#the whole kitchen smells nice but its not gonna be done for at least another 30 mins WAAAAAHHHHH

[imyourcomputergame]

Making soup from scratch for the first time :)

[thestarrynightslover]

I'll Make It Okay for You - Part 2

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Word count: 2,765

Warnings: Discussion, yelling, some angst, mentions of drugs, drug abuse, drug withdrawal, rehab facility and insecurities/self-sabotage (very, very slightly, tho). 

Summary: You can read Part 1 here. What happens when (y/n) (y/l/n), Harvey’s secret crush and a junior partner at his firm, openly defies him in front of everyone? 

Disclaimer: I don’t own the show Suits, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: I think that this turned out better than Part 1? As always, I’m not sure, though. Just to make it clear here, I’m still on season 4 of Suits, so didn’t wanna get too much into any canonic details, self-preservation, lol. Anyhow, I hope you like it, and, ofc, feedback is always appreciated.

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

You and Harvey stayed in the embrace for a while, as you sunk in all the comfort emanating from him. He'd even started stroking your hair. The whole situation felt so intimate, that, by the time the two of you finally pulled away from each other, it was almost as if there was this cloud of embarrassment hovering around you both.

"Err… I'm s- sorry, I shouldn't have, um-" You started saying nervously but he cut you off.

"No, it's okay. And, um, I'm really glad you told me what happened… It's definitely a lot to deal with. And I was a complete asshole this morning. So I'm sorry." For a moment both you and Harvey just smiled at each other, sitting there in a comfortable silence. Until he decided to break it: "So, um, did you get her a lawyer? I'm assuming you wouldn't wanna represent her yourself because it could be problematic…"

"No, uh, yeah. It would be problematic.” You corrected him. “But the most I could do was make the cops get her a public defender, cause I called my dad when I was on the way there and he just wouldn't have me paying for anything else. He is a retired cop, so the pension isn't too great, the pride though… And I’m already covering Lisa's treatment because it's her best shot, but this…"

"And he wants to teach her a lesson." He completed what you were trying to explain.

"Yes."

"And you don't agree with him?" Harvey asked, almost reading your mind.

"Well, it's complicated. Because when I see what Kat's doing with her life… I get just as frustrated as my parents, and I really do want what's best for Henry." The fact that your sister wasn't what's best for her son was only implied. "But she's my little sister, you know?" As he nodded in understanding, you went on: "I wanna help her, but, at least for now, I think I'm just gonna wait and see if mom and dad change their minds… Which I think they will do! I mean, my dad was a cop for years. He knows what those places do to people. As much as we all desperately want her to get her shit together, I don't think that prison is where she'll succeed in doing so." You finished, voice filled with concern.

"Well, I don't think I would be as lenient, and compassionate, as you are, but I do see your point." Harvey told with a sympathetic smile. "Besides, she is your sister. And, trust me, I know what it is like to go out of your way to keep a sibling outta trouble." He added with a tired sigh, making you wonder how much you really knew about the man sitting in front of you.

"Either way, now I don't see much that I can do for her at the moment. Gonna try and have her attorney keep me posted, of course, but…" 

"Yeah…"

"I just… I can't help but feel guilty about all of this, you know?" You said, after having stood up and turned your back on him, finally letting on what was bothering you the most to the other lawyer.

"No, not really, I don't." He stated simply while you just looked back at him with a shocked expression on your face. "I mean, there's not a single approach on this that makes me think you're to blame for anything." He explained himself, standing up as well this time.

"Harvey, I-"

"No, (y/n), let me stop you right there. What I see here is a family going through a rough situation with one of its members. Then three of the other members just try to do everything they can to get out of the initial situation, while another one just keeps making more problems for her family. And, right now? Today? You walked out on your bosses, risking a lot, to take care of your nephew. So, tell me again, how is it that any of these things happening to your sister are your fault when you’ve done nothing but help everyone in that goddamn family of yours, huh?" He asked you in a sarcastic tone.

“Well, it is very much my fault because I’m her big sister! I should have been there for her! Advising her, helping her, just, just being her friend…” You confessed your regrets to Harvey. “But, instead, I was too busy making my career.”

“And what the hell’s wrong with that? Look, I’m a big brother too. I get it. Ever since we were kids our parents imbued us with the role of ‘the responsible one’, always telling us to look after the youngest… But, hey! If you just threw all of your work up in the air and left running every time your sister had a run-in with a problem, you wouldn’t have made it this far! Not in this field anyway!” He practically spit the words in your face, going to battle with your self-sabotage, which was a very new side of you for him. “And you’re a freaking great lawyer! One of the best that firm’s ever seen. So don’t be sorry that you didn’t sacrifice all of that for being better than the amazing sister you probably already were!”

“You simply can’t know that.” You stated in a low voice, not really knowing how to respond to everything Harvey had just told you. He really thought all that about you?

“Yes, I can!” He yelled back, stepping closer towards you. “I can know that for a fact, because,” he started again, his face pretty close to yours this time, “because, I’m beginning to finally understand, even if just a little bit, who you really are. And because I always notice all the little things when it comes to you, which, in my experience, is how you actually get to know someone. You know, the details.” He told you in the sweetest tone, giving you a charming-Specter-like smile, he leaned closer, if that was even possible, God, was he gonna kiss you?

You had to pull away slightly, just enough for him to get the message. And, boy, how you regretted it! Sure, normally, you’d have a ton of bad things to say about him, but after that night… It wasn’t really that bad of an idea, the one of Harvey kissing you. No, nuh-uh! What were you thinking?! If much, you and Harvey were beginning a friendship there! And you couldn’t, or wouldn’t, let some ridiculous thoughts about how great he smelled rob you from that opportunity! Your inner struggle was interrupted by him saying:

“Hum, I- I should probably go, right? It’s, um, it’s getting pretty late…” He said nervously. You should be relieved right now. Because this assures that things between you and Harvey (your new friend?) aren’t gonna go too off the railroads anytime soon.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll, uh, I’ll walk you to the door.” So why is it that you sounded almost disappointed when you said that? “You know what they say, you gotta walk people to the door if you ever want them to come back…” You joked a little, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, right.” He shot back simply, with a small smile on his lips. “Bye, (y/n). Have a good night.”

“Thanks, you too.” You watched him turning around to leave when you remembered there was something else that Harvey deserved to hear from you. “Uh, Harvey!” You called out.

“Yeah?” He asked, turning back around to face you. And before you could even think it through one more time, you were already jumping in his arms, wrapping him in a tight hug.

“Thank you. For tonight. For everything.” You told him, as he slowly put his arms around your waist, hugging you back.

“It was no problem, (y/n), really. That’s what friends are for.” And, just like that, your day ⎼ turned into night ⎼ had gone from Earth to Hell, and, now, to Heaven.

                                                       ---

Around 7:30 in the next morning, as you gathered some of your work stuff, you heard someone knocking on the door. Who could it possibly be this time? You asked yourself while walking there to open it.

Once again you were surprised to be met by none other than Harvey Your-New-Friend Specter standing at your doorstep. With your supposedly locked-up little sister in tow. What the hell?

“Before you say anything,” he started, “this time I come bearing gifts!” He practically beamed at you, as Kat threw herself in your arms.

“Yeah- yeah, um, I can see that.” You stated, still very confused with the whole situation.

“Thank you so much for sending your friend to bail me out, sis!” Your sister squealed out. She looked so pale and thin; winter-like clothes on, even though it was only the beginning of the fall; and she was shaking. Effects of a rushed withdrawal, you guessed. “You’re the best! Now, where’s my little baby?” She asked you, as if everything that had happened was nothing.

“He’s, uh, he’s in a day-care facility. The best in the city, you have nothing to worry about.” You informed her, who seemed rather relieved to hear that news. “Can you, uh, can you please stay here for a minute while I talk to my, uh, my friend in the office, Kat?” You asked her with a calm smile on your lips.

“Yeah, of course. I’m not gonna break anything I promise!” She told you, sounding a lot like a wicked child.

“No, um, I know you won’t. If you want something to eat, please, help yourself.” You assured her, motioning to the kitchen.

“Oh, no! I’m not hungry! Mr.Specter took me to a diner before we came here.” She let you know, which just made you even more surprised, and confused.

“Oh, he did? Well, that was very nice of yours, Harvey. So, come with me?” You asked him in a sort of mockery tone while pointing to the room he’d just been in, the night before.

As soon as the two of you stepped into the office, Harvey started desperately: “(y/n), before you come at me for not running this by you first, just, please, hear me out for a second.” He pleaded with you, to which you just nodded your head. “So, last night. I heard what you said about your dad, and you don’t have to worry about paying me anything. I’m representing your sister as a friend of yours.”

“Wait a second. You mean you’re taking this pro-bono? Harvey, you do that and the whole firm is gonna know. And you promised.” You quickly accused him, even though you were very thankful for the way he just stepped up to solve one of your problems.

