#so microwaving them for like 20 seconds is enough to get them soft enough to eat

[fingertipsmp3]

Another thing that happened tonight is I incinerated a weed brownie for no reason 👍🏻

[jae-bummer]

My Idol 3: Part Two

My Idol From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

My Idol is a South Korean competitive reality dating game show. It currently airs on Saturday nights on Jae-bummer’s blog. First broadcast in 2016, the show offers the opportunity for a lucky fan to go on seven blind dates with seven idols. The idol plans the date with the show throwing in a specific mission to complete during the day. At the end of the initial dates, the show opens up an audience vote to decide what four idols will move on to the second date.

My Idol 3: The Series

.

In the history of My Idol, you didn't think you had ever seen someone genuinely excited about doing a mission before. Often times, contestants tended to dread the red envelopes, with some even refusing to open them. Jungkook, on the other hand, seemed almost more excited for this than anything you had discussed so far.

"To be honest," you grinned. "I thought the real adventure started when Yoongi was instilling a healthy amount of fear into all of us."

"Yeah," Jungkook cringed. "That wasn't part of the plan."

"What exactly was the plan?"

"Well..." he trailed, running a hand over the back of his neck. "He wouldn't tell me. He just said he was going to handle a few things."

"And that didn't set off any alarms?" you laughed.

Jungkook broke into a smile before shaking his head. "You try questioning him and see how far you get."

Directing your attention back to the task at hand, it was hard not to be enthusiastic when Jungkook was. Sliding a finger under the seal, he peeled the envelope open with a small pop. Grinning fiendishly, he slid the contents out and began to read.

"The healthiest relationships are those where you're a team! Grab a cold lunchbox at random and microwave it for the instructed time. While the timer is ticking, divide and conquer getting the rest of your snacks!"

"That doesn't sound too bad," you said quietly, suspicious as to why you got such an attainable mission.

"There's a second card," Jungkook hummed, waving it before reading. "See below for your shopping list. Confirm you have the correct brand and item before the timer runs out. Happy snacking!"

Looking over Jungkook's shoulder, your jaw dropped. The list of snacks had to have been 20 items long. You hadn't even heard of some of them before.

Glancing up at you, Jungkook smirked. "We're going to kill this."

"I hate to be pessimistic," you cringed. "But I don't even know what half of these things are."

"Okay," he said, furrowing his brows as he scanned the list. "We'll split the list in half. I'll take the ones you're not sure about."

"Oh," you breathed a sigh of relief. "You're familiar with everything then?"

"Nope," he grinned. "But I've got the spirit to make up for it."

.

It hadn't taken long for the two of you to split up the list and finalize a game plan. The only thing you hadn't been able to factor in was the time you would be allotted, or how to navigate other people shopping at the convenience store.

You looked nervously from the cold lunch boxes to Jungkook. His expression was soft as he gazed at you. "Hey, we'll be able to do this, okay?"

"And what if we don't?" you grumbled. You knew the probability of succeeding at every mission given by My Idol was slim, but you weren't looking forward to any of the penalties. You had already made yourself look silly enough in your audition video, there didn't need to be another highlight reel of embaressing moments.

"If we don't, it'll be my fault," he grinned. "Just worry about your part. You're going to do great."

You felt your heart stutter as you appraised him. Jungkook was so open and giving with his words and emotions. Not once had he made you feel uncomfortable or unwanted. You knew this experience was new for the both of you, but you were clearly out of your depth. Coming into this, you felt like you were drowning, but Jungkook proved to be an increasingly proficient swimmer.

"Do you want to pick?" he asked, finally looking away to you and toward the meals.

You chuckled uneasily. "I trust you."

"Might be your downfall," he joked, reaching in and grabbing what looked to be a pretty involved meal set. Checking for any sort of instructions, he let out a hiss. "Two minutes."

"That's fine," you nodded, trying to pump yourself up. "Two minutes. A whole 120 seconds. That's a lot of time."

"You're right," he said, nodding as well. Crossing the aisle, he began to remove some of the plastic packaging before popping the food into one of the available microwaves. "I believe in us."

Shutting the door, his fingers hovered above the numbers before he thought better of it. Dropping his hand to his side, he moved back toward you, grabbing your wrist instead.

"Wha-" you managed as he shuffled you toward the counter.

Lifting your hand with his, he smiled. "We'll do it together."

Letting out a soft huff of amusement, you allowed him to navigate your fingers toward the "Start" button. "Together."

.

Your breath was ragged as the microwave beeped loudly across the convenience store. Stopping just short of running into you, Jungkook grinned wildly in your direction, his eyes lit with excitement.

"We did it," he said, his voice gravelly. "We did the damn thing."

You laughed, looking at his now haphazard hair. Reaching up, you flattened a few strands back into his ponytail. The small movement caused him to go incredibly still, his eyes darting around your face before looking away. Once fixed, you took a step back, only to see him zoned out and biting his lip.

"Do you really think we got everything?" you whispered. Looking from his basket to yours, you were relieved to see quite a few snacks in both.

"If we didn't, we definitely got close," he murmured. "I'm proud of us either way."

A more lovely man simply did not exist. You were sure of it.

It wasn't long before the production crew seized your baskets and began analyzing everything. You were too nervous to speak, so you remained anxiously silent as you watched them.

"It looks like everything is here," one of the producers confirmed. "...besides the tuna and kimchi kimbap."

"What!" you and Jungkook gasped in unison. You thought back to your mad dash. That one was on your list, and you were certain you had grabbed it.

"It's not here," the producer sighed, pulling a red envelope from the back of his jeans.

"Wait, wait, wait," Jungkook said, stepping forward. "Let me look."

"We already looked at everything," another producer piped in. "It's not there."

"Then you'll have no problem letting me look too," he asserted, his hands already picking through the snacks. Sitting each one on the table in the order they were written, he paused. Looking over his shoulder at you, he smirked. "Found it."

When the producers were checking everything, it looked like the baskets had only been shuffled through. You watched with pride as Jungkook pulled the kimbap out from under the baked eggs.

"Oh," the producer said numbly. Stuffing the envelope back into his pocket, he sighed. "Well done."

"Well done," you muttered. You were going to have to keep a close eye on them.

"Now, to celebrate," Jungkook grinned, his nose scrunching. "Let's go go go!"

.

Settling into one of the plastic tables outside of the 7-Eleven, you assisted Jungkook with spreading out your winnings. You took turns going back and forth to heat up various things, but it didn't take long before you sat side by side.

"Mmmm," Jungkook groaned, taking a bite of the hot bar you had just set in front of him. "I haven't had one of these in forever."

"Not enough time?" you asked, taking a bite as well when he offered it to you.

"I order in a lot," he nodded. "I don't really like leaving my apartment."

You furrowed your brow as you chewed thoughtfully. "Why not?"

Heaving a sigh, Jungkook glanced up at the cameras before looking back at you. "Things can get a little crazy when you're a..."

"Idol?" you supplied. "Celebrity?"

"Something like that."

"Right,' you said slowly. Of course he treasured his privacy. He had so little of it. "But I'm curious, if you like to keep to yourself, why sign up for My Idol?"

"Why'd you sign up?" he shot back quickly with a teasing tone.

"I asked you first," you smirked.

Smiling in return, Jungkook resumed picking through the food. "I've realized that since I became an adult, I've gotten really introverted. It's hard to meet people when you're locked behind a door with your pets all day. I had some talks with friends, and they all thought this experience would be good for me."

You supposed you could appreciate that. "It's a chance for you to grow then?"

"Mmm," he hummed, mid chew. "In a way. I want to grow as a person, but it would be nice to grow with someone as well. You'll have to understand, I haven't really been "alone" since I was 15, so it's a double-edged sword. I crave that comfort, but at the same time, I've been burned by people who I thought I could trust."

"It's hard to be vulnerable," you nodded. "This is a chance to do that while also keeping rails around it."

"Exactly," he grinned. "I wasn't going to crawl out of my hole unless I felt safe to some extent.

Now, what about you? What made you submit your audition tape?"

"Alcohol," you laughed. "And a friend who said I needed to live a little."

"I think our friends would like each other then," he chuckled. "Both sat in front of a 7-Eleven because we were peer pressured to go on the highest stakes blind date possible."

"Hey, the 7-Eleven has been fabulous," you hummed. "And it's sentimental to you."

Looking over his shoulder, Jungkook gazed fondly at the building. "It really is. There's nothing like the feeling of practicing for eight hours and then stumbling down the street for some ramen."

"Eight hours?" you croaked.

"I was an underachiever, really."

You quickly narrowed your eyes at him, but immediately realized he was joking. Letting out a small huff, you shook your head. "How were your leg muscles even willing to make the trip after all of that?"

"It wasn't great," he winced. "But I was young and running off of the feeling of just belonging to something. When my members would be too tired to come out, I'd offer to carry them. Many a piggyback ride happened on the way to this place."

You tried to picture it. Jungkook who was barely a teenager and the slightly older teenagers who were made to raise him. They worked as hard as their bodies would allow until they finally got some recognition. They were sent catapulting into fame only to work harder than they ever had. There was something admirable about the journey to become an idol, but there was no way you could ever push yourself as hard as them. It took a special type of dedication.

You looked at Jungkook, assessing his features as he snacked. There was still so much of his youth in his adult features. While his softness had changed into hard edges, that child-like light never left his eyes. That mischievous tug never fell from his lips. The world had tried to beat him down so many times (and that's only what you saw on the tabloids.) Each time though, he picked himself back up and tried again.

You felt your chest give a tug. He really was someone you could grow close to if given the right circumstances.

Glancing up, his eyes caught yours. Smiling shyly, he dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. "Is there something on my face?"

"Oh," you squeaked. "Oh, no."

He leaned in close to you as if to share a secret. "You were supposed to say "Yes, Jungkook, there's beauty dripping everywhere."

You let out a surprised laugh as he crinkled his nose. "How silly of me! Here, let me help you."

Grabbing for his napkin, you began to dab his face playfully. "I'm worried that when I'm done, there won't be anything left to look at!"

Jungkook was erupting into full on giggles at this point, smacking your hands lightly as they roamed around his cheeks.

"Maybe if I took some for myself," you murmured, dabbing the paper on either side of your face. "I'll be as good looking as you."

"You already are," he said, breathless from laughing.

Getting caught on an exhale, you stilled. "Yeah, okay."

"Seriously!" he smiled, reaching up to boop your nose. "Sure, you might have things that you consider imperfections, but they give you character. I like looking at you."

You laughed through your nose. "I like looking at you too, Jungkook."

"That's as good as a declaration of love!" he gasped. "Move me on to the second round!"

"I'm not exactly sure that that's how it works," you sighed. "But nice try."

Jungkook looked down with a small smile. "I really would like to make it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he continued, still not looking at you. "I've had so much fun. And now I know you enough to make me want to know you even more."

"Hey," you chimed, setting your hand lightly atop of his. "You will be a very hard act to follow."

"You think so?" he smirked, finally looking up. "Maybe I should have taken you somewhere more special. Something the viewers-"

"Nope," you cut in. "This place of full of memories that you actually wanted to share. That's not easy when you're giving a small piece of your world to a stranger."

"It is a small piece of my world," he affirmed. "And it's been nice to be able to come back. I was worried it may have turned into something else by now. Thank you for taking care of that memory for me."

"No more talk about the next rounds or what viewers will think," you nodded. "Only talk about what's on your mind and show me pictures of your dog."

This would be the part of the show where the cameras cut away and come back to a montage of you and Jungkook laughing together, the two of you crowded around his phone, or tossing food into each other's mouths. You could almost see the editing as the time ticked by. While your conversation remained light and silly, it was so beneficial in getting to know the person you were expected to form a connection with.

Before you could even realize, hours had flown by. Glancing up in a daze, you realized the producers had been signaling for the two of you to wrap things up. Looking from the camera crew and back to you, Jungkook smiled sadly. "I don't think I want this night to end."

Ruffling his hair now that it had long ago abandoned his ponytail, you stood. "The sun is going to come up pretty soon and end it for us."

Jungkook nodded as he pulled himself to his feet as well. Wrapping his arm around you, he tucked you neatly into his side before strolling slowly toward the My Idol SUVs. You felt completely drunk without a single drop of alcohol coursing through your system. The two of you had entered your own little bubble, sprinkled with magic, and the promise of new beginnings.

"Even if I don't make it, we'll have to do this again," his voice cut through your thoughts.

You looked up at him with wide eyes. The implication of that sentence immediately sent your mind reeling to the previous two seasons.

"No, no, no," he said quickly, spinning you by the shoulders to face him. "Not like that. Just...spending time with you. It's been damn near therapeutic. I don't want to let that go. Whether it's as friends or something more."

"Oh," you breathed, your shoulders relaxing.

"I hope you had as much fun as I did," he smiled. "You did, right? If not, lying is acceptable. I'm fragile."

"I had a great time," you laughed. "It's been a treat getting to know you, Jungkook."

"You were better than any snack," he continued, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Well, maybe not the choco pies. Not much is better than choco pies."

"Understood and no offense taken," you grinned. "I'll see you soon."

"Soon," he confirmed, pulling you into his arms and wrapping them tightly around your waist. Setting his chin on the top of your head, he let out a sigh.

You took a deep breath in, trying to let yourself be surrounded by all things Jungkook. Although you had spent hours outside, he still smelled lightly floral. Pressed to his chest, you had never felt so warm and secure.

Finally pulling away, the loss of Jungkook's body was a stark one. You could've stayed in his arms for much longer, but you would still be unhappy when you had to let go.

Opening the car door for you, he provided his hand to grasp and ease your way in. Plopping on the seat, you turned to face him. "Thanks for tonight."

"I should be thanking you," he said quietly. Before you could realize what he was doing, he placed a soft kiss on your cheek. You sat in silence as he took a few steps back and shut the door.

Your hand immediately flew up to your face, gingerly touching the area of skin that now felt like it was on fire. Looking out the window, you smiled as he gave a small wave. Before you could return it, the driver steered away.

You sat on the feeling for a moment, trying your hardest to take everything in. Jungkook felt like a schoolyard friend that you had a crush on and were finally getting to act on it. It was that elated feeling of liking someone and finding out that they liked you back.

If you already had this level of warm and fuzzy from a man you just met, what would happen on your next six dates?

"Get it together, Y/N," you muttered, watching the 7-Eleven fade behind you. "You're just getting started."

To Be Continued.

[petrock42clone]

Cupcake Baking and Protocols (Written by Pinkie!)

Hey Apple Bloom! Seeing as how you'll one day get the opportunity to bake on your own, I thought it would make sense to give you a copy of my recipe for cupcakes. Hope this helps!

-Pinkie :)

P.S. Make sure to hide this in a very secret place and make sure no pony ever sees it.

Cupcake Ingredients: 1/2 Stick of Butter 2 Large Eggs 3 Teaspoons of Vanilla Extract 1 Cup of Whole Milk 2 1/2 Cups Flour 1 Cup Powdered Sugar 1 Teaspoon Baking Powder 1/3 Cup of Confetti Sprinkles (optional) 1/3 Cup of "Special Ingredient" (Important!)

Frosting Ingredients: 1/2 Stick of butter (room temperature) 2 Cups of Sifted Sugar 1 1/2 Teaspoons Vanilla Extract 2 Tablespoons of Milk 3 or more Drops of Food Color (optional)

Tools Required: Large Mixing Bowl 2 Small Mixing Bowls (1 for wet ingredients and the other for frosting) Measuring Cup Measuring Spoons Small Mixing Spoon Stand Mixer (If broken, use a whisk!) 2 Piping Bags (for both the batter and the frosting) Cupcake/Muffin Tin Cupcake Wrappers (Preferably the glittery ones)

Baking Process: Start by melting half a stick of butter in the microwave for 1 minute. If it's not soft enough then put it in for another 30 seconds. Once it's soft enough, put it into a small bowl with two large eggs, 3 teaspoons vanilla extract, and 1 cup of whole milk. Mix them together until they are at a thorough consistency.

In the large bowl, add 2 and a half cups of flour, 1 cup powdered sugar, and 1 teaspoon of baking powder. Pour the wet ingredients into the large bowl and mix for 6 minutes until combined. Then you add the confetti sprinkles and the "Special ingredient".

Once everything has been mixed thoroughly you pour the mixture into one of the piping bags. You then line the Cupcake tin with the wrappers before using the piping bag to fill them with the batter. Set the oven to 350F and pop them in the oven for 18-20 minutes.

While they're baking, let's make the frosting! In a small bowl, mix half a stick of room temperature butter, 2 cups of sifted sugar, 1 and a half teaspoons of vanilla extract, and 2 tablespoons of milk until smooth and consistent. You can also add a few drops of food dye for color but that's optional. Make sure to put the frosting in the other piping bag so you can use it to frost the cakes!

When the cupcakes are done baking, take them out of the oven with an oven mitten and wait for them to cool off. Then you take them out and frost them before placing them on a tray for the customers to enjoy!

.

.

Acquiring the "Special Ingredient": Over time you'll start to run out of the Special Ingredient. Lucky for you this super secret part of the recipe is here to teach you how to get the Special Ingredient that has everypony loving my Cupcakes! :D

In one of the drawers in my room is a jar filled with pieces of confetti. Each one has a number dedicated to a pony in Ponyville. Along with the number is a name and a brief description of what they look like that includes their coat/mane color, if their a Unicorn or Pegasus or Earth Pony, and their Cutie Mark.

Once every week, I will select a piece of confetti from the jar so I know who I'll be harvesting that week. Mr and Mrs Cake most of the time make Saturday their date night, but they do occasionally do their date nights on Wednesdays. During the 3-4 hours they're out of the bakery I ask the pony to visit Sugarcube Corner to help taste test some baked goods (usually new cupcake flavors) to see if they could be sold. While I do use their feedback for the baked goods, what they don't know is that I crushed up some sleepy pills into their frosting. The best part of it is that they're tasteless so they won't even know what hit them!

When they fall asleep I take them into a room separate from the basement and strap them down to the party table. If they're a Unicorn, you gotta saw off their horn before they wake up. By the time they wake up is when the fun begins.

I start by removing their Cutie Marks with a knife, if they don't have one you skip that part all together. If they're a Pegasus I'll use a saw to saw off their wings. What happens next is whatever I feel like doing that day, but we must refrain from making them faint more than once. It's rare to find ponies who sell adrenaline on the dark market, and I don't wanna run out, my guests wouldn't be able to witness their harvesting if that happened!

Oh right, the Harvesting Process!

After you're done playing with them, you cut open their stomach and start to remove their organs. I usually like to make jokes as I do it. While removing them, the heart and lungs have to be saved for the end so they can feel EVERYTHING happening. The organs aren't used for the special ingredient so I just use them for decorations like balloons. What is used however is their flesh and blood.

Once the last organ is pulled they'll die in a matter of seconds! I'll handle skinning them and removing their flesh, but you'll have to help in draining them of their blood ahead of time. You'll need to fill the bucket at least halfway but it's ok if they don't have enough. Once that part is finished and the meat is put through a grinder, we mix them together before putting them in a container that is hidden in a secret part of the kitchen's fridge (cant have Mr and Mrs Cake know).

Just remember what you read and you'll have no problem baking!

I even attached a photo of the first ever Cupcake I made. The unicorn I used for them taught me a lot about how to deal with other types of ponies, and they were really colorful!

[woodenmooseroller]

Bolani, from Afghan Cooks

Ingredients

Filling

5 leeks, the leaves and the white part. Can substitute with Chinese chives

3 peeled and mashed potatoes

Salt

1 tablespoon cumin seeds/ground cumin

1 tablespoon coriander seeds/ground coriander

2 teaspoon turmeric

Jalapeño/red pepper flakes

Dough

2 1/2 cups all purpose flour

2 teaspoon salt

1/4 cup oil

3/4 cup water

Alternative dough

Egg roll wrappers

1 tablespoon flour

Water

Instructions

Filling

1. Peel and cut your potatoes into quarters. You can boil them on the stovetop until they are fork tender. You can also put them in a microwave safe bowl covered with water and cook them, covered, in the microwave for about 6 minutes.

2. While your potatoes are cooking, heat a small frying pan on medium heat and add the cumin seeds, coriander seeds. Make sure you keep the pan moving so all sides of the seeds get toasted, this should take about 30 seconds to 1 minute if your pan is hot enough. Add the turmeric and just let it cook for another 20 seconds. Take off the heat and put it in a spice grinder or use a mortar and pestle and grind finely. Set aside.

3. When your potatoes have cooked, drain them and set them aside to cool. Once they’ve cooled, mash them up. They shouldn’t be a paste or like whipped mashed potatoes but just a rough mash with some texture still left to them.

4. Chop your leeks into fairly small pieces. Not too big and not too fine either. You want texture in your filling.

5. Mix the leeks and potatoes together and add the spices, salt and pepper or jalapeno if you are using it. Mix it well. Set aside while you make your dough.

