, trying to push his overbearing lover away, only to make his situation worse. Al loves giving him over the top greetings for this very reason. It's nice to see such a large smile on his face.

Tolys is a bit more normal in how he greets his significant other. A hug and kiss is all he needs (and maybe a little something in the bedroom of course.)

Who brings home little gifts?

Alfred, he likes to buy them both board games they can play since Tolys isn't big on video games, snacks they can eat and whatever else reminds him of his lover.

Who picks the movie for movie night?

Alfred, and usually he's an idiot and decides to go with a horror film. So he ends up scared out of his mind, but luckily his boyfriend doesn't mind the extra cuddles one bit. He's used to comforting a scared Alfred at night, as they lay next to each other. Tolys rubbing Al's shivering back, comfortingly.

Their favorite kind of movie to watch?

Horror, but if Tolys realizes Al actually needs to sleep that night (because of work or other responsibilities), he'll deny him a horror movie and instead choose action or perhaps even romance (since that's personally his favorite genre.)

Who first suggests a pillow fort?

Alfred and Tolys just goes along with it because gosh dang it, he can't resist that cute face. Alfred just looks too happy and he's too in love with this dork, even if it is a little childish. It's the simple things in life that make people happy, so he doesn't mind.

Who falls asleep first?

Alfred and boy does he ever. He practically sleeps like the dead and the moment he starts snoring, Tolys knows it's time to put in his earplugs or he's not getting even a wink that night. If there was one thing he could change about Al, it'd be that.

Who's the big spoon/little spoon?

Tolys is the little spoon, enough said. He doesn't want to be anything else, it doesn't matter how much Al begs (not that he really does) he's just happy being cuddled by his big, buff bae. No words can describe the feeling and he wouldn't give it up for the world.

---

Hope you like this anon! I don't write Tolys very often so I hope I did him justice. Thanks for sending in the request and if any of you have any more ships you wanna send in, here's the original.

Feel free, I don't bite.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

First Day

Summary- 1.7k Detective Paul Diskant x Y/N. Paul passed his detective exams and first day on the job. Although he's been an officer since you've two been dating, your nerves still get the best of you. Soft and Some Smut. Written for @jtargaryen18​ 30 Days of Chris

Fresh youthful face stared back at Paul in the mirror as he buttoned up his shirt, his fingers shaking slightly until you peeked around his arm, and tugged to turn him away from the mirror, smiling up at him as you took over for him, sure to make sure each side lined up correctly. “Diskant, you know everything is going to be fine.” You say with pride, stepping back so he could stuff the tail ends of his shirt in his pants, to zip up the fly and button them shut. 

“I feel like my heart's going to just beat out of my chest.” He said as a confession while you moved to your shared closet and opened the door, going through his ties. You pulled out a blue one with a pattern to it, moving back over to hold it against his chest while he flipped up his collar so he could put it on. You hum to him in agreement as you draped it over his shoulders. 

You ducked back around so you could stand in front of him and fix the length, and start to twist and fold it with nimble fingers, having done this for him a few times now over the years you two have been together. His blue eyes slid appreciative over your concentrating face, the tip of your tongue caught between your teeth. “And it will go smooth. Remember you earned this Handsome. They don't just give out Detective status to anyone. You studied hard and passed all the exams.” Your fingers clasped around the knot of his tie and wriggled it up. “Besides, I thought I worked all the nerves out of you last night.” You bit your lip in a grin, and his pupils widened in excitement, recalling last night. 

You pushing him onto the bed with a purr, your lips tasting sweet after a few wine coolers that you had enjoyed around the small fire pit you two sat around before deciding to retire.You straddle his lean hips and his hand fisted in your hair with an urgency, and you giggled against his lips. knees gripping against his waist, your tugging his shirt over his head, and he's doing the same to yours, tossing them aside. You fall forward to place kisses all along his chest, sure to give a bit of tiny love bites, and his hands are cupping your breasts through your bra, teasing your nipples through the fabric. “Get it off Paul.” You whine, and he reaches behind, and snaps it loose. “Sit back Y/N.” He said, pushing you back so he can draw it off your body, topless, you were fucking stunning, running your hands over your breasts, your own fingers pulling at your nipples. It was just to much and Paul, wrapped and arm around your waist to roll you two over, taking over with his mouth where your fingers just were. 

Grasping the back of your neck, he pulled you in against him to take a deep claiming kiss, tongue trailing over teeth and claiming your tongue, you grasped his belt buckle giving a jerk at it and moan into the kiss, looking up at him slightly dazed. “You did, fucking went from my Kitten to a Wildcat last night.” His thumb slid across your bottom lip to clean off the residue, and winked. “You always know how to treat me good Kitten.” 

Letting go of his belt buckle and patting his chest with a wink. “Wonder where I learned that Diskant. You can just figure that out for yourself Detective.” You teased and twisted away to leave the room, Paul right behind you with a playful swat to your ass, grabbing his wallet and badge off the dresser as he left the room, to finish getting ready for the day. Now he was bubbling with a good mood, you easily had that effect on him. And when you gave him a kiss goodbye, tilting to your tip toes telling him how fucking turned on you were by him with that badge on his hip, he walked out of the house a confident man. 

You watched from the door frame, wiggling your fingers as you watched him straighten his tie and slip into his car. You couldn't help but worry your lip, turning away when he was gone and going to get yourself ready, pouring your coffee, you carried the mug up the stairs and into your bedroom to actually get dressed for work. 9 to 5 at the bank. You and Paul didn't have a bad life. The little house with the bit of back yard just outside the city. Both of you had good jobs, you just couldn't help but worry about his. Maybe now it would be better, he wouldn't be on patrol anymore, but working actual cases of crimes that already happened. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you couldn't help but grin at some of the darker marks he left scattered across your breasts, his love bites, just as you managed to leave some on his. 

He lavished his tongue around your erected nipples, your hands shoving through the short crisp hairs on his head you had just cleaned up for him earlier to dig into the bunches muscles of his shoulders, arching yourself into his mouth. “Impatient Kitten?” He growled out and you nodded while rolling your body against his, reaching down to tug at his jeans. “When am I not impatient Paul?” He laughed as he continued down your body, your stomach fluttering under his teeth while he tugged your pants open and pulled back further to yank them off. Quick to get off his own, he fell over you, settling in between spread thighs and mid kiss, he plunged fingers in you, pumping you open and having you clenching around him, gasping against his lips. “All wet and fucking hot Kitten, your right, you are ready.” With a easy glide, he stretched you around him, leaving you pushing your head back with a hissing and he took advantage, sucking on your neck. 

A tug over your blouse covered your body, and you pinned your hair up at the nape of your neck, placing on a gold chain Paul had given you a while ago, as well as a bracelet. It was easy to put on this look, hiding some of your worries, and as you left that day, locking your door on the way out, and started your day. At your lunch time, you had messaged him, telling him you hoped his first day was good, and walking the mall your bank was located in with your co-worker friend Cat, you two discussed a bit of your worries. It was good to be able to talk to a friend. 

“Well you said so yourself, that Paul wasn't going to be chasing down crimes in progress.” 

You picked at your soft pretzel and shrugged. “No, but it's still a dangerous job, and it's not like Boston is exactly the safest city of cities.” You wrinkle your nose and pause at a jewelers window, studying the display. 

Cat paused to, looking at the pendants, when she pointed one out. “Why don't you get him a St.Micheals Pendant? His is supposed to protect the police officers from harm.” And you ditched your soft pretzel to enter the shop and look. Soon you were walking out with a black box being tucked into your purse. Cat looped her arm through yours and already your mood was a bit better as you two entered the bank, when five o clock rolled around, you were quick to get home, wanting to be home to welcome Paul home on his first day as Detective. You were just getting dinner in the oven when you heard the front door open and Paul call out your name. “In here Babe" you call back and quickly dry your hands off. 

When he came in, he found you drying your hands, looking him up and down now in a more relaxed look, tie loosened, sleeves half rolled up his arms, suit jacket he was quick to drape over his chair. “Smells good Kitten, what you got cookin'?” He teased as he went to you, wrapping arms around your waist. You smirked up at him, and loped your arms around his neck. “Pizza, with that crust you like. But it JUST went in the oven, so what are you smelling?” 

“Must be you Kitten.” He dropped his head and kissed your neck with a bit of tenderness that wasn't there last night, traveling to your lips. “And you taste good to.” You laugh as your swaying a bit around the kitchen, a slow dance without any music, just a natural body movement for you two in this moment. “Arnt you a charmer Diskant. I got something for you today to congratulate you on your new job.” You grinned and reached into your pocket. 

He backs the two of you up so he can sit down in the kitchen chair, kissing your shoulder. “You didn't have to give me anything, you’ve done more then enough sticking with me all these years.” 

“I didn't have to, but I wanted to.” You pick up his hand resting on your thigh, and put the box in it. “Your girlfriend is allowed to give you gifts whenever she wants.” Paul knew better then to argue with her about it, and he pried open the lid to see the silver St Micheal’s charm. Well aware of the significance, he set the box aside and drew you into him and handed him the necklace, which you slipped over his head and then tucked into his shirt so it wouldn't get caught on something. “Perfect” you say as your cuddling into his chest and rested your forehead against his, his blue eyes studying yours, and placing a gentle loving kiss on your lips. “Its perfect Kitten, Thank you for this.” 

You smiled back and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “Your welcome, I love you Detective.” You grinned getting to use his new title. “By the way, did you ever solve that case I gave you this morning?” 

He furrowed his brow and danced his fingers up your back. “Why no, in fact I have to question the witness, how much time do we have?” 

You check the timer on the stove and bite your lip looking back at him. “30 minutes Detective.” 

“Oh, plenty of time.” Scooping you up bridal style, he carried you off to the couch, and that night you two ate slightly burnt pizza.    

Tags- @jtargaryen18​   @what-is-your-plan-today​ @stardancerluv​ @what-just-happened-bro​ @princess-evans-addict​ @patzammit​ @onetwo3000​

[pixiegrl]

how about “this isn’t what i wanted.” with...cake! 💜💜 -molly

Molly! Weeks ago, I wrote you Shaking and Waiting for Something More with soft bakery Cake. Well, here’s a sequel to those soft, sweet boys. Inspired by Meg, the queen of Cake, because who else would help inspire something.

On ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29607654

Calum opens the door to Luke’s apartment to the muffled sounds of shrieks and barking. He’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to have a key to the apartment that Luke shares with Ashton. He’s not even sure if Ashton knows he has a key, but Luke gave it to him three months into dating with the excuse that “I want you to come by whenever you want.” 

Calum uses the key far more than he wants to admit. He likes being able to surprise Luke with drinks from the cafe or baked goods they have left over for the day. Sometimes, when he knows Luke’s stressed with school, he brings dinner over. One time, he’d found Luke asleep at the dining room table. It had been unbearably cute, head pillowed on his arms as he dozed. Calum had almost felt bad waking him up, but he managed to convince Luke to get into bed and cuddle with him, so Calum won either way.

Tonight though is not that. Luke’s standing in the kitchen trying to fan at the oven. He’s got flour on his cheeks and Petunia barking at his heels, pawing at his leg. 

“Tuney, not now!” Luke says, despair clear in his voice. Calum clears his throat, drawing both dog and owner’s attention to him. Petunia abandons Luke to run to Calum, sighing happily when Calum rubs at her ears. 

“Calum! When did you get here?” Luke asks, stepping in front of the stovetop to hide something. Calum stands up, inching closer to the kitchen. Luke takes another step, hiding whatever it is is on the stove.

“Luke, what’s that?”

“Nothing!” Luke says. He’s trying to use how broad he is to his advantage, hiding the burnt food. Calum’s a little quicker than Luke, getting his hands on Luke’s waist and spinning him out of the way. Luke’s too startled to put up a fight, letting Calum move him.

There’s a pan with brownies in it. Or rather, what might be brownies in it. It’s hard for Calum to see exactly they might be past the little puff of smoke coming off them. Luke sighs dramatically, picking up the pan. He’s wearing Winnie the Pooh oven mitts, covered in cocoa powder and Calum is helplessly in love. 

“This isn’t what I wanted,” Luke says. He sounds distressed, holding the pan in his hands. Calum looks down the brownies, which are somehow both burnt and yet, the middle looks uncooked. Calum pokes them, finger coming back covering in goo. He glances up at Luke, face creased in unhappiness, eyes a little wet.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. Do you still have the ingredients?” Calum asks, taking the pan from Luke. 

“I….I didn’t know what I needed?”

“What do you have?”

“Flour. Sugar. Cocoa powder. Eggs. Butter.”

“Did you not use chocolate in it?”

“Like the powder?” Luke asks, confused. Calum lets out a noise of horror and surprise at Luke. Luke blushes, rubbing at his nose, spreading around the flour.

“Luke, darling, let me teach you how to make proper brownies. Wash up, I’m dumping these out and then we’re grocery shopping to make real brownies,” Calum says. Luke smiles, sunshine coming back to his face. He leans over, kissing Calum’s cheek before darting off to the bedroom.

Calum pulls his phone out, making a small list of what he knows they’ll need, poking around Luke’s kitchen to see what he still has left. The biggest thing is all the bits of chocolate Calum wants to add into the mix.

Luke pops out from his room, curls pulled back into a bun, smiling at Calum.

“Ready?”

“Ready,” Luke chirps. He crosses the room, lacing his fingers through Calum’s and tugging them out of his apartment and in the direction of the grocery store. The walk isn’t too far, air crisp with the approaching fall. Luke swings their arms back and forth, humming under his breath as they keep walking. Calum can’t help but smile at Luke, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek at a red light.

“What was that for?”

“Just cause. You’re being cute. Tell me about how school’s going,” Calum says. Luke giggles, pressing a kiss to the back of Calum’s hand as they continue on their way. Luke rambles about classes, the music he’s been learning recently, the classes he’s been TA for. Calum nods along, pretends he understands any of the music things Luke talks about.

They make it to the shop, Calum grabbing the cart of Luke barrels off into the store. 

“Luke, hold on,” Calum calls to no avail. Luke’s already gone, disappeared down some aisle or another. Calum sighs, heading off to the baking section for the chocolate. He grabs a bar of dark chocolate to melt into the brownies and another bag of dark chocolate, milk chocolate, and white chocolate chunk to add into the mix. Calum just assessed his list, making sure he doesn’t need any other dried goods, when he hears Luke’s boots clicking on the tile. 

“Luke,” Calum says, exasperated when he glances up and notices Luke’s dropped a bag of gummy worms, microwave popcorn, vanilla ice cream, and a bag of pretzels into the cart.

“What?”

“We’re looking for brownie ingredients. Not snacks.”

“We can have both. What if we need snacks for the movie later?”

“Brownies are a snack.”

“They’re dessert. Snacks are different.”

“And why did we need ice cream?”

“For the brownies. Who ever heard of brownies without ice cream. Ooo speaking of food,” Luke says. Calum rolls his eyes fondly, trying to follow Luke as he darts off down the aisle on a mission. 

Calum finds Luke in the pasta aisle, standing in front of the boxes of macaroni. He turns to Luke.

“What pasta do you like?”

“Fusilli,” Calum says, reaching over to grab the box. Luke gasps in horror. 

“The proper answer is farfalle.”

“Farfalle holds no sauce Lu. The fusilli has all the twists for it.”

“That’s not true. There’s little nooks in the farfalle. Also look at the shape,” Luke says, shoving the box into Calum’s face. Calum takes a step back, startled.

“I’m going to break up with you for your taste in pasta,” Calum teases. Luke hushes, bopping Calum as the nose as he leans past him and grabs a different bag. Calum notices that it’s a bag of three cheese tortellini. Luke grabs another bag smiling.

“There, problem solved. Tortellini is best.”

“Agreed,” Calum says, putting the box back. He turns his attention to the jars of sauce, grabbing the first plain red sauce that he sees. Luke sneaks up behind him, wrapping his arms around Calum’s waist and resting his head on Calum’s shoulder.

“Hello,” Calum says, turning to his boyfriend. Luke rewards him with a quick kiss on the lips.

“Hi,” Luke whispers. Calum pats his arm, letting Luke give him a squeeze before he detangles himself from Luke’s arms. They proceed to the checkout, Calum trying to stop Luke from throwing more candy onto the conveyor belt. Luke sticks his tongue out in retaliation, grinning from ear to ear when Calum flicks him on the arm.

They gather their shopping bags and start to make their way back to the house. Luke interlaces their fingers again, humming quietly as they make their way back to his apartment. Like this, it’s easy to picture that this is something normal that they do every week. Calum can picture it, planning out their meals for the week, arguing over what to make, getting to go shopping for their groceries. He can imagine what it would be like, getting to rib Luke about his food preferences, pretending to be put out when Luke begs for Calum to make a different dessert each week. Calum knows they’ve only been dating for a short time, but it’s easy to imagine that this is his life, getting to do domestic things with him. The idea that Calum can go home with Luke and never have to leave. It’s perfect, picturing the life together that Calum wants to have. He wants to share his life with someone, get to have all the soft and intimate details with another person. It might be too soon, but he thinks he wants that person to be Luke.

They make it back to Luke’s apartment, dumping the bags onto the counter. Luke puts the ice cream in the freezer, flitting around his kitchen to put everything away, leaving out the pasta and the sauce. Calum gathers up the dry ingredients, setting them out with the bags of chocolate.

“So, the brownies will take about 30 minutes to bake after the prep. We can start the tortellini, so that way they’re ready,” Calum says. Luke nods, getting a pot and filling it with some water to boil for the pasta. Calum gets out the butter and eggs out of the fridge. He grabs a bowl, putting the butter and dark chocolate into it. He sticks it in the microwave, letting them melt, sets the oven for preheat while he grabs the sugar and eggs.

“What do you want me to do?” Luke asks.

“You can grab me a whisk and a bowl. We’re gonna mix the sugar and eggs together,” Calum says. Luke nods, grabbing both things. Calum cracks the eggs into the bowl, measures out the sugar and adds it in. He starts folding everything in, watching out of the corner of his eye as Luke dumps the pasta into the boiling water, sets a timer for it all. Calum starts humming under his breath as he keeps mixing slowly and deliberately.

“Let me put on some music,” Luke says. Calum nods, lets Luke mess around with his phone until the sounds of Taylor Swift fill the air.

“Really Luke?” Calum teases, pouring the chocolate mix into the sugar and egg mixture. Luke laughs, spinning around as he sings along to the opening notes of “Welcome to New York.”

“It’s fun Cal. Live a little,” Luke says. Calum rolls his eyes, folding the chocolate in with everything else.

“Be useful and measure out the flour.”

“How much?”

“Half a cup of that. And a third of a cup of the cocoa too.”

Luke follows Calum’s commands, measuring everything out into measuring cups. He watches as Calum finishes folding in the chocolate, picks up each cup and slowly adds them in. He holds the bowl out to Luke.

“You fold it in. Like this,” Calum instructs. Luke hesitantly takes the bowl, slowly starting to mix everything, trying to mimic what Calum was doing earlier.

“No, like this,” Calum says, getting his hands on Luke’s and guiding him through the motions. Luke blushes a little, letting Calum guide him through how to fold the dry ingredients into the wet. 

“How are you so good at this?” Luke mumbles. 