“I know! Let me finish, will you?” You nodded again while muttering an apology. “I’m not going to break your trust. And I’m not handling this pro-bono. The only people I’ll have to loop in are Jessica and Donna. And you know they won’t say anything.” He told you, but you were still a bit confused. “And, before you even ask, no, that doesn’t mean that either you or your family will be paying me anything. Also, I got your sister a spot in a top-of-line, very discrete, rehab facility, I have a friend over there, who said we can drop her off at any time. I just, um, figured that it’d be the best if she got professional help this time. Plus, on my talk with her, she agreed to sign papers that make you and your parents Henry’s temporary guardians. I really think that Kat wants to turn her life around this time, (y/n). She was very- Did I do something wrong? Because, err, you know me… I always find it easier to ask for forgiveness instead of permission, but, this time, I really did think that this would make you happy...” He trailed off with a confused look on his face while scratching the back of his neck

“Oh, I am happy.” You told him, still looking absolutely stunned.

“Then why, uh, why don’t you look happy?” He asked, sounding a bit hurt.

“It’s just that… I’m kind of surprised. How did you even think of all those things?”

“I, uh, it’s like I said yesterday, I notice things about you. And I really listened to what you told me last night. So I just started thinking about ways that I could solve this thing for you, ways that I could make you happy again throughout all of this storm.” He told you and it had to be the sweetest thing you’d heard from Harvey (hell, from anyone!) in your entire life. “But I understand that I overstepped, and I’m-” But since he just wouldn’t stop talking anymore, you had to cut him off in order to shut him up.

His eyes were in absolute shock for a moment, as he just stood reactionless in your grip. But then he got the message and pulled you closer, grabbing your waist tightly while your hands stood firmly wrapped around his neck. You were pretty sure that neither one of you was still breathing at that point, but you didn’t care. Because, God, his mouth tasted so good in yours, it was like they’d been made to kiss each other. The despair both of you were investing in the kiss was huge, but it was turning into a calmer kind of fire, as the air started becoming too necessary again. He pulled your mouths apart for a minute, you resting your forehead on his shoulder.

“You know…” He started, still catching his breath. “When I mentioned you coming at me, I hadn’t really envisioned this.” He joked, a victory smile on his lips.

“Ah, well, you know how upset it makes me when you simply won’t shut up.” You shot back with a shrug of your shoulders, smiling at him.

“Huh. Wish you would’ve shut me up like this every other time.” He mocked, earning a smack in the arm from you. “Ouch! Why’d do that?”

“Because you were being a dickhead, ruining our moment.” You gave him a fake irritated glance.

“Oh, c’mon! Tell me you didn’t think about it too!” He challenged, and you didn’t feel like giving him that kind of win at the moment, so you just pulled him back in for another kiss. One that may have lasted a little longer than it should have, considering that you two still needed to take Kat to rehab and, then, go to work so you could try and save your job. But, what could you do if he, and his body, and his mouth, and his eyes, and his everything were the only things that mattered?

As he rested his chin on top of your head ⎼ that was laid on his chest ⎼, you looked up, pulling away a little, him making sure you wouldn’t fall off the small couch. “Thank you, Harvey. For everything you did. For listening. For being here right now. For everything.”

“Don’t thank me, (y/n). You’ll never have to thank me for anything. I just want you to promise me one thing.” He stated seriously.

“What?” You asked, a bit hesitant.

“That, from now on, you’ll tell me all about it, every time you have a problem.” That was easy enough, you thought. But, you being you, simply had to ask.

“So that you can be here for me?” You questioned him with puppy eyes.

He just chuckled lightly. “Well, that too. But, mostly, so that I can make it ⎼ whatever it is ⎼ okay for you.” Your heart was on the edge of not being to take it any longer. What could have you possibly done to deserve that man?

“Okay, I promise.” You said, watching his expression begin to soften already. “But, only if you promise me the same. Because I wanna make it okay for you too.” While you thought Harvey was simply gonna say yes, he started laughing at you.

“Always the kick-ass corporate lawyer, I see.”

“Would you even have me any other way?” You joked back, more relaxed now.

“Yes, of course! I’d have you in any way you came to me. Which is why I promise too.” With that, you didn’t have any other choice but to kiss him again, because crying over the fact that Harvey Surprisingly-Romantic Specter was an absolute cinnamon roll was not an option.

Taglist: @just-a-girl-with-alot-of-issues​

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

let me be your ruler.3

Warnings: guns, dubcon, noncon, oral.

This is a dark! fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: (dark!mob!) Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: You grow desperate.

Note: So... yeah, another long ass part and yet this story is gonna keep going forever. 🤡

Anyways, I’m excited for this and hope you are too.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You wiped your hand with the cloth, the cum cooling in a sickly layer across your palm. The same daze washed over you as that morning after the party. Your ears pricked as you listened to Peter in the next room; a faucet turned on and off and you heard a drawer snap closed. He sighed as he strode back through to the bedroom, fixing his belt as he smirked at you.

“Princess,” he came closer and pointed to the corner where a tall hamper stood hidden beside a sleek black dresser. “You haven’t even given me a chance to give you the grand tour.”

You backed away from him and went to dump the cloth in the tall basket. Like everything else in the room, it was ornate and ridiculously fancy. You wondered if his toilet paper was even embossed with his initials. The man, as you were realising, never did anything half-assed.

“Come on,” he waved you to him and held his arm out. “It’s a big place and I want you to feel… at home.”

You stopped short and stared at him. “I don’t… Can I just go--”

“We’re not done,” he snapped his fingers and tapped his toe, “Be good, Princess, and I might just send you off before dark.”

You inhaled and held your breath as you crossed to him. He wrapped his arm around you, his hand on your lower back, and ushered you to the door. He pulled it open and you stepped out into the hallway. He patted your ass as he pointed you onward with his other hand.

“Guest rooms,” he pointed to three doors along the airy hall, “A reading room at the end.” He led you along, “Just around the corner, my office, I guess you’d call it.” He spoke casually as if having a dozen room was hardly extravagant. “At the front of the house, the sunroom. there’s a nice balcony overlooking the yard. You can spend the whole day out in the sun.”

He squeezed your ass as you hesitated and he pointed out several more bedrooms and rooms meant for little more than sitting and admiring the fine furnishing. As you reached the top of the stairs, he urged you down, and followed as he hummed in approval of each step you took.

“I like those jeans, princess,” he said as he caught up to you at the bottom, “But I’m not looking for a jeans girl.”

You faced him and your nostrils flared. You rubbed your palm against the denim. What happened in the bedroom flashed through your head and your breath caught in your throat. You cleared it away as anger flowed through your veins.

“Well, I wear jeans so that’s too bad,” you said rigidly. “Isn’t it?”

He chuckled and brought his fingertips to your cheek. He caressed your skin and gazed into your eyes.

“You’ll wear what I say or nothing at all,” he purred dangerously, “My guests wouldn’t mind either way.”

Your lips parted and you recoiled from his touch. You crossed your arms and glanced around the foyer. You heard muffled voices, a low rumble from another room. You bit back your resent and raised your head. “Fine.” You uttered.

“You’ll love the pool, princess,” he pointed you to the left, “Just through here.” 

He took you through the front room with its expensive sofas and armchairs, an artificial fireplace that took up half the wall, the front windows that looked out into the finely curated garden, and the bar curled against the back just before the archway into the next. 

A long kitchen of pristine whites and pale silvers. The rear wall was almost entirely transparent and a pair of sliding doors opened up into the backyard. Peter showed you out onto the mosaic plateau that coiled out around the vast pool, a hot tub swirling in the corner opposite a rocky grotto. It was like watching some indulgent special on the entertainment channel yet completely unlike anything you’d ever seen in your life.

“There’s a sauna in the basement as well,” he tickled your spine, “And anything you need, I can get.”

You looked at him. He winked and ran his tongue between his lips. You felt out of place in your jersey tee and jeans, the sneakers you wore for errands worn out and scuffed. And you were disjointed; as much as you didn’t belong, you didn’t want to be there.

“Come on, let’s go check on the boys,” he grabbed your hand and you slowly acquiesced.

Back through the sliding doors, your soft soles squeaked on the marble and you went to the right. You head an odd clack as you passed through the dining room with seating for at least a dozen, and through to the second room at the front of the house. The noise was louder as you entered as Steve leaned over the felt and squinted.

Bucky turned as he held a cue and his cheek twitched as he sighted you beside Peter. You fidgeted and the man beside you held you tighter as his hand rested on your hip.

“You two look busy,” he scoffed.

Steve sank his shot and stood. “You told us to stick around,” he raised his brows, “You’re not exactly a great host, Parker.”

“No? You’re playing on my table, sitting around on my couch, eating my food,” Peter’s fingers tapped your hip. “Which isn’t cheap given your pal has a bottomless pit in him.”

Bucky chuckled and turned his cue. His eyes lingered on you before they met Peter’s.

“Well, we’ve been running around cleaning up your messes.” Bucky intoned.

“You been paying your debt.” Peter rebuffed. “And you know that you need me as much as I need you.”

Steve cleared his throat and nodded at you. His jaw clenched and Peter glanced in your direction. He turned to you and brought his hands up to cradled your face. 

“Do me a favour, princess,” he placed a peck on your lips, “Go find something to do.”