Dough

1. In a large bowl, combine the flour, salt and oil. Stir together.

2. Add the water slowly. Pour a bit then stir, continue to pour until it makes a soft dough. If the dough is too stiff and dry, add more water on tablespoon at a time. If it is too wet, add more flour one tablespoon at a time. What you are looking for is a dough that is soft and pliable.

3. Knead the dough on a floured surface for about 3 minutes. It should be nice and bouncy and soft – that’s when you know its done. Place back into the bowl, cover and let it rest for about 10 minutes.

4. After 10 minutes your dough is ready to roll into smaller balls. You should be able to get 12 bolani out of this. But it will depend on how thinly you roll your dough and how big or small you make the bolani.

5. Break off a piece of dough (about a large fistful) off the larger ball with your hands. Roll it into a ball. Do this until you run out of dough. Cover the smaller dough balls with a damp paper towel so they don’t dry out. Have your filling, a fork, some flour and water near by.

6. Flour your work surface and roll out one piece of dough. Roll it until you can see the work surface underneath the dough. Don’t worry if it isn’t a perfect circle.

7. Alternatively, use egg roll wrappers for the dough. Use two sheets per bolani. While you are working with your egg rolls, you want to keep a damp paper cloth on top of the unused ones so that they don’t dry out.

Can glue and seal the bolani with a mixture of flour and water.

8. Place the filling on half of the dough circle. Don’t overfill it – but don’t be stingy either. make sure you flatten the filling so you can get a nice, flat bolani.

Fold the other half over the filling half. Seal with a fork. I usually end up wetting my fingers and folding the dough over to make sure the filling stays inside the dough.

9. Repeat with the rest of the dough.

10. Fry - shallow or deep

Shallow - Make sure your skillet or frying pan is hot then thoroughly coat the bottom of the pan with oil. Add the bolani once the oil is hot. Fry until golden brown then flip and fry on the other side. This should take about anywhere from 2-3 minutes depending on how thin your bolani are.

Deep - Add about 3 inches of oil to a pan and set over medium-high heat. Make sure the oil doesn’t go over 360 degrees. Add the bolani and fry until golden brown and crispy on both sides. If your oil is hot enough this should take 1-3 minutes.

11. Remove from the oil and place on a paper towel to drain.

12. Serve with garlic yogurt sauce and green cilantro chutney.

Afghan Green Sauce - Cilantro Chutney, from Afghan Cooks

Ingredients

4 bunches cilantro roughly chopped (use the whole thing - stems and leaves)

8 cloves garlic peeled

1 jalapeno (optional. You can add more or less. 1 just gives you the hint of heat.)

2 tsp salt

2 cups vinegar (I use a blend of apple cider and white vinegar – 1 cup of each. You can also use red wine vinegar. I would not recommend balsamic.)

A few grinds of black pepper

Instructions

1. Put the cilantro into a food processor or blender and pulse until it becomes very finely chopped. You may have to do this in batches.

2. Once the cilantro is very finely chopped add the garlic and jalapeno and blend or process again. Slowly add the vinegar until it becomes a fairly think sauce.

3. Put it in a tightly covered jar. It will be vibrant green when you first make it and will darken over time.

Afghan Yogurt Sauce, from Afghan Cooks

Total Time: 10 minutes

Ingredients

2 cups yogurt

1/4 cup lemon juice

1 tablespoon dill

1 tablespoon mint

4-5 cloves garlic, minced

Pinch of salt

Water

Sour cream (optional)

Kashk (optional)

Instructions

1. Stir together yogurt, lemon juice, dill, mint, salt, and garlic. Add water until the sauce can be drizzled.

Can mix the yogurt with sour cream and/or kashk if you can find it. The rest of the ingredients are the same but its important for you to adjust to taste.

[mageofspacemultiverse]

The Comedian - Made with Love

Synopsis: On the heels of the disappointing rejection of a gig, Trajes spends some quality time with his caste-brother and new block-mate, before settling for some quality time to himself. A busy night that follows is highlighted by a mystery. Word Count: 2042 Characters: Trajes Faurux, Ashter Faurux (@memurfevur), Cogent Rellic

“Almost…there--! Oh, I can practically taste ya--! C’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon--!”

Links to Previous Chapters: [1] [2]

Trajes’ eyes twinkled with an unearthly ecstasy, feeling the seconds count down from deep within his blood vacuoles. He could barely contain himself in the instance. Almost there, almost done. The shaking and thrashing persisted at a dizzying rate. The tension was so palpable in Trajes’ apartment; it could probably cut through butter.

“C’moooon--! Please--!!” He begged, fingers clenching tight, getting progressively louder. It wasn’t fair to keep two trolls waiting like this, after so much time and effort. He’d been trying, without much success, for the better part of 20 minutes. A firm veil of sweat had manifested along the back of his neck, and his brain felt like it was frying.

“Pleasepleaseplease- yes--! Alright, almost there--!!”

The serrated drone that came next made Trajes’ body stiffen. He had to work quickly. His hand swirled at a rapid pace but remained diligently precise. The soft sound of clinking metal made a match with the apprehensive whine, and the seconds ticked by. Faster, faster, doing careful not to overdo it, the Pyrite was caught in a wave of relief watching deep caramel ooze out before him.

“Yeah--. That’s right, who’s the boss now, huh--?” He mused, frustration evaporating from his body. There was only thing left to do now, after all that time and effort.

With an ethereal slosh, Trajes lifted the pan off the stove and thumbed open the door to his microwave, face shining brightly as his homemade toffee immersed the bowl of popcorn in an ethereal glow. With snacks in tow, game night was officially a go!

Humming a made-up tune, the comedian prowled back through his sunset-patterned curtain into the living quarters. His blood relative was apathetic as usual, staring distantly into the LED screen of his husk-phone. Trajes deposited their snack in the middle of his star-shaped table. A handful of kernels escaped onto the shag carpet underneath; one even made contact with bleached wooden floorboards.

“Back--!”

“Oh, yeah. Went and got lost, huh?” Ashter snorted as Trajes crouched on the corner of his couch next to Ashter’s feet.

“Makin’ caramel from scratch’s hard, Ash--! Even harder than biting a diamond, heh--.”

Ashter blinked, brow creasing as he glanced over. “Uhh? You mean, the mineral, or like-”

“I mean, it could mean both--!”

“Both? How could it- what?”

Trajes stuck his tongue out, sleekly snatching a glob of popcorn. “I’ve heard that’s a thing between some moirails, biting each other--. Quad chomps is the slang for it, I think--! Affectionate gestures confuse me, but all the power to them, I guess--? The disbelief on the face of those hospital nurses when they came in with infections, though--. Ever seen a troll with a giant chunk of their leg missing with a lipstick smear right next to it--? It was absolutely-“

“-You know what, I’ll just let you have this one.” The gruffer troll interjected, shaking his head as he pocketed his phone and grabbed the controller that’d been resting on his chest. “Are we doin’ this, or what?”

“Best of five, you better believe it--!” Trajes tittered, reaching over to grab his own controller. When they played games, Trajes always elected the one with the busted joy-stick, but every time the Pyrite checked to see if it still got lodged in the corner.

Sure enough, it did - it was a weird comfort to accept the handicap, but it was a small price to pay for making a friend.

—==—

After seeing his character crumple to the ground with a painful moan, Ashter tossed his controller back onto the table with an exasperated groan, rolling his eyes with just a bit more than a hint of gamer rage. “Dude, screw this, how did you even see me?”

“You were peeking, buddy--! Have to watch your legs--!”

“That’s BS, man. I’m just so awful at this game,” the Pyrite seethed, picking at his tank top. “Don’t even know why I try…“

“Aww, that’s not a good way to think, Ash--.” Trajes consoled, eyebrows pursing together. “C’mon, this was fun--! Guys night, shootin’ ‘em up--! Tell you what, next time we can play co-op online instead--! I’m in need of a wing-man, haha--!”

Ashter shook his head, grabbing a handful of popcorn and mashing it to pieces before responding. “Look dude, it isn’t just that. If it was just the game I could get over myself, but…” With another sigh he leaned backwards, staring at the ceiling. “-It’s everything I touch, man. I hurt people. I make ‘em miserable. So what’s the point of-“

“Ehh, I know it’s demotivating, but we all catch our breaks eventually--!. I mean hey, look at where we are; together--! If everything was doomed to be miserable, that wouldn’t be the case, right--?”

“Hmm. Umm….” Ashter paused. “How do you think like that, anyway?”

“Like what--? What do you mean--?”

“Stayin’ all sunshine and rainbows all the time,” Ashter bounced his leg on the couch. “You’re always smiling, always cracking jokes. You don’t look at the world like it’s a waste of time, do you? Not that it’s my business.”

“Hmm--? Oh, no, I have, everybody does from time to time--.”

“But you don’t ever show it. Like, I’d think if I worked your job I’d be depressed out of my fucking wok. How do you cope with it all?”

The question felt pointed in a way that made Trajes’ neck ripple with itches. “Um, well…lots of practice--? I could tell you plenty of horror stories, believe me--.”

“Must be lonely, though, right? Is your therapist the only person in your life besides me?”

"... ..." He didn't like to think about his being alone if he could help it. He shrugged.

“Mm.” Ash had glanced over and saw the traces of a grimace appear on Trajes’ face, and scratched the back of his head. “Sorry. I hope this isn’t rude to want to talk about.“

“No, no--! What’re you apologizing to me for--?” With a giggle, Trajes wrapped his arm around the other Faurux’ shoulder. “I mean, I know you’re deflecting a little, but you’re my main man--! My blood brother from anotha grub mother--!”

“Alright. Thanks.” He couldn’t hold the smirk back fully, mohawk flexing as he gestured down towards a clock on the wall. “Your show’s gonna be on in a sec, so I think I’ll split to my room for a while. Game was fun though, for real.” Untangling himself from the spontaneous pretzel on the couch, he glanced between Trajes and the table before-

“Hey--! Not my caramel corn--!” Trajes quickly clambered to his feet, but Ashter had swiped the rest of the popcorn and dashed into his room before shutting the door. “Wahh--! It was made with love--! LOVE, ASHTER--!!”

Dropping to his knees, he passively wept for the 20 minutes of labour he’d lost before resigning to his fate. All the best laid plans fell to the wayside when you had a room-mate who got to snacking in the early hours. With his head hung low, Trajes flung himself back onto the couch, shaking his head even as he switched inputs to the DVR.

The first frames that popped up less than a minute later quelled his disappointment fully, though. Popcorn or no, any dawn was well-spent with the jovial presence of ‘The Metal Custodian’.

After the pencil-crayon title card was pulled to the side, the familiar face of his pupa-hood hero, Cogent Rellic, came into view with a smile that stretched his sun-spotted wrinkles. Trajes met his gaze, his lips a joyous sickle.

“Hello, friend.”

“Hello friend--!!” He gleefully returned, with a wave of his hand.

“It’s so nice you could come by. Make yourself at home.”

“Oh, you’re the visitor--!”

“Now then, before Mister Custodian pays us a visit tonight, let’s settle in for nightly affirmations. You remember the nightly affirmations, don’t you?”

“Okay, Cogent--! I sure do--.” The nostalgia buzzed in the base of Trajes’ skull.

“Well, If you don’t, that’s okay! We’ll go through them one by one together, for our new and long time viewers. Now, the first thing we do is we put our hands together, and we put our fingers through the finger holes tight. Are we good? Are we tight? Now we squeeze our hands together! Just like that, just squeeze your hands together! Good job, friends, good job. Now, close your eyes, ever so gently, and breathe ever so slowly.”

This part used to make him sleepy as a wriggler, but he’d learned some tolerance. The face on the screen, he knew, continued to smile, straightening his pewter tie. “You’re doing swell, friends. Now, repeat after me:”

Trajes knew the routine off by heart. He sped ahead of Cogent, squeaking with his confidence.

“It will be alright--. The darkness will get brighter--. You were born for better places--. You were born for better things--! I will keep my promises--! I will remember my promises--! My weakness is my strength--! My love is my fire--!”

“-strength. My love…is my fire.” The show host practically whispered with a coo, chuckling even as the audio skipped slightly. “That was really very good. Give yourself a pat on the back.” Cogent followed his own advice, and Trajes followed suit after letting go of his own hands. “Now that we’re comfy and all-affirmed, let’s go see Mister Custodian, shall we? I wonder what he’s up to.”

Flopping back onto the couch, Trajes watched with a goofy grin as Cogent approached a big orange door and gave it a knock. He snickered, blowing the bang out of his face as the world around him disappeared for another 41 minutes and 16 seconds.

—=—

Some time the next evening, Trajes had bade Ashter farewell and to not burn the apartment down, then headed to his tree-hive. Though to call it a tree-hive would’ve been largely disingenuous; it was little more than a rusty trash can - battered and crushed like a soda can, and perched crooked on a half broken electrical pole. How it had gotten up there was a mystery that still eluded Trajes. It always just looked that way.

After climbing the rungs he’d nailed in, Trajes had squeezed himself through the tenuous excuse for an opening and settled in, his ankles dangling against the wooden stake.

“No…not good enough--.” He shredded through a sticky note from the stack and let it flutter down into the wind, jabbing his half-worn erase against his tongue. Superego had messaged him that morning with unburdening news. The hospital had reversed its judgment, and he would be performing the next day. Workshopping his jokes took time and privacy. It was hardly an intimate ritual, but you reaped what you sowed, didn’t you?

“Ahh--…c’mon, with a, with a-- emaciated? Nahhhnahnah that’ll pass over their heads--… ummm not skinny, not- twiggy--? Twiggy--…battery--…bellhop--. That’s--…that’s potential there, okay--.” He scrawled more notes, sniffing and adjusting his hunched posture.

A shrill whistle from outside made him yelp and bonk his horns against the inside of the can, nearly toppling to the side. With all the maneuverability of a crab, he popped free from the tree-hive, glancing around in alarm. The altitude made it easy enough even when he was holding on by one hand.

It made it all more confusing when there was nothing in sight. A hill of gravel, surrounded him, and his bike lay on its side beneath the pole. The breeze coasted across his back. There was no other living soul around. Heck, he would’ve heard the steps on gravel.

But he’d definitely heard something. But what was it?

Trajes blinked, then just shook his head and submerged himself again in the uncomfortable can. There was too much work to do to worry about his mind playing tricks on him, and the clock was against him.

[lannister-slings-and-arrows]

I and Love and You

The fifth in Rafael Barba/Reader/Frederick Chilton threesome verse written in collaboration with @pascalispretty . Mood board also by the lovely and talented @pascalispretty !! Yep. We did this. Was it necessary? No. Did we enjoy it? Sometimes. Are you going to read it? I sure hope you do and that you like it! Cross posted on ao3!

Part Five of the series So Much Easier than You Realize

Warnings: Total and complete tooth rotting fluff. Schedule an appointment with your dentists, ladies and germs. Rafael is, as always, a bit of a jackass. You will probably have an incurable craving for breakfast food. And the teeniest tiniest mention of daddy kink. Rating: E for everyone because there is nothing objectionable in this at all, I did not think we could actually write something this sweet lol. Word Count: 3725 Summary: Mornings are for cookies and contemplation.

When Rafa wakes up, he spares a moment to sympathize with his growling stomach. More than one moment, if he’s being honest with himself. He isn’t normally an early riser but his stomach wouldn’t be so empty if he’d been allowed to have his bedtime snack and not rudely distracted by his two partners and an ingenious application of his second favorite blue tie. The result is pleasantly sore abdominal muscles and the rare opportunity to wake up in time to see the both of them still peacefully asleep in bed next to him.

Fred’s back is pressed close to his chest and his legs brush against Rafa’s as he levers himself up onto his elbow to look at her on Fred’s other side. Her face is tucked against Fred’s neck and the doctor’s arms are wrapped tightly around her, and Rafa smiles at them both, still asleep in the soft grey early morning light.

Fred shifts, and an irritable frown passes over his face the longer Rafa uses him to balance himself to stare at the two of them, so Rafa quickly presses a kiss to his temple before settling back down with a sigh.

It’s too early to be up, really, but he’s starving and is not getting back to sleep without eating something. He grunts and sits up before pressing another kiss to Fred’s shoulder. He swings his legs out of bed and grabs a pair of grey sweatpants.

Rafa trudges down the hall to the kitchen. There were still Bugles hidden in the back of Fred’s Tupperware cabinet. Oh shit, had he eaten them all? He flicks on the light to the kitchen and huffs a quiet laugh when he finds a sticky note on the door of said cabinet in Fred’s small, precise handwriting.

Sorry, I ate the last of your chips two days ago. In my defense, counselor, you left them in my house and I was having a very stressful day. I made you cookies instead, they’re on top of the microwave. I figured you’d be up before the both of us this morning since you didn’t get your snack. --An Apologetic Psychiatrist who feels like he shouldn’t be apologizing for eating food in his own cupboards.

Rafa runs his fingers over the note a few times, smiling like an idiot, his heart feeling full and warm and about seven sizes larger than it was when he woke up. He turns his head and sees a plastic container (with a green lid because the green Tupperware was for storage of baked goods as Fred was constantly reminding him) right where Fred said it would be, and when he steps over to investigate it further he finds a batch of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies. Another note is stuck to the lid.

I know these aren’t your favorite. I know that you don’t really enjoy white chocolate. Consider this my attempt to make sure you don’t eat all of these in one sitting. Please limit yourself to two; you aren’t in your 20’s anymore, Rafael, and it’s not even a normal time for breakfast yet, much less cookies. --A Not Apologetic Psychiatrist who doesn’t want your first heart attack to be in his apartment, thank you very much.

Rafa rolls his eyes and peels the lid off, smirking as he deliberately takes three out of the box. He doesn’t hate white chocolate, after all, and he does love macadamia nuts. And he has always had a problem following instructions.

Standing at the kitchen counter, Rafa eats his cookies with a pleased groan, once again thanking whatever saints or angels his mami appeals to for sending him a partner that bakes. Not that he thinks his mother would have prayed for someone at all like Fred. Fussy, officious, arrogant, snobby, and, well, a man. His mother would have had someone like their younger lover in mind however. Smart, pretty, and willing to stand up to his attitude. Most of the time anyways. Well, what did Lucia Barba always say? You can make as many requests of God as you want to but remember that He has a sense of humor too? She got him a little extra than what her original request probably specified.

Rafa snorts at the thought and brushes crumbs off his bare chest, leaning back against the counter and surveying the kitchen in the growing light. He’s still hungry but he knows he’ll hear about it if Fred wakes up and all of those cookies are gone. And today is supposed to be the one day this whole month the three of them can spend just being quiet together with no plans, no work, and no prior obligations. He’d rather not spend it all dodging Fred’s passive aggressive jabs and her pouting looks and quiet pleas to please just be the bigger man and apologize.

He stretches his arms out on the counter behind him and tips his head back, staring absently at Fred’s kitchen ceiling as he contemplates making his way back to bed and napping until Fred wakes up and decides to order in breakfast. He’s nearly settled on that plan when he catches sight out of the corner of his eye of the bright blue note on the cupboard. He doesn’t remember Fred spending any time in the kitchen before the two of them dragged Rafa into the bedroom to put his ties to a much more interesting use. He must have gotten out of bed after Rafa fell asleep to put this together, and Rafa can’t help the smile that spreads over his entire face.

Rafa slaps his palms on the counter and shoves himself off, making his way over to the fridge to see what Fred has in the way of actual food. He’s already awake; the least he can do is make breakfast.

He finds the ingredients for pancakes easily enough--Fred is a stickler for organization. Rafa tries not to make a mess as he moves around the perfectly arranged and spotless kitchen. He stirs the batter by hand rather than risk the noise of the KitchenAid but pauses over whether or not to put chocolate chips in.

She would be pleased, her sweet tooth nearly rivals his own, but Fred would almost definitely be annoyed. Especially because Rafa has already had chocolate earlier in the morning. With a fond sigh, Rafa puts the glass jar back in the cupboard, though not before tipping a few of the chocolate chips out into his hand.

It reminds him of cooking in Fred’s beautiful house in Baltimore, his sweet girl laughing and dancing around the kitchen in one of Fred’s shirts, barely being any help at all. All three of them adore the big, beautiful house that Fred had shyly shown them--as if they could have done anything else other than fall in love with it.

Fred relaxed slightly when it became clear that his guests found the house as beautiful as he did. Rafa tried to help her in slowing Fred down as he showed it to them, asking questions about particular objects or features and pointing out the things they especially admired. Every sincere compliment kept a gratified little smile plastered on Fred’s face--and there was plenty to compliment him on.

It’s clear that it holds a special place in Fred’s heart. It’s so him, every inch of it reflecting back the man who poured so much time and effort and money into making it a home. From the collection of antique medical texts carefully displayed on the shelves to the exact shade of teal velvet upholstery on some of the armchairs, Fred had lavished attention on the house to surround himself with things he loved and found beautiful. It amused Rafa to wonder if he’d taken that into account when he’d invited his partners over; whether they’d laud the elegant aesthetic he’d established in his home.