“Practice. I do own a bakery you know,” Calum teases, still pressed close to Luke, even though he doesn’t need it anymore. Luke’s a natural learner, picking up quickly on Calum’s instruction. They keep folding the batter until it’s nice and thick, evenly blended. 

“Now what?” Luke asks. 

“Now we add in the chocolate,” Calum says, handing the bags to Luke. His face lights up, giddy with excitement as he digs for a pair of scissors in a kitchen jar. He pulls some out, attacking each bag to open them and pouring out what is probably too many chocolate chunks into the batter. Calum can’t be bothered to correct Luke, watching him with fondness and love as he keeps going.

“Luke, that’s enough. You’re just going to have chocolate chips and no brownies soon,” Calum laughs, grabbing Luke’s hands. Luke pouts.

“Spoil sport,” he says. The timer digs, reminding the two of them about the pasta. Luke goes to take care of that while Calum greases the pan, pours the brownies into it. He puts them in the oven, watches as Luke struggles to open the jar of pasta sauce. 

“Give me the jar. Separate the pasta,” Calum says. Luke sighs in defeat, heading it over to Calum. He digs out a knife, tapping the edge of the jar lid and opening it.

“That’s cheating!” Luke says laughing. Calum shrugs, handing the jar to Luke, watching as he pours it over the pasta.

They eat standing up at the kitchen island, Calum telling Luke about how the bakery’s been doing, Luke bitching about Ashton and his study habits now that the semester is almost over. It’s comforting, bumping elbows with Luke, Taylor Swift playing in the background as they eat their food. Luke keeps laughing so hard he snorts, covering his face with his hand. Calum’s charmed, can’t stop smiling every time Luke laughs. 

Calum’s so caught up watching Luke retell a story from this week about his music class that he almost forgets about the brownies until the timer goes off.

“Oh! Brownies!” Luke cheers, abandoning the pasta bowls to rush to the oven. Calum dumps the finished bowls in the sink, grabbing the oven mitts and opening the oven door and pulling out the tin. They smell good, rich and chocolatey. Luke claps in excitement. 

“Get a knife, some bowls, spoons, and the ice cream. We can watch a movie while we eat,” Calum says. Luke does it, bringing them all over to Calum and bouncing on the balls of his feet while Calum cuts out a corner and a side piece from the pan, scooping some ice cream on top of each piece. He follows Luke into the living room, settling in on the couch. He hoists Petunia up onto the couch between them while Luke pulls up some rom com from Netflix up.

Luke snuggles into Calum’s side, sighing happily when he bites into the brownies.

“These are good. Sorry I couldn’t make you some on my own,” Luke says. 

“This was better. More fun. We got to spend time together.”

“Thank you. For everything. You’re always there when I need it, especially when I’m stressed. I love you.”

“What are boyfriends for?” Calum says. He’s content, getting to spend time with Luke and Petunia, wrapped up in their own little world of happiness and bliss. Calum wants this domestic bliss to neverend, but for now he’ll take this quiet quality time with Luke, taking a break from the world.

[crazy4myself]

Burnt Chicken

Word Count: 1.8K

Pairing: Gender Neutral Reader x Jin

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

Rating: G

Summery: You haven’t seen your handsome husband don his apron the past three nights in a row. Instead, you’ve come home to see Jin kicking back a beer on the couch, take out containers laid out across the coffee table as he waited for you to get home. You knew something was up if he was too stressed to even cook. So you decided to take things into your own hands and make dinner for him for a change

Author’s note: this sweet little number was written for the BTS Ghosties Bingo Prompt: Is something Burning? I hope you like it :)

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You hummed to yourself as you finish setting the table taking the time to fold a crisp napkin tightly before laying the silverware on it. You lit the candle you chose as the dining tables centerpiece and smiled to yourself proudly running your fingers across soft the lace table cloth. It was passed down to you from your grandmother and you normally only pulled out for special occasions. 

You got off work an hour early to surprise your husband with dinner. Out of the two of you, Jin was most definitely the cook of the household. In fact, in your four months of being married, he cooked dinner nearly every weeknight. You weren’t a horrible spouse who refused to help, you knew your way around the kitchen, but Jin genuinely loved cooking, it was one of the ways he destressed after work. 

You, on the other hand, preferred getting your stress out in a more physical way and often frequented the gym for a workout or kickboxing class after work. You loved coming home all sweaty and tired, to a house filled with delicious smells and your husband singing as he wrapped up dinner. Often in just a dressed-down version of his work attire and an apron that was ironically gifted to you by his mother on your wedding day. He was always the most delicious looking thing in the kitchen.  

However, you haven’t seen your handsome husband don his apron the past three nights in a row. Instead, you’ve come home to see Jin kicking back a beer on the couch, take out containers laid out across the coffee table as he waited for you to get home. You knew something must have been up if he was too stressed to even cook. 

So you decided to take things into your own hands and make dinner for him for a change. While you hoped to cheer him up you had to admit you had a personal motive as well, you don’t think you could risk another night of takeout. You were already feeling bloated and like your face looked extra puffy from all the sodium you had been consuming lately.

You were no expert like Jin, but today you were ready to be the perfect picture of domesticity, going as far as dressing up a little and setting the dinner table for him to come home to. You smiled to yourself as you heard the door open and Jin calls you in confusion. He gets off work before you and that plus you gym visit gave him a good hour or so before you got home.

“Y/n are you home?” 

You stood in front of the dining table adjusting the way the silverware laid next to his plate trying to contain your grin as he made his way from the entryway to see you. 

You felt his strong arms wrap around your middle as he pulled you into his chest, kissing the top of your head. 

“And what is the love of my life doing home so early hmm?” he asked as he nuzzled into your hair despite it being a little stiff from the products you used to style it. 

“I thought you could do with a proper meal,” you replied turning in his arms and wrapping your own around his neck before planting a peck on his plush lips. Jin hummed in delight as he leaned in to capture your lips in a proper kiss. 

You stand there for a moment embracing each other the kiss intensifying slightly as he pushed you against the table. 

“That was a lovely appetizer,” you breathed finally breaking away from him he smiled slightly drinking in your flushed cheeks, “but it’s time to eat.” you continued before turning and making your way to the kitchen you smoothed down the wrinkles of your clothing as you tried to pull yourself together before taking out the sides. 

You made a nice spring greens salad with a homemade vinaigrette recipe you knew Jin loved, homemade mash potatoes, the good kind with sour cream and heavy whipping cream in them, and baked rosemary and lemon chicken. 

“Do you smell something burning,” Jin asked as he fallowed you in the kitchen. 

“Oh no the chicken,” you cried rushing to the oven and almost burning yourself as you pulled it out. You kept it in the oven to keep the entre warm, but you had forgotten to turn it off. You inspected the crisp golden skin with a frown, it was still edible, but you didn’t have to tear into the meat to know that it was dry. 

Jin stands next to you as he took in the burnt sprigs of rosemary that sat in the pan.  One crackled into dust as he pinched it out the pan.

“Fresh herbs, nice,”  he commented. 

You glared at him pouting cutely. Jin was never shy when it came to critiquing you in the kitchen, it was almost more insulting that he tried to make a positive note out of the shriveled up chicken and lemons slices in the pan. 

“The skin looks well seasoned,” he tried again in hopes of cheering you up. 

You signed, pout still intact as you reached for a drumstick tearing a piece off to inspect the damage. You could find more moisture in the desert, you thought glumly as you chewed. Jin looked like he would agree with you after tearing off a piece for himself. 

“I could make a quick aioli cream sauce you like. Do we have any more lemons?” he offered already turning to the fridge. 

“No, we don’t! Besides I’m supposed to cook for you,” you whined pulling at his arm to keep him in place. “Dang it, I was supposed to cheer you up and I completely botched it. We would be better off ordering take out,” You whined. 

Jin laughed as you before turning and cupping your face in both his hands, kissing you tenderly on your pouted lips, “You did cheer me up my love, and these sides look amazing no way you’re ordering out.”  

You smiled up at him happily, blinking away the little tears of embarrassment, before you realized it did nothing to help with the hazy vision in the room. 

“Smoke,” you said quickly pulling away from Jin, “Something IS burning,” 

You pulled open the oven in investigation with no luck. Double-checking that the oven and all four burners were off you turned to see grey smoke billowing in from the dining room.

The candle. 

You both rush to the dining room taking in the horror as you saw the rosey candle you lit turned over on the lace table cloth setting it alight. Jin immediately slips off his blazer beating it against the table in an attempt to snuff out the flames. 

It was his favorite blazer, you noted sadly as you ran to fill up a glass with water in the sink. You got it for him when he got his promotion at work last year, and it was the one he wore when he proposed to you a few weeks later.

Your stomach was filled with dread as you urged the sink to push out water faster before you were running back to your husband and the flames. You tossed the water on the table haphazardly as you took too sharp a turn at the entryway. 

The water hissed and turned to steam as it splashed on the edge of the fire most of it landing on the dining chair. 

“Nice shot,” Jin commented with a squeaky laugh

“Now is not the time!” you hissed rushing back to the sink. Jin fallowed coughing from the smoke. He tossed his charred blazer aside and crouched next to you to reach in the cabinet under the sink as you filled another glass. You would aim this time.

“Grab the cat and get out of the house,” Jin ordered when he heard you cough. 

“What, no you!” you snapped back stubbornly, pulling up the neckline to cover your nose, before taking your glass of water and rushing back to the blaze. 

“And call 9-1-1 while you’re at it,” you added. You cringed as you saw the dry dining table chair has also caught. If the fire spread to your rug you guys were in deep trouble. 

“We have insurance right?” you called through your coughing fit deciding to douce the carpet to keep the flames from spreading. 

Jin only grunted his head still tucked under the sink as he dug through the cabinet. 

“What are you even doing?” you asked heading for the fridge, you were tired of waiting for the sink to fill up your cup. 

“Get out the house!” was his only reply. 

You reached for the gallon of milk and carried it into the dining room swinging your arms in a wide arch as you clumsily, tried to slosh the milk onto the flames without getting too close. Your approach was somewhat effective on the bit closest to you but otherwise mostly just made a pungent-smelling smoke. 

“Milk is for heartburn not burn burn!” Jin hissed shoving his wide shoulders passed you and the door frame. He held a bug spay sized can with a red lid and you clapped in delight as you saw a white foam shoot out. In the process of moving in from his apartment, a lot of his things got tossed in boxes, the two of you were still in the process of decluttering all your junk. 

The fire extinguisher was a requierment when he moved into his first apartment in college, and it had fallowed him to each time he moved through the years. 

“Oh thank God it didn’t expire,” Jin groaned as he put out the last of the flames.  Through watery eyes, you took in the mess of milk and extinguisher juice that littered your burnt table and rug. The sweet lace of your grandmother’s tablecloth was nothing but a swatch of fabric now, and Jin’s blazer had a large hole in the back of it the brown sleeves were charred black.

Your stomach growling loudly broke the heavy silence. 

Then, Jin was laughing a loud, high pitched, squeaky laugh, and you couldn’t couldn’t hold back your own. 

“I agree,” Jin wheezed between his laughter, “we should definitely eat first.”

You both laughed until it turned into a coughing fits, but even then you couldn’t suppress the giggles that made their way up your throat between coughs. It was a terribly uncomfortable experience, the pressure in your chest hurt, your throat burned, and your eyes were streaming with tears but still, you both smiled as you turned to open the windows and doors to air out the house. 

Jin captured you in his arms when you returned from checking on your cat, he was very displeased with the state of the house, but otherwise he safe and okay. 

“So I’m thinking,” he started before giving you a quick peck, “if I grab the lemons out the compost, I can still use the zest to make the sauce.” 

Thanks for reading!!!

[briefololtragedy]

Fire station 9

meeting the florist

Pairing: Tobirama x Sakura

Rating: G

Summary: Every year there was competition between the police department and fire department to see who could raise the most money for the Children's hospital. Well more like Uchiha vs Senju. Hashirama volunteers Tobirama to help set up the event for the fire department, yet forgot to mention the florist/planner he would be working with

my first attempt at writing Tobirama I just adore TobiSaku so much.

also posted on AO3

Tobiramra looked around the station. He took in the site of the empty hall. One of his crews just left for a cat in a tree call. The crew had a few new recruits, so it will likely take a couple of hours. They will learn quickly to despise Mrs. Whiskers. The cat gets stuck in a tree every 2 weeks and always takes at least 2 hours to get her down.

He had to release an exhale. The men had left the space in complete and utter disarray. They would soon be having one of the florists come to look at the space for their next charity ball. He was debating asking his brother for a different location, but money was tight in the budget. They had decided to do it at fire station 9. It was nestled just outside the heart of the city and had enough yard space to allow for the masses to congregate inside and out.

The mess was getting to him and it was almost 5pm, meaning when the men came back they would be hungry. He scavaged through the fridge and pantry. If he was going to meet this florist he might as well kill time by cooking.

Most of the men weren’t picky in what they would eat, as long as there was protein, lots of protein. He found some ground beef in the fridge, saltine crackers in the pantry. Meatloaf.  A strange food, but it spoke of home for most of the firefighters. He cut open the package of ground beef, dumping it into a bowel. He was feeling slightly lazy and dumped the crackers into the blender, grinding them up faster than he could have done by hand. He didn’t bother to measure the barbecue sauce or ketchup as he added it to the mixture, along with a couple of eggs. He then used the best utensils he had, his hands. He gently massaged the mixture, combing the ingredients together. Soon he was able to shape it into the loaf shape and shove it in the oven.

Deciding to have some vegetables with the meal. Tobirama grabbed some carrots, potatoes (not a vegetable he told himself), asparagus, and mushrooms. He raised a brow at the asparagus. “Who the hell bought this?” He quickly drizzled with olive oil, a dash of salt, and a healthy dash of pepper. Soon the vegetables were going into the oven, joining  the meatloaf.

“Hello” he heard a soft voice cut through the silence. It was irrey having the station be so quiet.

“Here.” came his short, gruff reply. Before he knew it he was met with sparkling green eyes and ...pink hair? Why would someone dye their hair such a ridiculous color? However he soon realized that both this woman’s eyebrows and eyelashes were pink as well. Natural, how strange.

“I’m looking for ...Battalion chief Senju. Do you know where I could find him? I'm Sakura, the florist Hashirama hired.”

Tobimara had to pause. His brother already hired this woman? That would not do.

“ I have not heard that we hired a florist. This is supposed to be just a consultation.” He saw Sakura wince at his tone.

“Hashirama already met with me to go over the details of the event. I gave him an estimation of the cost, but couldn’t do an actual plan until I saw the layout in person.” She passed her hand through her hair.

“Also you have not told me who you are, which is not proper manners.” She quirked a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him and had the audacity to tap her foot.

“My name is Tobirama Senju and I am the battalion chief.” Sakura took in the man standing before her. She had figured the moment she walked in the room who this man was, but he needed to lose the attitude. Was he drop dead gorgeous? Yes. He had scars on the sides of his face and his chin that highlighted his bone structure. His hair was a sliver white in color and his eyes were blood red. His colorings reminded her of someone else she knew. However, the sheer arrogance coming off him, would cause a rock to turn away.

“Thank you. Now can you show me this space I have heard about. I am also under the impression that there may be an outside space as well for the event. I will need to see that as well.” Sakura had pulled out her notebook. She already had lots of ideas after talking with Hashirama, but wanted to make sure it was just right.

Tobirama took a deep breath, this was going to be a long meeting. Sakura followed him quietly. He could hear the snaps of her phone’s camera as they walked to the main hall.

“There isn't much to this space is there?” Tobirama was going to respond, but she was walking away from him, writing something in her book. He took in her appearance just then. She was on the average side for height, but she was a waif of a thing from how her clothes were fitting her.  It looked like a strong wind would blow her over. She was wearing yoga pants, he assumed, and a loose fitting top. Her hair fell just below her shoulders. Her face was heart shaped with a delicate nose, high cheekbones, but it was her eyes that drew all the attention. He had to shake his head.

“Alright can you show me outside now? “ Tobirama wanted to lead her to the front door and never have her come back. However he didn’t think that his brother would be too happy with him. This event was their main charity event for the year. Every year they competed with the police department to see who could earn the most money for the children’s hospital.

For some reason over the last couple of years the police department raised more than them. Tobirama was perplexed by this. Part of him knew they would make more money if they had a firefighters calendar, but he didn’t care for the tactic. Madara and Izuna on the other hand kept using their younger cousins, or was it nephews he could never keep that family straight, to attract the female population. He led her to the side room off the main room and then through the double doors that led outside. He looked around the patio they had, it was one of his favorite features of the station.

Sakura took in the space she just walked into. Now this she could work with. She didn’t know how she agreed to help Hashirama with this party, but if she could spend time out here she wouldn’t mind. The patio was made of red bricks. Instead of them going straight across in typical fashion, they were arranged in a circle and flared out in a spiral pattern. The brick was continued to a half wall, that would be the perfect height for people to sit on comfortably. There were 4 steps that led to the grass area. Small cobblestones created a path to the front and back of the building. The trees in this area were large. They went well above the fire station’s roof and created an almost canopy, encompassing the side in shade.

Sakira could already see it. Simple string lights going from the trees to the station’s walls, mimicking the natural arch of the trees. Bar height tables on the patio for guests to eat at and talk. The inside was going to need some work, but she would just need to highlight the natural beauty of this space.

Tobirama was watching her again. Sour look on his face. He couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t say anything. When he had  first seen her he imagined she wouldn’t be quiet. He was proven wrong. He was never wrong. She snapped her notebook shut.

“ I think I have everything I need. It smells like your meatloaf is ready by the way. I’ll show myself out.” Tobirama followed her. The moment he walked back into the station he realized he needed to get the food out of the oven before it burnt to a crisp.

“Are we not going to discuss details?” As he opened the oven he was happy to see he was just in time. He wouldn’t not voice his thanks to this pink haired woman.

“As i said before. Hashirama and I already talked about plans. I just needed to see the area to see what to go with. I will have an estimate with cost and plans sent to him.” She grabbed the bag he didn’t realize she had brought with her and was getting ready to leave.

“Why would you send the plans to him? I am the one in-charge of the event.” Tobimara found her stunned face a victory. He couldn’t help smirk as he folded his arms in front of his body.

“I was under the impression I would be working with Hashirama.” Sakura felt ice fill her veins. She would be spending the next few weeks working with him. His personality made Fugaku seem inviting.

“I’ll send an email about the timing for the next meeting then.” Tobirama watched her walk away. It wasn’t long after she left that the guys started filtering back in. He heard snippets about their job, but his mind was on the next couple of weeks. He was not looking forward to it. He ate is meatloaf and vegetables a little too aggressively that night. The crew members knew not to ask why.

[the--highlanders]

About a Burnt Mess

Jamie finds himself responsible for making a mess in the TARDIS kitchen, and the Doctor tries to help. 

on ao3.

“Och – no -” Jamie waved the plumes of steam wafting out of the oven away from his face, blinking and spluttering as the heat of it stung at his hands. “No, no -” He grabbed at the baking tray inside, but quickly whisked his hand back when he touched it, nursing his fingertips ruefully.

“I don’t suppose I could help with that?”