You stared at him dumbly. Do what? You peered at the far doorway and thought of just walking out the front door. He chuckled and his hands slid down to your shoulders. 

“You won’t make it past the gate.” He warned, “Now go on.”

He tugged on your tee and released you. He turned to the other men as Steve lined up a second shot. You huffed and strode past the table into the foyer. You neared the bottom of the stairs, trying to remember where everything was. The men’s voices carried through as you stepped up on the first stair.

“You help us with Tony, we’re even,” Bucky said. “But you keep stringing us along and you’re going down with him.”

“You won’t get to him without me,” Peter growled, “We both know that.”

You shivered and climbed up the stairs. You shouldn’t listen, you were in deep enough. You had no idea what the men were up to or why they were after Tony, but you really didn’t want to find out the details. You only had to bide your time until Peter let you go. 

He was going to let you go, right?

✨

Peter found you in what he called the reading room. It was more a small library. It smelled of paper and leather bindings. You were restless at first, skimming the spine of the books, and finally picked out a classic you once read in high school. You opened it but didn’t read, instead staring at the font and trying to think of how exactly you’d ended up there.

As Peter came in, you closed the book and sat up. He seemed amused and stayed in the doorway, hands in his pocket as he admired you. 

“Keep reading,” he said, “Don’t mind me at all, princess.”

“It’s…” You started but smothered your voice. Arguing had gotten you nowhere and if you could keep him placid, he might just let you sit in peace a little longer. “Okay.”

You opened the book again. This time, you focused and read each line slowly. You remembered why you hadn’t liked the book in your teenage years. It was dry and the protagonist was so wrapped up in his own voice, he seemed ridiculously tone deaf and detached from any genuine thought.

You sensed Peter moving in your peripheral. He went to the window and then paced along a shelf of books. As he neared, you pretended not to notice. You shifted as you felt his warmth and turned the page. You did your best not to notice as he knelt on the floor but lowered the book to your lap as he pushed your legs apart.

“What the hell--”

“Shhh,” he rubbed your thighs, “Keep reading, princess.”

You gaped at him as he pushed his fingers under the book and nudged it up. “What are you--”

“Just relax,” he slithered as he lifted the book and your hands followed to keep hold of it. “Keep reading.”

You squirmed and found it hard to keep your arms up. He picked at your fly and you tried to close your legs but they met his sides. He tutted as he unbuttoned your jeans and pushed the zipper down. He pushed up the hem of your tee and kissed your stomach as his fingers curled under the waist of your jeans and the elastic of your panties.

“Peter,” you gasped and lowered the book so that it collided with his head. “Stop!”

He reached up blindly and moved the book back into place before your eyes. His fingers slid around to the side of your jeans and he grazed his teeth against your skin. He bit down and you yelped.

He tugged on your jeans and jerked you roughly. “Come on, princess,” he pulled your pants again, as if to lift you from the seat. “Don’t you want yours?”

You trembled and planted your feet. You raised your pelvis uncomfortably as he kept yanking on your jeans. He slid them down your thighs with your panties and you dropped down heavily. You snaked your hand down to cover yourself and he swept it aside. He leaned back on his heels and gazed up at you.

He rubbed your thighs and pinched. “Princess…” his voice sank deep into your chest. “We both know you want it.”

“Peter, please, I want to go--”

“I like that one,” he looked at the spine of the book, “Read to me.”

“I…” You hissed as he pulled your jeans further down your legs. You repositioned the books and sniffed as he rolled the denim to your ankles and tore off your sneakers in a single swipe. He moved you in the chair and you whimpered. “Peter--”

“Read!” He demanded as he framed your pelvis with his hands. “I wanna hear your voice.”

Your thighs tensed as he bent over your lap and his hot breath tickled your skin. You gulped and blinked at the page. You forced your voice out as the words passed from your lips without understanding. You didn’t follow the story as Peter pressed his mouth to your vee and felt along your folds with his fingertips.

You gasped as he slipped his tongue down over your clit and hummed. Your breath caught and he squeezed your thigh. You reread the same sentence and spoke through gritted teeth. His fingers teased your entrance as he flicked his tongue around your bud. Your words were punctuated by your sharp breaths.

He suckled on your clit and slowly pushed his finger into you. You nearly tore the page as you turned it. Your nails sank into the cover and your feet arched as you pushed against him hungrily. His mouth sent a ripple through you and you hiccuped in surprise as he added another finger.

You lost track of your place and dropped the book against your chest. You threw your head back and moaned. You closed your eyes and gripped the book tightly as Peter urged you to the edge of the seat. He kept his head buried between your legs and curled his fingers. You could hear your arousal as your walls clung to him.

“Oh, god,” you moaned and rocked your hips against him.

He kept on, encouraged by your surrender and you let the book slip down between your side and the chair. You gripped the upholstered arm as your head lolled back and forth in ecstasy. Your nerves stormed and bounced off each other until finally the coil snapped and searing heat exploded in your veins. 

You whined through your climax and panted at the ceiling as Peter urged you on. Your eyes slowly opened as his fingers slowed and he pulled away from your cunt reluctantly. Your heart beat wildly and you lifted your head as he kneaded your thighs.

You swore as a figure stood in the open doorway. Peter hadn’t shut the door and you’d been too distracted by him to notice. You grabbed the book and covered your lap with it as Peter looked over his shoulder. Bucky grinned as he leaned against the frame.

“Just came to tell you we’re off.” He said, “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Jesus Christ,” you pushed Peter away and bent to pull your jeans over you. You crossed your legs as he turned to face the other man.

“Well, then go,” Peter snipped.

Bucky chuckled and pushed himself straight. “See ya, Pete.” His eyes flitted over to you. “Sweetheart.”

“Go!” Peter hissed and Bucky waved him off as he turned back down the hall.

You watched him go, embarrassed but tingly in the afterglow of your orgasm. Peter smoothed back the strands of hair that had fallen down his forehead. He grinned as he looked down at you and shrugged his jacket off his shoulders and dropped it beside him.

“We didn’t even finish chapter one,” he drew the jeans away from you and turned the book over. “I’m hooked already.”

✨

You were in shock as you stood in the elevator of your building. Time fractured as the hours passed. You didn’t think Peter would ever let you go but when he did, you barely understood what was happening. He helped you back into your jeans, though your panties had disappeared. Then, as you walked gingerly, he led you back down through the foyer and to his car.

You didn’t remember his search but he dropped your phone into your lap and pushed your purse against your thigh. You stared at the windshield and braced yourself as he drove through the gates. The ride was short, or lost to your frazzled mind. He kissed you goodbye, you remembered that; deeply, longingly. Then, a final warning. 

“Wear a skirt tomorrow,” he cooed, “Six o’clock, princess.”

You nodded to appease him. And then it all blurred again and the metal door slid open and you stepped out onto your floor. You fished out your keys, your phone still clutched in your other hand. It was late, Halle would be home soon, if not already.

The apartment was dark and you felt invisible as you blended in with the shadows and went to your room. You undressed, the denim rough against your flesh. You groaned as your core pulsed and your sensitive clit thrummed. 

You crawled into bed, naked. Even the blankets made you squirm. You were on edge yet exhausted. You stared at the ceiling and let the toll of the day set in. You were dragged down into the dark, your eyelids sagged, and your limbs were heavy. You heard yourself snoring as you succumbed to the night.

When you woke, it was light again. The day before felt like a dream. You peeked out into the hall. The apartment was quiet. You grabbed a towel and covered yourself to sneak into the bathroom. The whine of the faucet awoke you fully and the hot water stripped away the remnants of yesterday.

You inhaled the hot steam as you dried yourself and once more swept the towel around your body. You went out to the kitchen and loaded the coffee machine. Somehow you had to get your head together and do some work. It was Monday. That meant you couldn’t get distracted by the chaos that had erupted in your personal life.

You winced as you heard Halle’s door. She yawned as she entered the kitchen.

“Hey,” she said. “Man, I was so late last night, you were asleep when I got home.”

“Oh yeah? That bad?” The scent of coffee filled your head and chest.

“Yeah, fucking asshole had me auditing my own reports all night,” she grumbled. “Well, how was your day?”

You stared at her. You turned and got a mug from the cupboard. “Lazy.” You lied.

“So… what happened with Peter?” She asked coyly.

You sniffed as you spun back and watched the drip of the machine. You shrugged. “It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated? You went on one date?” She snorted, “You really do make the most of things.”

You glanced at her darkly and grabbed the carafe. You poured yourself a coffee. “Tell me again, was it worth it fucking your boss?”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, are you seeing him again?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Ugh, but he’s so cute and so rich!”

“Rich? And how do you know that?”

“Oh, I saw that watch he was wearing.” She said, “It wasn’t cheap.”

“I see, so I should like him because he’s got good taste or because he’s loaded?”

“Jeez, what’s wrong with you?” She scowled. “I’m just tryna have fun.”

You sighed in exasperation. “There’s nothing wrong, Hal, I just don’t need you poking around in my personal life. You’ve done enough already.”

“I was trying to help you. I mean maybe a ‘hey, thanks Halle for getting me a date.’”

“I don’t have time for this. Or you. I have work--”

“Work, work, work,” she sneered, “That’s always your excuse.”