Shifting the spoon briefly to give his right hand a break from mixing, he smiles at the memory. He’s never actually admitted to Fred how much he likes playing house with his two partners there. Rafa is fairly certain that the kitchen in the Baltimore house is larger than the apartment that he grew up in and he knows that a wine cellar is an absurd luxury. But it’s a place where the three of them are free to be themselves, without worrying about nosy neighbors and doormen.

Rafa snorts quietly, folding the batter briskly to get out all the little flour bubbles. That pretty well explains how he feels about Fred too. Fred is too high maintenance, too abrasive in all the ways Rafa normally hates, too… prep school, but Rafa can’t help but smile indulgently every time he turns his nose up at a meal that costs less than fifty dollars, or every time he gets that prissy stubborn look on his face, or juts his chin out and point blank refuses to admit that he’s wrong (even though Rafa can tell that he knows that he is).

He never apologizes either. Ever. He’ll be proven wrong, he’ll hurt both their feelings, and the closest to any sort of acknowledgment of wrongdoing that the both of them will get will be a cup of coffee in bed the next morning, one of Fred’s most handsome smiles, and the complete and sudden cessation of all hostilities like the fight never happened. Rafa knows that with anyone else that kind of behavior would be a relationship killer.

Rafa looks over the batter and nods to himself, satisfied with the consistency, and balances the spoon against the side of the bowl. He stares at the oven and frowns. Just pancakes hardly make breakfast. Going over to the fridge, he grabs bacon out of its particular place, rolling his eyes as he does so, and tosses it on the counter next to the pancake batter, reaching under the silverware drawer for a frying pan.

Maybe it’s the way Fred ‘apologizes’ with the perfect cup of coffee instead of actual words. Maybe it’s that same perfect cup of coffee that somehow manages to find its way onto his desk at work when he’s too swamped to go out and get one--just because Fred knows he needs it. Or a sandwich from his favorite deli and a quick flash of that handsome smile on Fred’s lunch break.

Rafa gets started on actually cooking said breakfast, hissing and swearing quietly when he gets a first-hand demonstration of why you shouldn’t fry things without a shirt on. Fred would have more than a few words to say to him about the relative intelligence of what he’s doing right now. He grins. Maybe that’s it--the way he cares while trying desperately to make it seem like every time it’s an inconvenience of the highest order.

Maybe Rafa loves Fred because every once in a while, when he’s very drunk, very tired, or the perfect combination of both, Fred slips a little and calls the both of them by those cute, ridiculous southern pet names that before now Rafa would have put money on being more myth than fact. And how embarrassed he is when it is pointed out to him that he just called a forty-something year old man ‘pickle’.

Fred is arrogant, prickly, particular, and both overindulgent and overly judgmental of vices depending on if he himself shares in them. He is a pain to get along with most of the time and sometimes treats the two of them like they’re made of spun gold--things to be cherished and well looked after and shown off to the best of his ability. He’s a contradictory monster and Rafa loves him.

He has a feeling that the smile on his face is sappy and ridiculous, but as he turns the bacon and settles to wait a few more minutes, he shrugs. There isn’t anyone else around this early to see him; his reputation as a son of a bitch and a jackass won’t be ruined. He loves Fred. He loves her. He loves both of them--sometimes so much it’s hard for him to keep it to himself and wait for them to come to the same conclusion. Their individual faults, foibles, and perfections and the way they mesh with each other and fit so surprisingly well in his own life.

Like getting new book recommendations from her--whenever he has the time to actually read something for fun. She leaves them on his home desk with a brief explanation why she thinks he’ll like them. That almost always makes up for the numerous occasions he has gone looking for one of his own books and found it had mysteriously jumped off its shelf and walked itself three rooms over, or managed to find itself completely out of order.

He drains the bacon onto a paper towel covered plate and gives the pan a quick rinse. He loves finding packets of M&M’s in his briefcase or in his suit coat pockets, loves knowing they’re from her and that she braved Fred’s ire to indulge his habit of constant snacking. A habit Fred particularly despises. He loves--most of the time--being a couple minutes late to work some mornings because she got into a nearly incoherent argument with him about what color tie he should wear. He loves that she loves his wardrobe as much as he does.

Rafa loves ganging up with her to tease Fred and loves that she can take some teasing herself. He loves that she just rolls her eyes and plays along when his puckish side emerges and he can’t help but be an asshole even though he can tell she would rather he didn’t.

Rafa starts pouring pancake batter, chuckling to himself when he recalls the mood she’d gotten into the last time his sense of humor had gotten the better of him. While waiting for a table in a restaurant, a strange woman had made a snide comment about ‘men dating women young enough to be their daughters’ and Rafa had been unable to resist feigning outrage and asking what was so terrible about a man taking his daughter out for a nice birthday dinner.

The woman had been mortified, and Rafa had enjoyed the look on her face so much that he’d only hammered the point home further, telling her it was hardly his fault he was a widower and a single parent. He hoped it had taught her a valuable lesson in boundaries. His sweet girl had been so embarrassed but it had been so worth it.

Flipping the first pancake, he thinks about the flaws that come with her youth. She’s always the first one to joke about having daddy issues and Rafa can hardly deny how much he enjoys hearing her call him papi--and Fred daddy--in bed. He just has to try not to think too deeply about it. Not that Rafa really has a leg to stand on where difficult paternal relationships are concerned. But her jokes mask an insecurity and a clinginess that Fred has a habit of overindulging. More than once when he’s been trying to work she’s tried to distract him or cuddle up to him and then gotten sulky when he had to gently but firmly rebuff her.

When he finally finishes work on those evenings, he usually finds her wrapped around Fred instead, giving him a wounded look when he finally emerges from behind his case files. Those looks are wordless guilt trips every time he’s on the receiving end of one--no matter how right he feels in his decision to work instead of play.

And yet somehow she’s worked the same magic on him that Fred has. A flaw that in anyone else would have stopped any idea of a relationship in its tracks is something that he’s come to love about her. Her clinginess comes from a place of emotional fragility and it must be hard to let her partners see that. The fact that she trusts them enough to be so vulnerable around them makes Rafa’s heart swell. He can’t help but love her, even when he’s dealing with her pouting and huffing.

Fred talks about it like Rafa is somehow being ungrateful, that he should drop everything to spend time with his beautiful, smart, young lover, and it drives Rafa crazy. He knows that Fred generally means well when he tries to appeal against his more workaholic tendencies, but he also knows that Fred could retire now and live off his trust fund if he wanted. It rubs him the wrong way when Fred tries to discourage him from working hard because he’s never needed to understand why Rafa works as hard as he does.

He starts stacking the cooked pancakes on a plate on the stove and furrows his brow in concentration. Fred gleefully indulges her in her clinginess, dropping everything to scoop her into his arms or take her to bed. They’ve even taken to napping together with his cock still tucked inside her, as if they can’t bear to be anything other than as close as physically possible. He’s stubbornly blind to the fact that Rafa can’t just drop what he’s doing. If Fred misses a deadline for submitting a journal article the worst that happens is it gets pushed back an issue. If Rafa misses something in his case files or submits something late or fails to prepare as fully as he should, it can ruin lives. Dangerous predators can be let out on the street to offend again. People don’t get the justice they deserve. And even in this day and age, a poor boy with a Spanish name is granted a lot less leeway with employers than a rich boy with a nice American name and family money.

They come from very different worlds, even if Rafa has carefully and thoroughly infiltrated Fred’s, and Rafa loves and hates it a little that Fred forgets that most of the time. Rafa has to always be ‘on’ and can’t afford the same kind of laxness that Fred can.

Sometimes he even has to be ‘on’ at home when he’d rather put his fist through a wall or wrap himself in every blanket in the apartment with a bottle of scotch and pass out. Like when he walks into whichever apartment they’re spending the night at to find Fred in a screaming match with her that he has to moderate. She likes to complain that he and Fred can really get into it like a pair of children, and he isn’t saying she’s wrong—they definitely can—but she and Fred are just as bad. Frankly, the three of them are cut from the same cloth when it comes to being pig headed and it makes for some rather loud and spirited fights.

Like the frequent battles she has with Fred over her occasional smoking habit. They always start out with Fred gently chiding and somehow end up with Fred snidely pulling out his “I went to medical school, therefore everyone else is a moron” voice and her reminding him that he couldn’t cut it as a real doctor and she’ll “smoke a goddamn fucking cigarette every once in a while if she fucking feels like it.” Rafa tries to interfere before it descends to “as much as you like to act like it sometimes, Frederick, you aren’t my father” and “maybe if you knew how to make better choices you wouldn’t be constantly seeking validation from older men,” but he doesn’t always get home in time and instead walks in to the both of them glaring icily at each other or shouting as many deliberately hurtful things as they can.

He likes to leave his courtroom face at work, but it’s generally the only thing that will defuse those battles, or at least calm them down into cold wars. Rafa doesn’t particularly enjoy playing mediator on the best of days, especially not when one wrong word from him will have one or both of them turning on him as another enemy combatant. He likes his occasional cigarette too, and he snacks constantly, and eats terribly; all things that Fred will use to drag him into a fight.

But while he hates trying to calm them down enough to at least stop yelling, he has to admit he loves having people around to yell in the first place. Yes, these fights mean he has to put on his lawyer face when he’d rather get drunk and pass out. But he has people in his life to break up fights between. He can come “home” to people who care about him. People who, when they aren’t screaming, see him come through the door and smile. People who would, and have on occasion, drop what they are doing to bring him something he left at home and needs now. People who drop a sandwich on his desk when he’s working and quietly--most of the time-- leave him to it.

People who care and appreciate him.

Rafa finishes setting plates and cutlery out on the island and starts the coffee maker. He loves having them a few rooms away. He loves knowing that they like him enough to put up with his “shoebox sized apartment”, with him being an incurable workaholic, with the fact that when he gets stressed or angry he lashes out at anyone around him. With the fact that when he does he can be more than a little cruel.

Rafa makes his way back into Fred’s bedroom, wincing as always at how bright it gets when the morning sun fully hits it. He smiles when he sees them still tucked against each other just like he had left them. He loves this view the most.

Rafa grins mischievously. They put up with his innate tendency to be a complete and utter jackass, and that is one more thing he loves about them.

“I just rearranged every single cupboard, bookshelf, and drawer in your entire apartment, Frederick!” Rafa informs the room in general. Loudly.

Fred’s eyes snap open and he sits up, dislodging his sleeping companion without a second glance. His gaze lands on Rafa, who is smirking next to him, and his eyes go comically wide in horror.

“Rafael Barba, you didn’t.”

Tag List: @sassyada, @dreamlover31, @prurientpuddlejumper, @storiesofsvu

[love-takes-work]

Very Cool Potluck

Did you know that some people are so dedicated to reproducing Steven Universe recipes that they’ll both put cheese puffs in their sushi AND willingly bring durian into their homes?

I will teach you the basics of how to prepare the Cool Kids’ Potluck and also tell you the story of how I got food poisoning.

(Sorry, Lars’ ube roll is not included, because it didn’t make it to the potluck. It is available as a separate recipe, of course.)

See more SU food tutorials!

I decided it was time to do the Cool Kids' POTLUCK!

STEVEN: (holds up Snack Sushi) "Who's feelin' lucky?"

SOUR CREAM: "I brought the soda."

JENNY: "I brought the pizza."

BUCK: "I brought the assorted fruit."

And Sadie brought paper plates to complete the set. Too bad Lars's Ube Roll couldn't join them! 

Okay, so we have a four-part meal. Most complicated of course is the sushi! We can assume it is Snack Sushi, which I have made before but didn't really give instructions. Steven explains pretty well but doesn't give you a sushi rice recipe. How about I just tackle this here and show you how?

Recipe 1: SNACK SUSHI

Ingredients:

11 1/2 ounces sushi rice

1 1/2 cups cold water

4 tablespoons rice vinegar

3 tablespoons sugar

1 teaspoon salt

1 package nori (seaweed sheets)

1 avocado

1 bag cheese puffs

Mayonnaise

Hot sauce

First, sushi rice is made a special way. I am no expert, but the way I do it has worked fine for sushi in the past. First you measure out your 11.5 ounces of rice and put it in a sieve, then wash thoroughly with tap water.

Put it in the pan you will cook it in, pour the 1.5 cups of cold water on, and let sit WITHOUT COOKING for 30 minutes.

When the soak time is up, turn on high and boil. As soon as it hits boil, turn to low, cover, and cook 15 minutes. Then turn off the heat and let steam in the pan for 10 more minutes. You now have fluffable, tasty, sticky steamed rice!

Next, make your vinegar concoction. Combine the vinegar, the sugar, and the salt in a small dish. Microwave it to dissolve the sugar. I did this in a few 20-second bursts. It smells strongly but I love that smell. Make sure when you stir it, there's no sugar on the bottom! It must be dissolved.

Pour the concoction over the hot rice and stir it in. You are ready to work with it!

From there, it is as Steven shows us in "Cooking With Lion."

• Put nori on a rolling mat, rough side up

• Spread sushi rice on the nori thinly

• Halve the avocado, remove pit, cut in slices and rub a spoon around the avocado flesh to dislodge it

• Place the avocado slices in a line on the rice

• Place a line of cheese puffs in a line next to the avocado

• Roll compactly, tucking as necessary to get it into roll shape

• Cut!

You'll also need to make "spicy mayo" for the garnish. Steven uses hot sauce and mayonnaise. Mix together and squirt neatly onto the top of each roll.

"Who's feelin' lucky?!"

And that's the recipe!

Tip:

Use rice shortly after cooking. Refrigerate it if you will not be eating it soon after. Guess who got food poisoning from eating old rice because of this? CAN YOU GUESS?? 🤢

Recipe 2: PIZZA

So I've made pizza from scratch half a dozen times already for this show. I'm not gonna do it again. (Here's my personal Fish Stew Pizza recipe.)

Jenny simply brings pizza from work! So I decided to go the easy route and purchase a commercial pizza this time.

We never actually see the pizza eaten. I will assume it's the default pepperoni pizza and add veggie pepperoni to mine.

Baking in the oven per box directions as I figure out pizza boxes!!

Jenny's got four dang boxes of pizza on that table. I'm sorry, but I will not be preparing four pizzas. I live by myself and am not actually having a real potluck here. I will use comic book boxes to provide the illusion of many pizzas even though I am only cooking one. Shhhhh.

I actually used paper cutouts and markers to design my own Fish Stew Pizza box!!

Done! Next!

Recipe 3: SODA

Another recipe where I don't really make anything. I am just dressing up a bottle of Diet Coke.

But at least I made it look like the soda Sour Cream brought (termed "So-Duh").

Recipe 4: ASSORTED FRUIT

Oh god.

Buck, you clown. 🤡🤡 You went and bought various pokey-skinned fruits and forced me to BRING A DURIAN INTO MY HOME.

Folks, do you have any idea what durian is?

Let's just say it's known as the King of Fruits and it is SMELLY. You can't look up anything about durian online without related news stories discussing areas where durian is BANNED, neighbors complaining if you bring durian home, and tips on getting the smell off your hands and out of your breath.

I've bought frozen durian before to make Durian Juice Boxes. It was bad enough frozen. But then I had to go buy a FRESH STANK MACHINE at the Asian Market.

The things I do for this friggin show

So we have pineapple.

We have dragonfruit.

And we have &%#!%@ durian.

Durian! People! Do you have any idea what my house smells like!!! And they put it in a bag like that because you can't pick it up without GETTING STABBED! god what am i doing

Anyway.

There, you happy?

Here is my beautiful POTLUCK.

Add paper plates because Sadie brought them and now Sour Cream is thrilled he doesn't have to do the dishes.

Also, I'm sure it wouldn't be all that much fun if you didn't get a quick lesson on how to eat the weird fruits, even though the Cool Kids did not cut into them. Right?

So after I recovered from food poisoning from that rice, I put down a plastic tablecloth on my outdoor porch table, gathered an assortment of knives and plates, grabbed some gloves, and prepared these fruits for eating.

Dragonfruit:

Cut in half. Cut further in quarters and eighths. Peel the fruit out of the husk and store.

Verdict: I don't like dragonfruit. It tasted like weird, hurty watery kiwi. Maybe you should know I'm allergic to kiwi. This is probably related. I shouldn't eat this.

Pineapple:

Cut the top and bottom off and discard (including the bush at the top). Slice the remainder completely in half. Cut the core out--you shouldn't eat it. Then slice each half and slice again into manageable strips. Cut lines in the fruit and cut them off into a storage container.

Verdict: I am allergic to pineapple so I didn't try it, but it smelled amazing. I saved it for my friend.

Durian:

All right, stank fruit, here we go.

Cut the stem off and flip the durian to stand on the top where you cut the stem off. Use pot holders to manipulate because otherwise IT WILL CUT YOU. Examine the durian's shape and see if you can figure out based on its bulges where the huge scary pods are inside. Make a cut through the very tough husk and pull it apart with your hands.

Pods will emerge. They are soft and delicate, so if you hold them too hard they'll break. Each contains HUGE seeds. Take the seeds out before eating. Go around the rest of the durian and get all the pods out. It's a scavenger hunt! Store.

Verdict: The smell is literally not any worse when you open it. It is a very thick, pervasive smell but to me it didn't smell like a rotting corpse or poop or anything.

But then I ate a little bit and the aftertaste was really dark and musty. Dip a butt in tropical fruit syrup. It was pretty vile. I swallowed it though, and my mouth was Very Unhappy. I do not like durian.

I guess I'm 0 for 3. My sushi made me sick because I left the rice out for hours, I can't eat any of my fruit, and I reused the pizza to make a damn Pizza Steve.

But at least my life is interesting while it's being a disaster, huh?

At least I can still drink my So-Duh.

See more SU food tutorials!

[savnofilter]

Kinktober Day 15

siren!s. hitoshi

☠️ warning(s): ⚠️ everything between both parties is consensual. ⚠️ 𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕒, mind control, aforementioned memory loss, referenced breeding kink, slight possessive behavior.

☠️ genre: smut, holiday special.

☠️ words: 1.8k [7 minutes, 20 seconds].

☠️ summary: shinso came back for round two, except he couldnt make you his in time.

☠️ read more: kinktober(uary) | part one

☠️ a/n: ehhhhh warnings are a lil scary but its really just story building stuff. things happen before they get in the smexy times! still thread carefully. c:

You jumped awake as you heard a bump on the wall, the cool air caressing at your skin. You weren’t sure as to how you got here and you were questioning just what the hell was going on. But just like each time, the clench in your chest also aided in the… ache between your legs. You weren’t even sure as to what you were afraid of and there were no clues to help ease the curiosity either. Sadly enough it only took a moment’s notice to realize you were in your cabin’s room. It appears that your friends had gotten you cleaned up and dried, no longer having to wear the soaking and cold clothes you were before.

You yawned as you had noticed it was almost midnight, going to your window and stretching to see that the car for your trip was gone. You softly frowned upon the discovery, itching the back of your neck and rubbing it as you put on your slippers and left your room, deciding to make rounds to each of your friend's doors only to see that all their doors were either slightly ajar or open to see that they also didn’t occupy those rooms.

Weird.

Even with how odd it was, you didn’t pay any mind to it. The strong urge of hunger poking at your stomach. You trudged down the steps down the stairs to go to the kitchen. You went straight to the counter upon finding the food they had brought for you (assuming it was when they had gotten from when you passed out) and had your name on it.

“Eat this when you wake up! We’re out getting supplies to clean up those cuts.” 

You hadn’t even noticed the injuries. You lifted your hands to look at them, huffing at the comically small bandaids, chuckling to yourself as you knew that they at least tried. Wasting no time, you put the food into the microwave and left the adjoined kitchen to the living room, and plopped down on it. A bump against the window had you jump, senses on high alert before you could calmly rest back down, and breathe out a laugh of relief when you noticed it was just a man. 

A man? You snapped your head back to see that there was nothing there, only groaning in pain as in the process you had also cracked a few joints. The pain just didn’t suffice the answer being you mistook a tree for a whole person. But it didn’t excuse the same bump that had woken you up. All of this felt like a dump cheap rendition of Scary Movie and you weren’t feeling the vibes not one bit.

“Oww.” You complained, hand coming up to roll your neck. ‘just what the hell is going on?’ the thought runs through your head, a frown not leaving your face as you tried to calm down and decide to entertain yourself. Maybe after this dinner, you’d have to go back to sleep. As if hearing right on time as you managed to pick something on Netflix your food had finished in the microwave. You followed in suit to the kitchen, happily opening the door and getting your food out. You sat it in on the counter and went to the fridge to look at something to drink, looking for condiments as well. Just in the process of getting yourself together, you felt the presence in the house shift, an involuntary gulp coming from you. You quickly picked out what you needed before slamming the door shut. You were swift in getting your food not wanting to spend any more time before yourself and get back upstairs. Your attention barely sat on the show as you ate your food, the chill of your body knowing that something wasn’t right. And yet even though you didn’t want to run, you wanted to get rid of a feeling. 