Half-blinded by the greasy orange light of the oven, Jamie cast around helplessly for the source of the voice until his eyes settled on the Doctor. He was leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, watching Jamie’s struggles with an air of fond amusement, and Jamie was sure his own heat-reddened cheeks were flushing darker.

“Nice of ye tae stand there watchin’ an’ not helping,’ he mumbled around the burnt finger he had stuck in his mouth.

“You seemed to be getting on quite well without me.” Ambling further into the kitchen, the Doctor fished a tea-towel out of a drawer, holding it out like a peace offering. Jamie took it gratefully, bending to pull the tray out of the oven and deposit it on the counter with a clunk. He stood back, crossing his arms and tilting his head to examine the contents.

“It’s not too bad,” he said hopefully.

A blackened flake cracked away from its surface, tumbling down to tuck itself against the edge of the tray.

“Of course it’s not,” the Doctor said. “A little crisp around the edges, perhaps.” He poked at its surface experimentally. “Ah – what is it?”

Jamie tapped at the edge of the tray, turning it a little. The change of angle did nothing to make its contents seem more appetising. “Black pudding. Or it’s meant tae be.”

“Ah.” The Doctor cast a pointed look around the kitchen, and Jamie followed his gaze, wondering what the room looked like to him. Something dark red and dripping was plastered over the cabinets, coating most of the bowls and cutlery that lay scattered over the counters and spilling onto the floor in places. A smudge of it marred Jamie’s cheek, halfway between red and rusty brown, and he reached up to scrub at it when he realised the Doctor’s scrutiny had come full circle back to him. “That would explain the… the blood.”

“Aye, it would.”

The dark, lumpy mass coiled in the tray sat there between them awkwardly, its presence almost as stifling as the cloying metallic smell that filled the kitchen. “Not Victoria’s choice of dish, I assume,” the Doctor said.

“It was, actually.” Jamie grinned. “She had it for breakfast one time – ye remember that big hotel we stayed in? The one with the mantises that acted like they were English.”

“Oh, yes. The Thicyans.” The Doctor chuckled. “I do wonder if they’ll ever find out that England isn’t a tropical country.”

“Aye, them. Well, she ordered some English breakfast, an’ it had – well, it had a wee bit of black puddin’ in it. Then she found out I knew how tae make it, an’ -” He gestured towards the tray. “It’s no’ exactly my best.”

Bending over, the Doctor scrunched up his face to peer at the knobs on the oven. “I still think you set it too hot, you know.”

“If it’s hotter it’ll cook faster.” Jamie swiped the back of his hand over his forehead, leaving another streak of red. “Anyway, when was the last time ye cooked without burnin’ something?” When the Doctor opened his mouth to argue, Jamie held up his hand to silence him. “An’ fiddling around with the wee dials on the food machine doesnae count.”

“Oh, hush. I’ll have you know that I’ve been considered quite talented at working fabricated food technology.”

“It’s still no’ as good as a proper meal.”

“Oh, I see.” Tapping his finger against his chin, the Doctor frowned down at the pudding. “Proper meals like this one, eh?”

“Normally,” Jamie protested. “Normally no’ as good as a proper meal.” He threw a despairing look at the charred pudding before him. “It looks like it’s starin’ at us.”

The Doctor twisted his head back and forth. “Mm. There is something of a face in the middle, isn’t there?”

They stared down at the pudding in silent contemplation for a moment before bursting into laughter. “What am I gonnae do?” Jamie raised his hands to pull at his hair, but caught sight of the blood stuck to his palms and thought better of it. “It took us ages to make that, an’ Victoria was lookin’ forward to it. I dinnae want tae tell her I’ve ruined it.”

“I don’t suppose...” The Doctor frowned at the explosion of bowls and baking tins around them. “I don’t suppose she’d notice if you made a new one.” He was watching Jamie out of the corner of his eye, his smile half-concealed behind his hand. “Even if you had to set the oven to the highest heat we could, to cook it fast enough.”

Jamie shook his head. “No’ enough time. But I ‘spose we can make a start on a new one.”

“Mm.” The Doctor tapped his fingers together, opened his mouth, then closed it again abruptly. “Ah – what do you mean, we?”

“It’ll be easier with two.”

“Oh.” The Doctor glanced around himself, then sighed, shoulders slumping. “I suppose Victoria really did want a black pudding.”

‘Aye, she did.”

“And it would cheer her up immensely to get one sooner rather than later.”

‘Aye, it would.”

“Oh, very well.” Skipping over to the food machine, the Doctor spread his hands over the controls, bracing himself to punch in a code. “Ah – what do you need first?”

“I’ll do it.” Jamie ushered him aside, tapping a few keys and bending down to pull out a fresh bowl of blood. He shoved it towards the Doctor, wincing as it almost slopped over the rim. “Stir those oats in with that. I’ll get everythin’ else.” He busied himself with typing in the next code, his fingers clumsy with haste. The low, constant hum of the TARDIS rose into a whine as he stumbled over it, and he scowled down at the machine until it let out the tell-tale ding of a new ingredient. “Here ye go -” Only when he turned did he realise that the Doctor had somehow managed to spatter more blood than ever onto the bench, speckling the front of his shirt and Jamie’s own sleeve with red. “I’m gonnae have tae clean the kitchen, but I’m no’ gonnae be the one to clean you.”

The sound of someone pointedly clearing their throat drew their attention away from the mess the Doctor had made and towards the doorway. Victoria stood there, her mouth tugged into a slightly resigned smile. “Am I interrupting something?” she asked.

“No!” The word emerged strangled and too-loud, and Jamie swallowed nervously, as if he could drag it back inside himself. “No,” he repeated, his voice full of awkward laughter. “Everything’s fine.” Beside him, the Doctor shoved aside the tray with the burnt pudding. It scraped against the countertop, letting out a soft screech as it went. “We’re just – er -”

“I could smell it from my room,” Victoria said. “I supposed you must’ve burnt it.”

“Oh.” Jamie hung his head, but found himself face-to-face with the failed pudding, and quickly turned away from it. “We were just starting on another one.”

When it came, Victoria’s laughter did not fill him with nearly as much embarrassment as he had feared. “You should have waited for me,” she said. “I would have helped you.”

“We wanted to give you a head-start,” the Doctor said, clapping his hands together. “But seeing as you’re here now – why don’t you come and stir this, Victoria, dear, I’m sure you two are quite capable on your own -”

“I couldn’t possibly,” Victoria interrupted him, exchanging a grin with Jamie. “After all, I made such a mess last time.”

The Doctor cast a desperate look towards Jamie. “I don’t suppose -”

“Och, go on, then.” Ushering him out of the way, Jamie edged over to pick up the spoon. “Ye can get the rest of the things we need from the food machine. Seein’ as you’re so good with it, an’ all.”

“But what’s left for me to do?” Victoria asked.

Jamie grinned. “Ye can mind the oven this time.”

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Wet Sugar” [Part 6 of 30]

"I'm making you wait for the fifth date I need to know if you're worthy Making you wait Never too late I need to know if you're crazy I'm making you wait A-ha, I need to know that you're worthy I'm making you wait (wait, wait, wait, wait)

I'm making you wait I can't give the sweet of me so quickly I gotta know if you're strictly Dictation, saying what you said before to that other girl You know I gotta find out if it's true…"

Jill Scott—"Making You Wait"

NSFW. Mature Audience Only.  Share. Comment. Like. You know!

CW: Some mention of sexual abuse.

Summary: Trouble in paradise and Erik has to leave with Klaue...

Linda Chambers.

Her fair skin was deeply tanned and a bit sunburned. She was in Spain on vacation. She spoke to Erik from a small tablet propped up on a table inside a private villa. For someone with so much debt, Linda was living large.

"You're fast," he said while sitting inside Klaue's living room.

"Glad I passed," she said. Her voice was playful, her eyes trying to be sly as they checked him out.

"How's the gazpacho?" he asked staring at the bowl in front of her.

"Quite tasty. How did you know I was eating that?"

"What else would you eat on a warm day in Spain?"

"So…," she said.

"So?"

"How does this work? Do I come in for an interview, or does this count?"

"You've been vetted, but this is an extra formality. I gotta see what we're dealing with."

"Like what you see?" she said.

"My boss needs superb skills. You might just be what we're looking for—"

"So you're not the main dude?"

"I'm the man next to the man."

"Got it."

Linda waited for him to say more, but he studied her face. Her look was cute but plain. The kind of plain that could be forgettable which was a plus in their work.

He spoke to her in Arabic and she conversed with him for a full ten minutes before he switched back to English.

"Are you available now?" he asked.

"I'm in Spain getting burnt to a crisp. What do you think?"

"How long are you staying there?"

"You offering me work?"

"How long?"

"Another week—"

"I'll get back to you."

"When—"

He cut off communication.

She would do. Afghanistan could be her preliminary probation gig. Her Arabic was good, and she wasn't intimidated by him.

He checked his watch. He was late for dinner.

###

Yani brought out another tray of broccoli casserole hot from the oven and placed it on the self-serving table. The men fixed their own plates and all she had to do was watch for anything that needed replenishing.

Her eyes kept checking the side entrance that everyone used to come into the dining room. Erik hadn't shown up yet and she felt her tummy getting butterflies waiting for him to walk in after he had made her cum so hard from dry humping.

When he finally stepped into the room, his face looked serious, and she figured he was trying to act normal around the others.

Klaue eyed Erik from the head of the table.

"Things going well?"

"Spoke to Linda."

"And?"

"We're good. She's good."

Erik fixed his plate without looking at Yani.

Linda?

Her eyes tried to connect with his, but he ate his meal and concentrated on Klaue.

He had a woman?

She felt ridiculous now. Of course he did. He probably hooked up with all kinds of women wherever he went. She was just another girl on his hit list. He was sweet and seductive when he wanted to get between her legs, and did the same thing with others. Did this Linda know that about him?

Yani felt her cheeks tighten as she walked into the kitchen to retrieve a fresh batch of dinner rolls. The guys were going through Leona's food like it was going out of style. There was only half a tray of grilled steak left and one bowl of glazed carrots warming on the stove.

She went to put another pitcher of iced tea on the second serving table and Erik was there refilling his glass with water. His eyes finally looked at her.

"Why you frowning, girl?" he said, his voice playful but low enough so that only she heard him.

"Who is Linda?" she hissed, leaving the ice tea and the room.

He followed her into the kitchen and went into the freezer looking for ice. Leona took the last of the steak out to the men.

"What's with the attitude?" he asked.

She couldn't answer him.

"Can't talk to me now?"

She crossed her arms over her chest.

"I like it when you look mad," he said.

He stroked her arm and she pulled back.

"You have a woman, Killmonger?"

"Now you're being nosey—"

"You do," she said moving away from him.

Leona came back into the kitchen and saw them in the corner together.

"Yani. More blue cheese, please. On the table," Leona said grabbing a food net cover for the meat.

Yani opened the fridge and grabbed the extra blue cheese crumbles. Erik blocked her when she tried to leave.

"Let me give you a word of advice. Whatever you hear that isn't directed at you, you best pretend you never heard it. You got that? Now take that blue cheese out there," he said.

He was serious when he spoke and he pushed her toward the dining room.

"Watch your fucking hands," she said while shoving him back as she left the kitchen.

She watched him sit back down in his place at the table. Huntsman's eyes were on her and she felt the uncomfortable gaze that some of the men gave her when they looked at her in that way. Disgusting.

She went back into the kitchen and pulled out her cell. Texting her cousin Twyla she asked about Sydette. All was well and she was able to relax. She wanted to go home. As soon as these men were finished, she could help clean up and take her Aunt's car back to the apartment.

Thirty minutes later the men were done eating and moved down to the pool to smoke cigars and cigarettes. She saw Shipley grab a full bottle of rum from the kitchen pantry. There were four steaks leftover, so she would be able to take three home for herself, Twyla and Kendall. Leona would eat the fourth steak.

Yani filled a plastic food container with the carrots and a few dinner rolls. Everything else was gone and she felt bad that she didn't grab some broccoli while she had the chance. Clean up was relatively fast. They were finished by eight.

"I can handle breakfast tomorrow. They will make their own breakfast burritos. Sleep in with the baby and come in around three. They will be gone after breakfast and won't return until dinner," Leona said.

Nice.

She could maybe get some real sleep and have time to fill out her school application. She put away the last of the silverware and washed her hands.

"I forgot to show you the vid of Kendall," Erik said walking back into the kitchen.

He ignored Yani and stood next to Leona with his phone. Of course, her Aunt was all smiles for him. She waited quietly by the sink as Leona watched his phone. She could hear Kendall being hyper and shouting out to the crowd and then she heard her own voice singing to Erik. Her eyes glanced over at him and he was staring at his phone and stroking his beard.

"What him say?" Leona asked when the vid reached the part where Chez called her out.

Erik's eyes sought hers and Yani looked away, letting her eyes stare at the floor as she heard her voice rip Chez a new one. When the vid ended, her Aunt's eyes were on her. She was not happy at all.

"Why would you say that to him in public like that Yani? Other people probably recorded that and upload it for the world to see. You nuh disrespect your pickney faddah like that. What if Sydette see that one day? What that gyal think about you both? Huh? You nuh wan the sins and hate of the parents going down into you pickney like that. You nuh think 'bout that? Think about Sydette's feelings?"

Yani felt shame heat up her cheeks and throat. She cut her eyes at Erik for showing all of the recording. All he had to do was show Kendall's part.

"You always take his side. He treats me like dirt and I have to think about his feelings? I never get to say how I feel. And yuh know how him treat me—"

Leona shook her head and waved her hand.

"He still your baby's faddah. No matter what. His blood is in yuh baby—"

"And so is mine, Auntie, and so is mine. You should be on my side. Him say all kinds of evil things about me in front of alla dem. Erik heard him too—"

"Who is Erik?"

"Me," Erik said, his face looking slack. Almost like he regretted showing the vid.

"And him fight Zachary and beat him up…knocked me over too. But I have to be nice to him?!"

Leona still shook her head.

"Let me have the car keys, Auntie, I'm leaving now," Yani said picking up the bag of leftovers she was taking to her family.

Leona pulled her keys from a kitchen drawer and handed them to her. Yani didn't bother to say goodbye. She left them both in the kitchen.

Stepping outside she swiftly made her way to the car and placed the food in the backseat.

"Yani."

Erik approached her and stood by the driver side door. His eyes looked remorseful. Towering over her she felt crowded by his body again. Men were always boxing her up, invading her space and making her feel small. She didn't need another man stealing her joy again.

"I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to know you. Just fucking turn your head when you see me from now on."

She climbed into the car and slammed the door. The compound gate automatically opened for her and she drove off.

Fuck alla dem men.

###

Erik walked back into the kitchen and found Leona sitting at the dining room table. She ate a re-heated steak and picked at some carrots.

"I'm sorry I upset you and Yani with the vid," he said.

"It's not your fault. We go through this often. I have to learn how to hold my tongue with her sometimes. I do tend to take up for Chez. I don't want Sydette to be ashamed of her Dad. Him no good. I know this. But he wasn't always a bad man. Him change—"

"He's violent and he did say some terrible things about your niece. He brutalized Zachary. If Tahir and I hadn't been there—"

"I know, I know…I just don't know what to do for her."

Erik sat down at the table across from her. Leona scratched the skin of her left shoulder, lifting up the short sleeve of her shirt to do it. He noticed two dark black tattoos inked on her flesh. One looked like a flame and the other some sort of knife.

"My niece so sweet…Yani special. She carry so much shame because of her parents. She was on her way to University y'know. She so smart, and she has healing hands…hands of a doctor. She gave up her dream of being a baby doctor, but she's going to be a nurse, and I want her to succeed…so she can show her parents that she is still a good girl. A brilliant young woman. She walk around her family like she's no good no more. And it hurts me. She carries shame and it's so heavy on her…on her baby. I don't want to see her have any more problems with Chez, but that vid…"

She put down her fork.

"Will Chez come after her for that vid?" she asked.

"I won't let him."

"I don't want you getting caught up in this mess. His friends pulled guns on you—"

"Tahir and I took them. His anger was directed at Zachary, not Yani. I think he still wants her."

"Having another child with another woman was not the way to keep her. Jesus…that girl always have problems with you men. Them chase after her, fight over her, but never want to take care of her right."

Leona picked at her steak and took a few sliced bites. She wiped her lips with a napkin.

"You want something to drink?" he asked.

"No, I am done eating."

She stood and picked up her half-eaten plate.

"Thank you for saving Zachary. I am sorry you got caught up in Chez's foolishness."

She left him and he heard her washing her dishes.

Erik walked out to join the other men by the pool. Tahir handed him a cigar and he smoked it, enjoying the sweet cherry taste blended with the tobacco on the first drag that hit his tongue.

The other men laughed, cracked jokes and let loose more once Klaue left them alone. Shipley pulled out a joint and Erik gladly toked it up. Yani was upset with him. Perhaps it was a sign. Focus on the job at hand. There were other women on the island he could chase after if he really wanted to smash yams.

But damn.

Yani had him wound up and ready to give her anything when she had her legs wrapped around his waist. He hadn't even enjoyed the full fruits of her, and she was cutting him off already.

Fuck.

###

She hardly saw Erik anymore.

At least not alone.

The energy in the compound was tense and the men spent most of their time in Klaue's main house. She and Leona were not allowed in there when the men were meeting with him for hours.

The last conversation she had with Erik was over ten days ago when she told him to leave her be. And he did.

He never looked at her directly. Not even during meals. When she did have to speak to him because Klaue needed something, his eyes cut away from her and he only nodded his head or shook it, and gave one or two words to answer her when he had to. His gorgeous face was pinched tight all the time, she rarely saw his dimples anymore, and when the other men were done meeting with Klaue, Erik and Klaue would hole up alone for another few hours, often skipping lunch with the group and arriving to dinner late with grim expressions.

Yani worked her hours and minded her business. She still went down to the cove to swim and they never ran into each other alone. A few times she saw him return to the compound in the early morning, so she knew he was out fucking. And on those days her stomach would feel sour when she saw him strolling through the gate.

Once, when she brought their lunch out to the gun range, she noticed red marks on the side of his neck. She watched him gulp down a large glass of cold water and felt her blood boil when she saw those hickeys. She lingered above the gun range, covering her ears with her hands so she could watch him take his turn shooting weapons when he was done eating. He was fast, precise, and clearly dangerous with a gun. All kinds of guns. Especially the big ones she only saw in movies with the rapid-fire bullets. Chez's friends never had a chance with this man. Erik…no…Killmonger…that man was a killer for true.

Tahir was timing Erik with his turn at the gun targets, and when Erik was done with his Glock, the two men high-fived and she saw him smile, his gold slugs gleaming. The tight long-sleeve white shirt he wore accentuated the muscles in his arms, his pecs outlined so clearly.

Some woman outside the compound was getting him at night, getting those muscles, getting those teeth on her body. Her stomach was in knots thinking of him sticking his face between some other woman's legs, kissing her down there…

The back of her left back pocket vibrated with her cell. She checked the message. Her Aunt was letting her know to get started on Klaue's house. She had laundry to do and needed Klaue's household sheets to clean within the hour.