You bit the inside of your lip. You wanted to scream. You wanted to tell her everything about Peter; how pushy he was; how shady he was; how you were terrified of him and whatever it was he did. About the men he surrounded himself with and the gun under his jacket. But you didn’t.

“No, it’s called responsibility, Hal,” you snapped and snatched up your mug.

You left her in the kitchen and as you got closer to your bedroom, your heart sank lower and lower. What was happening to your life? Everything had been in order and suddenly, it was all fucked up.

You shut your door harshly and set your coffee on your desk. Your phone sat on the corner and lit up. It was a text from Peter reminding you of his last words; ‘pick you up at 6’. You sat and stared at the message. Six. You had until six to figure this all out.

✨

The subway ride to the station was the longest of your life. Each stop made your heart leap and as you got closer to your destination, you felt sick. It was your last resort. You didn’t think it would get to this but you couldn’t think of any other way out.

You almost felt guilty as you climbed the steps to the station doors. The memory of Peter’s touch sent chills through you. He was gentle and intoxicating but it didn’t change who he was. You pushed through the doors and looked around. A flurry of activity rushed around you; officers escorted criminals and stopped to chat with each other as others waited in the crowded chairs for their turn at the counter.

You sat, uneasy and anxious. You watched others approach the desk and speak to one of the officers. Most left looking disappointed and you felt less certain as your turn grew closer. When you got up and greeted the round faced officer, he smiled and asked your purpose.

“Um, well, I…” You looked at him badge; Officer Leeds. “I don’t really know what exactly I need to do but… I have someone who won’t leave me alone.”

“Oh? Like a stalker? An ex?” He asked.

“No, not exactly but I, uh, keep telling him to go away and he… won’t.” You frowned. “I just don’t want him around.”

“Okay, well, we can file a report and go from there.” He searched around and pulled out a set of papers. “Come with me.” He led you away from the counter and to a smaller desk. He sat and waved you down across from him. “We’ll start with your details.”

He went over each space; name, address, phone number… By the time you were done all that, you were nervous and twitchy.

“And you know this person who is bothering you?” He asked.

“Yes, kind of,” you uttered. “His name is Peter.” You gulped. “Parker.”

He nodded and wrote down the name. “And what actions has he taken that have made it necessary for you to file a report against him?”

“We… I went on one date with him. And after, I told him I didn’t want to see him again. I stopped messaging, I blocked him, and I thought he got the point but then he shows up at my apartment and…” You took a breath, “ He had a gun. He took it out, he pointed it at me, and then he made me go with him and…” Your eyes were glossy as you thought of what happened next; of what Peter had done. “He wouldn’t let me go until…” You shuddered. You couldn’t say it. “He just kept me there for hours.”

“But he did end up letting you go?”

“Yeah but… not right away. I didn’t even wanna go with him. And… he had a gun.” You repeated. “Don’t you understand?”

“So, you went on a date with a guy and you're having second thoughts?” He asked.

“No, he won’t leave me alone,” you insisted.

“Alright, well, I got all this down. We’ll process the report and if he comes around again you let us know and we can add an addendum.”

“A report? What am I gonna do with a piece of paper?”

“These things are complicated, ma’am. You see, we need to document a pattern of predatory and harassing behaviour before we can apply for any sort of order against him.” He held out his hands. “All you can do is keep a log of everything he does here on out.”

“So what, I walk out of here and… he shows up again and…” You rubbed your chin. “There’s nothing else?”

He shook his head. He looked away and you felt like breaking something. 

“Is there someone else I can talk to? Someone higher up?” You hated how the question made you sound but you checked your phone and it was already close to four.

“Ma’am, we really don’t have the time to be--”

“So is that a no?” You interrupted.

He stopped and took a breath. He stood and smoothed out his shirt across his stomach. He was short and chubby and at a glance, you would say he looked friendly. He was anything but as his face fell and he stomped away with a grumble.

He returned shortly after and crossed his arms. “Come on. Captain says he’ll give you two minutes.”

You stood and followed him around the pen. He took you to an office separate from the rest and pointed you inside. You entered with a knock on the frame and a man with thinning dark curls looked up from the file on his desk. He stood as he welcomed you in with a gesture and waited until you sat to do the same.

The plate on his desk read Cpt. Hogan and the badge on his chest marked his rank.

“So,” he leaned back in his chair and took the stapled papers. “You have an admirer.”

You struggled not to roll your eyes. They weren’t taking you seriously. You clutched the wooden arms of the chair. “I have told this man to stay away from me and all he has done is threaten me with a gun and dragged me out of my home.”

“Physically?” He asked. “Like he physically forced you out?” He looked over the report.

“He had a gun, what was I supposed to do?”

“And you didn’t call us sooner…”

You shook your head. You stood and pulled your purse higher up on your shoulder. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

“Wait,” he said as you made to turn away. “Look, there isn’t much I can do beyond this report. It’s just the way it is. A lot of paperwork, not much action. But,” he stood and opened a drawer. “These are my details.” He grabbed a pen and scribbled on the back of the card. “That’s my personal number. You take that and you give me a call if you need me. I’ll look over this case myself.”

You took the card and stared at it. ‘Captain Harold Joseph Hogan’. You turned it in your hand and looked at him. “Thank you.” You said quietly.

“Hey, look, I know the city. It’s scary. There’s a lot of men you can’t trust. Shady characters.” He neared and followed you to the door. “Now, you take care of yourself and remember, you can call me.”

“Thank you, again.” You tucked the card in your pocket.

“Here, I’ll show you out,” he waited for you to walk through the door and tailed you. 

You passed Ned at the front counter dealing with a new citizen. Happy stepped around you and opened the front door for you. You stepped out with a smile and as you were about to thank the captain again, you tripped and caught yourself on the long door handle. Down by the curb was a familiar car and leaning against it, a familiar figure.

You looked at Captain Hogan. “That’s him.” You murmured.

“Happy,” Peter stood and took long strides towards the steps, “How are you, Captain?”

“Parker,” Hogan shook Peter’s hand and you bit your lip to keep it from trembling. “You know how it is. Not easy cleaning up the city.”

“No,” you sputtered, “This can’t--” You tried to sidestep Peter and Hogan latched onto your arm.

“Honey,” he lowered his voice, “I got you a ride home. Safer than the train.”

“Please,” you begged, “Please. How--”

“Now go on,” he let you go as Peter grabbed your other hand, “You got my number.”

Peter tugged on you until you stumbled down the steps. You looked back as Hogan stood by the precinct doors and watched with a smile. You were dragged to the car and the door opened, nearly hitting you. You flinched and look at the leather interior.

“Peter…” You breathed.

“Get in, princess,” he said firmly as he let go of your hand and jabbed your arm painfully. 

“Why are you doing this?” You asked.

“Because this is my city and I own everyone and everything in it.” He growled. “Now you get in the car so we can talk.”

Your eyes burned and your throat constricted. You sat and he slammed the door. He got in on the other side as you stared at the dashboard. He startled you as he snatched your phone and you tried to take it back. He slapped your hand away and tucked your cell into his jacket.

He reached over gruffly and buckled your seat belt. You reeled as he started the car and pulled out into traffic. You were shaking badly and could barely breath as your heartbeat thumped in your ears. You didn’t know where he was taking you; you’d never gone this way before.

He stopped in an alley. You could smell piss and old cigarettes. The seat belt snapped back as he hit the button and grabbed your arm. He turned you to him and you felt cold metal under your chin. The barrel of the gun prodded above your throat.

“I told you, princess, I don’t play games.” He snarled. “And I don’t give second chances. I rarely give warnings.”

“I’m...sorry,” you were frantic and your breath came so shallow you could barely speak. “Please.”

“I’ve been good to you. I only want to be good to you.” He bit out. “But you keep pushing and pushing and pushing.”

“It was a mistake.” You quivered. “I didn’t-- I’m afraid.”

“Mistake?” He repeated. “A mistake?”

He pressed the gun harder under your chin. You grasped his wrist as you stared into his dark eyes; dilated and dangerous. He shook his head and his jaw squared.

“Princess…” He muttered and squeezed.

You closed your eyes, ready for the end, but all that came was a click. He drew the gun away from your throat and sat back. He snickered and you fell against your seat. Your lashes fluttered and you watched him as he checked the chamber of his pistol. He tutted and felt around in his jacket. He loaded it and tucked it away.

“Looks like I make mistakes too,” he drawled, “But I don’t make them twice.” 

He smacked the steering wheel and his knuckles turned white as he curled his fingers. He started the car as you hugged yourself and withheld a sob.

“Do you get me now, princess?”

You nodded. Your eyes blurred with tears and you quickly swiped them away as he reversed out of the alleyway. “I get it.” You sniffed. “I get it.”

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

It Had to be Witches

Dean and Sam are on a hunt at Rowena’s request. When Sam is out of commission, Dean has to work with you.

Warnings: Unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it!) male oral receiving, fingering, mention’s of witchcraft, brief mentions of ritual style murders, brief mention of animal sacrifice, Dean is a sad boy.