You were in the middle of eating when you thought you heard a lovely singing from the show. Again, though. Your stomach went into knots as you could hear the same thing before you had blacked out near the pond you had gone to. You weren’t sure what to do as you froze up, that action as involuntary. Your heart started to beat slower, body moving in a trance as it set whatever you held on the coffee table and got up. You left the TV on behind you and followed blindly up to your room. Your mind was starting to go blank but the familiar sensations of being awake were latching onto you. You watched as your body stopped at your room, no second later a body pressing up into your back. Now you were really scared,

‘did someone break-in? is this a sick joke? do I know who this is?’ 

As embarrassing as it was you were getting turned on by this. He lightly pushed you into your room, making your stumble before catching yourself in time. Your pupils dilated as you managed to gain enough strength to turn your head. Your heart stopped as you had managed to recognize him, your body twitching to life as your flight or fight kicked in. Even with the twitch of your muscles you stayed put -- you wanted to know what he was going to do with you. You felt butterflies in your stomach when he smirked at you, one that surely wasn’t kind or innocent.

“Take them off.”

‘take them off-?’ Although you were confused, it seemed as though your body wasn't as it followed its commands. It started with your shirt and followed all the articles along with it. The temperature was no longer cool anymore, the night heater’s starting to kick in no longer gave you an unpleasant chill. You sucked in a small breath as he closed the door behind him, locking it, and stepped closer to you. He walked until he was close, very close at that. It was almost as if he was examining you once again, and although you couldn’t remember what had happened you already knew that he’d at least seen more than his curious nature led on. 

His hands started to glide over your skin, groping, and feeling wherever he wanted. You bit your lip as you let him, looking at something else on the wall to distract yourself as the feeling of being in the hands of someone you didn’t know was stirring up your hormones. That was when you realized, you could move and you didn’t. Or should we say, wouldn’t? You were too intrigued and um, turned on too. He had stopped his tune about ten minutes ago and yet you stayed still just for him. Your breath hitched when bent down to look at your now wet lips, your hands flying down to cover it. Your cheeks were hot as he swatted them away, looking up at you with a glare as you looked back down at him. His hands moved to your hips to bend them, your balance falling onto the bed you hadn't noticed you were so close to. His hands wasted no haste in gripping your thighs and spreading them apart. Your thighs twitch too close, embarrassed to have him that closely inspecting you.

“H-Hey-”

“You talk when I tell you to.” He responds before you can finish, leaning in to immediately suck on your clit, growling at the taste of your essence on his tongue. Your back arched as you could feel his tongue expertly play with your bud, apparently not in the mood for playing. His strokes were exact and precise as if knowing exactly how to pleasure someone. It felt too good. 

Your back arches as his mouth move down to insert his wet muscle inside you instead, and it is almost abnormally long. It squirmed as if it was feeling around, poking at the one spot that got you off without every time. You trembled as his almost rough touches from before softened, teasing you instead of doing what he did before. You closed your eyes and tilted your head back, toes curling in pleasure as he continued to eat you out as if you two were long time lovers. You whimpered and gripped the sheets, moving to look down at him. It seemed he was enjoying himself as well, letting one of your thighs press against his face while the other stroked his cock. He pulled away with an even breath, dangerous eyes trailing up to look up at you. You watched as he pulled away with a messy mouth, wiping the slick from his mouth and getting ready to fuck you. 

His size was bigger than you've ever seen or taken, sucking in a breath as he wasn't careful in inserting himself already. Surprisingly, unlike what you thought you would've felt pain, and yet you didn't feel it. He fits snug in you like you've already taken him before and mayhaps he already has. His ears twitched as he heard the nervy commotion of your friend's car, cussing in his head as he'd have to speed this up. His hips slammed purposely into yours at a rate that was enjoyable and liked at your g-spots, needing to edge the beginning process of his courting to settle in your body. You opened your mouth to question, the muscles in your jaw pausing once he leaned down and started singing a soft tune in your ear. Versus the last time he had sung to you your body didn't tense instead he wasn't trying to control you, he was trying to help you remember something. 

Your hands gripped his shoulders once you're receptive enough to take it in. All the night's worth of time and thoughts flood back into your brain, the knowledge making your brain hurt while the lower part of your brain feels pleasure nonetheless. Whatever the fuck he was doing was too much for your brain to handle. His lips abruptly closed shut when he finished, smiling a bit as you had fallen asleep in his arms, leaning back to admire your beauty. He knew that it was your final vacation day and he couldn't bear it. He didn't make any rushed movements to leave, huffing in annoyance when he heard the slam of the door downstairs that signified they were back again. He had no interest in carrying his last phase of courting you right now, pulling out his aching cock and quickly getting you dressed as he heard the steps approach closer.

"You will visit the lake nearby Hiyoko when you return from your trip." He says -- more like commands -- to your subconscious, giving your lips a lasting kiss before he pulls away from you altogether. He looks at you one last time, undoubtedly bothered he couldn't make you his as he planned. Neither of you got to finish and he wasn't keen on fertilizing someone in their slumber. He slips out from your window just as he'd snuck in before, beginning his journey back to his soon to be forgotten home. 

He'll make you his bride at all costs. 

[comphersjost]

All For You | 5 [Finale] ➸ Brady Tkachuk and Matthew Tkachuk

firstly, i want to say thank you all so fucking much for the love, the support, the countless asks, comments, and reblogs on this series. this is an epilogue of sorts - mostly focusing on matty’s POV - as well as a tribute to the first part that started this all. enjoy my loves <3

4 times Matty knew he loved you, and the one time he knew you loved him.

word count: 6.8k+

warnings: some smut, not super descriptive, angst, elias and noah being little shits, lots of elaboration on events previously mention in the series :)

part one

part two 

part three

part four

masterlist

I. 

The game was brutal. You curled up on your couch to watch it, your body tense the entire time. You lost track of how many times Matt fought someone on the ice, whether he went after someone on behalf of one of his teammates, or when he was being targeted. To say the least...Matt got his ass handed to him.

The game ends with the Rangers shutting out the Flames. You keep the TV on, anxious to see if Matt was going to be interviewed. He wasn’t, but you caught glimpses of him behind Mark Giordano as he answered questions in that monotone hockey voice. Matt looked like a wreck from what you saw, bruises forming on his face and hair an absolute mess. 

You shake your head and turn the TV off, immediately reaching for your phone. You text him without thinking, not realizing what you did until you see ‘delivered’ under the messages. 

you: i’m sorry about the game :( you: anything i can do? you: ice cream or something? 

You panic when the read receipt pops up almost immediately. You'd only been in Calgary for about a month, and only hung out with him a couple of times - and that was with constant reassurance from Brady that you weren't a burden on him. Either way, there's no way he would trust you that much right? 

Three short consecutive buzzes sounded, snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts. 

matthew: can i come over? matthew: if that's cool with you matthew: no worries if not ik you said you haven't totally unpacked 

You can't help the smile that tugs at your lips at the last text. Maybe he really didn't see you as just his brother’s best friend. You quickly type a response back. 

you: of course you can !! you: and fyi i did unpack you: sorta 

matthew: am i supposed to believe that???? matthew: be there in like. 20 matthew: i still gotta shower lol

you: then shower it up stink monster you: see u sooooon you: any snack/drink requests? 

It takes a few minutes to get a response from him, and you assumed that he showered during that time. Over the past month Matt almost never lagged when it came to responding to texts, except for practices and games. 

Your phone buzzes again, but this time it’s a Snapchat notification from Matt. You click on it and the app switches. Tapping on the red square reveals Matt, seemingly fresh out of the shower with his thumb up. That caption reads “fastest shower time on the team? yessir”, another caption underneath reading “no longer a stink monster”.

You laugh and respond to a photo of the top half of your face, typing out “yeah yeah answer my text stinky”. He opens the snap immediately, and 30 seconds later you get a text from him. 

matthew: yo tbh if you have popcorn 👀👀

you: ur in luck i do!! the super buttery kind tho :/

matthew: my fave matthew: don't tell anyone on the team tho 

You pause for a moment. You hadn't even met anyone on the team, only heard them in the background of the few phone calls you'd had with Matthew. Did he want you to meet them? 

Shaking the thought out of your head, you react to the message with the laugh reaction and assure him you won't. He texts you to let you know he was on his way and suddenly you panic again. Matt hadn't been in your apartment since your first week in Calgary. Even then it wasn't really your apartment, it was just an empty place filled with boxes. He had helped you build all the furniture that had arrived, but since then you’d only hung out with him at restaurants or bars or coffee shops. 

You don't know why the idea of him in your space makes anxiety wash over you, and you have to remind yourself that Matt is someone you grew up with. He's your best friend’s brother and someone you've known your whole life, but for some reason you still felt like you had something to prove to him. 

There's a heavy knock on your door before you can pull yourself out of your head enough to make sure everything in your apartment is clean and tidy, and you almost want to scream but you figure it would be weirder than having a slightly messy living room. 

When you open the door for Matt, the first thing you notice are the two forming bruises on his face. The second thing you notice is how tired he looks, his smile genuine but still not reaching his eyes. 

“Hey,” you breathe out, “Come in.” He bumps your shoulder softly in a silent greeting as he slips past you into your apartment. 

“The place looks great, Y/N/N,” Matt says softly, admiring the decorations and photos you’d placed around to make it feel more like home. You're glad he isn't facing you and can't see the surprised look on your face at hearing him call you by your nickname. 

“Thanks Matty,” you say, your anxiety fading when he turns to smile at you again. “I’ll get the popcorn, you can pick a movie or a show or something, if you want.” You chuckle softly as he all but collapses on your couch, stretching out as you make your way towards the kitchen. 

Matt’s eyes follow you as you disappear through the doorway, the sound of the microwave starting just a few moments later. If he wasn't so tired and bruised he would pay more attention to the nervousness bubbling up inside of him. It had been a long time since he really hung out with you like this - the last time he can remember was probably his senior year of high school. Brady had been gone on a class trip for one of the few classes you hadn't taken together, and Taryn was still too young for you to relate to her. So for a full week you showed up at their door and flopped on his bed, or vice versa, claiming that you were bored and were there to stay. He remembers pretending to be annoyed, but inside he was practically screaming, overthinking every little thing that he said to you. 

His teammates would chirp him if they knew - Matt had known that for sure. What, a hotshot hockey playing senior getting butterflies over a sophomore girl? Oh, he would be torn apart in the locker room. That's why he didn't kiss you then. It was stupid, really, now that he thought back on it, but he was 17 then, and his teammates’ opinions were more important to him than taking a chance with his brother’s best friend. 

But now you were here. In Calgary. And he was here, in your apartment.

He feels 17 again, your sweet voice floating from the kitchen asking him if he wanted anything to drink. He replies that he only wants water, and decides to take you up on looking through Netflix. He settles for a random episode of Parks and Rec when you come back to the living room, a bowl of popcorn in one hand, and two glasses of water somehow held in the other. 

You make a face at him and shove his legs out of the way with your foot, placing the bowl and glasses on the table. You laugh when he groans and moves his legs out of the way so you can sit, before moving them back onto the couch to tangle with your own. Matt reaches for the bowl of popcorn as you snatch a blanket from its spot on the back of the couch and drape it over both of your legs. 

“Still cold all the time, Y/N/N?” Matt teases, nudging his foot against your knee as you laugh sharply. 

“Haven't changed a bit, Matty,” you throw back immediately. Your heart skips a beat when he laughs, a really, loud, genuine laugh, head thrown back and everything. You can't help but think that it suits him more than the tired smile he wore when he showed up at your door. 

“You really haven't,” he says with a grin, eyes finally sliding back to yours. His hair curls over his forehead, but you can't look away from his eyes. The intensity of his stare makes you shiver, and you pretend it’s from the cold, pulling the blanket towards you more and looking away. You ignore his grumble of protest, but he lets you do it anyway. 

“You haven't changed either, you know,” you say quietly. He stays silent, only shifting in his spot to get more comfortable. 

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, your eyes on the TV and his on...well his eyes are on you. He thinks back to all the times he wanted to make a move on you. Countless hours he spent beating himself up for letting the opportunities slip through his fingers because of his stupid pride. 

He's not 17 anymore, he could kiss you right now. He could wrap his arms around your waist and pull you into his lap, kiss you until you're breathless and absolutely begging for him. 

But he doesn't. 

Not when you look like this, so comfortable and warm and here. He can't kiss you when you opened your home to him after a tough loss. He can't take advantage of you like that. 

So Matt trains his eyes on the TV again, sneaking glances at you here and there as he all but shovels popcorn into his mouth so he doesn't say something stupid. He doesn't realize you've fallen asleep until he sneaks another glance at you, this time looking for just a little longer than a split second. 

Your eyes are closed, cheek smushed into the cushion and your chest rising and falling with soft, even breaths. He realizes then how tired you must be, it’s nearly 11:30 and he knows you have to be up early for work. He can't tear his eyes away, can't help but take advantage of being able to stare at you without getting caught. 

God, you're so cute like this, he wishes you were in his arms instead of on the other side of the couch. He wants this to last as long as possible, but your head is tilted at an awkward angle, and he doesn't want you to go to work tomorrow in pain. 

Instead of taking his time looking over every inch of your adorable sleeping face, he gently untangles his legs from yours, grabbing the empty bowl and cups and heading to the kitchen. Once he's done washing them and placing them on the drying rack, he heads back to you, pausing in the doorway for one more moment to just look at you. 

He finally convinces himself that he’s stared enough, it’s getting creepy now, and you need to go to bed. Matt makes his way back to you, squatting down and gently placing a hand on your arm. 

“Y/N/N?” he says softly, rubbing softly up and down your arm. 

“Hmm?” you hum softly, blinking slowly with blurry eyes. 

“You gotta go to bed,” he murmurs, and he can't stop himself from brushing a piece of hair out of your face. “You have work in the morning, c’mon.” 

You whine in protest and your eyes flutter shut again. You're too comfortable, too warm to get up now. Matt sighs, resignation setting in. He slowly peels the blanket off of you, folding and draping over the back of the couch like before, before sliding his arms underneath your back and knees and lifting you effortlessly. 

You mumble something unintelligible as you bury your face in his chest. Matt says nothing as he finds your bedroom, depositing you on your bed as soft as he can, and tugging the duvet out from under you and then back over you again. 

“You can't go home,” you mumble again, louder, grabbing his hand feebly before he can walk away. Matt freezes at the implication, even though he knows the thoughts spiraling in his mind are unlikely in your barely awake state. “S’late Matty, you can't go home.” 

“Y-you-you want me to sleep here?” he stutters, and you nod, blissfully unaware of the rampage of emotions in Matt’s head.

“Guest bedroom’s furnished,” you slur, voice thick with exhaustion. “Don't go home. S’late.” With that, you're fast asleep again, and Matt - well -

Fuck, Matt thinks. He's fucked. And he knows it. 

II. 

Based on the look on Noah’s face, Matt knows he's going to get one hell of a lecture as soon as you're out of earshot. He'd finally taken you to meet his teammates, and he was really starting to regret it. He knows that you're beautiful, he'd just rather not watch his teammates stare shamelessly. He really is glad he told them warned them to keep their hands off though, using the excuse that you were his brother’s best friend and there was no way he would let those hooligans go after you. 

But now that you're actually meeting them, Matt knows that they're going to call him on his shit. His team knows him better than that. 

His hand is resting against the small of your back as he leads you to a booth towards the back of the bar. He slows down before he gets within earshot of the table, leaning in to ask softly, “You okay?” 

You glance up at him with a nervous smile, but nod anyways. “Yeah,” you assure him, “I’m good, I just hope they like me.” 

Matt laughs at that, shaking his head at your confused expression. His laugh fades as you raise an eyebrow, looking at him expectantly. “They'll love you,” he finally clarifies, “Promise.” 

“Promise?” you say skeptically. 

“Promise,” he confirms, and the grin on his face is infectious, you can't help but smile back at him. “C’mon,” he says, pushing you lightly until you reach the table. 

“Matty!” exclaims one of the men at the table. A brunette, from what you can see in the dim light, and a face that makes him look 14. At his drunken greeting, the rest of the men and women at the table turn to look at you and Matt, making you shift uncomfortably under their collective gaze. 

“Aaand he’s drunk already, this is Brady and I’s friend, Y/N,” Matt introduces you, his hand sliding from your back to squeeze your hand comfortingly. He introduces each of the people at the table - the baby-faced one was named Johnny - before nudging the blonde that looked like a Disney prince until he moved over to make room for the two of you. 

“Hi,” you say, smiling shyly around the table. “It’s nice to meet you all, Matt’s told me a lot about you.” 

“Hope he wasn't talking shit,” Prince Charming teases with a slight accent, flashing you a bright smile. What was his name? Elias? 

“Oh he talks the most shit,” you banter, a sly smile tugging at your lips at Matt’s incredulous protest. “Always going on and on about how annoying you guys are - mmf!” Your teasing is cut short by Matt’s hand covering your mouth. Without thinking you lick the palm of his hand, laughing when he snatches it away again and off of your mouth. 

“That's gross,” Matt complains, wiping his hand on his jeans. 

“You asked for that,” you shoot back, elbowing him lightly when he rolls his eyes. 

“You know, I’m starting to regret this,” he grumbles, fighting the smile playing on his lips, “you’re just as annoying as them.” 

“Be nice Chucky!” Noah pipes up. You recognize him from the few times you’d stopped by Matthew’s apartment but had never stayed long enough to actually get to know him. 

“Yeah, Chucky,” you taunt, “better be nice to me, I know where you live during the off-season too.” The table erupts into laughter at that, and you accept a fist bump from Elias. 

“I like this one, Matthew,” Giordano says, “You better keep bringing her around.” 

You flush at the compliment, having heard how highly Matt speaks of his captain. 

Matt feels you relax into the booth, the tension in your body since your arrival finally draining at the approval from his team. He leans down slightly to murmur in your ear, “I told you they'd love you.” You smile at his words, tuning back into the conversation that had started up again. 

“Matthew,” Elias suddenly says, drawing your attention away from the intense discussion about whether or not hotdogs were considered sandwiches (the group was split almost 50/50, by the way). “Let’s go get more drinks. Noah?” 

You scoot out of the booth to let the two of them slip out, heading to the bar with Noah in tow, sliding back in to find yourself seated beside a beautiful blonde girl. She laughs when you say timidly, “I’m sorry, could you all tell me your names again?” 

She introduces herself in a thick accent as Annica, Elias’s girlfriend, and the other girls do too, before quickly striking up a conversation. “Do not worry,” she says kindly, “I forgot most names the first time I met too.” You laugh at that, before some of the wives and girlfriends start to ask you about yourself. 

“How do you know Matthew?” Brittany, Sean Monohan’s girlfriend, asks curiously. 

“I grew up with him,” you explain. “Brady’s my best friend, they live across the street from my family.” 

At the same time that you’re getting to know the girls at the table, Elias is slapping Matt upside the head. 

“Dude!” Matt groans. “What the fuck?” 

Noah rolls his eyes at Matt’s faux-obliviousness, “Dude, that girl is a smokeshow.” Noah manages to dodge Matt’s fist aimed at his arm, smirking at the defensiveness. “Just your friend huh?” he chirps, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

Matt groans again, “Yes, just a friend, the hands-off rule still applies.” 

Elias snorts, unconvinced, leaning back against the bar to observe you interacting with the team and WAGs. “She’s funny, and fits in well,” Elias remarks. “And Noah is right, she is a smokeshow.” 

“I know,” Matt grumbles. “Don't you have a girlfriend?”

Elias throws his head back and laughs. “Annica pointed out when you walked in. Anyway, she's yours, clearly.” 

“Dude.” 

Matt was getting really sick of the chirping coming from his teammates. To be fair - they were right, but he couldn't let them know that. But as he follows Elias’s gaze to see you talking animatedly to the girls at the table - all of their attention trained on you - he can't help the soft smile on his lips. He's right, you do fit in well. 

He wonders how you'd look wearing a jacket with his name on the back. 

Noah’s voice snaps him out of his daydream. “I'm just saying man, you already look like you're halfway in love with her, so get on that.” 

“No,” Matt snaps finally, before his expression drops slightly. “Besides, our parents are fully convinced that she and Brady are gonna end up getting married or whatever.” 

Noah and Elias both wince at that, giving him sympathetic glances. Matt rolls his eyes, snatching half the round of drinks the bartender had deposited in front of them, and heading back to the booth, knowing that Elias and Noah were hot on his heels. Thankfully, he makes it before they can say anything else that might inspire Matt to do something stupid. 

But as he slides back in beside you, watching you interact with his teammates - his family away from family - he can't help but think about how wrong Noah was. 