Yani walked to the first house and grabbed the laundry net bags from the laundry room. Spotting Jerome near the pool wall, she took a moment to feed him leaves and talk to him about his poor behavior, always blocking the walkway when the men needed to pass through.

Once she was inside Klaue's house, she got to work on the bedrooms, stuffing Boss Man's dirty linen in the laundry bags and re-making his bed with clean sheets and pillowcases. She took time to dust and sweep his bedroom floor and checked his bathroom for toilet paper and toiletries. She tidied up and switched out sheets in two more bedrooms before she hit the master bedroom. The bathroom there was spotless and when she dusted the furniture, she noticed prescription pills on the bureau. She read the pill bottles, recognizing the medications. One was paroxetine an anti-depressant and the other was doxepin, a sleep medication to help with insomnia.

She read his name on the bottle.

Erik Stevens.

Such a normal-sounding surname. Killmonger had to be a nickname.

She pulled back the thin yellow velour blanket from his bed and grabbed one of the pillows to remove the pillowcase. Reaching for the other one, she lifted it up and discovered a gun underneath it. A hefty-sized piece with a silencer—

"Fuck you doing in here? Told you I clean my own room!"

She jumped when she heard Erik's voice barking at her, and she dropped the pillow. Her eyes stayed on the sheets.

"I forgot. I'm just getting the dirty linen to wash—"

He snatched the sheets from his bed, balled them up and shoved them into her chest.

"You want me to put the clean-?"

"I said I can do my own room. I can put some damn sheets on the bed. I don't need a maid to do it for me."

Erik's gold slugs flashed, the teeth sharp and menacing, his eyes gone dark and brutal.

He grabbed his weapon and placed it inside the drawer of the nightstand next to the bed slamming the drawer hard as he closed it.

"Get the fuck out!"

She crammed his dirty linen in the bag she had with her and backed out of the room without another word to him. Snatching up the other bags of sheets, she made haste back up to the front house.

When she made it to the laundry room and started loading up the washer, she finally noticed she was crying. She stopped to wipe her eyes and saw that her hands were shaking. She was terrified. Was that the real Killmonger?

His true face?

That couldn't be the same man who fed her baby and burped her gently on his lap. No way that was the man who cradled her face and said her name so softly that it sounded like an angel speaking to her.

She finished loading up the bedding and detergent, then turned on the washer. She texted her Aunt to let her know the first loads were in. Klaue always had his things cleaned first. Shoving her cell into her back pocket she took a deep breath and shook out her hands.

She saw the outside light in the laundry room darken and when she turned around, Erik was taking up all the space in the doorway staring at her. His eyes were still hard and his lips were poked out.

He was so huge compared to her. And they were alone. Her Aunt was in the middle house cleaning and all the others were at the gun range. Her hands automatically balled up into fists.

Erik stepped into the laundry room and she made a run for it, pushing past him. But she wasn't quick enough. He grabbed her arm to stop her and she yanked back from him, hitting him with her other hand.

"Yani, stop!"

His voice was still coarse, surly even, and she didn't want to be alone with him. Her mind flashed to his meds. Those were drugs that people with PTSD often took. She knew this because her Uncle took meds like those before he killed himself. Maybe Erik was having an anger episode. He was ex-military like her Uncle. All of Klaue's men were ex-military.

The thought frightened her more and she pulled back from him falling onto her backside. She turned over pushing up from her knees and she felt his strong arms lift her up by her waist. Instinctively she tightened up her body pressing her balled up fists against her eyes.

"Don't hurt me!" she shouted. All she could think about was her baby and what would happen to her Sweet Pea if this man physically harmed her.

Tears stung her eyes again and she could feel water leaking onto her thumb and index fingers still jammed against her face.

Erik put her back down on her feet, but he didn't release her waist. He squeezed her tighter and pulled her closer against him.

"I wouldn't hurt you," he said.

She tried pulling away from him, clawed her fingers against his arm, but he was steadfast.

Heat.

Soft wet heat.

His lips kissed the back of her neck and she froze up. She could feel him exhaling gently on the back of her nape and his warm breath made her body relax in his grip. She waited for the worst, her mind automatically jumping to the worst-case scenario. If he was going to molest her or sexually assault her, it was best to let him have his way so she could just get back to her daughter without injury. He was faster, stronger, and she knew what he could do with his hands when he was in attack mode. And he had a gun. She had been abused once as a young teen, playing around with a boy she liked, sneaking kisses with him until he wanted more and she wasn't ready. He had groped her breasts until her other friends found them and distracted the boy from doing more and she got away, but her body automatically did what it did back then, grew slack and endured.

Erik's lips continued pressing into her skin, and she could feel his hot tongue giving her tiny licks, pulling goosebumps on her arms.

"I could never hurt you, Yani. I'm sorry…sorry I talked to you like that back at the house. Some shit is going down and I'm in a fucked-up mood and I took it out on you."

Yani remained motionless, still too scared to move. His arms released her and she took a tentative step away from him, the open door only eight feet in front of her. She turned to look at him and when he saw her eyes his face grew less tight.

"Fuck, I didn't mean to make you cry—"

"You scared me," she said feeling her eyes well up again, "I was only doing my job. That's what a maid does!" she spit out.

His eyes darted away from hers. He pressed his hands together and lifted them to his lips.

"I shouldn't have said that about you—"

"But you did—"

"Okay, okay…I know. I'm not in a good place right now and I lashed out—"

"I don't wanna talk no more, Killmonger."

She left him in the laundry room. She had to finish Klaue's main house. She had to stay away from him.

Rubbing her arms, she saw that she still had goosebumps on her skin, her body still reeling from his kisses on the back of her neck.

###

He would have to start taking his meds regularly. Up the dosage perhaps.

The sleeping pills weren't helping anymore and his body was reacting to the lack of sleep now, making him irritable and easily agitated. He noticed some of his obsessive behaviors kicking in, things that developed in his childhood that were appearing in intensity, mainly making sure everything around him was in order and running on time, and constantly checking his computer for communications in Angola that he had already checked a gazillion times already. He was also having nightmares, memories of his childhood visit to Sao Paulo, on that day, memories of running into his Baba's apartment, on that day, memories of his grandfather taking him to his mother, on that day…all the bad days, all the traumatic times that molly-whopped his life into the trajectory he was riding on now.

The sleeping pills didn't knock him into oblivion, and because they didn't, his body would get anxious when he did lie down at night afraid that the dark dreams would come again. The dread of it was the worst part, creating negative chemical reactions in his body that made him lash out in the daytime, turning him into the bullish leader that he was, pushing the men hard and often antagonizing them too.

Huntsman and Gertz had fucked up some communications in Angola because they weren't persistent in staying on top of some contacts as Erik had insisted that they do, and some paperwork they needed was delayed, possibly tangling up their transportation dates. Erik's obsessive need to control all outcomes kicked in along with his quick anger, and he had gone to his room to blow off steam. Finding Yani there touching his things set him off and he reacted as he normally did by bringing on that heat and he had frightened the girl. She was a woman, but in many respects, she was still a young girl. She was terrified of him when he walked into the laundry room.

In the past, he wouldn't give a shit how someone felt when it came to his personal things and his privacy…but…damn, she was really trying to flee from him.

She was so soft.

Holding her by her waist as she struggled against him, he was re-introduced to the delight her body gave him by being lush and round, and so damn soft. Holding her made him feel calm. Eased the stress in his mind. Tempered the tension in his limbs. He wanted to give that calm back to her.

He caught sight of the back of her neck, the space where the bottom of her neck and shoulder met. Why he hadn't noticed before surprised him, but she often wore necklaces, and he wasn't always behind her to see that she had two small tattoos there. The same tattoos her Aunt Leona had. A small flame…no a small torch…a small torch and an ancient curved blade. The onyx ink-stained her satiny brown skin making the tats extra vivid and his lips automatically kissed her there. She smelled like sugary vanilla and nutmeg, and the tip of his tongue darted out to taste her. She had relaxed in his arms then, and when he dropped her to her feet, she turned on him, her tears weakening him where he stood. The last thing he wanted to do was bring her grief because he couldn't temper his emotions. He didn't want his Sweet Pea's mother feeling hurt by him.

His Sweet Pea?

A smile grew on his face thinking of that little bundle of energy. He wanted to sit and hold her again, tickle her toes, and try to make her little dimples pop out for him.

Probably wouldn't happen now since Yani was frightened and shedding tears because of him.

Being at the compound with various levels of competence surrounding him was choking his spirit. He was glad Tahir was there with him. Klaue was a serious taskmaster, but after the Angola job, he was going to have to get rid of several mercs from the man's team. The tensions among the men only exacerbated his nerves because they knew he had Klaue's ear and what he said nearly always made Boss Man jump.

Erik walked back to the gun range and the moment he put in his earbuds and slipped his goggles back on, he froze up. The way she was acting, the way she tried to get away from him…even the way her body went slack when he wouldn't let her go…had someone done something to her?

He ripped the goggles off of his face and placed the AK-47 back on the gun rack.

"Where are you going now?" Tahir called after him.

"Gotta check on something," he called back.

He had to find her.

###

He should've known she would be there.

The cove.

He found her sitting on the sand, her knees tucked up to her chest, her eyes closed.

"Yani."

Her head turned toward him and he saw her body tense, the fight or flight response already set in motion.

"I just want to talk, that's all. You don't have to get up. I'll stay over here," he said, crouching down. He let the fingers of his right-hand drag in the warm sand.

Her big wide eyes watched him carefully.

"How is Sydette? She still being greedy?" He gave her a smile.

"She's fine."

"Chez hasn't been giving you any problems-?"

"What do you want?"

Her eyes had narrowed, her dark brows furrowed with annoyance.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay. I don't want you to be scared of me and I want to make sure you can work around here without worrying about me picking you up like I did in the laundry room. I just didn't want you to leave without hearing me say sorry, and when you fell down-"

"Forget it," she said. She turned her head and stared at the water.

"Are we good?"

"I'm here to work. That's all, man. I'll stay out of your room. You can do what you want…whatever. I don't want you grabbing on me—"

"I won't lay a hand on you unless you want me to."

"Fine."

He stood up and gazed out upon the water. It glittered and beckoned to him to wade in and swim.

"You want to take a quick dip with me?" he asked.

"No."

"I'll leave you alone then—"

"Please."

He felt his lips twist up a bit in a half-smile. She was not going to cut him any slack. Good.

"We'll be leaving in a few days."

She looked over at him.

"Less money for me, that's all," she said.

"Won't be back for a minute."

She stuck her index and ring finger sideways giving him the deuces sign. He laughed out loud.

"You going to hold my feet to the fire from now on, huh?" he said.

She shrugged her shoulders.

"I know you can't have your baby here, but…could I come by your house and see Sydette before I leave?"

"Why?"

"The dimple mafia has to stick together."

She smiled at that and it made him feel better.

"I'll see you around. Let me know if I can come see her," he said.

Heading back up the path toward the main house he felt a heaviness come down on him. He might not see her for weeks, and that depended on if Klaue wanted to come back to St. Thomas after the Angola job. He'd been hinting at setting up shop back in South Africa, and Erik didn't want to stay there until the Kabul gig. He considered going back to Sao Paulo and maybe heading back to Oakland if Klaue stayed in Jo'burg.

Until then, he hoped she would let him see Sweet Pea.

He needed to be around a tiny bit of innocence.

###

The sky at dawn was layered. Scarlet orange. A hint of purple with a sprinkling of magenta. A vivid violet-blue and the silvery glint of the moon slowly fading behind a cotton candy pink cloud.

Yani made sure to wear her bikini…just in case…and her body dived under the first warm wave of the day at the cove. She arrived extra extra early only because she had to hitch a ride with Twyla who took Sydette with her. She needed the car to run errands and Yani had no choice but to go and then come down to the water before the fish in the ocean had even woken up.

Erik was true to his word.

They moved around the compound together in a cordial manner and whatever troubles he was having with the other men seemed to have subsided, probably because they were leaving. She was glad to see the others go, including Klaue. But she would miss Tahir's kind words in the morning and evening, and of course, Killmonger. She knew for sure her Aunt was feeling sad about Erik and Tahir departing the compound. They had only been there a little over a month and Leona was moping around the grounds like her own children were leaving her.

The sun was beginning to lighten the horizon more and she left the water quickly, pulling on capri pants and a long sleeve hoodie. She took her time meandering up the path enjoying the solitude and quiet before the compound came to life with burly men and loud voices.

"Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar! Ashhadu an la ilaha illa Allah. Ashhadu an la ilaha illa Allah. Ashadu anna Muhammadan Rasool Allah. Ashadu anna Muhammadan Rasool Allah. Hayya 'ala-s-Salah. Hayya 'ala-s-Salah. Hayya 'ala-l-Falah. Hayya 'ala-l-Falah. Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar! La ilaha illa Allah…"

Tahir's beautiful voice stopped Yani in her tracks. The echo of his lyrical words surrounded her and thrilled her spirit. She crept closer to Klaue's main house

Tahir and Erik were standing and facing away from the ocean out on the veranda. Tahir wore a long cotton white shirt and a light-colored skull cap. Erik also wore a long cotton shirt in a light blue color. His locs wore tied up with a white headwrap knotted at the nape of his neck. They both held their arms cradled in front of them, heads bowed slightly, and Tahir's melodic voice reverberated throughout the space.

"As-salatu Khayrun Minan-nawm. As-salatu Khayrun Minan-nawm…"

Yani clasped her hands as she watched the men stand together as the sun rose.

"Bismillaahir Rahmaanir Raheem Alhamdu lillaahi Rabbil 'aalameen Ar-Rahmaanir-Raheem…"

Yani closed her eyes and tried to remember the Arabic words as Tahir repeated himself. He sang the prayer, his voice doing runs that made Yani's heart flutter. She had never heard a Muslim call to prayer before and yet it moved her just as much as her Aunt Leona singing in their little Baptist church some gut-wrenching gospel verse. She knew that the word "Allah" meant God and Tahir kept saying it. Soon they were prostrating themselves, the sunlight bathing them in a golden glow. She could feel the warmth on her face and she closed her eyes again and let Tahir's voice carry her to a peaceful place.

When she didn't hear his voice anymore, she opened her eyes and saw Erik staring down at her. He was alone and looked so regal with his hair wrapped up, the long blue shirt made him look like a King peering down on his royal subjects. And then he smiled, making her swoon a bit.

"You're here early," he said.

She nodded and he walked down from the house to get to her.

"That was so beautiful," she said still feeling moved.

"The adhan…the call to prayer," he said.

"You two do that every morning?"

"I try to when I'm with Tahir."

"Are you Muslim?"

"Nah…I uh, I had an ex-girlfriend who was raised in the faith a little bit. I kind of do it like meditation… to help relax my mind. Keep myself focused."

She thought of the prescription pills in his room and it made sense.

"I like how Tahir sings. It sounds like he's rounding up the morning angels," she said.

"It's good to see you smiling at me again," he said.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

His eyes felt a little too intimate on her. She still wanted to keep some distance between them. Her eyes fell upon the fading hickeys on his neck.

"Your woman nuh care you have that all in the open?" she said.

"Have what?"

She pointed at his neck and his teeth grabbed on his bottom lip in a grin that made him look embarrassed.

"She give you a proper goodbye, Killmonger?"

"Nah, I haven't had a proper goodbye yet," he said.

"Killmonger! Let's talk!"

Yani saw Klaue standing on the veranda, dark glasses on and his face pensive.

"You can come by tonight and see Sydette…if you still want to," she said.

His face broke out into a wider smile and he walked away from her. The swag in his walk when he sauntered over to Klaue had her thinking terrible things. When had a man's back been sexy to her? A fully clothed back at that?

She kept watching Erik until Klaue pulled off his glasses looking back at her.

"You need something, Yani?" Klaue asked.

"No. Mr. Klaue," she said scurrying back up the walkway to get to the laundry room.

###

He would be leaving in the morning.

Erik rubbed some cologne onto his neck and then checked the black rubber bands keeping his locs tied back. He had twisted his hair into four big rows and tucked it in the back. He trimmed up his beard and thought about shaving it all off and starting all over again. His shit was getting patchy and it had been a minute since he had been clean-shaven. His father's ring dangled on a new silver chain on his neck. He wore new diamond studs in both ears and stood back to gauge his appearance better. A soft dark yellow button-down linen shirt. Black jeans. Black Oldschool timbs. 

He wanted to look nice for his visit to see Sydette…and Yani. He snuck off to an island Kmart and bought Sydette a cute little three-piece outfit. A big yellow bow with a matching halter blouse and the cutest white bottoms with yellow sunflowers all over it. Leona told him at lunch that Sydette's birthday was due in a couple of months and there was going to be a big beach party for her because it fell around a big island holiday. Erik felt bad that he might miss it for he hadn't had a chance to see that side of the island. He was tickled to know that Sydette's birthday was only three days after his. He was an April baby too. Two fire signs. No wonder he liked her so much. A fellow dimple twin and an Aries too.

He borrowed one of the compound SUVs. The other men were having pizza brought to them and Leona had the night off. He looked forward to being on his own. He had to fight Tahir from coming with him because he wanted this time to be his.

He was happy to see Leona when she opened the apartment door. Sydette was in her arms and Erik broke out into the biggest cheesy grin when he saw her.

"Hey! Sweet Pea!" he said.

Erik held out his arms for her and Sydette turned her face away at first. "Sydette!" Leona said, and the baby grinned, gifting Erik with her dimpled cheeks.

"There she is!" he said.

Leona handed her over to him, and Erik braced himself in case she started to cry, but Sydette looked him in his face and grabbed for the diamond in his right ear.

"She already knows quality," he joked.

He held up the gift bag.

"A little something for her birthday. Really early," he said.

"How thoughtful," Leona said.

He walked into the apartment still holding the baby. He looked around.

"You think Yani will let her open her gift now?"

"Yani's not here," Leona said.

He couldn't hide the disappointment on his face and Leona caught it.

"She's working at the restaurant tonight. She's a hostess. Won't be back until later tonight."

He nodded his head.

"You are welcome to wait for her—"

"Nah, I just came to see the baby before I jet out of here."

"Compound won't be the same without you and Mr. Tahir. Sit, sit…"

Erik sat on the couch. He handed Leona the bag.

"Sydette, you want to open your present from Mr. Killmonger?"

Sydette had one hand on Erik's ear and the other on his father's ring. She tried putting it in her mouth and he tucked it into his shirt.

"You don't want to chew on that little girl," he said giving her a kiss on the cheek. She smelled like Yani, a touch of vanilla and nutmeg.

Leona opened up the bag and dug through the lavender tissue paper covering the outfit. She pulled it out and her face broke into a wide grin.

"Oh! This is just too darling! Lookie, Sydette!"

Sydette's hand shot out grabbing the big hair bow.

"I have to change her right now. Here, let me go dress her and we can see how pretty she looks!"

She took Sydette from him and he didn't like the feel of her absence from the crook of his arm.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"I'm good for now,' he said.

"Be right back."

Leona took the baby and the bag and left the room. He stood up and looked around, his eyes focused on the photos hanging on the wall next to the flat-screen TV. A few recent photos of Yani and Sydette and her younger sister Anika. Yani and Sydette could be twins. The same round face, big eyes, and snarky facial expression. They looked like they were waiting for someone. Something tugged at him and he pulled out his cell and took a picture of their picture. Maybe he would just pretend they were waiting for him while he was in Angola.