Word count: 3567

All written and proofread (poorly) by me. All mistakes are my own. Please don’t copy or repost my work. Likes are great and I’ll love you forever if you repost and comment. Thanks for reading.

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Sam and Dr. Philips examined each of the women’s bodies. Carved into their limbs were runes consistent with the ones Rowena described. She said she was sending an expert who lived in the area but the boys hadn’t made contact yet.

“The other agent who was just here asked the same questions. Don’t you guys talk to each other?” Dr. Philips covered the bodies. Some of the women he knew personally.

“Different departments. You said he was just here? How long ago?”

“She. Her name is Diana Luna. She’s down at the evidence locker. All the women had the same necklace. She went to check it out.”

Sam thanked the doctor and set off to find you. First he called Dean. “Looks like Rowena’s story checks out. Her expert was just here. The bodies were marked with runes and all of their tongues cut out. And, get this, they all had the same necklace. Maybe a coven?”

“Of course. Of course it’s witches, Sam. Look, don’t go far. I’m on my way.” Sam was sitting on a bus bench reading coroner's reports when you approached him. Due to the nature of the case, Rowena insisted the elder Winchester carry out the task at hand. “Use Sam as bait.” she instructed.

“Agent Cornell? I’m agent Luna from the Lansing office.” You extended your hand. “Director Macleod sent me.”

“Yeah, I bet she did. Bring me up to speed.”

“Sure. I’ve got what you’re looking for right here.” You blew a very potent powder in his face knocking him out. You put the lankier Winchester into your truck and sped back to your house. Getting his dead weight up the stairs was a task but you did it. “Sweet dreams, Sam.”

Dean searched the entire town square for Sam with no luck. He tried his phone again and it was going directly to voicemail. Sam could hold his own against any witch but Dean was still worried. As he unlocked the door to the Impala, he heard you call his name over his shoulder and turned his head to see who was speaking. You blew the dream dust into his face rendering him unconscious.

He was heavier than he looked. You shoved him into the back seat and pried the keys from his hand. Baby growled angrily when she started but you had her purring for you in no time. You drove him back to your house and dragged him inside where you intended to tie him up. Rowena coached you on all their tricks. You took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and divested him if anything sharp. With his wrists and ankles bound in a pretty decent slip knot you splashed his face with water to wake him.

“Morning, handsome.” he smirked as you wiped his face.

“Big mistake, sweetheart. I’m guessing you’re the one we’re looking for.”

“Pretty and dumb. Rowena was right and you would be guessing wrong. Her name is Teresa Wilson. She came seeking asylum with our coven a few months ago. Said her whole order was obliterated. Turns out, she wasn’t exactly who she said she was.”

His face split into a cocky grin, “They never are. What do you want with me?”

“You need to help me find her. Rowena gave me a locator spell. When I cast the spell, I’ll need your fancy bullets. Problem is…”

He laughed heartily, “Problem is you can’t touch ‘em, am I right, sweetheart?”

“You would be correct.”

“And what’s in it for me?”

You took a step back just out of his reach just in case, “If you help me I’ll let your brother live.”

He strained against the ropes veins bulging in his forearms. “If you touch one hair on his head I’ll rip you apart myself. You hear me, witch?”

Your nails dug sharp into the meat of his cheeks so he would look at you. “Relax, baby. Your brother is safe. He’s asleep upstairs dreaming of puppies and rainbows as we speak. But if you don’t help me, he’ll never wake up. And, Dean, when I kill someone, it sticks. No resurrections for Sammy this time.”

You’ve never seen a human man snarl before. It was pretty cute. Rowena warned you not to be mesmerized by his sweet face and his Disney Princess eyes but you couldn’t help it. The man looked like he would, in fact, rip you apart. And, Hecate help you, you wished he would. You traced a finger along his sharp stubble covered jaw. His eyes turned up to look into yours, throwing daggers at you. “Anyone ever tell you how cute you are when you’re angry?”

“All the time. Get to the spell so I can take my brother out of here.” he growled.

“It’s not time. If I untie you, are you gonna be a good boy or do I have to hit you with my knock out dust again?” You couldn’t take your eyes off of his perfect lips smiling at you.

“Sure, mommy, I’ll be a real good boy.”

You knelt in front of him and parted his knees slightly to undo the first knot. “Such a smart ass.” He growled low in his throat when you peered at him through your lashes. His dick grew painfully hard against his jeans as you slid your hand up his legs to maintain balance. Of course you noticed though he tried to squeeze his thighs together to hide his arousal. “Do you like me like this, Dean?”

Of course he did. You were just his type. A little bratty but you had a good heart. Rowena told them about you. The little warrior for the Grand Council. They constantly sent you to do their dirty work and you did so without question like a good soldier. No wonder Rowena paired the two of you. You were the female version of him. “Like what?” His voice was low and dripping with need.

“On my knees for you. Looks like you do.” You winked at him but he looked away embarrassed.

It had been a long time since he felt a woman wrapped hot around him. Everything in him wanted to follow your siren song and happily crash. He couldn’t do it. This story always ended bloody. “You couldn’t handle it, sweetheart.” He peered down at the bulge in his pants. So did you. Your core heated at the thought.

“Is that a dare or a double dare?.” He spread his legs and licked his lips inviting you to take what you wanted. You shook it off and focused on the task at hand. “Well in any case, I made you dinner. Pot roast, potatoes, peas and carrots. Eat if you want.”

It did smell amazing. His stomach growled remembering that all he had was coffee this morning. The living room and kitchen were well lit and warm. He felt at peace in this place. More so than the bunker where it could sometimes feel clinical and cold. “You got a pretty nice place here. You all alone?”

A sly smile played on your lips, “Just me.” You sat the plate down in front of him with a cold beer and a bottle opener. The oven timer dinged and, when you opened the door, the aroma of cinnamon and spice wafted through the air.

“That pie?” He sounded choked up.

“Apple. I have an orchard in the back. Rowena filled me in on how to keep you happy.” You sit it on the windowsill to cool while you ate. “I can’t have you bashing me over the head and running off before we kill this bitch.”

He shoveled a fork full of potatoes and gravy into his mouth humming in appreciation. “Why me? You had Sam here. He’s much better at this witch stuff than I am. Why drag me out here?”

“You’re more reliable when making difficult decisions. You’re what I need. Another beer?” He nodded breathing in the soft floral scent that wafted off of your skin as you moved.

You didn’t offer any further information and Dean thought that was probably for the best. If he got in his head about the situation he would lose his nerve and that can’t happen. That’s how people die. As of late, Sam has had a lot on his mind. Dean would have to shoulder this burden. At least Sammy was getting some rest.

The two of you shared a comfortable silence only marred by silverware hitting ceramic. “Well that was delicious. Thank you….umm…I don’t think I caught your name.”

“I didn’t give it to you. I’m Y/N. But I wouldn’t mind if you kept calling me sweetheart. Pie?”

Dean's heart beat hard in his chest at the thought of calling you sweetheart “Maybe a little. So when do we do this thing?”

“Eat your pie then meet me outside. I have to prepare.” You slipped out the back door down a dimly lit path to your cauldron. You threw in the mandrake and tobacco. Last was the chicken that you had to slaughter. You grabbed a hen from her coop and stabbed her with your athame. It made a terrible sound which sent Dean flying through the back door ready to fight.

“What the hell was that?”

“Chicken.” You allowed the rest of its blood to drain and discarded the carcass. “periisti. lates. Ego te quaero. I vestrum adprehendet vos.” You chanted over and over until a glowing beacon appeared. “We have to follow it.” The orb circled the two of you then floated towards the Impala. You retrieved his keys from your pocket and started off for the car.

“Whoa whoa whoa. What are you doing?”

“Following the orb.” He grabbed your arm as you started to slide into the driver’s seat.

“No one drives my baby but me. You sit shotgun.” He impatiently waited for you to scoot over. When you reached for the radio he slapped your hand away. “Are you serious?!”

“What? There were other decades besides the 70’s.” He bit his lip and flared his nostrils letting out an unsettling growl. “Driver picks the music.”

“You are a child. Just drive. The spell won’t last forever” you huffed.

“So, just you huh? No boyfriend? Girlfriend?” You didn’t answer keeping your eyes trained on the orb. “Yeah me neither. Maybe later we can grab a drink.”

“My god. Can you keep it in your pants until we’re done? It took a left!”

He sped up taking off after it, “I see it. So that’s not a no.” That was all the invitation he needed. The truth was you would have given it up the moment those green eyes stared into your soul.

“It’s not a no. Let’s focus.”

Baby ate up miles of dirt road before reaching the highway. A couple of miles ahead the orb sped for an exit into town. You were led to the motel where the boys were staying. The door to their room was wide open and there Teresa stood bathed in the light of the orb. You bid it a job well done and sent it on its way.

Teresa, caught off guard, quickly muttered a spell pinning Dean to the wall, sending the gun skittering away. You faced each other down while Dean struggled. “She’s a kid!” he groaned in pain.

“I’m nineteen thank you. You don’t have to do this Y/N. Come on. We’re sisters. We share the same DNA. Let’s take them on together.” Tears welled in your eyes. You may have been blood but you weren’t sisters. She grew up far out of the Grand Council’s reach while you were their trained lap dog.