More than halfway, Noah, way more than halfway. 

III. 

Matt’s lifelong habit of running away from his feelings just didn't seem to apply to you. No matter how much his feelings grew, how much they scared him, he still stayed. He still hung out with you, and texted you constantly. He still brought you to every team event under the guise of not wanting some random girl with him, and that he'd much rather have you there. 

When you told him about your feelings for his brother, it stung. So Matt did the only thing he could - not run away, he could never run from you. He crushed the hurt away, pushed his feelings down down down until they were just a whisper at the back of his mind. 

But then he made a mistake. He made an enormous, colossal, devastating mistake. 

He kissed you. 

He was wine-drunk, and so were you. Maybe that's why you let him. Maybe that's why you kissed him back. It was easier to believe that it was a drunken decision than let himself have any hope. 

You'd been at his apartment for dinner, something that had become a weekly occurrence now. Matt couldn't deny that he liked this, having you to himself without anyone Brady to steal your attention. 

You'd ordered in today, boxes of Thai takeout littering the counter. Matthew hadn't bothered to clean up after you were both done eating, insisting that he’d take care of it later, and for now you could just hang out. So that's what you did. 

The two of you sprawled on his couch, forgoing wine classes to just pass the bottle back and forth until both of you were giggling. Your cheeks felt warm from the wine, and you felt good. You felt relaxed and at home. 

You're thrown into another fit of giggles when Matt reminds you of the time Brady had fallen asleep after a game when you had all gone out for ice cream. He had ended up face planting directly into a scoop of his barely-eaten vanilla ice cream in the car on the way home, immediately snapping awake at the cold dessert hitting him directly in the face. 

Through your laughter, you say “What about the time you were trying to impress - hic - that girl - what was her name, Brenna? - and then you -” you cut yourself off, laughing uncontrollably at the unimpressed look on Matt’s face. He knew exactly what you were talking about, and it was easily one of the more embarrassing moments of his life. When you can catch your breath again you finish “- and you were staring so you slipped and fell on the ice!” 

Matt groans as you keep laughing, before a devious idea comes to mind. You know that look on his face all too well, your eyes widening as your laughter dies down. 

“Matt-” you start as he starts reaching for you, turning into a shriek when his hands reach their destination. “Matt, no!” 

His fingers finding your sides and tickling you mercilessly. 

“Matt!” you gasp, squirming to escape the torture. “I’m sorryyyyy! I won't mention it again, I promise!” 

He pauses for a moment, eyeing you suspiciously. 

“Promise?” he asks, his hands not leaving your sides even when you nod. He hums when you promise, distracted by your closeness. The wine made his mind fuzzy, and the feelings he's been harboring for so long come bubbling to the surface. 

Matt is terrified he's going to say something he’ll regret - especially with the knowledge of your feelings for Brady - so he does the only thing that will shut him up. He does what he was too cowardly to do when he was 17.

He kisses you. 

A surprised moan escapes your throat, but then you sigh, leaning into him and leaning into the kiss. His hold tightens around you as he tilts his head to slot your lips together. Your hands come up to run through his messy curls, making a noise of appreciation at how soft his hair is. 

Matt can't help himself, he leans back to his side of the couch, tugging you with him and into his lap. One hand leaves your waist to cup your jaw as you straddle him, his teeth tugging at your lip before sliding his tongue into your mouth. The hand on your waist comes down to your ass, a strangled moan breaking the kiss as his hand pushes you impossibly closer to Matt.

Matt reconnects your lips immediately, addicted to the feeling of finally kissing you after all these years. Through the haze in his brain he thinks that this is probably a bad idea, but fuck does he love it. 

You whine needily and break the kiss, rocking your hips against Matt and making him gasp. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, his hips jerking upwards to grind into you. Your eyes flutter open for a moment, shuddering at the dark look in Matt’s eyes. You think of saying something - anything - but Matt’s hand curls around the back of your head and pulls you back in to meet his lips. 

You tug at his hair as he kisses you, letting him move your hips into an undulating motion against his own. Matt's mouth drags away from yours, your whine turning into a soft moan as when he kisses along your jaw and down your neck. You shiver when you feel his teeth graze the column of your throat. 

Matt kisses every inch of exposed skin, unable to help himself from sucking a deep purple mark into your skin just above your collarbone. 

“Matty,” you whimper, grinding down harder against the growing tent in his sweatpants. Matt decides that your whimpers and moans are his favorite sound, and vows then that he’s going to do everything in his power to pull those noises from your body. He can't get enough of you, the way your hands roam over his shoulders and through his hair and the desperate way your grinding against him. You say his name again, this time a soft sigh as he keeps kissing at your skin, the hand on your ass sliding up and underneath your thin v-neck. 

“Baby,” he grunts against your skin, running his nose up along your neck. You whimper at the pet name, and Matt gets impossible harder under you. “Baby,” he whispers again, pulling back to look you in the eye. “Tell me if you want this, angel.” 

You nod frantically, leaning in to press your mouth on his again. 

“Please,” you mumble against his lips. “I want this. I want you.” 

Matt moans at the words, wishing that it were true in every context. Instead he wraps his hands under your thighs and stands, making his way blind towards his bedroom. He tosses you on his bed unceremoniously, kicking the door shut behind him.

You look up at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, reaching for him again, aching for his touch. Matt crawls over your body and brushes the hair out of your face as he hovers above you. 

“Matt,” you whine needily, wrapping a hand around his neck to pull him down to kiss you again. 

As Matt strips you of your clothes as well as his own, he lets himself pretend this is real. He fucks you with brutal, merciless thrust of his hips, and pretends like this isn't going to be a one-time thing. He lets himself feel while you cry out for him and arch your back as you cum. He calls you baby and acts like this isn't a drunken mistake you’re probably going to regret in the morning. 

And when you're both spent, his arms curled around you as you give him a dopey, sleepy smile - looking like a real life angel, he thinks - Matt lets himself pretend, for just a moment, that you love him too. 

IV. 

He hates this. 

Matt hates this. 

He hates the feeling of your body shaking against him, uncontrollable sobs wracking your body. Brady had left that morning for Ottawa after Autumn had reached out to him, asking to give their relationship another shot. And Matt hates him for it right now. 

He hates the sound of your crying, the tears spilling onto his shirt. He hates that you feel like this, heartbroken and miserable. 

Matt hates how responsible he feels for this. He was so sure that Brady reciprocated your feelings, telling you over and over again that he was positive his brother loved you too. In hindsight, he might have been projecting, but to him, it was impossible not to fall in love with you.

The thing he hates the most, though, is how selfish he is. How he can't help but think of how good it feels to hold you again. 

Another sob rips itself from your throat and Matt’s arms tighten around you, pulling you so that you were flush against his chest. He buries his face in your hair, whispering “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over as you break down in his arms. 

He barely registers the feeling of you shaking your head against his shoulder. 

“Not your fault,” you mumble through your cries, shaking your head more vigorously. “It-it’s not - it’s my fault - I thought -” You cut yourself off and bury your head in his shoulder as your bawling continues. 

“It's not your fault,” he insists as one hand comes up to cup the back of your head, running through your hair in soft strokes. “It’s not, it’s not your fault, you did nothing wrong.” 

Matt holds you like that for what feels like eternity, your sniffles and cries coming slower and slower until they stop. He still holds you tight, tracing patterns over your skin and running his hands through your hair soothingly. He whispers gentle words in your ear, comforting you the best he can. 

Eventually you pull back slightly too look up at him, making Matt mourn the loss of feeling every inch of you pressed up against him. You look tired, sleepy, but most of all, you look sad - and it kills him inside. 

“Thank you,” you whisper hoarsely, making Matt’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. 

“What for, angel?” The nickname doesn't go unnoticed by you, and you can't help the warm feeling that worms its way through your heartbreak. 

“Everything,” you shrug, not wanting to really say the truth. Matt takes it for an answer, even though you both know it’s really not, and smiles gently, brushing hair out of your eyes like he's done so many times. “M’sorry about your shirt,” you mumble, and Matt laughs at that, his head thrown back.

“I've got plenty of shirts,” he teases, thumb sliding back and forth over your jaw comfortingly. As his laughter fades, his gaze becomes locked on yours. You look like you're in deep thought, at war with yourself, and he barely refrains from asking you what you're thinking about. 

“Okay?” Matt asks gently, eyes softening when your eyes focus on him again. You open your mouth as if to say something, before closing it again and nodding slowly. “Y/N/N?” 

Before he can really ask what's going on, you're throwing your arms around his neck, your lips colliding with his. Matt can't help but melt into the kiss, cupping your cheek as your lips move together. He hadn't felt this in so long. 

Oh, he missed this. He missed the feeling of your mouth on his. Missed kissing you until you were breathless. Missed the way you fit perfectly in his arms. 

He moans gently, nearly delirious with his need for you. 

A pang of guilt shoots through him, making Matt pull away even as you whine and chase his lips. You look up with wide eyes and a slight pout, before you seem to realize what just happened. 

“Fuck, I’m - I’m sorry,” you gasp, scrambling to escape his embrace. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to - that was fucked up - I’m sorry -” 

Matt’s grip only tightens, grabbing your chin to make you face him. “Hey - hey,” he says sharply, making you stop struggling and look at him. “It’s okay, I promise, we just - you're not in the right - we can't -” 

“I know,” you cut him off, “I know, I'm sorry.” 

“It's okay,” he assures you again, before asking you softly, “Do you want to go home?” 

You weren't sure which home he meant - your family’s house across the street or Calgary - but either way you shake your head frantically, clinging to him tighter at the idea of being alone with your broken heart right now. 

“Okay,” he soothes gently, “That's okay, I’m gonna go shower, okay? You wanna change?” You glance down at your clothes - sweatpants and a t-shirt - and shake your head again. 

“This is fine,” you say timidly, your voice small and sad and widen the hole in Matt’s heart. 

“Okay,” he murmurs, setting you gently on his mattress and tugging the duvet over you. “I won't be long, I promise.” You nod sleepily, your eyes already fluttering shut as you acknowledge him, as he backs away slowly. 

Matt has to clasp a hand over his mouth in the shower, muffling the noises out of his mouth as he weeps. 

He almost wants to laugh at the irony of it all. You love Brady. You love him and your heart is breaking because of it. And so is his. And even as Matt puts on clean pajamas and crawls back into his bed beside your sleeping figure, he still feels like he might start to cry again.

But then you mumble his name, your voice thick with sleep as you reach for him. Your hands feel small against his chest as you fist the material of his shirt and tug him towards you, sighing contently when his arms slide around your waist. 

You fit so fucking perfectly, Matt thinks, with your body tucked into his like this. His eyes linger on your face for a few moments, taking in the peaceful look on your sleeping face after hours of anguish and emotional turmoil. As he begins to drift off, his last thought before he falls into slumber, is how he's never been more at ease, more happy, more in love, than when he's with you. 

+1 

Matt has never been in so much pain in his entire life. The moment his eyes fluttered open, still blurry from sleep, he snapped them shut again. It was too bright. Why is everything so bright? He only knows one person that keeps the blinds open when they sleep and that was - Matt’s blood runs cold. 

“I like it when the sun wakes me up,” you’d said when he asked you. “It feels less like an alarm clock and more of a gentle reminder, you know?” 

He didn't know, he really really didn't, especially with the pounding in his head. But he has to know for sure, so slowly but surely, he opens one eye and then the other. Matt’s heart rises to his throat when he realizes where he is. 

Part of him thinks he might die on the spot. But the other part - the selfish fucking part of him - whispers that waking up in your bedroom is what he's been dreaming of for months. 

But then it hits him. The pain. 

Not the pounding headache, no - this was worse. This was so much fucking worse. It was worse than the day in his parents’ basement when you walked away from him all those months ago. Worse than the night he came home and found you naked in Brady’s bed. This pain felt worse than anything he'd ever felt before. 

It’s excruciating. He feels like someone had punched a hole in his chest and torn out his heart. The ache in his chest surpasses the throbbing in his head. 

Matt feels like he's going to cry, the desire to curl up into a ball and disappear overwhelming him and he wants to cry. 

How did he even get here? 

Matt doesn't remember most of last night, little snippets here and there. He remembers your Instagram post, the cutest fucking picture he's ever seen of you holding and ice cream cone and laughing, a smudge of the frozen treat dotted on your nose. He remembers grabbing a bottle the moment he got home. He remembers Noah and Elias, remembers seeing their lips moving, but doesn't remember what they said.

Before he can stop it, there are tears slipping down his cheeks. Matt is so fucking sick of crying. He's tired of feeling like this. 

And he hates that he knows that it's his own damn fault. 

The idea of seeing you again - of you seeing him like this - makes his skin crawl. He promised to leave you alone after the game, and he’s ashamed that all it took was an Instagram post and a little too much liquor for him to come crawling back. 

The selfish part of him pipes up again. You can't help it. You love her. She's yours. 

Being here, in your apartment, your bedroom, makes Matt dizzy. He needs to leave. Now. 

He’s in such a rush to leave, roughly wiping at the tears on his face, he almost doesn't notice the pair of pills on the nightstand, a glass of water set on a coaster beside them. He hesitates for a moment, but decides that he doesn't want to feel like a trainwreck for the rest of the day, and downs the pills with a gulp of water. 

There's clattering in the kitchen, preventing him from a stealthy escape. Matt is shocked when you don't let him leave, head spinning with exhaustion and confusion and really - just your presence. He can't stop staring at you. Even like this, in a hoodie and leggings, Matt thinks you're the most beautiful fucking thing he's ever seen. 

This is too domestic. He shouldn't be here. This is too intimate. Too much. 

This isn't for you. Brady is the one who should be here. Matt flinches when the thought slithers into his head, but before he can make it out the door, you're turning from the stove and practically yelling at him to sit. You sound like his mom, he thinks, but sits anyways. 

When you ask him about Autumn, Matt thinks he might die. Right then and there, he wishes the floor would swallow him whole. But instead of that happening, his stupid fucking mouth moves to vomit out the words before his brain catches up. “I was sick of seeing him hurt you, I watched him hurt you for so long, Y/N, I held you while you cried and I - I never want to be the one to make you feel like that.” 

This was the most you'd spoken in months, and even through the pain of seeing you again, Matt can't help but be overcome with relief. You didn't hate him. Matt feels dazed through the rest of the conversation, just barely focusing as a result of your presence addling his brain even as you snap at him to shut up. Until - until - 

“..Brady and I are not together…he’s not it for me.” 

Matt freezes, the words rattling inside his skull.

Not it for me not it for me not it for me 

Matt shoves half a piece of French toast in his mouth, barely chewing it before swallowing and repeating your words back to him. You laugh at his bewilderment, your fingers curling around his own as you speak. 

He's going to kill Brady, he decides as he finishes off the rest of his toast, immediately. His little brother is a menace and it’s finally going to catch up to him. 

But he needs to hear you say it first. He needs it.

Then Matt is tugging you to stand up, and your hands are wrapping around his neck as he gets closer. 

And you say it. 

“I love you too Matty.” 

And then he's kissing you. 

Finally - finally - he's kissing you and you love him.

You love him. 

Matt feels like he wants to cry again, this time for a completely different reason. The pain he'd felt this morning starts to drain away as you press yourself closer to him, hand slipping up to card through his curls. He pulls back to look at you for a moment, grin so wide he thinks his face might break. He leans in again, giving you one, two, three, four more kisses. With every kiss, Matt feels a piece of his heart returning to its place. 

“Say it again,” he pleads, eyes fluttering closed as you whisper against his lips. 

“I love you, Matthew, more than anything, I love you.” 

And later, when you're giggling against his mouth on the couch as his fingers graze your ticklish sides and you're whispering the three words over and over and over again, he knows it's true. 

He's it for you, you're it for him. 

Matt loves you. 

But more importantly, you love him.

FIN (for real this time)

[ghostgirl19posts]

Febuwhump Alternate Prompt: Identity Reveal

Universe: Breath of the Wild, Modern AU

Pairing: Zelink

Rating: T

......

Zelda refrains from cringing when she feels the telltale warmth of Link’s lips lightly brushing her cheek.

So, it’s one of those nights again.

She can’t react at all, otherwise he’d know she’s awake. She can’t let that happen again. Last time it did, he waited until she truly fell asleep before sneaking out to do Hylia knows what.

She waits until after she hears the bed rustle, then their bedroom door opening and closing with a soft click. After that she waits exactly 20 seconds—because he shuts the main door so quietly, she can never hear—until she cracks her eyes open.

Phone in hand, the time 2:18 A.M. glows mockingly at her.

She fights back tears as she rises out of bed to get a glass of water. No point in trying to go back to sleep when she knows it’s futile. On nights like these, she’ll be up for hours wondering what her boyfriend of two years is up to at this time, trying to figure out a reason besides what a normal girlfriend would assume.

Tonight is no different.

Despite Link’s frequent disappearances, he’s always there in the morning when she wakes up. He’ll be in the kitchen, cooking a delicious breakfast in that adorable blue apron he wears, then turn around and smile lovingly at her like she’s the most beautiful girl in the world, while she’s standing there with rumpled pajamas, ratty hair, and eyes still crusty with sleep.

He’ll kiss her soundly, somehow ignoring her morning breath, then serve her so that she doesn’t have to lift a finger. Then he’ll join her at the table, occasionally commenting on something here or there. He never was much of a talker, but he’s improving every day they spend together.

After they’ve both eaten, she’ll get ready for work while he cleans up their plates. He’ll pack her lunch and make sure she doesn’t forget it in her haste to rush out the door. Finally, he’ll kiss her cheek good-bye (or on the lips if he’s feeling frisky) and she’ll be on her way.

While she’s out of the apartment, she can only assume that he cleans it and otherwise maintains it. She can never find a speck of dust, the kitchen is always stocked with food, they never run out of supplies, and she hasn’t touched a bill since living there, so it’s safe to assume that Link keeps up with all of them.

Her lunch is always impeccably made; she can taste the love and care he put into making it. But no matter how much she loves his cooking, it’s nothing compared to the little notes he’d leave her.

Everyday in her lunch, she’ll always find a note from him. They range from well wishes for a good day, to encouragement if she has an intimidating meeting coming up, to warm affection, and to the spicy kind that never fail to induce a blush and make her toes curl in her heels.

It’s as if he feels guilty for leaving her all those nights, and as a result, tries to make it up to her in all ways possible. When taking into account all these things (and more) that he does for her, it makes it hard to consider leaving him as she probably should.

But evidently, none of those things are enough to convince Purah of his love.

“Are you kidding me? 2:18 in the morning? This is ridiculous, I don’t know how you’re still with him.”

Zelda sighs in between bites of her reheated vegetable risotto. Despite it having suffered a trip to the microwave, it tastes almost as good as if it just came off the stove. She has no idea how Link does it.

“I know, but-”

“No buts!” Purah snaps, leveling her with a harsh stare through the glint of her glasses. She points a perfectly manicured red nail at her colleague above her lunch of leftover pumpkin stew.

“No guy who isn’t cheating just leaves his girlfriend, in their shared apartment mind you, without telling you where he’s going at two in the morning. There’s no excuse! He’s cheating on you and taking advantage of your naivety.”

“I’m not naïve,” Zelda protests weakly. But how can she say that when she doesn’t even fully believe it herself?

She can’t meet Purah’s eyes and resorts to picking absently at the risotto. Suddenly she doesn’t have the appetite to finish it, despite how delicious it is.

“Then you’re dense,” Purah retorts, then sighs upon realizing how mean she’s being to her friend. Her tone considerably softens when she continues.

“Zelda, I care about you. You’re too good to be with a cheating bastard like that, and deep down you know it too. I just can’t understand why you’re still with him.”

“I know, but he’s so sweet otherwise! He always cooks for me, the apartment is always spotless, and he always kisses me in the morning even when I look like shit and probably have the breath to match it, and Purah…sometimes he’ll have this little smile on his face and he just gets this look in his eyes…”

Zelda can’t help but smile fondly upon recalling it.

“Like he just loves me so much, that I’m the only one. I know it sounds cheesy, but after seeing it, the idea that Link is cheating on me becomes ridiculous. I think to myself, ‘How can I doubt him after seeing him look at me like that?’ Besides, you know how hard it was to go out with him in the first place. I want to think twice before throwing it all away.”

Indeed, it was hard as heck to get Link to admit his attraction and jumpstart their relationship. They met on a sunny afternoon in May when she visited her father’s company, Castle Corp. She unknowingly barged in on a meeting her father was having with Link. He had stared at her blankly, then got up and left without a single word exchanged between them.

She thought he was strange and a little rude, to be honest. A pity since he was so handsome.

They encountered each other a few more times after that, Zelda accidentally interrupting meetings between him and her father (of what purpose she only received vague answers for) and Link leaving them without a farewell.