"Lookie!" Leona squealed.

He turned and saw Sydette wearing the full ensemble he picked out. The big bow sat on top of her forehead and everything else fit well. He was good at guessing her size.

"I put some earrings in to match yours. They not real diamonds, but them still cute."

"Aye!' he said holding his hands out for Sydette again, "We match Sweet Pea. Yellow on yellow and diamonds in our ears. Can't tell us nothin'."

Sydette balled up her fists and pressed them on his cheeks.

"I eat cute fingers," he said slipping two of her fingers in his mouth. She laughed and he felt his heart soar. His eyes fell on Leona.

"Miss Leona, go get dressed. I'm taking you and Sydette out to dinner. I can't be here for her birthday, but we can celebrate tonight."

"You don't have to buy me no dinner Mr. Killmonger—"

"You took care of me for a whole month. Let me show you my appreciation."

Leona touched her hair, her gray plaits neat against her face.

"My hair's not even fixed, and you two look so fancy—"

"Your hair is beautiful. Put on one of your church dresses and let me treat you and baby girl."

He needed her to be with him. She had made his stay at the compound bearable and she was so much like his great-grandmother that he wanted to have that elder energy around him. Sydette leaned back in his arm, her bright black eyes studying his face hard.

"Please?" he said.

"Give me twenty minutes," she said.

She practically skipped to her bedroom and it made Erik chuckle.

###

Auntie wasn't answering the house phone or her cell, and it had Yani worried.

Her break times were always spent calling and checking on her daughter and catching a cool breeze from the back of the restaurant. She rubbed the bottom of her feet after taking off her heels. The weekend crowd was intense and the restaurant was doing a brisk business and the tips had been off the chain for all the waiters and even her. A summer regular, a Mr. Guyot from New York slipped a crisp fifty-dollar bill in her hand when he left.

She tried calling Leona again and even texted Twyla to see if maybe they all went somewhere. Her Aunt had been complaining of feeling more tired lately, and it concerned Yani, especially when she was alone with Sydette. What if she fell down, or maybe had a serious health crisis? Everyone was gone tonight, and there would be no one going to the apartment to even check-in if something did happen. Her nerves kicked in. Would she have to leave her job to go check? The owner would not be happy about that, especially since she was a popular Hostess and she knew how to handle an overflow crowd and keep people happy while they endured the long wait for a table.

Checking her phone one last time, she texted her Aunt, put her heels back on, and hustled back into the restaurant to find her boss. She needed to go check on her Sweet Pea.

"Samantha, have you seen Olivia?"

"Yani, there you are!"

Her co-hosting partner, Samantha a bubbly British red-head with a love for bright matte lipsticks and hair gel pulled on her wrist.

"You didn't tell me you had a husband!"

"Come again?" Yani said.

Samantha dragged her out from behind the Host podium and led her to the main room. "I know you are very private, but my God woman, where have you been hiding him?" Samantha said, her voice all breathy and excited.

Yani saw her boss Olivia laughing while standing next to a table that sat her Aunt, Erik, and her Sweet Pea. She felt her mouth drop open. Leona was dressed to impress. Even her plaits were undone and her gray curls fluffed out. And Sydette was wearing the cutest outfit that Yani never bought her.

At the center of it all was Erik, holding her daughter in his lap.

"I'll be right back. Make sure you look after the customers," Yani said as she made her way to Erik's table.

Leona noticed her first and waved her hand at her.

"Surprise!" Leona said.

"What are you all doing here?"

Leona stood up.

"I need to use the restroom, but your boss has been really nice. Gave us the best seat in the house!"

Leona kissed her cheek and scooted around her.

Erik's eyes rested on her face and for a moment they were the only two people in the room. He gave her the same look he did the first time he saw her away from the compound. She did have a more dramatic look when she dressed up and put on make-up, but the way he was looking at her now…

"Hey," he said.

"Kill-…Erik…"

"Yani, you have such an adorable family! Why are you hiding them?" Olivia said.

Olivia's aquiline nose that was often up in the air at everyone all the time, that same nose was now wide-open sniffing at Erik like he was God's gift to her establishment.

Yani's left eyebrow went up at Erik and he tilted his head.

"I work in the states and she wants to keep Sydette here with family," Erik said. Yani tilted her own head at that before she wrenched her eyes away from Erik and put them on her boss.

"Muh-muh-muh."

Sydette's left hand touched Erik's lips and he nibbled on her fingers and Yani watched her daughter cackle and give a high-pitched squeal. They both smiled at each other, their dimples complimenting each other.

"Oh, how sweet, she has your dimples too!" Olivia said to Erik.

"I'm going to head back to the front—"

"Spend a few minutes with your family, I'll handle the front for you. So nice to meet you Mr. Killmonger."

Olivia stepped away leaving Yani with Erik and her daughter.

"Have a seat," Erik said.

"It's really busy tonight—"

"Your boss just said you could chill for a few minutes."

Yani glanced over her shoulder and watched Olivia entertain her customers.

"I thought you were going to be home."

"Gotta work. You said you wanted to see Sydette."

"I wanted to see you too."

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Yeah, why."

"I might not see you again."

Sydette started fidgeting in Erik's lap. She reached her hands out for her daughter but Erik reached down into her baby bag and pulled out a large silver cylinder. He popped it open and one of Sydette's bottles popped out. He put away the cylinder and slipped the bottle nipple between Sydette's lips. Her daughter's feet wiggled and she calmed down in his arms while sucking away to her heart's content.

"You told my boss that you were my husband?"

"I didn't really say that she just assumed because of the dimples and me holding the baby, and I just ran with it."

"So what happens when you disappear and they ask me about you? They'll think mi pickney's Daddy left me. You're messing up my personal life. Now, these people are going to bug me all the time—"

Samantha walked past them ushering a couple to a table next to them.

"Hi, Yani…hello, I'm Samantha."

Samantha stood in front of Erik being flirty, and Yani didn't know what annoyed her more, this pushy white woman hitting on Erik in front of her even though she thought he was married to Yani, or this pushy white woman butting in on their conversation because she knew she could regardless of the situation.

Samantha stood there, teeth all out in the open, literally blocking Yani's view of Erik and her child. Yani smoothed down her dress and stood up.

"You're being really rude right now. I'm having a conversation with my wife and you just insert yourself right in front of her? What's up with that?"

Yani felt her face go still. She tucked her lips into a thin line waiting for Samantha's reaction. Him calling her his wife already had Yani squirming.

"Excuse me?" Samantha said, her voice fluttering.

"You heard me."

Erik's tone was not playing. His lips were slightly parted and his gold slugs looked even sharper up close.

"I'll see you up front, Yani," Samantha said scuttling away in her six-inch heels.

"I'll never hear the end of that," Yani said.

"Shit was hella rude," Erik said.

"I don't appreciate you telling people I'm your wife or you letting them think you're my husband. These people talk and it's going to get back to the wrong ears."

Her eyes were already peeping Kim, one of the waiters who lived in Red Hook like her and knew Chez. Kim was already scoping Erik and would probably jump on her phone the moment she went on break. Perhaps it didn't really matter. He said he might not return to the island again…

Her eyes jumped back to his and he was watching her.

He looked so good.

She liked how he fixed his hair, liked the way his outfit matched Sydette's and liked the way he took his Aunt out to the most expensive restaurant on the island.

"You wearin' the hell outta that dress, girl," he said.

His eyes drifted down her body and she felt her skin tingle from the sound of his voice.

"I need to get back to the front."

Looking down at her daughter she wanted to pick her up, but she looked so peaceful in his arms, her cheeks puffing and her left foot lifting up and down on his arm as she fed. That big adorable yellow bow made her look like a doll baby.

"You buy that for her?"

"Early birthday present. Her birthday is a few days after mine."

"But her birthday is not for a couple of months."

"Like I said, I might not be around."

His eyes held hers again and she walked away

She watched her Aunt and Erik eat a big meal as they took turns holding Sydette. They used her car seat as a booster seat and had her sit between them. She moved back and forth throughout the main room and out on the beach section, her eyes checking on her daughter each time she passed their table. Olivia returned to their table and shared a bottle of wine with Leona.

She had finished seating an older Asian couple out on the beach when she ran into Erik and Leona back in the front leaving for the night.

She took another break to walk them out to Erik's borrowed SUV. She fastened Sydette's car seat in the back of the car.

"That food was wonderful. This was such a nice evening. Thank you for treating us Mr. Killmonger," Leona said.

She clutched a doggy bag filled with rolls and a container of lobster bisque that Olivia insisted she take home for free.

"Can you hold on for a few minute? I need to use the restroom before we go. The traffic looks bad and I don't want to get stuck doing the dance," Leona said placing her bag of food on the passenger seat.

"Take your time," Erik said.

They watched Leona head back into the restaurant.

Things seemed so final now.

"Thank you for doing this for her. She hardly gets to do nice things. We both work all the time and I never get to do things like this with her. And thank you for the baby clothes. Sweet Pea looks amazing."

"You're welcome," he said.

Awkward silence.

Yani twisted the toe of her right shoe nervously.

There were so many dimensions to this man. She still felt cautious with him, but not so much for him with her daughter.

"You all head out on Monday—"

"I leave tomorrow morning," he said.

"Tomorrow?" Her voice hitched a bit and her eyes dropped to his chest. He was really leaving. And so soon. She thought for sure he was leaving in two days like the others.

"Lemme get a picture."

"A picture?" she asked.

"Sit up next to Sydette," he said pulling out his cell.

He helped her climb up onto the backseat next to the baby car seat. Sydette was wide awake and watching them. She leaned in toward the baby.

"What's your favorite thing about Sweet Pea?" he asked.

"Her dimples," she said.

"Muh!" Sydette squeaked and Yani laughed. Sydette giggled with her when she touched her nose and Erik snapped the picture.

"One more look this way," he said.

Yani kept her finger on her daughter's cheek and stared at Erik. For a moment he stopped looking at the cell phone screen and looked at her. The flash went off.

"Can I see?"

He handed her his phone and she swiped between the two shots.

"Cute,” she said.

"You really won't come back?" She didn't mean for her voice to come out a whisper.

He shrugged.

"It's up to Klaue."

"Well, thank you for all of this. It was really cool—"

He moved closer to her and she felt him take up so much space again in front of her.

"Take good care of my daughter," he said.

She smiled.

"I kept getting bugged about that all night. The chef is mad because I never invited him to my wedding—"

He brought his face closer to hers.

"Take care of yourself too, okay?"

"Yeah, I will—"

Heat.

Wet softness again.

There were lips that kissed and lasted a moment, and then there were lips that kissed and promised a lifetime. Her mouth fell in sync with his and she forgot everything…her name, what she did five minutes ago, what day of the week it was and where the hell she was. There was only his kiss. His lips. His mouth. His teeth. His scent. The tiny tickle of his facial hairs. The sharp tang of the chocolate espresso he drank with the desert.

"I want to come back," he whispered in her ear when he released her lips and she pulled his face back to her front so she could kiss him again, suck on his tongue and hold onto that small piece of him.

"You come back and I'll make you wait for alla mi. I'm not easy," she sighed. She licked the seam of his lips and reached up to cradle his neck, pulling him closer, strumming her nails across his nape making him shiver.

"I don't want you easy, girl. Make me work for this shit."

He picked her up and brought her back down to her feet. She stood on tippy-toe to get his lips back on hers but he turned her around so that she faced the inside of the car. His mouth came back down on the back of her neck and he spent delicate time there licking and kissing her sensitive skin. His fingers skimmed her breasts, holding them tight as his tongue explored every inch of her neck.

"I come back and you tell me about these tattoos, yeah?" he asked.

"Deep history. You handle that?" she panted.

"I can handle anything you give me."

"You sure 'bout that?"

"You my wifey now, whatchu think?"

She groaned when he sucked on her neck harder, his fingers pushing her breasts together.

"Will you let me have you if I come back?"

It was best to be honest. She twisted her body around so that she faced him again.

"Killmonger…I haven't been with a man since I had my baby. I mean, really been with a man."

"That's okay. Your speed. I take whatever you give. Okay?"

"Okay."

She took his lips again, her mouth feeling impossibly wet while joined to his.

"Muh-muh-muh—"

Yani released Erik's mouth and turned to look at her daughter. She realized that the entire time Erik had Sydette at the restaurant, her daughter didn't reach for her or fuss for her not one time. It was like she wasn't even needed with Erik caring for her. That sneaky dumpling. Not even needing a real titty with this strange man around her. Erik cradled the back of her smooth head.

"Now see, this right here…this is a proper goodbye," he said.

She smiled and he plundered her mouth.

Lookie.

###

[Part 1]  [Part 2]  [Part 3]  [Part 4]  [Part 5]  [Part 6]  [Part 7]  [Part 8]  

[Part 9]  [Part 10]  [Part 11]  [Part 12]

Taglist (Please let me know if you would like to be added): 

@fonville-designs​ @soufcakmistress  @cherrystainedlipsbaby @tclaybon  @thadelightfulone @allhailqueennel @bartierbakarimobisson @cpwtwot @shookmcgookqueen @yoyolovesbucky @raysunshine78 @the-illllest @terrablaze514  @l-auteuse @amirra88 @jimizwidow @janelledarling @chaneajoyyy

[hatescout]

summerween event drabble... 3! this one is a prequel, I guess. Now featuring buckeye. (and it may be the last drabble I do for this event, sorry!)

Whenever a woodscout has his birthday fall in the summer months, it’s always a treat. An utmost honor is given to the Troopmaster to prepare for the post dinner party. The pungent smell of burning cake filled the air. Buckeye had only left for a couple minutes to oversee the setting of the dining hall- but it proved to be too little, too late. 

Without getting an oven mitt he grabbed the whole cast iron pot off the bonfire’s open flame. The center wasn’t set all the way, but the edges were burnt to a crisp. Damnit, he KNEW he should have stuck with cookies. Baker’s regrets. Well, too late to turn back now. He finds the lid and sets it on top. It’s hot enough to still cook the inside without damaging the edges further. Until then, he needs to find the guest of honor himself. 

Imagine that. Edward would refuse to show up on his own birthday. It’s not that big of a stretch- he hated the attention more than anything. Not to mention his fellow scouts have been reporting some odd behavior these past 2 weeks. Buckeye doesn’t get paid to let things pass by without- he needs to make sure the kid gets his due. Weather he likes it or not. 

With a quick check over for all proper equipment he’s ready to roll. A flashlight, multi tool, dark leather pouch that matched his skin, && the emergency beef jerky. Not to mention the half raw half burnt cake he was carrying. But before he goes, he leaves a sticky note on the counter for any other counselor to find- where the prebaked cookies lied in the storage facility. It’ll tide over the recruits until he came back. 

So here comes the easiest, && yet longest part of the trip. A decent ways walk from the back entrance of the complex to the crystal caves, hidden in the forest. Camp Campbell got sleepy peak peak, && their side of the lake had an expansive catacombs Unlike anything he’s ever set eyes upon. There’s still some ways to go, && curious eyes watched from the trees. The cake smelled delicious, but he would not let any creature enticing a meal to stop him now.  

Somehow, he finds the exact cave. It was a miracle he made it this far, with absolutely 0 injuries. The weight of the pot felt significantly heavier than he started. Buckeye finds his brave face && descends into the mouth of the cave. Opening the lid && letting the scent waft through the cavern. ❝ Come on... come on out, bud! ❞ It’s uncharacteristically chipper. Really, he felt ridiculous calling out for the boy like this, like calling the attention of a street cat. 

It ended up proving to be quite effective, because he could feel the vibrations in the stone floor. Footsteps from within the depths got closer && closer, until the beast was revealed before him. It barely came up to his chest; even then, it was hunched over. Each clip clop of its hooves echoed against the cave walls. Perhaps when it’s older, it’ll be big && scary. But now? Nothing more than an awkward little kid. 

❝ Happy birthday, Eddie. ❞ As slowly as he could, buckeye sets down the pot of cake. Backing away with the same pace. It didn’t take a movement more than a tail swish as the creature dived in Snout first into the cake. It’s an amusing sight, watching it try to eat with a hollow skull. Once he’s sure its preoccupied, he makes his way back over. Sitting down next to it as it eats. Don’t worry, he still had the beef jerky as his failsafe. 

The crunching && slurping noises subsided a titch, as it picks up the whole pot && spills the remaining raw batter all over its mouth. Not the first time he’s seen it eat, it always proves to be messy. With a loud thunk the metal drops back to the floor. A whole cake, destroyed in minutes. Buckeye would almost be impressed if it weren’t so disgusting. 

❝ All the other recruits kept asking about you, y’know.❞ Like where has edward been? Would he come back? Buckeye would never let a recruit go missing on his watch (again) but he couldn’t help but feel torn. For all he knows, whatever happened to Edward is permanent. What would he tell his parents? His train of thought is derailed with a claw poking at his arm. Even as a 5 foot lean && mean monster, some things stayed the same. 

Its permanently open eye sockets would not allow the beast to blink. The glowing inside flickers, like a camera flash. ❝ You need something, kiddo? ❞ He turned around to see it right up in his face. Wheezing && chittering quietly. The cake batter was dripping off its teeth. It held his arm in an iron grip, leaning its full weight into his side. If buckeye didn’t know any better he would think it’s trying to hug him. 

It’s a sweet gesture maybe but it still sent shivers down his spine regardless. Tentatively he reached up to touch its hair. How quickly it leaned down to meet him. A repeating clicking noise emits from it. Paid it no mind. ❝ I have to go soon, Eddie. But I’m sure you’ll be fine. ❞ The rest of its form followed as it dropped to the floor. More like a lap dog, than anything else. As much as he grown to ignore it, even the beast’s low pitched whining knocked something in his heart of hearts of his. 

❝ I’m not going forever. I’ll be back tomorrow night. You’ll be good as new by then, right pikeman? ❞ The only answer Buckeye gets is silence. As he watched the late afternoon turn to twilight in the outside cave’s sky, he knew he overstayed. He dropped the emergency jerky at its claws, not turning around to witness the beast rip it into pieces. He’s already walking out.

Before he truly starts his long trek back, buckeye spares one last turn around at the creature, it’s staring back. Its yellow eyes all seeing. Boring into his own. He shoved the unease away, flicking on the flashlight to illuminate his way back home. && until he’s back, the beast remains. In the woods, in its cave, with nothing but the shattered cast iron pot.

[sideofwritingsandramblings]

I Want to Stay By Your Side

Here is my @sheithlentines gift for Jess @sequencefairy! It was a lot of fun to write and I hope you enjoy it! 3.5k words (Explicit) Also on Ao3.

Shiro stood overlooking the wreckage, his heart restricting painfully in his chest. He had failed. Miserably. And the smell of smoke hung heavy in the air alongside the sickeningly sweet scent of chocolate.

Hunk would be so disappointed in him.

Shiro sighed, resigning himself to the task of cleaning up the wreckage of his Valentine cupcakes for Keith.

Their first Valentine's day together as a couple and he had already messed up spectacularly. The countertops were covered in dirty pots and pans, and overall mess of cupcake ingredients. The oven was open and still spewing smoke, and the poor cupcakes were burnt to crisp little pucks in their tray, attempting to cool on the counter. He really should've double checked the temperature conversion on the oven.