“Only half little sister. You’re hopped up on enough stolen magic to power the entire city. The Grand Council sent me to take you down. Adiuro te in nomine Hecate. Adiuro te in nomine Dianae. Tuae vires cum luna decrescant.” you chanted. She fought back but the binding spell was powerful. She didn’t have enough magic to hold Dean and fight you so she let him go. When he regained composure, he dove for the gun.

Without warning, Teresa gained the upper hand. She held out her arm and used all of her might to pull you towards her. Blood stained tears fell from your eyes as you struggled to breath. With every last ounce of strength you had you doubled down on the binding spell long enough to hold her so that Dean could put her down. The blast of the shot filled the small motel room filling your ears with a high pitched whining. You collapsed onto the floor where Dean scooped you into his arms.

“Hey, Y/N. Wake up. Stay with me. Shit.” He carried you to the car and gingerly set you down next to him. The drive back to your house felt long. When he got you inside he placed you on the couch and called Rowena.

“Is it done then?” she asked in her thick Scottish brogue.

“Yeah but your girl’s unconscious. She’s breathing but she used a lot of magic. A lot. I don’t think you’ll be calling on her anytime soon.”

“Keep her warm, Dean. I’ll be there soon.” The line went dead. He sat on the floor in front of you and brushed your hair from your eyes.

“Sweetheart, you need to wake up. We were supposed to grab that drink, remember?” He pressed his lips to your temple lingering there for a moment when he heard Rowena’s laugh trill behind him.

“I should add matchmaker to my long list of talents. Out of the way, Dean. I’ll get your girl fixed right up.” She patted his hand and pushed him aside.

His face flushes hot burning all the way to his ears. ”She’s not my girl.”

“Of course. Now, what seems to be the trouble, dear?” She placed her hands on your head. Her eyes glowed as she spoke over you. Your lashes began to flutter and you woke up. “There she is. Good as new.” You and Dean exchanged a look. “That appears to be my cue to go check on Samuel.”

“Thank you, Rowena.” your voice was hoarse barely above a whisper.

“Not at all, dear.”

Dean pulled you into his lap rocking you gently, “You scared the hell out of me, sweetheart.”

“I had to stop her. She hurt too many people.” You felt guilty for ending her but even guiltier for letting her go as far as she did. Guiltier still for not pushing harder to be in her life. “It was my fault.”

“Hey, no it wasn’t. What? You think you should have been a better big sister? You didn’t lead her down this path, Y/N.” You rested your head on his shoulder “All these years and all the stupid fucked up shit Sam and I did, I blamed myself. I took on that burden. Alone. It’s a lonely awful place to be. I’m begging don’t do that to yourself.” He held your face in his hands forcing you to look at him. He wanted to kiss you. You would have let him if he leaned in. Instead he brought you back down to his chest just to hold you. He saw so much of himself in you. You were headstrong and self righteous but your intentions were altruistic.

You melted into his arms so lost in him that you didn’t hear Sam and Rowena slip out. Dean offered his brother only a small nod to let him know you were ok. He had several texts from Eileen anyway. Happy to see his brother didn’t have to spend another night alone, he went back to the bunker.

You sat in silence for a while when you started yawning. “Shit. What time is it?”

“After midnight. I should get outta here.” You untangled yourself from his grasp but didn’t stand. His hands stayed respectfully at the small of your back. You locked eyes with him. Your core tingled as he brushed errant hair from your forehead.

“Or you could stay. We haven’t had our drink yet. Though, you don’t need to get me drunk, handsome.” You kissed his jaw and down his neck working your way to his collarbone. A soft moan escaped his lips when you nipped at his neck. “I mean you enjoyed me on my knees and all.”

“As pretty as you looked,” his voice was low and gravelly, “And, I mean you looked gorgeous. We really shouldn’t.”

You genuinely pouted your lips backing off of your ministrations, “Why not? I want to. And you clearly want to. You’re a fucking legend, Dean. Show me just how legendary you are.”

He arched a brow at you and smirked in the way that only Dean Winchester does. “Flattery will get you everywhere, sweetheart.” Finally his lips were on yours. The force of his kiss took your breath away. It wasn’t predatory or greedy. It was slow and sensuous bordering on hunger. His whole body was hungry for you. Dean Winchester was hungry constantly looking for something to fill the hole inside him. For the moment, that was you. He felt like he was floating and was suddenly very warm. If he stopped kissing you he knew he would just stop breathing. He couldn’t bare the thought.

“What are you doing to me?” His chest heaved. “I feel like I’m on fire.” Surely this must be a spell or enchantment. He pulled you back in for more but this time his hands strayed from your back. They traveled to your hips then under the hem of your shirt to feel your flesh warm against him. He had to feel you. To be inside of you. Deft fingers unbuttoned your jeans. Without breaking the kiss he stroked your clothed core working up a rhythm that flooded you with arousal.

“Touch me, Dean. Please” you cried. Pushing your panties aside his fingers explored your dripping pussy. His pace is maddening. Your hips snapped fucking back hard. “Fuck, Dean. So good. I need your cock. Want you to split ne open.”

“You’ve got a filthy mouth, Princess. Come for me and I’ll give you what you want.” And so you gushed around him moaning like a witch on fire. When your heart slowed to a normal rhythm you stripped naked. Before he could get undressed he took a moment to kiss and touch every inch of you. If this was only for tonight he wanted to savor you. “God you’re beautiful.”

“So are you.” You pulled him up and undressed him, never once breaking eye contact. His cock was red and weeping just aching to be touched.

On your knees in front of him you took the whole burning thing in your mouth. To Dean, you were the most stunning creature to exist. You swirled your tongue around the head while you hollowed your cheeks sucking him in deeper still.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Fuck that feels good.” His hands grasped the back of your head keeping you steady while he fucked your face. It started feeling too good like he would blow his load in your mouth. He had to feel your sweet cunt. “Let me feel you, baby. Fuck I need you.” You pulled off with a pop and climed into his lap. Both of you whimpered when you sank onto his length. The stretch was exquisite. Your pussy held him so tight. You ground your clit over his pubic bone while he fucked into you with a brutal pace. “You feel so good. M’not gonna last. Come for me, baby. I need it.” Your twat fluttered around him, milking him for all he was worth. You kissed once more fighting to hang on to the last tendrils of tenderness and warmth that you could.

“Stay. Please. Just for tonight” you whispered.

He tightened his grip on you. “Of course, sweetheart. All night.”

He hated to leave you but the sun rose like a beacon calling him away. If he didn’t leave then, he wouldn’t have ever left. Last time he stuck around and fell in love, he had to learn the hard way that he could never have this. Maybe he would call you the next time he swung through town. Maybe you’d spit in his face for bailing. He brushed the hair off your forehead and kissed your temple. “Bye, sweetheart.”

You woke when you heard the Impala roaring to life in your driveway. He left a square of paper with a phone number scrawled in pencil “I’ll always answer. -DW” You put on your robe, went down to your cauldron and threw it in with a few bundles of sage and some witch hazel to sever any feelings. On the next full moon, you’d do a cord cutting to make sure it sticks.

“See you around, handsome.” In his eleven hour drive back to the bunker, any feelings that you have would slowly fade. The two of you would go back to being too afraid to feel and far too afraid to fall in love. Dean wouldn’t hear from you again. He wouldn’t really remember where you lived. But, every time he drove through Michigan, he’d feel a twinge in his chest. And, no matter how many rituals you did, you’d feel him too.

[sunpopp]

Warm to The Touch | {CCH}

→ Summary; it's not often that Chanhee gets sick, but when he does, he's a very big crybaby about it. That, or he really is in as much pain as he says he is—regardless that leaves you to take care of him, and funnily enough, it has its perks.

• WC/genre: 2K of smut + fluff

• Includes/cw: Chanhee being sick and reader taking care of him, no kissies on lips 😔, sub!Chanhee, gn!reader, fingering (m receiving), dick neglection (?), handjobs, brief praise, aftercare

Riding the bus wasn't your favorite thing to do, but it was soothing if you were in the right mood.

Sadly, you weren't. Mostly due to the fact that Chanhee was quite literally blowing up your phone with texts asking how much longer it'd take you to be off the train and on your way with his precious medicine, making you sigh and roll your eyes before shooting him a reply that you'd be there soon, but knowing nothing would calm him down until you were in front of him to prove it.

You can't help but smile.

Chanhee didn't complain much about anything, besides maybe you not helping him with washing the dishes or set the table while he made dinner, but everything else was, at most, a dirty look that softened relatively quickly. Sickness, though, was a whole other ballgame.

He would rant and rave about the tiniest of phantom pains, practically on the male equivalent of his period with the way his mood would get snappy and sour at the slightest inconveniences.

But maybe he really did just have a shit pain tolerance like he'd often hint at. Though it didn't stop you from still being baffled when he'd get a bad cramp in the middle of the night and whine about it until he'd fall asleep again.