Since he seemed to be a colleague of sorts with her father, she tried being friendly. She’d seek him out after he’d leave the office and try to start a conversation. She talked about everything under the sun, from the local restaurants and entertainment, to Castle Corp., and finally to the personal stuff.

She told him about her job as a researcher and developer at Sheikah Tech, how the silent princess is her favorite flower, and even how much she adores fruitcake and will never turn it down. She hoped sharing this side of her personality would get him to share in return.

But of course, Link being Link, he never answered her and just stared at her throughout all her hard efforts.

Eventually, she realized it was a lost cause and plainly told him that she can tell when she’s not wanted, and that if he really hates her that much then she’ll leave him alone.

It was when her back was turned and she was a few steps away that she heard it.

“I want you,” followed quickly by a harried, as if he made a mistake and wished to correct it, “I don’t hate you.”

From there, it was more of pulling teeth to get him to open up. But open up he did, slowly and surely, until finally she walked into her father’s office only to see Link holding a bouquet of silent princesses in one hand, a homemade fruitcake in the other, and a blush luminating the tips of his ears as he asked her to dinner with that smile that made her heart melt.

When asked what made him ask her out, he claimed that he was tired of being selfless and for once he was going to take what he wanted. Zelda never fully understood and he never offered to elaborate.

So, to willingly throw away their entire development…well, it’s not something she wants to do on a whim. She has to think long and hard about this. Because other than his vanishing acts in the middle of the night, she can think of no other reason to break up with him. She loves him, after all. She can easily picture spending the rest of her life with him.

However, she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to tolerate his disappearances for a lifetime.

Presently, Purah frowns. “I know it took a lot for you guys to be together. It definitely wasn’t at the snap of a finger,” she joked, sparing a cynical chuckle before sobering. “But you have to when he’s cheating on you like this. There’s nothing that justifies that.”

“I know,” Zelda agrees, melancholy. “But it’s just so hard to do so, especially since we don’t even know for sure if he’s cheating.”

Purah sends her a flat look. “What else could he possibly be doing?”

“I don’t know,” Zelda snaps back defensively. “I’m just saying we have no proof. For all we know, he could be somewhere drafting his lunch notes to me. Speaking of…”

Zelda sticks her hand in her lunch bag to retrieve today’s note, but has to yank her arm out when Purah snatches it away before waving a finger at her, ignoring her sputtered protests.

“Nuh uh, no way! You need to toughen up and dump his ass, and to do that, you’ll start by not reading these cheesy love letters anymore.”

“They’re not cheesy,” Zelda pouts.

Some of them are cheesy, extremely so, but damn her if they don’t put a smile on her face. Because that’s what Link intends for when he writes them, right?

“They are. And they’re spoiled, rotten cheese with mold growing out of them since he’s nothing but a no-good cheater. Trust me, Zelda, this is for your own good.”

And with that, she takes the note and rips it cleanly in half.

…

Link is strangely tense when she arrives home.

From the moment she walked in the door and hung up her jacket he looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for something. Confused, Zelda greets him with a kiss as per the usual before going to their room and changing out of her work clothes.

He appears equally confused after she brushes past him, and doesn’t speak a word until dinner, whereupon he asks her the question that has her blood freeze.

“So, did you read my note today?”

His hand is on the back of his neck, the tips of his cheeks glowing with an oddly pink hue. He’s glancing up at her through his dark, golden lashes, as if hesitant to meet her gaze. Or nervous? Could Link possibly be nervous? About what?

The last time she saw him like this, he was about to ask her out. She doesn’t understand what the occasion calls for this time.

Could he somehow know that she never read the note? That Purah ripped it in two then pocketed the pieces, with the promise that she’ll burn it posthaste?

She doesn’t want to lie to him. But seeing the pain in his eyes that she knows will be there should she admit the truth will hurt worse.

So, she plasters on a wide, beaming smile, and says, “Yes, I did. It was very sweet!”

His eyebrows furrow, and Zelda’s smile falters at the corners. Not only has her blood frozen, but now she swears her heart has stilled as well. Does he know? Does he know she lied? Does he know she never even touched that note, let alone read it?

But her fears dissipate when his mouth curves into a slight smile, although it doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Thanks. Took a while to think of what to write. I wanted it to be perfect, since you know how bad I am with words. Glad you thought it was sweet.”

He chuckles then, although it sounds anything but amused. To be honest, it sounds…sad. And bitter. And resigned. But why?

She opens her mouth to question him, but he stands from his chair before she can voice anything. He walks over to her, then bends down to kiss the crown of her hair.

And then he simply retreats to their room, leaving his untouched salmon meunière on the table, and a worriedly confused girlfriend in his wake.

…

Things are even more strange in the coming days.

Link still kisses her in the mornings and cooks and otherwise acts normal, but there’s an underlying tension between them she can’t seem to shake off no matter what she tries.

Then there’s Purah, who suddenly can’t meet her eyes and avoids having lunch with her.

What is going on?

She’s sick of not having answers, and tonight, after she feels Link kiss her good-bye, she finally does something about it.

It’s probably immoral to install a tracker in Link’s car that she uses to track him down to a lavish apartment building in the heart of the city at 1:38 a.m., but there are worse sins committed every day.

For example, it’s wrong to clamp your hand over someone’s mouth to muffle their terrified screams as you tear a knife across their neck with no hesitation.

It’s not until the body drops to the floor that Link sees her. If he wasn’t clutching a knife dripping with blood and wearing that black dress shirt she remembers scrubbing for a half hour last week, wondering what kind of unholy substance could create such a tough stain, she might have laughed at the way the color drains from his face and his mouth opens in a comical ‘o’ shape.

But because he’s clutching a knife dripping in blood, and wearing that black dress shirt she now realizes was stained with blood, she clamps her hands over her mouth and muffles her own terrified scream.

Well, at least he’s not cheating on her.

[maevemarethyu]

Unexpected (4/?)

(Not my GIF)

You weren’t expecting it. Neither of you were.

That didn’t mean you weren’t happy with how it ended.

Bucky Barnes x Reader Fic.

Warning: Cursing, Cheapshots, a bit of violence, Sad Boi Hour and Fluff

Updated 1/20/2021

It was time. The stage was set. After two days of non-stop correspondence with James, who insisted you call him Bucky, he was knocking on your door for the second time.

“Hey!” You greet, not giving him a chance to respond before you wrap your arms around his torso in a tight hug. It takes him a few moments to return the sentiment but, when he does, you can’t help but notice that James Barnes gives excellent hugs. “Sorry, I get all touchy when I’m nervous”

“S’alright.” He chuckles and you can hear it deep in his chest when you pull away. “I just picked up the papers from Matt.”

“I hope he didn’t give you any trouble. He’s always been protective of me but, this whole thing has him on edge. He’s a nice guy, I swear.” You lead him past the neatly stacked boxes of Patrick’s things and into the kitchen.

“I believe it. I woke up this morning and almost everyone was in a disguise and set on following me here.” The mental image of Steve Rogers and Wanda Maximoff dressed in dark shades and baseball caps makes you laugh harder than it should have. You had never met them but, Bucky talked about his team so much that you felt as if you knew them. Sam Wilson had even gone out of his way to steal James’ phone and personally apologize for the part he played in this whole ordeal.

You barely had time to thank him for the role he played in it before he and James were wrestling over the device. It reminded you too much of you and a certain bullet proof man that had somehow become like a brother to you. The thought of having to tell the Defenders what happened kept you up all last night but, it didn’t compare to having to tell Frank.

“That would have been a sight.” A smirk grows on your face. “Is everything ready?”

Bucky nods. “Claire told me she was spending the day with her sister. Her sister’s in Louisiana right now.” You hum in response. Did Claire really think James was dumb enough to believe that?

“I told Patrick that I was taking Laysa to work with me today. Said I’d be home late.”

The stage was set. After two days of torture in the form of loving gazes and gentle kisses with your husband, the time had come; all you had to do was wait.

“Do you really think they’ll come here?”

Your plan hinged on it.

“If not, I’m tracking them down and shoving these papers down their throats. I can’t stomach another day pretending.” You huff and, as if he knew you were talking about him, your phone dinged.

A message from Patrick.

“Hey babe, you home?” You read aloud before scoffing and typing a reply. No, I told you I’m at work all day (sad face) I’ll be home around seven.

You send off the message and open your snack cabinet.

“So attentive.” Bucky drawls sarcastically. “Husband of the year.”

His voice was low and it sends an unwarranted shiver down your spine. If there was one thing you’d learnt about Bucky Barnes over the past few days was that he really didn’t know how attractive he was. It wasn’t just his looks either, it was his sense of humor, his chivalrous nature, the way he talked about his friends, the nicknames; he was a complete package.

You felt ashamed for thinking about him like that before you realized you didn’t have a reason not to… not anymore. You could look at other men with appreciative eyes for the first time in fifteen years. You’d never act upon anything but, the knowledge that you could was liberating to say the least.

“Do you like popcorn? I was thinking we could watch a movie while we wait.” You ramble on, microwaving the packet before he could answer. “Ever seen Heavyweights? It’s an older Disney movie about a weight loss camp that gets taken over by a health nut. I’m asking you to be polite but, we’re watching it. Laysa’s down for a nap, that girl can sleep for days.”

Another laugh then “Sure doll.”

He had learned quite few things about you himself. You were stubborn, almost as much as he was, you had a serious sweet tooth, you had an even wider range of music than Sam did, you had a soft spot for movies from the 90’s and 2000’s, and you were an amazing mom. The way you talked about Laysa made his chest warm.

Bucky always had a soft spot for kids but, he’d never cared so much about a kid he’s never even seen.

“Great! It’s already set up. All you have to do is press play.” You shoo him into the living room as you pour the popcorn into a bowl. For the perfect balance of sweet and salty, you also fish out a bag of M&M’s, pouring them into a separate bowl.

“Hey Buck! Do you want a drink?” You ask as if this was normal for the two of you. Nothing about this was normal but, you can’t help but feel as if this was the most natural thing in the world. James had already seen you at your absolute worst, you didn’t have to pretend around him and it was amazing.

He answers with a Water’s fine Sugar and your cheeks ache from the silly grin that takes over your face as you fill two glasses. Years of practice has you precariously yet perfectly balancing the dishes on your arms as you make your way into the living room.

Bucky jumps up from the couch to grab the bowls out of your hands, setting them on the table before taking a seat on the couch. You were thankful you had insisted on buying all the furniture in your home; the small L-shaped sectional was perfect for the times you had everyone over. You plop down onto it, directly across from James.

“The hell is skim milk?” He asks, face twisted into a frown when one of the characters mentions it.

“Milk with little to no fat. It’s pretty common nowadays.” You explain while grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“We definitely didn’t have that in my day.”

“Right, I always forget that you’re an old man.” The tease makes him perk up a bit and, with a wicked grin, he turns to face you on the sofa.

“You’re gonna want to take that back sweetheart.” He warns.

“What are you now? two-hundred and fifty something?”

You hadn’t spoken to anyone like this other than Matt and Foggy in years, it gave you a rush you hadn’t felt in a long time. The feeling of butterflies had become a distant memory but, they hit you full force when his blue eyes lock onto to yours. Not even the pillow that narrowly misses you is enough to dampen the feeling.

“I thought you were a sniper Sargent? You must’ve lost your touch in your old age.” The next pillow hits you square in the chest and a squeal escapes your mouth before you can stop it. Bastard.

“You were saying?” The smirk that grows on his face is almost too cocky but, still obnoxiously endearing.

You want to retaliate but, instead you stand up to grab the wayward pillow off of the floor. You had a feeling that if you started a war, it would end in something neither of you were ready for. With all the pillows back on the couch you allow yourself to be submersed in the movie, laughing at all the parts you’d seen a thousand times, silently thankful that James was as well.

As the hour gets later, the impending confrontation weighs on your mind heavily with your eyes straying to the door every couple of minutes in anticipation. Not even the bonfire party depicted on the screen was able to capture your full attention.

“That’s all he has?” James asks, nodding towards the boxes when he notices how distracted you are.

“Mhmm. I bought the house and all of the furniture myself. Apparently being a cop doesn’t pay all too well.” You mused whilst staring at the cardboard. Fifteen years of your relationship was packed away in between his shirts and pants: all the jewelry, save your wedding band, and all of your photos together had been tossed in with his things. You didn’t want any reminders of all the years you had wasted upon Patrick Voight.

“What do you do to afford a home in Manhattan? Is it a secret drug cartel? You can tell me, I won’t rat you out.” You knew he was trying to get you to laugh and it worked. The sound bubbling up from your chest and into the air before it dawns on you he didn’t know what you did for a living.

“I wish.” You sigh dramatically. “I’m-“ Your alarm going off cuts your sentence off, signifying that it was time to feed Laysa. “Actually, let me show you. Wait here!”

You abandon him in the living room while you open the nursery door. Laysa’s already awake and mewling up a storm as you bundle her in your arms. “Settle down beautiful.” You whisper. “I have someone I want you to meet.”

She quiets down long enough for you to walk back to the living room and see James nervously rubbing his palms on his pants, looking as if he were about to be sick. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was nervous.

“James- Sorry… Bucky meet Laysa.” You keep your voice low as to not startle her and you unwrap the blanket around her. He’s out of his seat and in front of you almost faster than you could blink. Once her face is uncovered, he gasps.

“Wha- I thought- What is she?” He stutters as he takes in her white fur spotted with black and arctic eyes just like his own. His mouth drops open in wonder when she squeaks.

“She’s a snow leopard cub. I’m a keeper at the Bronx Zoo as well as a zoologist and wildlife rehabilitator; her mother had twins but, Laysa got ill so she ignored her to focus on the healthier cub. It’s not all that uncommon in the wild and if this happened in their homeland of Siberia, Laysa wouldn’t have made it through the first night. She needed round the clock care and I already had the nursery set up from when I had to take in some macaws.” You explain, rubbing under the cub’s chin. “What did you think Laysa was?”

James’ cheeks redden at your question and you feel your own face heat up. He didn’t-

“I thought you had a baby.” He admits sheepishly before meeting your eyes. “This… isn’t what I was expecting.”

You can’t help but laugh as you grab his hand and place it on Laysa’s head. “If I had a child and found out Patrick was cheating on me, nothing on this planet would be able to save him.”

You meant it and you had the resources to follow through.

But, that wasn’t something James should know about just yet… or ever. Not when he looked so tender stroking the small cub.

“Can you hold her while I make her bottle?” Once again, you don’t wait for confirmation before handing her off to him and going to the kitchen to heat up her meal; enjoying the milk while you can. Soon enough she’s going to be on a raw meat diet and you were not looking forward to cutting up bloody deer and pig.

By the time you arrive back to the living room, James is sat on the couch, Layla settling onto his lap, both entranced by the television. You don’t think twice before snapping a picture to send to Sam later, sure that he’d love to poke fun at Barnes for going soft.

Though, soft isn’t a word you’d use to describe James Barnes. Quite the opposite actually. The man was a wall of rippling and glistening muscle. Muscle that had invaded what little sleep you had gotten since meeting him.

You didn’t mind it all too much as long as it kept Patrick off of your mind.

You take your seat opposite to the man, almost immediately being ambushed by a little ball of fur who had just seemed to notice the bottle in your hand. Laysa’s steps were stuttered and clumsy but, you saw them as progress, last week she could barely move.

“Look at you go!” You coo, scooping her up when she gets close and she eagerly takes the bottle. She really had done a complete three-sixty from when you first brought her home. You loved working with animals and you loved being able to watch them in their natural habitat from afar but, being able to hold and nurse them was incredible.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been to the zoo before.” James voices before taking a drink and you let out an exaggerated gasp.

“That just won’t do.” You tsk, readjusting the bottle. “You should come when I go back to full time. You can even bring Steve; we have senior discounts.”

He glares at you playfully before setting his glass down and settling back onto the couch; back leaning against the armrest and legs sprawled out on the cushions. He looked more relaxed than he had the entire time you’d known him and it brings a warm smile to your face.

Laysa finishes her bottle and is asleep almost instantly; instead of putting her back in the nursery, you wrap her in a blanket and set her on the couch next to you.

“Y’know I told everyone you had a kid. Stevie almost hunted down Patrick himself when he found out, Nat had to stop him. Then, when you talked about how sick she was, Nat had to stop me from hunting him down.” He confesses, eyes never leaving the little bundle next to you.

“Good to know family means a lot to you superheroes.” You laugh quietly, eyes drifting from the screen to the figure laying across from you.  “You’re going to have to wait in line behind Matt and Foggy though and that’s only if they get to him before Elle does.”

Yes, Elektra made it very clear that she’s first in line if Patrick tries something after today.

Barnes raises an eyebrow but says nothing as he grabs a handful of M&M’s, giving you an idea. You and Foggy used to do this during late night’s studying at Cambridge; after discovering Matt’s abilities you roped him into it too. Whenever any of you got too overwhelmed, it was tradition to have a movie night complete with the game.

“Hey, see if you can make one into my mouth. If you make it, you can either ask me a truth or to do a dare.” You prompt, mimicking his positioning by leaning against the back of the couch and bringing your feet up onto the cushions.  “If you miss, it’s my turn.”

“You have to answer?” He clarifies, already settling into a suitable position and you nod giddily. Patrick never played the game with you; said it was childish and not worth his time. You found yourself comparing Bucky to Patrick a lot in the past few days. “Who’s first?”

Just as the Apache relay in the movie begins, so does your competition with the Avenger on your couch as you open your mouth expectantly. You realize your mistake as the first M&M falls into your mouth with ease. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t smart to ask an Avenger grade sniper to play your candy truth or dare game.

James doesn’t even try to hide his cocky grin. “What’s the worst dare you’ve had to do because of this game?”

Oh he was going straight for the jugular. Sadly, you didn’t have to think too hard. Matt and Foggy were a little fucked in the brain if you were being honest.

The drop of chocolate melts on your tongue and you hum in satisfaction before answering. “It’s a toss up between having to streak across campus naked and having to down half a bottle of tequila. Consequently those were on the same night so yeah.”

His blue eyes widen in shock and you try to play it off as no big deal with a shrug. That was definitely your most memorable college experience and one you hadn’t even told Patrick about because you were sure he would have had a conniption.

“Naked?! You ran across a campus naked?”

“Mhm. Cambridge was never the same after Foggy, Matt, and I went.”

He mouths the word Cambridge in disbelief before a smirk takes its place. “I guess I have no choice but to believe you.”

“Actually, I think Foggy still has a video of it. He planned on playing it at my wedding but, Matt and I vetoed the idea.”

You shuddered to think what would have happened if your two hundred plus guests had to witness your blurry and naked form dashing through the dark with Matt and Foggy’s laughter in the background. You mother probably would have dropped dead right there.

“That’s a wedding I would have paid to be at.” He laughs. “I didn’t even have a proper one. Claire wanted a courthouse.”

“I almost wish I had a courthouse ceremony.” You admit whilst grabbing a handful of chocolate. “I ended up having people I didn’t even know watching what was supposed to be the best day of my life. All I can remember from that day was thanking Patrick’s twice removed great step aunt for her attendance and that my dress was the most hideous thing I’d ever laid eyes on.”

With a roll of your eyes, you motion for him to open his mouth and he does so with a smirk. Unfortunately for you, your aim wasn’t as good as James’ or Matt’s and the piece of candy ends up smacking him in the cheek before falling only to be caught mid-air by a metal fist.

Show off.

You stick your tongue out in a childish form of retaliation and an incredulous laugh falls from the man’s lips. Embarrassment heats your face and you open your mouth reluctantly, signaling the continuation of the game in order to prevent a snarky comment from Barnes.

Once again the candy lands in your mouth effortlessly and you groan. You hear him clear his throat and you brace yourself.

“What’s your favorite kind of food?”

The game takes off from there with Barnes managing to make every candy but one into your mouth and asking you questions that can only be considered mildly invasive where as you had more candy on the floor than you did in your hand, only making two or three of your shots.

“What’s your favorite memory from before the war?” You ask and it clearly catches him off guard. You almost feel bad before remembering the reason for the game. It was to get to know each other beyond what was currently happening.

He tells you his favorite memory about Steve spending their train money on hot dogs and it has you laughing so hard that tears come to your eyes.

“Y-You spent how much on a stuffed animal?” You choke on a laugh as you try to catch your breath and soon enough, he’s laughing along with you, both of you oblivious to the door unlocking.

A candy pelts your shoulder and you retaliate with two thrown in his general direction, neither of which hit.

“I thought you’d be good at this doll. This is your game.” The way he chuckles send a shiver straight down your spine and you brush off the feeling by throwing a pillow at him which he catches easily. Anything to get to hear him laugh like that again. James had a nice laugh that came from his stomach and reverberated around you like his embrace from earlier.

“Oh my God.”

Yours and James’ heads snap towards the door where the two people you dreaded seeing were stood, mouths open and eyes wide in shock. Patrick and Claire were here and you and James had been too caught up in each other to notice. The thought made a smug and downright cruel smirk grow on your face which only widens when James walks to your side of the couch and offers his hand to help you stand.