His hand itched to pick up his communicator and call Hunk, but it was approximately six in the morning on the Atlas and what little pride Shiro had left still wanted to do this himself. He at least had the foresight to make extra batter, so he could hopefully get by without having to mix up another batch.

With renewed determination, he set about pulling together a new set of cupcakes. He managed to find a second cupcake tray hiding in the back of the kitchen cabinets, and he was thankful to whoever thought it necessary to bring cake tins onto a giant universe-saving castleship. He was still impressed that they had all the necessary Earth ingredients to make cupcakes in the first place.

He felt a bit bad for wasting so much of them on his poor excuse for baking.

By 7am his second batch was out of the oven and mostly cooled. Using a butter knife, he wedged one out to try. They at least looked like cupcakes, albeit still a bit small. Pulling back the wrapper, he took a bite and immediately tried not to cringe.

Way too much sugar, but at least it still tasted like chocolate.

He eyed the vanilla frosting he’d whipped together while the cupcakes baked. He considered to just forget it since the frosting would only make them sweeter, but aesthetically it just wouldn’t look right.

By 7:30am the cupcakes were mostly frosted and decorated.

As if on cue, Hunk walked through the doors, probably ready to prepare breakfast. His eyes immediately fell on Shiro’s cupcakes, and Shiro could feel himself flushing in shame. He certainly had made cupcakes, but they were oddly shaped, too sweet, and the frosting had ended up too thin, dripping messily down the sides.

Hunk finally met his eyes and smiled, “Keith’s going to love them.”

Keith woke up as he felt the bed dip, alerting him that Shiro was finally back. The blankets lifted and Shiro slipped under the covers and back into Keith’s space. Keith turned onto his right side to face him and Shiro’s human arm immediately wrapped around his waist to pull him closer. Keith relaxed into him, face pressed against Shiro’s bare chest.

“You already took a shower…” He mumbled against Shiro’s skin, trying to fight off the desire to fall back to sleep in Shiro’s arms, “What time is it?”

“A little after eight,” Shiro replied, pressing a kiss to the top of Keith’s head, “Happy Valentines Day Keith.”

Keith smiled, tightening his arms around Shiro as emotions bubbled up in his chest. He still couldn't believe he was lucky enough to call Shiro his. That, after years of pining for and dancing around each other in the midst of an intergalactic war, they had finally managed to be honest about their feelings. Keith at the cloning facility, and Shiro after yet another dangerous mission when adrenaline was high. Shiro had come to him saying “I love you too” and kissed him senseless in the cockpit of the Black Lion.

“I got you something,” Shiro continued, gently pulling away from Keith to reach back and grab something from beside the bed.

Keith reluctantly sat up, already missing the warmth of Shiro’s arms around him, yet still intrigued. Shiro pulled up a covered basket from beside the bed and Keith could detect a sweet scent in the air. Shiro placed the basket between them and motioned for Keith to open it.

Keith gently pulled off the cloth covering the top and the smell of chocolate was almost overpowering. At about the same moment, Shiro reached over to turn on their bedside lamp and Keith was able to get a better look at the contents of the basket. Nine small, round-ish cupcakes sat at the bottom of the basket, decorated with white frosting and little red heart sprinkles.

Keith smiled, reaching into the basket to gently pick one up for closer inspection, “You made these?”

He looked up from the cupcake to meet Shiro’s eye and noticed a dark blush creeping over Shiro’s cheeks.

“Yeah...” Shiro replied, eyes darting away as his human hand reached up to scratch absently at the back of his neck, “They didn’t end up quite how I wanted them to. They’re a bit too sweet and probably not the best breakfast food now that I think about it-”

Keith pulled back the wrapper of the cupcake in his hand and immediately took a huge bite, effectively cutting Shiro off as he stopped to watch Keith’s reaction. The cupcake was small but, in his haste, he had almost shoved the whole thing in his mouth. Keith suppressed the incoming cough and instead took his time to pay attention to the taste. It was a bit too sweet, like Shiro said, but the texture was fluffy and again he felt happiness bubbling up in his chest. Shiro made these for him, and only him.

How could he not be happy?

“It’s really good,” he said as he finished it off, “Thanks Shiro.”

Shiro smiled back at him, and Keith was caught off guard by Shiro’s open affection, eyes soft and an even softer smile. Keith suddenly felt desperate, closing the distance between them and pushing the basket to the side so he could climb onto Shiro’s lap and wrap his arms around him. Before he could kiss him, however, Shiro’s human hand gripped his chin lightly.

“Hey-”

Shiro laughed, ignoring Keith's frustration to wipe gently at the corner of Keith’s mouth with his thumb, “You’ve got something here.”

Keith looked down to see a bit of the gooey white frosting on Shiro’s thumb and without hesitation leaned forward to wrap his lips around it. He heard Shiro gasp but he focused on licking away the sweet residue. When he finally looked up, Shiro’s eyes had darkened in lust and Keith felt a shiver run down his spine. Shiro pulled his thumb from Keith’s mouth and moved his hand to the back of Keith’s head in order to pull him into a hard kiss.

Keith was more than happy to make out with his boyfriend, pressing even closer as Shiro bit at his bottom lip. However, when he felt the cool metal of Shiro’s arm creeping down his back and under the waistband of his pajama pants he startled back to reality.

“Wait,” Keith said pulling back.

Shiro immediately brought his hand back up, resting it gently on Keith’s lower back instead, “What’s wrong baby?”

Keith’s brain stuttered for a moment--as it always does--at the endearment, but he continued, “I still need to give you your present.”

“Yeah?” Shiro smiled.

“Come on, get dressed,” Keith replied, climbing off of Shiro’s lap and laughing when he looked back to see Shiro’s pout.

Keith stood and watched as Shiro begrudgingly got up too. Keith turned to their dresser and started pulling out clothes. Once they were both decent, Keith grabbed the basket of cupcakes in one hand and Shiro’s hand in the other, and pulled him out of the room.

Shiro let Keith lead him down the corridors of the Atlas, curious about what kind of gift required them to leave their room. He briefly mourned his plan of having sappy morning Valentine’s sex with Keith, but was excited to see what Keith had in store for him. He relished in the warmth of Keith���s hand against his own and felt the familiar warmth in his chest at being by Keith’s side. They turned another corner and Shiro realized Keith was leading him to the hanger.

“Are we going somewhere?” Shiro asked, squeezing Keith’s hand.

Keith turned to flash him a smile, “There’s something I want to show you.”

Shiro was pulled further down the hanger and was surprised when Keith walked straight past the Black Lion. He decided not to question it and Keith soon stopped in front of a small black cruiser, donated to the coalition by one of their allies. It was a ship designed for stealth and stakeout, built with invisibility cloaking and a side viewing platform with a large window to observe out of. The ship, as far as Shiro was aware, was not yet fitted with the necessary artillery to protect itself, thus they had not had the opportunity to use it yet.

“Here’s our ride,” Keith said, gesturing to the open entry to the ship, “And don’t worry, we’re not going anywhere too far.”

Shiro followed Keith onboard and Keith began preparations for launch. When they got to the cockpit, Shiro’s basket of cupcakes were set carefully down onto the floor between Keith’s feet and held in place. After a few last minute calls to the bridge to let them know they were taking off, the hangar opened and they launched.

Shiro felt the familiar thrill of taking off as he stood behind the pilot’s chair, his hand finding its usual spot on Keith’s shoulder. He supposed he could have always sat in one of the seats in the viewing platform, but this was better. He belonged by Keith’s side.

After about fifteen minutes of flying Shiro saw a planet coming into view and even at first sight it was breathtaking. Shiro was absolutely entranced as they drew closer. The planet was huge and alight with color; swirls of red, blue, and purple lights were dancing over the entirety of its surface. In the areas where the lights were weakest he could see green and yellow landmasses underneath, giving the world an incredibly colorful glow.

“It’s a planet I passed on one of my Blade missions,” Keith explained, smiling at Shiro’s jaw-dropped reaction, “It has a thick gaseous atmosphere but surprisingly has a well-developed surface with large landmasses. It has no local population and has never been home to any species, but apparently it has high levels of quintessence. A Galran base used to orbit it, but the planet was too difficult to traverse and the project was abandoned. Ever since I saw it, I knew I had to take you here.”

Keith pulled them as close to the planet as he could and, after putting their ship into orbit, led Shiro back to the viewing platform. From the large window it allowed them to see a lot more of the planet. There was a railing in front of the window and they took to leaning against it side by side as they took in the view. Shiro could’ve sworn that the lights were extending outward from the planet, reaching in all directions. He had never seen anything like it.

He looked over to Keith and saw the lights dancing across his face, lighting him in an otherworldly glow. The planet was beautiful, but Keith was gorgeous.

He stepped into Keith’s space, moving to stand behind him instead. He wrapped his arms around Keith’s waist and rested his chin on Keith’s shoulder.

“Do you like it?” Keith asked quietly.

“I love it,” Shiro replied, turning his head just enough to press a kiss to Keith’s neck.

For a while longer they stood at the platform, the cruiser gently progressing around the planet’s orbit. In the silence, Shiro found himself trying to guess what kind of gasses could possibly be causing the swirling colors and just how much there must be to cover the whole planet to this extent. With the distraction, it took a moment for him to realize Keith was moving almost imperceptibly back against him. He looked briefly to Keith’s face but he was still focused on the planet in front of them.  

Just as Shiro was about to go back to his calculations he felt Keith grind back into him again, this time with more purpose. Shiro groaned, burying his face into Keith's neck as Keith moved against him.

“Keith,” he warned, more than prepared to take things to the floor.

“You know, stakeout missions tend to take a long time,” Keith said conversationally, as if he wasn’t currently grinding back on Shiro’s quickly hardening dick, “They would definitely need somewhere to sleep here, huh?”

Shiro tightened his hold on Keith’s waist, “Where’s the bedroom?”

Keith turned to face him with a smug smile, his arms coming up to wrap around Shiro’s neck, “Are we going back to bed already Captain?”

In lieu of an answer, Shiro captured Keith’s lips again, pouring everything into this kiss. His love and adoration and desire for the wonderful man in front of him. It started soft and gentle but soon turned into something deeper and desperate. Shiro licked into Keith’s mouth and Keith groaned against him. Shiro could feel Keith hard against him and he slipped his hands down Keith’s back to his ass and lifted him up, Keith’s legs automatically wrapping around his hips.

“Bedroom. Now,” Shiro growled.

“Yes sir.”

It took a bit of fumbling for Keith to get Shiro to put him down and lead them to the back of the cruiser. They often stopped to continue making out against the walls, shedding their shirts in the process. Keith briefly considered to forget his plans in favor of just letting Shiro take him on the floor. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t also think about Shiro fucking him against the glass of the viewing platform.

Yet somehow they managed to make it to the ship’s small bedroom. Once there, Keith finally took control, pushing Shiro until he fell back against the bed and Keith climbed on top of him. Shiro’s hands gravitated to his hips again but otherwise he seemed to be waiting for whatever Keith would do next.

Keith leaned down, close enough to tease a kiss, but instead reached behind Shiro and under the pillow where he’d hid something the day before. Keith pulled out the long red ribbon, making sure Shiro saw it before he pulled Shiro’s human hand off his waist, to instead tie it against the backpost of the bed. Keith tied it tight enough that it wouldn’t come loose easily, but they both knew that Shiro was more than strong enough to pull free if he really wanted to.

Keith eyed Shiro’s prosthetic, and decided that trying to tie it would be futile. Instead he grabbed Shiro’s metal hand and led him back to wrap his fingers around the headboard.

“Are you going to behave Captain?” He asked.

“Yes sir.”

“Good boy,” Keith said, moving quickly to shed them of the rest of their clothing.

As soon as Shiro lay bare, Keith couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate the man beneath him. He allowed his fingertips to glide across Shiro’s broad chest, tracing faint scars and briefly stopping to press lightly against perked nipples. Again Shiro groaned under him, and Keith moved to grab the second object hidden under the pillow.

He set the lube beside them on the bed and travelled down Shiro’s body, kissing and licking across his chest and stomach, until he was hovering over Shiro’s hard cock. He took a moment to ignore it, choosing instead to press messy kisses against Shiro’s inner thigh.

“Keith,” Shiro breathed, letting his legs fall further open, “Please-”

“You’re not allowed to come until I tell you,” Keith commanded and, when Shiro shakily nodded, Keith relaxed his throat and took Shiro down his throat.

Shiro’s back immediately arched off the bed, trying to stop himself from thrusting deeper down Keith’s throat. With single-minded focus Keith set about taking Shiro’s cock. Shiro was long and thick, testing Keith’s limits as he tried not to gag and the familiar ache of his jaw set in. It was all worth it to hear the sounds escaping Shiro’s mouth--ragged moans and breathy gasps of his name.

After getting used to the length of him in Keith’s mouth, Keith set about bobbing his head, keeping his hands on Shiro’s hips to pin him down.

“Keith baby please,” Shiro babbled, “If you don’t stop I’m gonna come- Fuck!”

Keith pulled off quick, hand coming to squeeze at the base of Shiro’s cock. After making sure Shiro wouldn’t come he moved back up Shiro’s body to pull him into a kiss, letting Shiro taste himself on his tongue.

“How do you want me Takashi?” he asked.

Keith let go of Shiro’s hard length and trailed his fingers down to press lightly at Shiro’s entrance. Shiro’s face went almost ridiculously dark as Keith rubbed gently at his puckered hole.

“Do you want me inside you?” Keith asked, dragging his fingers across and away to grab the lube, “Or should I ride you?”

“Fuck Keith, I- I want whatever you want.”

Keith looked between Shiro’s face and his flushed cock, and Keith decided that he needed it inside him. Now. The day was still young, they had plenty of time to switch later. Pouring a generous amount of lube on his fingers he quickly set about opening himself up. Shiro watched him with a hungry expression and Keith swore he heard a creak from the headboard as Shiro’s metal hand gripped tighter against it. Keith smirked, knowing that Shiro wanted nothing more than to help spread him open.

Keith breathed out a laugh, “Patience yields focus Shiro.”

He ignored Shiro’s responding growl of frustration to pour some more lube out and wrap his hand around Shiro’s dick, pumping it gently. Shiro hissed at the cold and Keith peppered kisses to Shiro’s nose and cheeks in apology. Soon Keith lined himself up and, seeing Shiro’s nod in consent, slowly sank down. They moaned together as Keith bottomed out and took a moment to get used to the feeling. No matter how many times he took Shiro, he still wasn’t used to the way Shiro so thoroughly filled him.

“You’re doing so good baby, taking my cock like that,” Shiro pants, human hand pulling lightly at the restraint, “You feel so good Keith. God, your ass is perfect.”

Keith sighs in pleasure, Shiro’s praise skittering over his skin. Yet Shiro was still too coherent for Keith’s liking, so he clenched down on him, gyrating his hips in slow circles. It had Shiro groaning and Keith heard again the unmistakable sound of the headboard cracking under Shiro’s tight grip.

Keith felt fire in his veins and he started bouncing in Shiro’s lap, letting the moans escape from his lips as Shiro’s cock split him open deliciously.

“Fuck Shiro! Shiro, you’re so fucking huge,” Keith groaned, “Fuck, please. Takashi touch me!”

The sound of the ribbon ripping was the only warning Keith got before Shiro’s hands were on him, dragging Keith up and down on his cock while his hips thrust upwards to meet him. Keith cried out on each thrust, pleasure like lightning cracking up his spine as Shiro hit his prostate.

Soon Keith’s legs gave out from under him and he let Shiro do the work to bring them both to the edge. Shiro’s human hand moved to wrap around Keith’s cock, and Keith choked on a moan, having gone almost completely untouched until now. The added sensation of a warm hand around him as Shiro continued his deep thrusts into him had him so close. And as Shiro groaned out his name, low and husky, it was just enough to kick him over the edge, and he came with a cry across Shiro’s chest.

It took him a second to come back to himself, Shiro still thrusting in jerky movements as he also chased after his orgasm.

Keith leaned down to Shiro’s ear, “Come for me Takashi.”

Shiro cried out and Keith felt Shiro come hot and deep inside him. Keith immediately collapsed on top of him, both of their chests heaving as they caught their breaths. Shiro’s arms settled back around his waist and he gently pulled out of Keith’s body, come dripping out from inside.

“Fuck that was good,” Keith murmured, nuzzling into Shiro’s chest.

“Mm, you’re always so good,” Shiro replied, rubbing gently at Keith’s back.

“Happy Valentine’s Day Shiro.”

Keith was almost content to go back to sleep but the sound of Shiro’s rumbling stomach startled him back awake.

“Oh yeah, I guess we never did have breakfast, huh?” Keith asked sheepishly.

“We still have cupcakes,” Shiro laughed.

Keith laughed too, pressing a kiss to Shiro’s lips. Valentine’s day had been an absolute success, and Keith couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life by Shiro’s side.

“I love you Takashi.”

Shiro smiled, “I love you too Keith.

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧

Sometimes the King needed his Queen to take care of him, and you were more than happy to oblige.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✰ Biker!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✰ 5.5k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✰ Hurt/comfort, angst, descriptions of blood, implied violence, fluff ჻჻჻ SMUT: Sub!Bucky, oral sex (M recieving), masturbation (F) ჻჻჻ KINKS: Praise, dirty talk

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ✰ I FUCKING DID IT! My first published smut.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ✰ Come Healing by Leonard Cohen

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

What the hell am I doing?

You couldn’t help but question yourself as you stared along the kitchen counter, the surface crowded with racks and trays full of cakes, cookies, and all manner of sweet treats. 

Stress baking. It wasn’t a bad idea, per say, but you weren’t a baker. Hell, you burnt birthday cakes like it was your job when the occasion came around. But for some reason the guys loved anything that you made, so it went without saying that you became the unofficial baker of the family.

The speaker on the windowsill blasted a classic rock playlist while you pulled yet another tray of too-crisp, almost but not quite charcoal muffins out of the oven, but a sudden chime from your phone made you almost drop them to the floor. “Jesus!” you hissed. You hastened to the last bit of free space on the counter to put the tray down and ripped the oven mitts from your hands. 

Bucky would be furious if he found out you had burnt yourself over muffins. You wouldn’t put it past him, with how dramatic he was, to fire a few bullets through the oven in retaliation.

Another chime sounded as you rushed to your phone next to the speaker. 

Steve.

Oh no. 

If Steve was texting you instead of Bucky, that could only mean Bucky was either hurt, or something had gone absolutely fucking sideways. What if the cops had found him crossing state lines? Shit.

It had been four days since Bucky, Steve, and Thor had left for the next state over to secure a shipment and partake in ‘business meetings’. You had no desire to know what these meetings entailed; all you knew was that Bucky’s knuckles ended up black and blue and caked with blood whenever they were called. 

No matter how serious the matter was, you couldn’t help but chuckle whenever Steve’s contact name came up on your phone. Thor had gotten him absolutely plastered a few weeks ago and Steve had almost too enthusiastically draped a certain accessory over his ass - and he would never, ever live it down. 

Code brooding. 