Coming back to reality as you glance up to the bus's nearing destination, you stretch lazily and begin to stand, muscles aching from walking all day and back cracking loud enough for you to wonder if other people heard it. The bus slows to a stop before finally lurching against the sidewalk, and you take your leave through the opening doors with an appreciative thanks to the driver.

Almost immediately after you hop down from the steps, a layering of chilly wind washes harshly against your front and the familiar smell of petrichor into your nose, relentless rain droplets against your coat as you begin in a jog in the direction of your apartment. Chanhee must be freezing right now, you think, concern growing even heavier at the visible breaths of air you let out. If he's already got the sniffles, a sore throat, and headaches, he's probably getting worse considering you'd forgotten to turn the heater on before you left.

Stupid mistake.

It takes maybe a couple more minutes, less than it'd take if you were walking like normal, before you're finally at your door, punching in the code for the lock before shouldering it open and kicking off your shoes on the shoe rack. It's cold inside, you can tell by the way your cheeks still feel numb.

"Chanhee! I got your medicine!" Your words echo throughout the hall, spreading out when you keep calling his name as you move farther in; past the open kitchen and to the bedroom door opposite the bathroom.

When you come into the room, Chanhee is still in the bed where he was when you left, but this time, he's sat up, looking at you with hooded eyes and a thin sheen of sweat covering his face. He frowns, "It's about time. While I was here suffering, you were out with your friends. Unbelievable..," he pouts and shakes his head.

With a chuckle and now eased posture, you sit in front of him and set the bag of medicine beside you to check his temperature. He's extremely hot.

"Yeah, well, staying around you while you're sick is enough to drive me crazy so you can't really pin the blame on me for needing to leave. Plus, it's not like you tried to stop me, did you?" You smile at him, standing back up to go run him a lukewarm bath.

"I was asleep!"

"Your problem, not mine!"

___

"Alright, up you go."

"Ah, but my whole body hurts..."

"Too bad, you're sweating a bunch and you haven't done anything to clean yourself yet."

Another tug of Chanhee's hands, and he's stumbling into your arms with a raspy groan at the jerky movement. You pat his back, pecking his damp forehead, then drag him to the bathroom.

"Can you undress yourself or do you need my help with everything?" You half-joke.

"Don't be rude, it's actually hard for me to do a lot of things," Chanhee utters bitterly, but he does manage to pull his shirt over his head, albeit with your help, as well as his pants and boxers before stepping into the water.

"Or maybe you're just fragile as hell and the smallest things have you bedridden for a week."

"Oh my god I'm gonna-"

"Hush, princess, you won't do anything," you find yourself laughing as you lower yourself to your knees beside the tub, folding your arms on the side before resting your cheek atop them, "Just relax, okay? I know you're too tired to argue right now, so let yourself calm down for a couple."

He thankfully doesn't protest, and takes your advice for once; letting himself fall against the back of the bathtub and close his eyes, the sigh through his nose an indication that he's allowing himself to enjoy the water. He looks so peaceful like this. Doll-like eyelashes fluttering against smooth, heated cheeks, and head slowly lolling to face you.

You feel yourself reach out. You know it's happening, but you don't stop it when you run a hand through Chanhee's bangs, then swipe a thumb past his eyelid to trail to his nose, then lips.

He opens his eyes, but doesn't say anything, even if he probably finds it strange. He lets you touch him.

"You're very pretty," you mumble whilst pouring water onto his head using the wash bucket on the back surface of the bathtub. Drops trickle down into mini patterns on his face, and he drags a hand over it to clear them away.

"Even while sick?" He raises his eyebrows, pleasantly surprised at your answer.

You comb the water into his hair to wet it as you nod, "Even while sick."

Chanhee smiles, "So, how was your day out?"

"It was nice. Found a perfect place where I'd love to take you, actually."

"Oh? Where?"

"The bone zone-"

"Oh my god, you're so annoying!"

You erupt into a fit of laughter as Chanhee swats a hand at you, getting some of your shirt and arm wet where you shield yourself from his little attack. You pinch his cheek, flashing a toothy grin, "Oh, come on! That was a good one and you know it. Smooth as ever if I do say so myself."

"Yeah, and you're the only one saying so," He pouts, pulling away from your pinchy fingers and trying his best to hide the steadily growing smirk that threatens to break his face into a smile. Stubborn as always, you see.

"You can leave now," Chanhee gives you a pointed look.

"Alright, alright. I'll be in the bedroom awaiting any further commands, your highness," You shake your head, and make a grand display of leaving the room and him to his own privacy.

Chanhee doesn't take long in the bath anyway, so you knew you wouldn't have to wait long as you fall back against the bed, shifting around until you've made yourself comfortable against the strewn navy covers. You spare a glance out the window pressed against your side; still raining, and still bathed in a silver glow from the blanketing clouds. It'd make you kind of sad, if not melancholic, but you were in a good mood from coming home, so at the most, you were calm.

Calm, even when Chanhee emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam a half hour later, only wearing a pink striped button up pajama shirt and matching bottoms, hands raised above his head whilst he dries his hair with a small towel. He comes to a stop in front of you.

"There he is," you exclaim, looking up from your phone and patting the spot next to you with a mischievous glint in your eye, "C'mere."

"I wonder why I'm hesitating," he says, and you can practically feel the the sarcasm in his words.

"Because hot people make you nervous? Duh."

"Are you insinuating that you're hot?"

That's your queue.

Leaning forward, you grab Chanhee's wrist and tug him into your chest, causing him to stumble slightly, but you catch him and pull him flush against you. A flurry of kisses to his face, excluding his lips, ensue.

Chanhee squirms around in your arms and acts like he doesn't like the affection at first, but a few more seconds of the same treatment prove true to his soft side when he goes limp and begins to giggle at the ticklish feel of your butterfly pecks.

Oh, that giggle. How you loved to hear it; sweet and beautiful like the chime of the prettiest bell in your ears.

You pull him on top of you as you relax against the crevice where the mattress meets the wall, and rest your cheek on the top of his head, humming, "You saying that I'm not hot?"

"Yes."

"Damn."

"Kidding."

"No you weren't."

"Yes I was."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"You- Hush!" Chanhee covers your mouth finally and you chuckle against his palm at his feeble attempt to silence you.

You press a kiss to it instead of bickering further, causing him to soften. Just then, you realize something as you touch down his wrist.

"Woah, has your fever not died down at all? You're even starting to sweat a little bit again, too..."

Your suspicions prove true when a closer inspection at the ruddy skin flushed from his cheeks down to his chest and heavier-than-normal breathing indicates that he's still hot, or at least overheated.

"Here," you murmur, already shifting him on his back so you can easily unclasp the buttons of his shirt, "Are you in any pain or is it still just the sore throat?"

"The headache I had earlier is starting to come back. It's getting worse, but that's about it so don't worry, I'll be fine," Chanhee tries his hand at reassurance, you can tell, but it doesn't do anything to stop you from crawling over him to scurry into the kitchen.

"I'm getting you some water, hang on!" You call out from down the hall, making quick work of filling up a decently sized glass before you return to him with some painkillers as well. He barely manages to sit up when you reach him; his face scrunching at the obvious pain that's beginning to hit him tenfold as he gratefully takes the pills and throws his head back when he tosses them in his mouth, chasing them with the cold glass of water you provided.

"Ah, it's actually really starting to hurt...," Chanhee whimpers and at the sound, you slide back into the bed to pepper his face with pecks once again. He's grateful for the comfort, if the way he gently drapes his arm over your shoulder says anything.

"Oh, my poor baby," you coo lowly, feeling the goosebumps on his back that prickle at your tone, "Is there anything I can do to make it better? Did you already take your medicine?"

"Yeah.. still hurts.."

"I can tell," you snort and trail a finger down Chanhee's sternum, looping it back up to flick at one of his nipples. He jolts, and you can't help but give a cheeky smirk, "Even your nipples have taken on somewhat of a hue. I wonder what other places are doing the same thing...," your words would hold suggestion to even the most clueless of people, spoken through lips now slicked with saliva as you roll your tongue across the tinted flesh and lower your head for a taste of his exposed breast.

"Ah!" Chanhee gasps loudly and his fingers find purchase on the back of your head, his body trembling when he arches his chest up into your face, searching for more when his mouth fails to ask you such a favor.

Teasing his nipple with a gentle nip before pulling away to kiss it instead, you caress his narrow waist, "You said it hurts, no?"

"It does...," Chanhee pants and nods as fast as his throbbing head will allow him.

"Where does it hurt most, baby? Tell me," You wet your fingers with a quick swipe of your tongue then reach under his lower half to slide your hand into his shorts, Chanhee helping you by taking one leg out, and glide down the seam of his ass to tease his rim, "Here?"

"Y-yes..!" you chuckle when he huffs and flings both arms around your head, pulling you close into him and meeting your forehead as he grinds down against your digits.

"Awe, look at you..."

And look at him indeed; Chanhee is already a mess before you. Staring at you with those big watery doe eyes of his, and silently pleading for you to continue doing things to his body that has him feeling like bursting.

You give him exactly what he wants.