You and James were a united front and it appeared that he wanted them to know it.

Your eyes abandon his blue ones and look towards Patrick. He was seething, you could see it in his eyes but, you could also see the fear. After all, he had just been caught with the Winter Soldier’s wife and James could snap him in half with his vibranium arm tied behind his back.

Despite the victorious feeling in your chest, you seem to be at a loss for words. You want to yell. To scream in their faces that they were caught and they were about to lose the best things to ever happen to them. Instead you scoff.

“About damn time you got here.” You scowl, picking up the stack of papers on the coffee table and handing the top one to the man beside you. He takes it with a poorly whispered Thanks sweetheart and you know it’s because he wants to get under Patrick and Claire’s skin.

It works.

“Y/N, baby w-what is this?” Patrick stutters next to a teary Claire who looks nothing less than ashamed. They were caught and they both knew it but, Patrick never was one to go down without a fight.

“This.” You motion between the minimal space between you and James, anger rising in your chest. “Is my good friend Bucky. You’d never guess how we met. When was it again?”

There’s a bite to your words that makes Claire wince and you want to throttle her. She didn’t get to act scared and sorry now. She sure as hell wasn’t scared or sorry when she was destroying her marriage and hurting the man who had vowed to love her for the rest of their lives.

Your eyes flicker to Bucky’s blue ones and underneath the anger, you could still see the sadness that was currently weighing your own heart down. You could read him like a book and you were both on the same page.

He pretends to think for a moment before answering. “Three days ago. I believe I ran all the way here after finding out the guy who my wife was cheating on me with had a wife of his own. I’d say we bonded pretty quickly. Shared life experience will do that.”

His words cut like a knife and you love it. All you had seen was James Barnes the gentleman, this was new and exciting. Dare you say, attractive even.

“B-Buck-“ Claire sobs and you can’t stop the scoff the leaves your throat. “It d-didn’t mean anything. I swear. I love you m-more than anything.”

Her words set something off in the man next to you and he growls; the sound shaking your very core. You hand finds his arm on its own vocation and, as calmly as you can, make your way towards the shell-shocked pair. Ignoring Patrick in favor of leveling a glare at the woman who tore your marriage, your life apart. Maybe it was petty of you but, you honestly didn’t see what either man saw in Claire. You were thoroughly unimpressed.

“If you loved him, this would have never happened.” You seethe, inches away from her face. “I’ve known him for seventy-two hours and I can already see that he is a kind, caring, selfless man who deserves much better than you. You’re pathetic. A sniveling little girl who isn’t a fraction of the woman he deserves. You’re a rat. My husband is a rat. And if you know what’s good for you, you’d save your bullshit apologies and words for your fucking lawyer.”

A firm grip on your arm causes you to gasp and turn towards your soon-to-be ex-husband but, as soon as you register his hand on you, it’s wretched away by sleek metal.

“You don’t get to touch her.” James warns, flinging Patrick to the floor in a heap. Without a second glance to him, he turns to Claire and forces the papers into her hands. You let your stack fall onto the man on the ground.

“Your shits packed Patrick. Take it and get the hell out of my house.” You mock in your bitchiest voice before looping an arm through James’. “I was thinking Thai tonight. Sound good?”

Patrick mumbles something under his breath and you just know it’s something snide; you want to shrug it off but, something deep in your gut wants to fight with him. Scream. Yell. Curse.

“What was that?” You ask in a sickly-sweet voice, daring him to repeat his words for all of you to hear. You know he will. He always rises to the bait.

“I said you’re a raging bitch.” He shuffles to his feet with a glare directed at you. Bucky bristles beside you and mumble for him to let it go. To let you handle it.

“If me throwing your lying ass out onto the streets means I’m a raging bitch, then I guess I am. But, I’d rather be a raging bitch than a washed up, dishonorably discharged, peaked in high school, disrespectful to his mother, wannabe Avenger, who can’t match his own fucking clothes.” The insults spew out of your mouth like dragon’s breath and it burns him with how calm you sound. You knew raising your voice would give him the satisfaction he craved so you held out.

“Do you wanna know why Y/N? Do you want to know why all of this happened?” You open your mouth to say no but, he keeps talking. “When I got dusted. My last thought was damn, I’m dead and I wasted half my life on an ugly cow who thinks she’s hot shit because she went to college!”

His words were like a slap in the face but, you’d rather die than let it show so, you force a laugh out of your lungs.

“I didn’t just go to college. I got two fucking Doctorates.” You seethe, gripping onto James’ arm for some kind of ground.

“Oh and I’m sure your parents would be very proud of you if they didn’t abandon you on the side of the road like trash!”

Whatever you were going to say next gets caught in your throat. You never spoke of your parents and Patrick knew that. He knew it was a line he was never supposed to cross. You’d kept your insecurities close to your chest; not even telling Matt, Foggy, or-

“Get out.” Your voice cracks and, when he doesn’t move, you end up yelling. “Get the fuck out!”

“And I’m sure they’d love to hear about you shacking up with a HYDRA assassin. You’ve been surrounded by scum all your life, why should I be surprised.”

“Patrick-“ Claire gasps yet, no one pays her any mind. She was background noise to the firefight between you and your husband. You almost feel guilty- this wasn’t just about you and Patrick; Bucky was supposed to get his time to confront Claire as well but, for some stupid reason, you hadn’t been expecting this.

You hadn’t expected the man you love to open your stitched wounds by shoving a hot knife into them. Suddenly, you stand up straight and before you realize it, your phone is in your hand.

Your birth parents may have abandoned you, your adoptive parents may have passed away, but you still had family. You still had him and you were a fool for thinking you shouldn’t rely on him.

The ringing doesn’t last a full second before the call connects and a raspy voice shoots the fear of god into your soon-to-be ex-husband. A god named Frank Castle.

“Yeah sis? E’vrything all right?” He grunts, probably in the middle of his daily workout. You had two choices; handle this like an adult or…

“Frankie?!” You sob dramatically with a truly wicked smile on your face. “H-He’s been cheating on me and-“

The phone cuts off as soon as the words leave your mouth and your eyes meet Patrick’s wide ones.

“You better start running baby.” You hiss. “Hope you have a good place to hide. I don’t think The Punisher is going to show the man who broke his baby sister’s heart much mercy.”

You hated the nickname but, it struck fear into the hearts of all who heard it. Beside you Bucky barks out a laugh.

Maybe not everyone.

Regardless, time is of the essence and Patrick knows it because he’s instantly scrambling. The way he trips over his own feet to take his meager possessions has you humming in satisfaction. Watching him panic makes you feel vindicated. He was going to pay for hurting you.

You knew the feeling was temporary, so you revel in it while you can.

“Leave your key. I want these papers signed and then I never want to see you again.” You order and the papers are signed and in your hand within minutes.

Without so much as a goodbye or sorry, he leaves. Abandoning you and the life you two had built together. Abandoning Claire to face you and James alone. A coward- through and through. How had you been so blind this whole time? This was who Patrick was- who he had been all your lives.

Fifteen years and he was able to just turn his back on it all. Leave like it didn’t matter.

Like you didn’t matter.

God, you wish it didn’t hurt as much as it did.

“The apartment’s yours.” Bucky voices after a moment of silence and a sharp laugh leaves your lips when Claire sobs. “I advise you apply for a transfer though. Natasha made it very clear what will happen if she sees you again.”

You watch as she reaches for him before her hand falters mid-air, consequently falling back to her side and tightening into a fist.

“You’re going to regret this.” She hisses even though tears are falling from her eyes. “You’re nothing without me.”

Your breath catches in your throat when Bucky stiffens next to you. This bitch…

“Without me all you are is a stupid, needy, little HYD-“

Your fist throbs instantly and it takes you a moment to realize what you had just done. Eyes wide, you stare at the red welt on Claire’s cheek, down to your fist, and up to James, who is looking back with eyes just as wide.

“Did you just punch me?!” She shrieks, both hands flying up to cover her cheek.

“Yeah.” You mumble after a beat of silence before clearing your throat. “I did and I want you out of my home before I give you a matching bruise on the other side as well.”

She sputters in disbelief before turning her eyes back to Bucky who, once he’s over his shock, just shrugs. “You heard her. We’re done here.”

With a stomp of her foot and a childish wail, she stalks out the door and you follow, slamming it after her.

Silence envelops the room and you’re acutely aware of Bucky’s eyes on you. Shuffling your feet, you garner the courage to look him in his eyes. 

“That went well.”

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

Tags: @luthien-t​ @vicmc624​

[shining-red-diamond]

Ch. 20: A Path

Cast of Characters//Ch. 1//Ch. 2//Ch. 3//Ch. 4//Ch. 5//Ch. 6//Ch. 7//Ch. 8//Ch. 9//Ch. 10//Ch. 11//Ch. 12//Ch. 13//Ch. 14//Ch. 15//Ch. 16//Ch. 17//Ch. 18//Ch. 19//Ch. 20//Ch. 21//Ch. 22//Ch. 23//Ch. 24//Ch. 25//Ch. 26//Ch. 27//Ch. 28 (coming soon)

Words: 1.6k

Pairing: ATEEZ OT8 x OCs

Genre: Adventure, Pirate AU

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mentions of deadly traps, bug attacks, blood, and venom

A/N: Italics means they’re speaking Korean

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Phoebe asked as she rushed over to help him up.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

Grace-Anne then kneeled down to get a good look at the stone staircase. The open itself was about as wide and long as a large cardboard box with a descending stone staircase. Each step disappeared more and more into the dark underground, and the cold dampness cut through the jungle’s humidity. Pulling out her flashlight, Grace-Anne switched it on and shined it down the staircase. Nothing out of the ordinary except for a few dead snakes, but she felt uneasy about immediately taking the steps down.

A rock sat idly next to her, and it was immediately serving as a guinea pig. She tossed it down where it could still be visible by the light beams. Landing on a stone in one of the steps, it sank down halfway, and a spear shot up from the middle of the stone. The rock was split into two pieces before falling away somewhere.

“Do any of the notes say anything about this?” Grace-Anne asked as she stood.

Hongjoong was already ahead of her and reviewing the notes on both the map and the journal.

“Yes,” he nodded once he found the page. “Any of the stones with a golf-ball sized hole in the center has a deadly spear. Have your flashlights ready.”

One by one, the crew switched on their lights just before descending down the stone steps, tip-toeing over each holed stone. The air seemed to grow colder and more dense, and a soft blue glow could be seen up ahead. When they reached the bottom, a foul stench attacked their noses as they turned a corner.

“If I see one more corpse,” Dinah threatened, “I will kick a stalagmite.”

“I don’t think it’s a dead body, we’re smelling,” Grace-Anne replied as they walked a little further. “It smells more like mud after the rain.”

The sound of a river rushing could be heard overhead. Hongjoong used his flashlight to read the notes again. “The blue light tells us that’s where the next piece is.”

“What is that light anyway?” Mingi asked as they strolled closer to the light.

“Yeah, there doesn’t seem to be any electrical fixtures down here,” added Yunho.

An opening marked where the blue light was hiding, and once the crew walked in, the light turned out to be what seemed to be twinkling blue clusters sticking to the wall and reflecting off of clear quartz fragments blooming from the ground to the ceiling. With this kind of light, the crew switched off their flashlights.

“Glow worms, of course!” Dahae recognized. “Their bioluminescence gives off a sort of blue or green light.”

“But where’s the diamond piece?” Seonghwa reminded her as the crew looked around. “It could be anywhere here.”

Jongho was about to try to move a quartz piece to investigate any nook and cranny, but Dahae stopped him with a gasp.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“These aren’t just any of the regular glow worms you hear about,” she explained. “These quartz’s have minerals that provide this species with their nutrients, and they’re aggressive if they’re touched by any other living organism. Touch the crystals, and a few of them will attack.”

“They’re not poisonous, are they?”

“They just give you deep cuts, but the bleeding is bad no matter where the laceration is.”

“Found it,” Taeran declared as she looked up something in the ceiling.

Surrounded by clusters of the glowing blue, a shining fractal seemed trapped in another microvine structure surrounded by crystals. Beside it was a sort of lock code identical to a lock combination, but rusted into the ceiling.

“What’s the code?” Dahae asked.

Hongjoong flipped through the journals and notes a few times, scanning each page individually in case he missed it. He found something on the exact lock, but no direct answer as to free the diamond.

“There’s a riddle,” he shrugged as scratched his head. “‘Not a full circle, not an angle, not even a cute angle, only a straight path will you find the key.’”

“What path?” Dinah exasperated. “The only way out is the way we came in, and even then it’s deadly.”

“And we can’t exactly pry open the little binding it’s in without touching the surrounding crystals,” Grace-Anne added.

“Maybe it’s talking about the sun, hills, and a path on a hill,” Seonghwa guessed.

“We’re in a freaking CAVE!” Dinah retorted while motioning towards their surroundings.

Taeran stared up at it and recited the riddle. Circle, angles, path. Circle, an angle, a cute angle, path. A cute angle stuck out to her. Did it mean an acute angle?

“Wait a second,” a lightbulb went off in her head. “It’s not a regular piece of land at all. It’s geometric angles. A full circle is three-hundred and sixty degrees, a cute angle is an acute angle that’s forty-five degrees, and a right angle is ninety-degrees. What we’re looking for is the straight ‘path,’ and it’s a straight line. One-eighty degrees.”

“1-8-0 is the code?” Phoebe asked.

“It has to.”

“How are you going to reach it?” Dahae wondered. “The ceiling is taller than Yunho and Mingi.”

…

Finishing up in the bathroom, Celestia took one last look at herself in the mirror, double-checking for any fly-away strands of hair before standing back and seeing her pregnant self. Her stomach wasn’t as huge as a typical pregnant woman’s, but she still found it cute despite feeling like a bloated fish some days. Baby girl kicked, and the mother-to-be smiled.

“You’re so gorgeous,” San commented groggily as woke up.

“Hi, handsome,” his wife replied as she waddled back into the room.

The curtains were opened just slightly to allow some sunlight in, but not enough to disturb San in his sleep.

“How are you feeling?” Celestia asked as she eased herself on the bed.

“Better.”

“You look better, too. Your color is back. Are you sore?”

San shook his head. “I can move more freely, but it only stings when I move my back a certain way.”

“Dahae said it’ll be like that for a bit, but you’ll be back to exploring our next destination.”

A smile nearly bloomed on the young man’s face, but abruptly stopped. He wanted to see the new site, but Celestia couldn’t go anymore when she’s days from delivering.

“I don’t want you to be alone,” San shook his head.

“I won’t be alone,” she promised. “The girls will rotate out on who stays with me at each stop.”

“But what about when it’s time for you to give birth? We would have to flag down an ambulance or something to get you to a hospital if needed.”

San had wanted his wife to give birth in a medical facility that was safe, and she and the baby would receive proper care; but Celestia had put her foot down on having the birth on the boat since Dahae would help with delivery. However, she was becoming more open to having the aid of a medical facility if things were to go wrong.

“I’ve heard you can’t plan for how a birth is going to go,” was all Celestia could say. “But we can be prepared.”

San just smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “Such a clever woman, you are.”

Celestia scoffed playfully before asking, “Are you hungry? Grace-Anne left us some breakfast.”

“Can you get up?”

“Watch me.” Immediately she scoot to her edge of the bed, sat up, and rolled to one side to stand. “Cake.”

San giggles as the love of his life waddles out of the room and towards the kitchen. Celestia found her meal of eggs and Greek yogurt covered in plastic, and San’s bacon and omelettes were in the same shape. She removed the covering and put them in the microwave for about a minute while she retrieved both of their drinks.

A fit of childlike giggles erupted from San back in the bedroom. Celestia thought his medicine was making him loopy until he started baby-talking and cooing in his mother tongue. Was he looking at the ultrasounds and somehow talking to the baby? It wasn’t until she returned with their breakfasts when she saw what had happened.

“Angel, we’ve got a little stowaway,” San smiled as he was now petting a Siamese cat sitting on his stomach. “Isn’t she cute?”

“She is,” Celestia smiled as she set the food tray on San’s nightstand. “Hi, kitty.”

She held her hand to the feline, palm open and face up; and after a couple of sniffs, the cat licked her fingers and rubbed her face against Celestia’s hand.

“Friendly, aren’t you? How did you get on here?”

“She must have wandered up the landing gear from outside,” San guessed. “I managed to sit up, because I had to pee; and when I came back from the bathroom, there was a super cute cat sitting on your side of the bed.”

Celestia gave the purring cat a few more scratches behind her ears before thinking for a moment.

“What’s the captain gonna say?” she asked as she sat on the edge of the bed.

The captain had a thing with animals on the ship. It wasn’t that he didn’t allow it, it was that everyone had a job to do and wanted everyone to always stay on task that getting a pet for one crewmate or for all to share seemed impossible. Everyone, including Dahae, had begged Hongjoong multiple times for a furry friend, but he always said no.

“Well,” San thought, “I mean we already have a baby on the way, so he might say our new friend has to go; but since you’re going to be here on each stop, maybe she can help keep you company.”

As if excited by his idea, the cat leapt off of San’s lap and tip-toed to Celestia’s bump. She began to purr as she rubbed up against it. It was as if she now knew there was something precious being nurtured and developed in a protective shell.

“I think we might have found our guardian for Baby Choi,” San jokes with a chuckle.

-

Tagging: @not-majestic-bluenicorn​ @actuallythatwaspromise​ @barsformars​  @philosopher-of-fandoms​ @daybreakx​ @lilhwahwa​ @hongism​ let me know if you’d like to be added or removed

[jgreaxcfdszx]

Nightmares ft. Azumane Asahi

fluff, asahi x gn!reader

A/n: this is an older post btw

-1468 words-

This story includes: Cursing, slight OOC

masterlist

You shot up from your bed, sweat encasing your body. You looked over to your boyfriend who was sleeping next to you.

He groaned, rubbing his eyes to see what was happening. He looked up at your fragile figure.

Asahi sat up and put an arm around you. “What's wrong?"

"I just had a nightmare, that's all."

He kissed your forehead before laying back down on his side with his arms open. "Come here," he ordered, his voice a mix of soft and stern.

You laid down next to him, hiding your face in his clothed chest. He pet your head lovingly.

"Do you want to tell me about it, pumpkin?"

You shook your head. "It's nothing, really."

Asahi lifted your chin up gently. "No, it isn't. I'm right here, you can tell me anything."

"I don't want to, sorry honey."

"That's okay! Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story to help you go back to sleep?" You nodded. "Mmmm, okay baby. Now, I want you to just relax, okay? Can you do that for me? Yes? Good job. So, sorry if it doesn't fit your standards, I'm just making this off the top of my hea-"

You put an hand on his arm, stroking it. "Don't worry about that, any story that you make fit my standards." He blushed at your comment, grateful that there was no light in the room.

"You're too sweet, pumpkin. Now shhhh, I'm  starting it.

    Once upon a time, there was a princess who loved to eat popcorn. She had twenty microwaves in her room, all designated for popcorn. For breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all she ate was popcorn.

    Obviously, eating only one thing all the time is not going to be healthy. The princess knew this, but she didn't care. Her family always warned her that if she continued the bad habit, she would turn into a piece of popcorn as well, which she always replied with, 'if that happens, I'll just eat myself!'

    It was a well-know fact that if you eat too much of one thing you'll turn into it, but the princess thought it was a myth. Her explanation? 'Well, I've never seen it happen, so it must not be true!'

  After 18 years of only ever eating popcorn, the princess woke up one day as a piece of popcorn. She tried to scream, but she didn't have a mouth! She looked around, trying to find someone who could see her. No one was in her room. She rolled off of the bed, rolling her way down the stairs. Oh, also, she is a human-sized popcorn. 

  Once her father saw her, he screeched, running up to her. 'is this what my little princess has turned into?', he questioned, putting his hands on her sides so she wouldn't roll away. Once he realized she couldn't talk because she didn't have a mouth, he started crying very loudly. 'Someone, please, come help my daughter!'

   A few seconds later, a pink fairy poofed into the air. They both looked at her, waiting for her to do something.

  'Oh, do I have to speak now? I think I do. Anyways, I'm the popcorn fairy, who takes care of people who have turned into popcorn.' The fairy said. 'I can turn your daughter back into a human!'

Her father jumped for joy. 'On one condition,' the fairy's voice turned very serious. 'Your daughter can never eat popcorn again.'

The princess was shocked. She didn't want to have to give up popcorn! But, she also didn't want to be a popcorn anymore.

The father looked at his daughter. 'Princess, roll around if you want her to fix you. Don't move if you want to stay a popcorn.'

A couple seconds passed before she started rolling around. A bit of popcorn fell off of her, falling into a crack. A mouse came and took it, going back to it's cave.

  The fairy nodded. 'Okay, now everyone look away. Princess, close your eyes,' The fairy waved her magic wand a couple of times before poof! the princess was human again.