Well, at least he wasn’t in cuffs or off the side of the road in a ditch. You could deal with his mood. You quickly typed a response only to hear the chime again a second later - they must be pulled up at a service station.

“Yeah, poor Nat doesn’t want that either,” you chuckled out loud. But you couldn’t resist the urge to play with fire, the temptation was too much to bear. The click of your phone happened one second before another chime - Steve’s response. 

Oh, Stevie. He would get you back for that. 

With the knowledge that Bucky would be home soon and in a mood, you set to work. 

Three quarters of an hour had passed when you finally heard the distant rumble of a bike approaching. He’s home. With all the cakes, muffins, and other sweets packed neatly away in tupperware to take to the clubhouse tonight, you shoved his surprise into the cupboard. The rumble grew louder and louder until you could hear it through the walls and feel it through the floor, the roar of the engine almost deafening as though you were next to it. 

The engine cut and fell silent as you waited nervously by the counter. You didn’t know for sure what Bucky was going to look like when he walked through the door, but the warning from Steve was enough to tell you to be prepared with a first aid kit. 

A code brooding likely meant that some fool had tested Bucky’s patience - and anyone who tested Bucky’s patience was guaranteed to regret it. Eating via a tube was never a pleasant experience. 

The squeak of the front door opening and slamming shut pulled you away from that charming visual, and you heard Bucky’s boots clunk down the hall with the rustling sound of leather. That was unusual - on any given day the first thing Bucky would do upon arriving home was take off his kutte.

“Hey, Buck,” you called as you rounded the corner to the entryway, only to stop suddenly at the sight of him. “Baby, are you alright?” 

He stood in the doorway with his bag slung over his shoulder, his hair in a low bun and his face streaked with dried blood. The deep scowl and stormy anger in his eyes made you realise you were woefully unprepared. 

You slowly stepped forward, noticing the way his shoulders began to slump the nearer you got. “Talk to me, baby.” Your voice was just above a whisper, while you weren’t afraid of him, you couldn’t help but feel the tension of his anger as it rolled off him in waves. It was never easy when he brought it all home with him, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped. “Are you hurt?”

A slight shake of his head was interrupted by a wince of pain. Liar. “C’mon,” you said as you reached your hand forward to grasp his. “Let's get you cleaned up.” Bucky let you grab the strap of his bag and drop it to the floor, his kutte slipping from off his shoulders under your gentle touch. He hissed in pain when your thumb grazed his left shoulder, and you frowned as you hung his kutte on its hook on the wall. You grabbed his hand again, pulling him gently toward your room.

Bucky followed you obediently, and when you pointed to the bed he automatically sat while you padded into the ensuite. The groan of the mattress under his weight was the only sound in the quiet room until the shower started to run. 

You met his stormy gaze as he looked up at you from his perch on the bed, his eyes roving your figure in the doorway until they fell to his intertwined hands. Bitter resentment clawed its way through your heart and you had half an idea to raid the clubhouse armoury and deal with the assholes yourself.

Bucky never shut you out. 

He didn’t look at you when you approached and stood between his knees. With a gentle hand on his chin, you tilted his head up, and what you found in his eyes broke your heart. 

Bucky looked utterly defeated. There were no visible wounds on his face, no source for the blood that was smeared across his nose and cheek, which could only mean that it was someone else’s. He was fidgety and unsettled, and here in the safe haven of your room, the anger that had blazed in his eyes before gave way to bone-deep exhaustion.

What the hell had happened? 

The carpet was soft underneath your knees as you knelt down between his legs, an action that would normally elicit a lewd response, but just this once, Bucky only stared. He looked at you through glistening eyes, as though you were the thing in his life that kept it all together - the one thing that gave his life meaning. 

It was like he was trying to tell you what he had done, but the actions had no words to describe just how fucked up they were. But you didn’t need to know. Bucky needed you, and you were going to take care of him. The Queen always had her King’s back.

The feel of rough denim under your hand when you rested it against his knee gave you an idea - Bucky had always taken care of you on your bad days, and you had a feeling he needed the gentle care he always afforded you. On a whim, you gently grabbed one of his own bruised hands and cradled it against your cheek like a priceless treasure with your own. 

Bucky’s lips parted slightly, but he didn’t speak. 

“I love you, my King,” you whispered as you turned to kiss his palm, and his expression softened slightly. He didn’t resist when you moved his legs to remove his boots, his socks following close behind. His jacket and shirt were next; only then did you see why he winced when your thumb brushed his shoulder earlier, and you couldn’t help the grimace at the sight.  

The entirety of his left shoulder was bruised, the mottling of angry red and blue spreading up from his arm towards his collarbone. “Oh, baby,” you whispered as you traced a suspicious knuckle imprint with your fingertip, your other hand placed against his cheek so your thumb could stroke his cheekbone. “My poor baby.” Bucky only whimpered quietly in response and leant into your hand so his stubble scratched gently against your palm.

“Stand up for me, baby,” you whispered as you got to your feet, Bucky following close behind. “That’s it,” you cooed. 

He didn’t fight against or tease you like he normally would when your hands wrapped around his waist to take off his belt and holster, the bloodied jeans hitting the floor once they were gone. They weren’t his usual nor your favourite pair so you figured throwing them in the trash wouldn’t be frowned upon. They did nothing for his ass, anyway. 

Bucky’s bruised hands pawed at your hips when you reached up to free his hair from its bun, and he rested his forehead into the crook of your neck. It wasn’t often he sought comfort from anyone, so you knew that he was struggling, both physically and emotionally. What he had done on this trip was hard for him to bear - your big tough biker President had a heart, after all. And it was hurting. Ignoring just how light his holster had felt when you placed it on the dresser, you turned back to face him and your heart broke at the sight.

Bucky looked lost, almost as though the effort of standing next to your shared bed was costing him every single effort to not shatter on the spot. 

“Do you want me to take care of you, sweet boy?” A quiet whine was the only answer you received, and that wouldn’t do. You sauntered over and rested your hands on his chest. “Use your words, baby.”

“Please,” Bucky whispered, his voice breaking with the need behind it. You smirked. “Please, please, please.”

“Please, what, baby?”

Bucky groaned into your neck and kneaded at your hip again, the force making you take a small step closer so your chests touched. He needed this desperately but you couldn’t help but toy with him. “Please take care of me, please.”

You never could resist his begging. 

You threaded your hand through his hair, then pulled gently back so you could see his face. His pupils were blown and his lips were parted, a dark blush starting to bloom over his cheeks and down his neck. The perfect picture of a desperate man. “Good boy,” you murmured. 

Bucky’s breath hitched at that and he couldn’t keep his hands still, his palms rubbing up and down your sides until they finally rested on your waist. “Come on,” you said as you pulled him towards the bathroom where steam had started to billow from the open door. 

You were swift to undress with Bucky’s limited help - you wouldn’t let him use his left arm for fear of making the bruising worse, but that didn’t slow you down. The two of you stood under the flowing water so his back would be under the steady stream, and when you glanced down you saw the water snaking toward the drain was tinged pink with blood. His hands never left your hips while you reached up and massaged the shampoo into his hair, the slope of his shoulders relaxing the longer you rubbed circles against his head. A content sigh left him as your nails gently scratched against the base of his scalp, his grip on your hips tightening reflexively. “That’s it,” you cooed, and Bucky hummed lightly. 

It wasn’t long till Bucky started to place open mouthed kisses along your neck as you washed the conditioner from his hair. “Stop,” you said. Your tone left no room for questioning, but Bucky still whined into your neck like the needy mess that he was. “Be a good boy and do as you're told,” you ordered gently. “This is about you. Lemme take care of you.”

Bucky begrudgingly pulled away and looked at you, a definite pout on his full lips. The sudden urge to kiss them overwhelmed you, and you were never one to deprive yourself - Bucky’s pleased smile made you giggle against his lips. 

The bruising on his shoulder looked so much worse under the fluorescent lighting in the bathroom. You gently cleaned the area with a loofah and some soap, reaching to hold his hand in your free one when he winced. “Sorry, baby,” you whispered, and Bucky shook his head before placing a kiss on the crown of your head. 

Your hand travelled along the tattooed plains of his chest, the soap leaving no grime behind and before long, the water trailed clear down the drain. Suddenly, a filthy idea flashed into your mind, one that would truly let him relax and rid the destructive thoughts no doubt plaguing his mind. Oh, how he would love that. 

Slowly, soapy loofah still in hand, you knelt to the floor as Bucky watched with sleepy dazed eyes and a furrowed brow. “What are you doin’?”

You smiled sweetly. “Just close your eyes, sweet boy. For me.” Bucky only hesitated slightly, his mouth opening as if to say something, but he closed it again quickly and shut his eyes with a deep sigh. He trusted you, and he looked too out of it to expect or think of anything but sleep, anyway. 

The soap suds washed away with the streams of water running down from Bucky’s shoulders and back as you ran the loofah over his hips and thighs, your face mercifully sheltered from the flow of water by his towering figure. You didn’t miss the fact that his cock jumped as you inched closer. Smirking to yourself you continued on, willing down the urge to just give in and touch him to satisfy your own needs. It was almost impossible to resist him when he slipped into this state of mind. 

Patience. 

As you worked Bucky started to sway where he stood, the exhaustion he felt finally hitting him harder than a collision - but you wouldn’t have it. “You okay, baby?” you questioned, checking in with him before the inevitable babbling mess he would become once you started. It was validating to know that he trusted you so deeply, that he could lose himself like this, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart grow at that thought. 

He loved you, and you loved him.

He kept his eyes closed and nodded, placing his right arm against the shower wall, his bruised knuckles standing out in stark contrast on the white tile. Perfect. He was going to need that support.

Under the guise of running the loofah over his thighs once again, you inched closer, the sound of your knees moving on the tile inaudible over the running water. “Open your eyes for me, sweet boy.” With your face only inches from his cock as you looked up at him, unable to stop the mischievous smirk as it bloomed when Bucky opened his eyes to look down at you, and you could hear the air leave his lungs in a shocked exhale. 

“Please,” he begged again, his voice meek as he ran his left hand through your hair gently. “Please, doll, please.”

Just to toy with him, you placed a few kitten licks along his shaft as you worked your way toward his tip, revelling in the quiet whimpers leaving his lips. “Are you gonna be my good boy?” you teased, slowly reaching out to stroke up and down his length. You smirked when his breath hitched slightly and his thigh twitched; this wouldn’t take long. 

“You have to answer me, handsome, or I won’t give you what you want.” Exploiting his weakness for praise was always so satisfying, and you had to hide your smirk when Bucky’s eyes darkened under his hooded lids. You couldn’t help but revel in that almost glare - he knew exactly how that look drove you crazy in the best way. The two of you were as bad as each other.

There was a beat of silence before he spoke. “Yes, yes, I’m-” Bucky stopped, pausing so he could lick his lips quickly. He was stalling. You grinned and began to tease him in earnest with a broad swipe from base to tip with your tongue. He was desperately trying to say something, to please you, but you weren’t done. 

Slowly, you brought his tip into your mouth and suckled, gently laving over his frenulum with the tip of your tongue, and his mouth dropped open with a sharp gasp. 

He was watching you rapturously, and you couldn’t resist the urge any longer. 

“I’m- fuck- I’m your good boy, please, oh-” he cut off with a loud moan when you finally swallowed his length, his hand gripping your hair. “Fuck!”

You hummed, the feeling of him sitting at the back of your throat while he struggled to contain himself from fucking your mouth almost too good to bear. The stray droplets of water from the shower mixed with the drool that had started to gather on your bottom lip as you bobbed your head, moaning on every pass to make him shudder. 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” Bucky chanted lowly, but you weren’t done with teasing him. He whined when you pulled away with a pop and you smirked, reaching forward to continue stroking him at an achingly slow pace that made no progress towards his high. “Please!”

“Uh uh,” you chided with a rare authority you loved to exploit. “Where’s your manners?”

Bucky only whined when his hand squeaked against the tile as he adjusted his balance, his other hand moving down to cradle your jaw so his thumb could swipe and press against your bottom lip. The blush had spread down his neck and onto his chest behind the tattoos. His grip in your hair tightened suddenly and you watched as a few drops of pre-cum leaked from the head of his cock only to collect on your hand while Bucky shuddered above you.

God, he was a mess - and you loved every single second of it. 

“Baby, please,” Bucky whispered, his puppy eyes almost impossible to resist. Almost. He gasped when you pulled your face away from his hand to lave your flat tongue along his tip before pursing your lips around it and suckling softly. “Fuck, doll, please, I need you, ple-”

Bucky moaned loudly, his hips surging forward in your mouth when you worked further down his length and hollowed your cheeks. He watched you reach one hand up - “What’re y- oh, fuck me,” - and gently tug at his balls, giving each the attention they deserved. 

“So fuckin’ warm,” Bucky groaned. “S’good to me, always ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” You moaned around him at the praise and a sudden determination surged through you. He felt the sudden shift in your jaw and looked down at you quizzically, but you only raised a brow in challenge. “Wha-” His question was cut off with a yelp as your nose brushed against his pelvis.

The sudden fullness of him in your throat made you gag, and Bucky jerked his hips back, pulling out of your mouth instinctively. His brows were pinched with worry and there was a slight frown on his lips - you knew he couldn’t bear the thought of you being uncomfortable, but you grunted in protest.

For once you wished he wouldn’t be so damn chivalrous. 

The loss of the heat of your mouth made his dick protest too, the twitching gave away just how much he enjoyed being enveloped by you.

“Buck,” you started, ignoring the trail of spit dribbling down your chin, desperate to have him back in your mouth. “Fuck my mouth, use me, now.” Bucky swallowed thickly and stared down at you with his eyes wide, his irises eclipsed with black. His eyes tracked your every move from the slight sway of your breasts as you shifted closer to him, to how your hands edged from his thighs towards his cock, desperate to feel him again. “C’mon,” you urged, but it had no effect. He was entranced. 

“Do as you are fucking told, pretty boy,” you ordered again, and you watched with a smile as Bucky’s eyes glazed over and he whimpered quietly. The sound was intoxicating, and you wanted more.

He was frozen. You had severed the connection between his brain and mouth, the act of speaking evidently too much to ask of him. It was satisfying watching him struggle for words at your mercy, after all, he had made you cock drunk and unable to speak anything besides his name so many times. 

“Be a good boy and fuck my mouth, Bucky,” you tried again, scraping your nails down his thighs, and the slight pain seemed to jumpstart him back to life. 

“Y-Yes, baby, oh my god-” His words choked off into a guttural moan when you swallowed him down again. “S’good, doll, please don’t stop.”

You didn’t.

You forced your jaw to relax as you took all of him in your mouth. He cried out when you raised your hand to massage his balls again, and his grip on your hair tightened almost painfully.  But he still wasn’t taking control like you wanted him to; you released his balls and grabbed his ass tightly with both hands, pulling him forward. 

It was the only encouragement he needed. 

The first jolt of his hips made you gag, but you kept your composure. As Bucky pulled out slightly you ran your tongue along the underside of his shaft and he gasped suddenly. “Do that-” he swallowed thickly and brushed the hair from your eyes. So caring and considerate, even while fucking your mouth. “Do that again, please, baby.”

You blinked up at him and he thrusted forward again, pulling back slowly and you did as he asked with a hell of a reward. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he rasped between ragged pants and he kept it up, his thrusts starting to stutter the more you ran your tongue up his length. 

With a renewed vigour when Bucky stilled, you sucked hard and watched his eyes roll back, a shout of your name leaving his parted lips. “Fuck!” 

Bucky whined as you pulled back for a much needed breather, your hand pumping him much quicker now as his dick twitched in your grip. Your knees squeaked on the tile as you squeezed your thighs together to quell the ache and throb between them. Reducing Bucky to a begging mess was and always would be a surefire way to ignite your own desire - and Bucky noticed.

“Pretty girl, all worked up, huh?” he questioned and you whined, leaning into his hand cradling your jaw, his thumb working over the muscles. “Bet you’re fucking soaked, sweetheart.” A quick nod was your only response and you began to move forward to swallow him again, but he stopped you. “Go on,” Bucky brought his right hand down to tug at his cock slowly, just enough to keep on the edge but not enough to go over. “Touch yourself, please, baby.”

You didn’t need telling twice. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Bucky watched you and you felt a surge of lust-driven bravery at his praise. You could tell it wouldn’t take long, the knot almost ready to snap the more you circled your clit in deliberate strokes, the heat of Bucky’s gaze and his quiet moans fuelling the fire. “Look at you, baby, all desperate.” You whined and closed your eyes as you neared the edge, so close to tumbling over. “Look at me,” Bucky snapped and you complied, your lips parted as you breathed heavily, each exhale becoming a moan that grew in volume. 

“So pretty like this,” Bucky whispered as he bent over, his lips kissing the shell of your ear. “Cum for me, be a good girl and cum for me, I know you want to, c’mon.”

Your cunt clenched around nothing and you cried out as the pleasure reached a fever pitch, the knot snapping with such ferocity you swore if you were standing you would have fallen. “Bucky!”

Bucky smiled and used his free hand to rub down your shoulder to cup your breast. “Atta girl,” he hummed, the smirk evident in his tone. “Knew you could do it.” He kept up a chain of praises as you came down from your high. 

It only took a moment to get your bearings back and you pushed against his right shoulder. “Your turn.” You stated simply, leaving no room for argument. Bucky grinned dazedly and straightened up without resistance. 

You started slow again, building him back up from where you left off, even though you could see it wasn’t needed. Pre-cum was dribbling from his slit and you didn’t waste a single drop. “Oh, fuck,” Bucky moaned loudly, his right arm braced against the wall while his left gripped your hair again. 

The audible pop of you pulling away again made him whine needily, desperately, and you smirked. He looked down at you and opened his mouth to speak, or beg, but you cut him off. “I’ll let you cum, my sweet boy.”

“Thank you, thank you, ba- FUCKING hell!” Bucky shouted through his babbling. You had taken his entire length down your throat again and you bobbed up and down quickly, sure to use every single weakness he had. “Oh, god, fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum!” he cried, and you grinned as best you could. 

His right hand scrabbled against the smooth tile of the wall for purchase that wasn’t there. His jaw went slack, his breath coming in heaves that became a moan on every exhale. Suddenly, and cruelly, you slowed, and you let the piteous whine he made fuel you. 

“Doll, please, I need t’a cum,” Bucky begged, his hand trying to move your head quicker but you resisted. “No!” he cried when you pulled away, spit trailing between your bottom lip and the tip of his cock. 

You grinned and looked up at his face. “Hold on, baby.”

Before he could reply, you took his tip into your mouth and hollowed your cheeks, running your tongue around it with enough pressure to make him shudder. “Oh god, I’m so close,” he babbled. Slowly bobbing your head, you set a pace that met his thrusts expertly.

Suddenly you surged forward, your nose meeting his pelvis again and you sucked hard, his shout of pleasure cut off by a loud moan when he arched towards you to meet you halfway. “I can’t, oh god, don’t stop, please!” Bucky whimpered as his shallow thrusts became stuttered again, and you knew he was close. 

With perfect timing, you brought your hands up to his balls again to roll and tug on them gently, the result almost instantaneous. 

“I’m cumming, fuck!”