  She ran to the mirror, checking if this was real. She looked the same, the only difference being that she was missing her left ear.

She screamed, looking at her father and the fairy. 'What happened to my ear?!?' She pointed to the side of her face that was earless.

'Oh, yeah, sometimes that happens,' the fairy answered, shrugging. 'When bits of the popcorn roll away, when I turn you back to human, you're going to have parts that aren't there anymore.'

  'My daughter doesn't have an ear! Why are you treating this so casually?'

  'Sir, I can't do anything about it. Maybe next time you should teach your daughter not to eat the same foods all the time,' and with that, she poofed away.

Did you like that story, pumpkin? Sorry it was a bit sad." He rubbed your back soothingly.

You made a grunt, meaning that you did.

"Mmm, that's good. Do you think you can go to bed nicely now?"

"What time is it?" You said quietly.

Azumane checked the clock. "Mmm, 4:20. Why?"

"Can you-um," You stuttered.

"You want me to-"

"Yea,"

"Of course. Do you want this one to be more happy?" You nodded, putting one of your legs over his.

"Mmm." He wrapped the blanket tighter around the two of you. "This one will be shorter, if that's okay with you,"

"Yes, it's fine Azumane. As long as I get to hear your lovely voice,"

He chuckled. "I love you so much Y/n, you know that right?"

"I love you more!" You said, giggling.

"Hmmm, I don't think that that's possible. Okay, I'm going to start it now.

Mr. and Mrs. Beaver had always lived a happy life together, and today was no exception. They were currently sitting at the park, having a picnic together.

  Mrs. Beaver was snacking on some sunchips, while Mr. beaver was munching on leaves. They were both very excited to talk to each other again, as they hadn't had seen each other in a while.

  They had both been at work, working very hard so they could have little beaver babies. Mrs.-"

You looked up at him. "Wait, are they going to have sex in this story?"

"What? No! They're not going to do that. Anyways, back to what I was saying,

  Mrs. Beaver worked at an elementary school, while Mr. Beaver owned a pastry shop. Everyone knew them as 'the berry in love beavers'. Sorry that's kind of cringy, it was the first thing that came in my head.

'Fred, guess what happened the other day, oh it's so funny!' Mrs. Beaver said, barely containing her laughter. 'So, one of my students came up to me before school ended and said, "Mrs. Beaver? Why are you getting ready to leave if you live here?" The little cutie thought that I lived there!'

They both laughed. 'Hilda, you know how some little kids can be! So silly!' She giggled. 'I should cook them in my pastries.'

"Asahi, why. It was such a nice story but you had to ruin it."

He became flustered. "Sorry, Y/n. But I did tell you that I was making these off the top of my head,"

You laughed. "Why is putting kids in food on the top of your head?!?"

"It's because you're acting like a child right now."

You gasped, holding back a laugh. "You want to cook me?"

"No, I just want to eat you! Nom nom nom" He tickled you, making you laugh.

"A-a-a-a-asahi! I'm not going to be able to sleep if you keep on tickling me like this,"

"Then stop interrupting me! Shhhh, pumpkin. AnYwAyS,

  Mrs. Beaver looked at him in shock before laughing. 'Oh Fred, you really crack me up!'

Fred laughed with her. 'You should've seen the look on your face!'

They continued their picnic before going back to their den. Once they got back to their home, the couple laid down in their bed and fell asleep.

The end."

You whined. "Azumaneeeeeeee! That was so short! Can I have another one?"

"Y/n, baby, no-"

"Please! Please! Please, daddy?" You smirked.

"D-d-don't call me that!" He tilted your chin up so he could look at you. "You are going to bed right now."

"Wait, no-"

He laid on top of you, trapping you in his arms. "You are going to sleep right now, okay? Enough fun."

"Hmph." You closed your eyes.

Asahi put his head on your shoulder. "Good night, my love."

"Good night, daddy."

"BITCH I SWEAR IF YOU CALL ME THAT ONE MORE FUCKING TI-"

[moonstruckholland]

Heyyy, I've to say that I'm obsessed with your writing, it's so cute and soooo good, btw the one inspired by GG, definetly my favorite. I was wondering if you could write about Peter and the reader being childhood best friends,but one night everything changes when they finally kiss. Like, having trouble breathing while looking at the reader, smth that definetly didn't happen before, but it's happening now bc he's aware he's falling hard right now. THIS IS REALLY LONG, I'm sorry hahaha.

Movie Night

Word count: 950

Warnings: fluffy fluff

A/N: Thank you so much, love! I absolutely loved this request, I'm always a sucker for friends to lovers vibes ☺️ I hope you like it 💕

It was a typical Friday night. You and Peter were having your weekly movie night, a tradition that started back when you were little kids.

Peter was sitting on your couch, lazily scrolling through movies on disney plus while you made popcorn.

"Did you find anything yet, Pete?" You called out from the kitchen.

"No, not yet!"

The smell of buttery popcorn filled the air as Peter heard the microwave beep and you emerged a couple of minutes later, juggling a large bowl and two cans of Dr. Pepper in your hands.

You put the popcorn and sodas on the coffee table in front of you, sitting down beside Peter before giving him a wicked smile, "So, does that mean we can watch Toy Story 4?"

"No! Y/n, please don't make me watch that," he pouted, "it's gonna make me cry."

"Fine," you sighed, pretending to be annoyed, "I guess I could watch that one on my own."

"How about we watch Beauty and the Beast? It's been a while since we've seen it."

You were practically bouncing in your seat, your eyes lighting up at the mention of your favorite movie, "I mean you can never go wrong with Beauty and the Beast."

Peter laughed, a strange feeling coming over him as he pulled up the movie. He didn't dwell on it, the feeling leaving just as quickly as it came as the opening scene started.

An hour in and Peter found himself distracted. You were singing along with Belle and the Beast softly under your breath, something you did every time you watched it.

Maybe it was the way the soft lighting in the room was making you look and just how happy you were, eyes glued to screen, but Peter couldn't stop looking at you.

He always thought you were beautiful, but the way you looked right now, he couldn't explain it, it was different.

He always thought you were beautiful, something he reminded you of almost daily, but in this moment, you were glowing. He noticed every little detail, the way you bit your lip when you found yourself getting too emotional at certain scenes, despite seeing them a million time, how you would mindlessly fidget with your fingers, and how your breathing would stutter just barely whenever Gaston would do something cruel.

He was completely entranced by you, butterflies fluttering around in his tummy, and a warmth running through his veins the longer he looked at you.

'Fuck,' Peter thought, 'Do I like y/n?'

No, absolutely not, there was no way he could have feelings for you like that, his best friend of over 10 years.

He pushed his thoughts away, blaming the fluttering on some weird food he convinced himself he ate earlier that day, and forcing himself to pay attention to the last 20 minutes of the movie.

By the time the end credits were rolling and you were wiping away a few stray tears, threatening Peter will a pillow fight if he even dared to make fun of you, he had almost completely forgotten his weird thoughts in the first place. But then he turned to look at you, the playful remake on the tip of tongue replaced with a small gasp, when he realized your face was barely a few inches away from his.

Had you been this close this the whole night? He literally couldn't breathe, move, talk, anything. He was frozen, body tense and all he could do is stare at your face.

Your really pretty face.

You gave him a confused look, noticing his weird posture. "You okay there, Petey?"

Petey. The nickname sounded so much different coming from your lips than it ever had before. It made his blood rush to his face, leaving his cheeks a bright pink he hoped you couldn't see.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," his voice slightly cracked on the last word, making him wish he could disappear.

"You sure? Do I have something on my face?" Peter watched as you subconsciously wiped at your face, even though he hadn't responded yet, focusing on your mouth, probably worried you had somehow gotten popcorn on you.

Suddenly, your lips were all he could focus on and he wished he could press his against yours.

"Peter," you said firmly, getting his attention again, "What's up with you?"

"I, um," he licked his lips nervously, his heart beating rapidly against his chest while he tried to come up with something to say. Shit, what was he supposed to say? It's not like he could just ask to kiss you. Right?

He noticed the way your eyes seemed to look down when he bit his lip, and he could hear a small shift in your breathing, making him wonder. Was there a chance you wanted to kiss him too?

"Can I try something?" He asked so softly he wasn't sure if you heard him.

He could tell you were still confused, but you nodded anyway.

'Am I really about to do this,' he asked himself, second guessing everything.

He took one more look at you and he was sure, he was doing this, he had to.

So, with a hand, he gently cupped your cheek before leaning forward and hesitantly pressing his lips against yours.

He was shocked when he felt you kiss him back, melting into his touch. Everything about you was so soft, your skin, your lips, Peter didn't think he could get enough of you.

When the two of you separated Peter's cheeks were flushed and you were both breathing heavily.

Peter had no idea what was supposed to happen next, but he was a hundred percent sure he liked you. A lot.

[petri808]

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thank you for your patience. This week was pretty crazy distracting with the elections lol   The ride’s gonna get rough for a while....

It had become a pretty routine idea for the couple whenever a new and interesting movie hit the theaters to check it out. They could relax and cuddle, letting the stressors of school and work melt away onto the big screen where actors made them laugh or cry and laugh again. The theater that Saturday afternoon was busy with the line for the concession stand long but moving at a decent pace. Natsu and Lucy weren’t too worried about getting a good seat because they’d arrived early enough.

 “Do you think Pets 2 will be as good as the first one?” Lucy questions Natsu.

 “I don’t know. I mean the first one was okay I guess.” He pokes her side in a teasing manner. “You’re just excited cause Mamoru Miyano is dubbing a character again.”

 “He’s hot, what can I say and if he was single, well...” she shrugs with a devious grin, “who knows.”

 “Pfft, I’m a much better catch, plus he’s old.”

 “I’m just teasing,” Lucy giggles. “But he is not that old!”

 Natsu is still laughing over the protective behavior she shows for her favorite voice actor, just as they finally reach the front of the concession stand. “Should I just grab a big tub of popcorn and we share?” He double checks with her.

 “No way mister,” she laughs, “I want a small one for myself cause last time I barely got any.”

 “Okay that’s true, what about a drink? Share or no?”

 “Hmm, yeah, that’s fine. Ooh, and don’t forget my arare this time.”

 It takes only a few minutes for the worker to put their order together. Natsu grabs the two containers of popcorn and their candies, while Lucy holds the carrier with the drinks. They then head towards the hallways leading to the theater rooms. It was a pretty big lobby area with three hallway branches to choose from, so they check to make sure they take the correct one. But just as they’re about to turn in that direction, something or someone bumps so hard into Natsu’s back that he stumbles and the food he was holding flies forward all over the ground. Lucy who was walking right beside him is also hit, though managed to keep the drinks from being thrown too.

 “What the fuck?!” He yells from the impact and Lucy cries out too.

 The whole event was seconds in the making, like a blur of food flying, gasps around them, and immediate questions needing answers. Natsu moves to spin around to confront the person, when arms are quickly wrapping themselves around his body. Meanwhile, Lucy is sent into an emotional tailspin from the sight. Anger and frustration topping the list.

 “Touka?!” Lucy screams.

 “Touka?!” Natsu parrots his girlfriend since he can’t see behind him. He claws at the arms around him. “Get the fuck off me you crazy bitch!”

 A crowd of gawkers gathers to see what was going on, and employees from the concession stand get on phones to call for security.

 “Natsu! I can’t believe you’re cheating on me!” The woman retorts and digs in, holding on as tight as possible. “I’m your girlfriend not her!”

 “You are not my girlfriend!” He screams as he tries desperately to untangle her arms from his body. “Let me you go you crazy nut case!”

 “Touka, let Natsu go!” Lucy shrieks too, digging her nails into the woman’s arm. She didn’t care if she drew blood at this point because she’d had enough of Toukas antics. For months and months, the woman has harassed them. Always showing up and spying on them, approaching them with this same rhetoric. But it was the first time she’d become this physical, latching onto Natsu and not letting go. “Touka, you’re crazy! Leave us alone!”

 “He’s mine!” The woman screams back. “Natsu’s mine and you stole him from me!”

 “She didn’t steal nothin’ you demented freak!” Natsu finally pulls her locked arms away and flips her over his shoulder. Touka lands hard on her back to the gasps and murmurs of onlookers, but Natsu didn’t care at this point. He was too fed up with the stalker behaviors that’s been driven him crazy for almost three years now! “I can’t take it anymore! I’m pressing charges Touka since you won’t leave us alone!”

 Sobbing on the floor but undeterred, Touka grabs for his ankle. “No! I’ll never give you up! Never!”

 Natsu kicks her hand away, then grabs Lucy by the waist and pulls them both out of reach from the crazed blonde. “Stay away from me and Lucy, Touka! I mean it! This has gone too far!”

 Lucy immediately turns and buries her face in his chest as he holds her close. Her mind was reeling and on the verge of tears. Why couldn’t she leave them alone! It had been frustrating until now, but this was getting scary. It felt like they didn’t have the freedom to be in public together without constantly worrying if Touka would show up. Usually, if there were people around, she was less likely to, so her actions this time showed an escalation in behavior.

 In that moment, security arrived and takes charge of the situation. Two of the men secured Touka and haul her away to the building’s security office, while another questions the couple along with witnesses in the lobby. The pair tells them what happened and Natsu insists on pressing assault charges on Touka. Once witnesses confirm their story, the guards take all of the contact information and allow them to leave. Theater employees offer to replace their food for free, but Lucy is so shaken that she just wants to get out of there. It was nice of the staff to give them free vouchers for their next trip.

 “I’m so sorry I ever doubted you, Natsu.” Lucy clung to his side as they walked the short distance to his apartment. “There’s something seriously wrong with that girl.”

 “Shh,” he kisses her temple, “it’s okay. You were just protecting yourself. But I promise you, we’ll get through this.”

 “Are you really gonna push the charges?”

 “Hell yes, I should have done it long ago. Maybe then she would have taken it more seriously.”

 “I hope so too. Maybe they’ll give her counseling in jail.”

 When they arrive at Natsu’s apartment, Gray was home but napping in his room, so they set up in the living room. Lucy makes them drinks and microwave popcorn, then they put on a movie. It wasn’t the same as a theater experience, but at least it was cozy. She cuddles up on his lap with the bowl of popcorn on hers, trying to focus on the movie rather than the events of that day. He in turn keeps his arms around her body to hold her close.

 Stuff like this was exactly what she feared in deciding to date Natsu, but she never thought it would go this far. She was too deeply attached to him to give up now and aside from dealing with Touka, he was everything he’d promised he would be, which was such a rarity that couldn’t be given up lightly. Lucy was comfortable with him, as if they’d known each other forever. Natsu was sweet, caring, affectionate, smart, handsome, funny, respectful of her no matter what. She could tell it pained him whenever stuff like this occurred, frustrated as if he was failing somehow. But it wasn’t all his fault. While yes, he could have been blunter with the woman in the beginning, Lucy had to admit that his caring nature was one of the reasons she loved him for. She couldn’t very well fault him for it now. Natsu also couldn’t control the fact Touka was just crazier than normal.

 “You’re thinking about things, I can tell cause your brows are furrowing.” Natsu’s voice is soft as he speaks. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

 Lucy shakes her head. “No. I’ll be okay, I promise. It’s just so hard to rap my brain around how some people can behave like that.”

 “It would kill me, but I’d understand if you’re tired of having to deal with all this... or me.”

 She turns slightly in his lap. “I’m not leaving. I’m— scared, but I’m not gonna let her win either. You’re just too good to give up.”

 Natsu’s face softens further, slightly embarrassed at such an affirmation. He cradles her cheeks and kisses her lips gently. “It’s me who’s the lucky one.”

*Note: arare= shoyu flavored rice crackers. It's makes a really good snack, but if you add it to popcorn with some furikake omg so oishi, delicious!

For those that don't know who he is, Mamoru Miyano is a popular voice actor in Japan for both anime and he's done dub work for American movies like Pets/Pets 2, etc. He's also my favorite Japanese singer :) I love him so much, OMG.

Last note, the story does take a majorly angsty turn at this point. I swear this ends happier if you can handle the drama lol.

[kidney9-9]

I just need some fluff right now cause sometimes I feel like I'm not enough, and it sucks, I hate caring too much about others and they don't appreciate me. Happens with some of my teachers too, they make fun of me and I get so mad and also sad, because I hate disappointing someone. I also love hugs, and every other type of affection but I don't do that a lot, cause I don't wanna seem needy. Anyway, I just really love your writing and I was hoping you could write something to cheer me up? 🥺

(2/2) Forgot to say that the request was with Peter haha sorry

hi anon! i hope this cheered you up! :) sending some love to you, i’m sorry you have to go through that sweetie!  Masterlist

Peter Parker x Reader (Fluff!) No warnings Word Count: 950

Peter noticed you were sad when you didn’t smile back to him, or at all during lunch. You were usually a cheery person, and when you looked down, Peter couldn’t help but feel sad. So, when he got back home, he sent you a text, “come over in 20 minutes?”. The two of you were neighbors, you lived a few apartments down, and the two of you would always hang out. You quickly sent back, “sure”.

His crush on you was massive as well, so it hurt him more to see you upset. First, he cleaned up his room, quickly stacking away his Star Wars Lego sets, and cleaning off the mess he usually had on his desk. He tidied up his bed pretty quick as well, and then went over to the closet, grabbing all the pillows and blankets he could find. When he ran out of pillows from the closet, he ran back to his bed, and tossed them on the floor, and ran over to May’s room as well, grabbing some extra throw pillows. He neatly laid the blankets out on the floor, over each other, and pushed the pillows in random order on the blankets.

Once he was satisfied with that, he ran over to the kitchen, sliding in his socks across the floor, and opening up the microwave. He placed two popcorn bags in and watched as they grew. He speedily took them out of the microwave, hissing from the heat, and pouring the popcorn in a huge bowl. He set it aside as he ran to the pantry, grabbing all the snacks he knows you like, and dumping it into another bowl. He took both back to his room, placing them in the center of the blankets on the floor, and also grabbing some water for the both of you.

His next task was setting up your favorite movie on the projector, him and Tony had been working on. The projector casted a large picture, much better than ones in theaters, and it was in 3D as well. He grabbed the flimsy 3D glasses, and neatly pushed them next to the snacks after he set up your favorite movie.

He ran to the bathroom, checking himself in the mirror, hoping he was presentable. Your knock startled him but he sped to the front door, quickly opening the door with a charming smile. “Hi there.” He greeted, guiding you in with a funny bow. You giggled at his action, already feeling happier with Peter. He led you to his room, almost like an excited kid as you asked him what he was doing.

“Ta-da! I noticed you were down today, and I um, just wanted to cheer you up.” Peter stuttered out suddenly feeling nervous. You gasped in surprise at the layout, and quickly turned to Peter with a happy grin, “Thank you!”

You slid your shoes off before stepping onto the blankets. You shifted around finding a comfortable spot, as Peter closed his door and turned his main lights off. He turned on the fairy lights that May bought him as a joke earlier this year, and you gasped again at the beautiful lights hanging over you. Peter smiled at your reaction, and sat down next to you, pressing play on the movie without saying anything.

By the sound of the introduction of the movie, you turned to Peter, smiling widely at him. “Peter- this is amazing, thank you so much.” You paused for a second, blushing at his smile back at you, as the two of you laid back against the pillows. “I was…upset today. I made a present for Wendy, from scratch. It took a month or so, for her birthday and she just, didn’t even care. It really hurt my feelings. And a few of the teachers also started being mean to me, after I wrote that paper about school and social media. Some of them started calling me names…” You trailed off, hoping you didn’t reveal too much to scare Peter off.

It didn’t scare him off, it just hurt him even more now, knowing why you felt that way. He scooted closer to you, and wrapped an arm around your body, as he cuddled into your side. He hoped he wasn’t making you uncomfortable, but he knew you needed a hug. You leaned closer and turned into him so the two of you were facing each other.

“That was rude of Wendy, she should have been grateful to you. And your teachers sound terrible, we should write them up about it. You’re such a caring person, and you deserve the world,” Peter whispered, feeling intimately close to you. He was only a breath away, and you can almost feel his lips near yours. Your eyes drifted down to his lips, slightly smiling, “Thank you Peter.” You felt like you were glowing under his arm as his legs cuddled with yours too.

The movie was long forgotten to the both of you as Peter glanced down to your lips as well. “Can I kiss you?” He whispered softly and feeling nervous. You smiled and with a small nod, you lean in together and your lips touched.

His lips were buttery soft as your hands went back around his head, pulling him in even more. Peter gasped slightly at your movements but drew you closer into him. The two of you pulled apart for a slight second to breathe, and Peter went right back in with closed eyes and you giggled as he kissed deeper.

You pulled away again, with a bright smile back to Peter, “Thank you.” You murmured, making Peter shake his head with a giddy smile, “Anything for you.” - tagging: @itscaminow @lozzypoz321