Bucky came with a loud grunt, each twitch of his dick eliciting a moan as he emptied down your throat. You swallowed what you could but the rest dribbled down your chin, and the sight made Bucky moan again. Slowly you pulled off him with an audible, wet pop, then sat back on your haunches, a blissed smile gracing your expression. 

“Feeling better, baby?” you asked, and Bucky laughed. 

“Thank you, sweetheart, that was good,” he panted out, his pupils still blown. You winked and stood to grab the soap again. 

“Gotta wash again.” 

Of course, it didn’t end there. 

Much later when the two of you were laying in bed, did you remember your actual surprise you had made him earlier that day. The movie you were watching together suddenly became background noise as you sat up abruptly, making Bucky start and shout in alarm. “What’s wrong?!”

“Nothing, nothing, I promise.” You turned back to face him as you slipped on your robe. “Be right back!” 

The wooden floor was cold under your feet as you rushed to the kitchen and straight to the cupboard. Unsurprisingly, you heard Bucky’s footsteps trailing after you. “I said I’ll be back!” You laughed as you turned around only to pause at the sight. 

Bucky was wearing those damn grey sweatpants with no shirt. His Adonis belt was on full display, as were his tattoos. He caught you staring and smirked. “Careful, sweetheart, you’ll catch flies.” You narrowed your eyes in response while he only chuckled. “What’re you doin’?” 

“Close your eyes,” you said. Bucky only raised a brow in defiance and you scowled. “Do as you’re told.” With your tone leaving no room for argument, just like in the shower, Bucky complied.

He raised his hands placatingly and did so. You whipped around and pulled down the tray the cake was placed on, careful to keep it balanced until it was safely deposited onto the counter.

Your feet padded on the tiled floor to where Bucky stood and he raised a brow, almost daring to open his eyes, but you tutted. He didn’t start when you pulled on his arm to grab his hand, and you directed him to the counter. “Keep your eyes closed.”

“If you walk me into a wall I’m gonna tie you to the bed and edge you for hours,” Bucky threatened, and your breath hitched. Damn him.

You laughed and manoeuvred him so he stood in front of the cake. “As tempting as that is, I’m not that mean.” Bucky scoffed and you slapped his right shoulder in retaliation, which only made him snort a laugh. 

“Now, I know I’m not the best, but I hope you love it,” you said quietly, the slight self-doubt now settling deep into your gut, and Bucky could tell. 

Of course he could tell.

“I’m gonna love whatever it is, baby, because I love you.”

“Why do you always know what to say, Buck,” you said, praying that the sudden knot in your throat wouldn’t be obvious. Thankfully, Bucky only smirked and you looked down at the cake and back up to him again, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “Okay, open your eyes.”

Bucky did so, and the absolute joy in his features almost moved you to tears. “This is for me?” he breathed, looking from you to the cake iced and decorated with a red star, the simple word ‘family’ scribed with black icing over the top of the star. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Do you like it?”

“Like it?” Bucky almost shouted, the happiness in his face definitely moving you to tears this time. “I love it, baby, thank you!” He lifted you up into his arms - still favouring his left after a quick glare you sent him, the unspoken be careful making itself known - and spun you around slowly, laughing when you squealed happily.

He gently placed you back onto the floor once again and captured your lips in a kiss that stole your breath. “Now I gotta show my gratitude in the proper way, sweetheart,” he said against your lips, and you couldn’t help but moan at the low timbre of his voice. He knew it was a weakness, the bastard. 

The once spotless kitchen was now strewn with clothes, and if the neighbours were home, well, it was none of their damn business.

Bucky drove the two of you to the clubhouse a couple of hours later, the moon high in the sky as he pulled into the lot. His hand never left your thigh and you couldn’t help but stare at his profile as he put your car into park. “What?” Bucky smirked, clearly chuffed with himself. 

You smiled dreamily and grabbed his hand, bringing his bruised knuckles to your lips to place a gentle kiss on them. “Nothing.”

The two of you held each other’s gaze until the tension became almost unbearable, and Bucky broke the silence while adjusting his jeans. “Let’s get inside before I fuck you in this car,” he grumbled. You laughed and got out, going straight to the back to grab half of the containers of sweets while Bucky grabbed the other half.

“Another time, handsome,” you said with a wink, and Bucky grinned. He made his way towards the clubhouse, a very obvious pep in his step as he opened the door and held it open for you with his foot.

“Fucked the attitude right outta him, didn’t you sweets?” Steve yelled as you walked into the games room behind Bucky, both of you cradling the containers of baked treats. Bucky growled and set the containers down carefully, ready to lunge at Steve, but when you clicked your tongue, he stopped. 

You looked at Steve, returning his shit-eating grin in earnest. “You just wish you could say the same, Stevie!” 

Steve’s face fell flat at your taunt, and Natasha howled with laughter beside him as he flipped you off. Bucky turned to grin at you, and you only winked back. 

“I got you, babes,” you said.

And you always would.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[jackblankhsh]

A Blood Red Reindeer Knows

There's a gingerbread man in an alley off Lollipop Lane giving out suck jobs for a candy cane. Lit on sugar stick, poor bastard's got his eyes on the oven.  He wants to go back in.  Came out too early the first time; came out soft.  Now he wants to stay inside until he's good and crisp, maybe even burnt up. Woe to the next Jelly Donut Jon who crosses him.  That fool's gonna get cut open, strawberry filling spilling out everywhere.  The Calico Pimp prancing around in boots, she won't be happy about it, but she'll let it slide.  She'd rather a donut died than her golden throat disappeared.  A lot of coins go down that gullet flowing to her pocket on a river of cream.

 Seeing that, not back in town five minutes, I realize I don't want to be here, but I heard from Vixen. She needs me.  I promised I'd come if she ever called.  

 I notice a car creeping behind me.  It could be any of a dozen rotten eggs I don't care to see.  Still, I pull my motorcycle into a diner on Butter Cream Boulevard.  By doing so I'm practically inviting an unpleasant conversation.  My only hope is they let me have a cup of hot cocoa before things get real.  

 Sitting at the counter I wave to the waitress.  When she comes over she can't take her eyes off my nose.  Most folks can't, whether they know what it means, or not.  I can't get used to it.  It's like they never seen red before.

 Snapping my fingers I say, "Hey, cup-a cocoa.  Extra marshmallows."

 "I'll have that right up."  She hops to it.  Blink of an eye there's a steaming mug in front of me.  I get one delicious sip before a badge sits next to me.

 Glancing over I recognize the copper, "Detective Lorenzo Elfberg, what a pleasure to see you again."

 "Cut the shit Rudy. What the fuck are you doing back in town?"  Lorenzo is from the old school, back when questioning a suspect meant beating a confession out of someone with a frozen hose.  I know. He's asked me a few questions.  

 I shrug, "No reason I can't be."

 "I bet I could find something."  Sliding into the vacancy beside me is a snowman.  

 I ask, "Who's this Frosty?"

 Next thing I know the snowman slams my head into the counter.  A few patrons look over, but as soon as Lorenzo flashes a badge they look away.

 Snowman growls, "The name's Milkshake.  Milkshake Snickerdoodle, and you don't use that word around me, got it punk?"

 Sitting up I straighten my leather jacket.  Now isn't the time to get weird.  However, I've been around.  I know a fishing expedition when I see one.

 So I say, "Didn't mean nothing by it.  Heard it in a snowballer song.  Figured y'all call yourself that now, taking it back as it were."

 Milkshake snorts, "Whatever ya backwoods whitetail trash."

 "Now who's being insensitive?" I say, and take a sip, "You boys ought to have some of this.  It's damn fine.  Might even calm you down."

 Lorenzo plucks a marshmallow off my coaster.  He says, "Whatcha been doing with yourself?"

 "Not that it's any of your business, I've been on the outskirts settled in with my girlfriend, Cari Bou.  Told her I had business in the city.  Only just rode in a half hour ago."

 "She a good woman?" Milkshake asks.

 "The best," I say.  Never meant it before, not even with Vixen, though once upon a time I thought I did.

 Milkshake says, "Then I bet you're in a hurry to get back to her."

 I am, but won't admit it. Watching the cops leave I can't help thinking a strong shove this early -- something is definitely stirring.  A smart person would take those threats seriously, and make no mistake when a cop says leave town there's always a threat in there, but I'm not smart enough to do what's best for me.  

After finishing my cocoa I get back on my bike. The engine growls, and I almost miss the sound of jingling bells, the shimmer of chimes.  Eyes to the sky I see Big Red's sleigh shooting across the heavens. A practice flight every night on the week before Christmas -- some things never change.  Then I notice something isn't right.  The silhouette of the sleigh suggests a reindeer is missing. I can't be sure which, but it puts a cold unpleasantness in my belly.

 So I speed my ass over to Vixen's house.  When I left she lived in a nice part of town, one of the perks of being a flier.  Of course, she isn't the original Vixen. That'd make her centuries old, but she qualified back in the day, got to assume the call sign when the time came. So it's a bit of a shock to see her jelly dot bungalow is a cracked, half melted mess.

 Parking my ride I notice a group of teddy bears loitering on the corner.  They seem to be watching the place.  Discretely getting a gun out of my saddle bag I stash it in a jacket pocket before heading up to Vixen's.  

 Knocking on the door causes it to open.  That's not a good sign.  Going inside I find the place isn't just torn apart, worse, there's blood on everything. Something vicious happened here, but I doubt I've got time to stick around.  Still, there's seconds enough to notice one oddity.

 On a wall there's a poster hanging that says, "Re-elect Papa Nash!"  He's the mayor of this icy burg.  If he gets re-elected that'll mean a fifth term, adding up somewhere near 22 years.  However, anyone with half a brain, not living in denial, knows Papa Nash doesn't run shit. Big Red is the only one with any political power.  Vixen knew that, hell, she taught it to me.  So why the poster?  

 She used to say, "Things have to change, Rudy, but sometimes I doubt they will.  Not with a vote anyhow."

I hear sirens in the distance.  Sensing a frame up is in the works I don't waste time. Hurrying outside I see the teddy bears have converged on my bike.  

 As I approach my ride the largest teddy bear says, "Where you think yer goin'?"

 Instead of chit-chatting I fire a few rounds into the bear's foot.  The rest scatter allowing me to hop on my bike, and ride.  I know where I need to go, but I don't know if there's time.

[lizartgurl]

“Back To You” (Aqualad x OC)

Day One of Aqualad and Nightingale going into hiding. Things aren’t going very smooth. But what did either of them expect?

@staar-sailorr​ @betteonit​ @the-shadow-of-atlantis​ @lesbianstargirl​

This part goes out to Clark, for their kickarse playlist that fits the ship and the story perfectly. Listen to it on Spotify.

PART THREE.

(part one) (part two)

Wildcat gave them headphones and mic to be able to communicate on the flight, but no one really talked. Wildcat wasn’t exactly the chattiest of heroes, and even if they weren’t currently exes, Emma and Kaldur wouldn’t have wanted to have a conversation that excluded him.

They landed hours later, each one blurred to the next for Emma, and as the chopper lurched to the side, all three occupants wondered how they'd made it that far.

Ted hopped out first, dragging their luggage from the secure compartment. Kaldur went after him, and offered a hand to Emma to help her down.

As she wobbled between the choice to refuse or accept his help, she stumbled out of the helicopter and into his arms.

She felt her heart beat three times- pounding painfully against her ribcage, as she took him in. He wore a dark gray Star City University hoodie- one she knew for a fact was stolen from Roy- and a navy blue beanie, the one she bought him one Christmas after her attempt to learn knitting with M'gann had gone terribly wrong.

The skin around his eyes was pale, and his eyes were more gray than green, reminding her of a cloudy day where it wasn't  sunny and it wasn't rainy. Caught in the middle, unable to figure out how  the day should be spent. He didn't smell too bad, though, but the sea-salty scent she was so used to from him had faded.

Wildcat threw their bags at them, refusing to carry their crap for them. Emma shouldered her bag, embarrassed at being caught like that. But she couldn't help but wonder, what did Kaldur see when he looked at her?

“Alright, kids,” Ted’s voice made both of them snap to attention. He reminded Emma vaguely of stuck-up Captain Atom.

“This is the JSA’s only safe house, so if you blow this one up, you’ll be moving in with Doctor Midnite.” The had landed at the southernmost tip of Moose Factory Island, the helicopter was situated on the only bit of ground solid enough to hold it. To their left was the river that surrounded the island merging back into one. Directly ahead was a small wooden cabin, behind it was the beginning of a forest, which arced around to their right and behind the helicopter, blocking the rest of the island from view.

“What of Batman’s safehouses?” Emma heard Kaldur speak for the first time in months.

“Don’t know which ones Demon Head knows about. Wanted to stay on the safe side,” Ted grunted. He unlocked the peeling-paint-red door before dropping the key in Emma’s hand.

“No wifi, watch your electricity, the generator’s been running for forty years now.”

Emma’s hand fisted around the key in her pocket, the hair on her fingers tingling with static electricity. Shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

“This island is owned by the Cree tribe. The only reason we’re allowed here is because I’m on good terms with most all of them. Don’t ruin that. Batman told you about credit cards?”

Emma didn’t feel like talking, so she simply held up the envelope Bruce had given her.

“There’s a trading post in town on the other side of the woods. You can buy most everything there. ‘N they’ve a landline there too, but only in emergencies. You can send messages to your little sidekick friends through letters when Midnite stops by every month with your allowance. They’ll send you letters too, I’ll bet. Least Dinah will.”

He slapped his palm down on the vanilla-colored countertop. “Map to Midnite’s is in the fridge. Memorize it.”

Emma could sense Kaldur nodded just as she did.

Wildcat sighed looking between the two of them, trying to decide if it would be more or less awkward if he left.

“Well, that’s it. Tolerate each other, don’t burn the house down, and don’t get caught.”

He propped his hat- the one with the kitty ears- back on his balding head, and the slamming door behind him echoed emptily. Neither Emma nor Kaldur made a move until the whirring of chopper blades had faded away into the crisp, autumnal air.

She turned, and Kaldur was staring at her, mouth open as if he was going to say something. “Thank you” maybe? “I’m sorry for the past year”?

He thought better of it, dragging his duffel down the hall to the first available hall.

Grumbling under her breath, Emma shouldered her own bag and went off to find the other room that Dinah had promised would be there. If Black Canary had lied to her there would be very strong words spoken between them.

Emma found the other room soon enough, thank goodness. It was sparsely furnished, a safe house wasn’t supposed to be a vacation rental, after all, but the whole house seemed to have a plaid thing going on. The front sitting room was green with the kitchen as yellow and black, both having dark brown walls to match the house exterior. The room Emma had found for herself had solid red pillows, with a red plaid comforter and a single dark brown dresser, and a white closet to match the walls and the bathroom. Emma was willing to bet that Kaldur’s room was exactly the same, only in blue. It was simple, but comfortable. She almost felt at home, if the room didn’t feel claustrophobic compared to her suite at the manor. She really needed to shed her privilege more often.

The clothes that she’d packed filled about two of the drawers, so she spread them out to make them feel of more use. She hung up the one dress and a couple of her nicer shoes, and shoved the duffel into the shelf above. She stacked her books on the shelves and paused to see Brandon Sanderson’s “Elantris”,her immediate thought being that Kaldur might like to read it.

After she did, of course. Bruce said that there was a bookshelf stocked full for electric-free fun, and although Kaldur was dyslexic, he was quite an avid reader. He’d be well occupied before Emma should take it upon herself to keep him entertained.

It wasn’t her job to keep him entertained anyway, she was there to keep him safe. Nothing more, nothing less, and she’d been guilted into that anyway.

She let herself fall face-first into the thick comforter, wishing for Justice or something to cuddle.

Her eyes fell on something bright red- brighter than the dull tones of the cabin decor. An article of clothing having fallen from her bag?

She picked it up, staring at it with disdain. It was the plush dragon that Kaldur he won her at the Happy Harbor Festival. Well, technically, he’d won her a bright green plush, with yellow wings instead of purple, to match her own, but that was lost in the chaos when the Terror Twins became more than a little ticked off at the fact that they were not allowed to enter fair grounds. The double date Emma and Kaldur had been on with M’gann and Conner was disrupted, and in the aftermath of the fight, the boothkeeper offered them his one surviving plush as a thank you for saving the rest of the festival (and keeping the Terror Twins from stealing all his sketchily-earned cash).

After Kaldur was discovered to be working with Black Manta, recently revealed to be his birth father, Emma had to admit she went a little berserk in her reaction. All his messages deleted from her phone. His letters and little gifts boxed up and given to Alfred to “get rid of them”, though if he actually did so remained a mystery. After Malina Island, she even went into his former room in Mount Justice- the first to do so in months- and eviscerated one of his pillows with her lightning. At the time, it made her feel better, but it didn’t make her less mad, and the cave smelled like burnt cotton for weeks. Until Kaldur blew it up anyway.

Out of everything, Emma rationalized keeping the dragon. It wasn’t the one Kaldur had given her, though she always felt it was meant to replace the one she lost, and she did love dragons, even if the green and yellow one had been prettier.

Emma felt her heart beat distinctly, and she held the dragon close, curled up on top of the covers.

“Thanks, Tim,” she whispered.

She didn’t know how long she lay there, back stiff, eyes red, mind numb, door open.

The next thing she knew, she smelled cookies.

Not just any cookies, Miss Martian’s cookies. Chocolate chip. Freshly baked. With extra cinnamon.

She sat up, but before she went to investigate, she hid the dragon beneath the pillows, between the mattress and the wall.

Kaldur was in the kitchen, alone, pulling a cookie sheet out of the oven, and sliding the cookies off to cool on a plate on the table with the others.

Emma stood there, just staring at the cookies for a moment, before Kaldur spotted her.

“Would you like some?”

It was the first time they had spoken directly to each other since...the summit. Three months ago.

“Yeah,” She was embarrassed that was all she could bring herself to say. No “sorry for threatening to kill you if you touched a hair on Mara, Tim, or Gar’s head,” or “I’m sorry for freaking out and being so willing to believe that you’d actually side with Manta over us.”

She shoved a cookie in her mouth to keep from embarrassing herself further. It appeared Kaldur had the same idea, but then they both started choking.

Kaldur immediately procured two glasses of water.

“It appears that I used too much cinnamon,” He lamented.

“Well, that, and I kind of forced mine down my throat,” Emma admitted sheepishly.

“”As did I,” Kaldur’s attempted to smile made Emma giggle. Just a little bit.

“Did...did M’gann teach you to make these?”

Kaldur nodded. “I have had plenty of free time as of late, while there are no missions to assign.”

Emma nodded. “Well, if we aren’t totally alienated from cinnamon at the moment, I think I still have a couple of Alfred’s cinnamon rolls, and then some potato casserole for dinner that we can heat up.”

“That sounds delicious, just let me clean up.” Kaldur placed the cover on the spicy cookies, and went about brushing the spare ingredients off the counter and into the small trash bin.

Emma bit her lip. “Need any help?”

“No, thank you. I can handle it.” Kaldur assured her.

“Alright,” Emma whispered under her breath.

She only hoped that Bruce and Aquaman could bring in those threatening Kaldur sooner. If today was any indicator, the coming weeks, maybe months, were going to be terribly painful for both of them.