Pushing your finger into him, slowly due to how tight the fit is, you press sloppy kisses to the underside of his jaw. The reaction Chanhee gives is a familiar one, with sensual lips dropped open to let out a high-pitched moan and legs trembling as he holds them open for you, fighting to not shut his eyes upon feeling you enter him.

"Good," you drawl, tilting your wrist at an angle once your index and pinkie meet the backs of Chanhee's thighs and gently curling your fingers upwards, "Just like that, baby. Is this okay? Are you okay?" Your eyes search his face for discomfort, and though you don't find any, you still your movements.

He nods and nuzzles against the top of your head with his cheek, "Mm-hm. Keep going, please."

You start back up at his polite request, as much as you love hearing him ask for more of something, and begin to drag the pads of your fingers back and fourth alongside his walls until you feel the telltale firmness of his prostate, then start on massaging it.

"Ah!" He emits a short, melodical whine at the burst of sensation now seething within him. It drives him one step from crazy as he scrunches his face and unconsciously slaps at your shoulder in a sort of mid-euphoria result.

You huff out a half-laugh, sitting back on your knees so you can get a better view of what you're doing, "Good?"

Chanhee tries to use his words, but by the way you pin him down to the bed with a palm flat against his collarbone before speeding up your hand, he can only manage a broken sob. It's followed by another of the same needy type, but this time, it's louder and causes your stomach to all but flip at the sound. Chanhee throws his head back, thrashing this way and that to somewhat get away from the overwhelming feeling, but also pushing down against it at the same time; all the while your hand keeps him in place.

"I'll take that as a yes," you jest, mostly to yourself because Chanhee sure isn't listening, then bend down slightly to finally turn your focus to his weeping cock. It's full-blooded from being hard for so long, angry red at the tip and jumping every once in a while, especially when you open your mouth to lick a strip from the base to the head.

"P-please I can't! You're gonna make me cum!" Chanhee rushes to sit up, but you push him back down as soon as he tries. He looks absolutely horrified at being so close already.

"And what's the problem with that?"

"I-I just- I don't want to disappoint you."

"Oh, baby," You take your hand from his chest in favor of jerking him off, which he all but chokes at, "It doesn't disappoint me at all. I find it very hot, actually."

"Plea-ease..! Oh!" Chanhee wails one final time before he lets go all over your hand.

It covers your knuckles, dripping white down the side of your thumb as you keep stroking him to help him ride it out. The orgasm must've hit him hard, you think when you look up to see Chanhee shuddering in time with the aftershocks that zap his body every few seconds, eyes closed and skin dewy with a sheen of perspiration.

"Hey, come back to me. You alright? Does your head still hurt?"

He takes a moment to open his eyes, but when they roll open and find your face, he does something that catches you off-guard. He latches himself onto your front, straddling your lap, and rests his head over your shoulder with a sigh.

"Chanhee, hang on a bit, my hand's still dirty and I need to clean you up-"

"In a second. I'm tired."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"Mm, I don't feel like talking right now."

"... You are such a handful."

@vanillaknj @stealerhwa1

[songbirdsingingthings]

Girls Day - Shoto Todoroki

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

Work for you this week was grueling to say the least. Your agency had assigned you to lead a coalition of heroes to take down a group of villains holding hostages, which for you was no problem. What was a problem, however, was the fact that some of the heroes in your group got sloppy which led to some of the hostages getting injured. Thankfully none of the injuries led to fatalities, but a couple came pretty close. This stuck you working in your office for four days straight writing up paperwork and detailing exactly how everything happened. You knew you had no fault in this, and so did your superiors, but you were technically responsible for those who did make mistakes. 

After you finally finished dotting the last i and crossing the last t, you scanned and faxed the documents over to your higher ups, stuffed any necessary paperwork that involved other agendas into your work bag, and finally, finally, turned off your laptop. You took a deep breath and ran a hand through your hair, but stopped halfway when you got a call on your cell. You see your good friend, Ochaco Uraraka, soon to be Ochaco Midoriya, is the contact listed as calling. 

“Hey Ochaco, what’s up?” You asked, fatigue clear in your voice.

“Hey Y/N! Nothing much, I was just wondering if you were free tomorrow! I was thinking of having a girls day - you, me, Momo, Tsu, Mina, Jirou, and Hagakure! You in?” Relishing in the idea of a relaxing day off, a smile spreads across your face.

“Hell yeah I’m in. Where are we all meeting?” You say as you simultaneously begin to shut off the lights in your office.

“Well, those new outlet malls just opened up, I was thinking of heading there! There’s sure to be a lot of cute things, maybe you could get something for a date night with Todoroki!” You blushed lightly as she mentioned your boyfriend’s name and rolled your eyes. 

“Yeah, well, we both have to have time off for a date night to happen in the first place. You know both of us well enough to know that we’re workaholics.” You joke. It was true to an extent, though. Both you and Shoto were busy people whose work schedules, more often than not, didn’t line up. The two of you made it clear to each other when the relationship started that you couldn’t really get mad at eachother for occasionally canceling dates or having dinner late. The life of a hero was tough and erratic - you couldn’t really count on when a villain was going to strike.

“If Shoto Todoroki sees you wanting to have a date night, he’s going to make it happen. Add a fancy outfit to that? Girl, you’re set.” You laugh at Ochaco’s statement and lock your door, making your way to the elevator. You give parting smiles to the people still working at the desks on the main floor and a quiet wave to your receptionist. You continue to chat with Ochaco about fun ideas for the day tomorrow like where to eat, if you were going to get your nails done, and maybe heading to the brand new spa. 

“Oh, that just sounds like heaven. I’ve been dying to get a massage - I’ve been stuck at my desk for the past few days and my shoulders are absolutely killing me.” You open the big glass doors that belong to your agency, finally making your way outside to where a certain red-and-white haired man stood waiting with a bouquet of (your favorite flower). Your face immediately softens and you give him a giddy smile. “Hey, I’m gonna have to call you back. I can’t wait for tomorrow!” You and Ochaco say goodbye and you hang up. 

“Who was that?” Shoto asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Ochaco,” you respond as you stuff your phone into your coat pocket, “the girls and I are going out for a girls day tomorrow.” you announce happily, leaning into Shoto to give him a quick kiss. You trade your bag for the flowers, at his insistence, and take his free hand in yours.

“That’ll be nice - you deserve a nice day out.” Shoto says, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. You hum in response and smell the flowers, sighing at its aroma.

“What about you? Do you have to go in tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but it’s a short day for me,” he says, “just finalizing some recruitments for internships.” You smile at his words.

“It’s so great that you're doing that Sho,” you say, “I remember how happy I was when I got to go intern for Hawks. I probably didn’t stop smiling for weeks.” Shoto chuckles at that.

“Yeah I remember. You were practically buzzing with excitement.” Recollection of another memory crosses his mind which makes him laugh harder.

“What?” You say, grinning.

“I remember you calling me and telling me how Tokoyami basically had to shut you up because Hawks was too nice to tell you to stop talking when you were on a mission.” At this point he was cackling. You laugh with him and swat him with the flowers causing some petals to fall away. 

“Ugh that was so embarrassing,” you say, watching Shoto wipe a tear that had escaped as he was laughing, “the hue of my face was practically identical to your red hair.

The drive back to your shared apartment was full of laughter and more memories from your time at UA. When Shoto finally confessed, when your relationship became official, and all the silly moments in between. You finally arrive home and the two of you decide to have leftovers for dinner and watch a movie on the couch. You were so perfectly happy at this moment. You and your boyfriend, unwinding at the end of the day. The fact that you were so comfortable with living with each other now that you could be slouched on your couch, eating leftovers right out of the tupperware, and watching a stupid rom com on T.V. . 

Finally it was time to go to bed. Your eyes were already shut by the time Shoto finished washing up and you feel the dip in the mattress beside you. It was quiet as you were wrapped in his arms. Well, quiet until Shoto nudged your shoulder with his chin.

“Take my credit card when you go out tomorrow.” He says quietly, pressing a kiss against the back of your neck.

“Shoto Todoroki, I will do no such thing.” You mumble, eyes still closed.

“Please?” He asks quietly, making you melt a little, “I want tomorrow to be completely relaxing. I know you credit yourself as a smart shopper, but I want you to just spend whatever you want on anything you want.” He says as he nuzzles you.

“Sho, I make almost as much as you - I can go shopping with my own card.” You respond. However, his next few words make you agree rather quickly to using his.

“The one I’m giving you is tied to my father’s bank account.”

“...Okay deal.”

By the time you wake up the following morning, Shoto is already gone. You stretch your arms and back and groan. You push the stray hair in front of your face behind your ear and see a little note next to a danish and a silver credit card.

“Breakfast for you, my love. Have a great day. Also, I booked a reservation at that fancy restaurant in town that you like for 7:30 p.m. . Go crazy with the card, my father won’t even notice. Love, your Shoto.”

Your heart always flutters when he writes you letters and signs them with “your Shoto”. It’s a sweet affirmation that you have his heart. You nibble on the danish as you scroll through messages on your phone, the most recent ones from Ochaco and the girls.

Mina: We’re meeting at the outlets at 11:00 a.m. right?

Ochaco: Yup! Get excited!

You eventually roll out of bed and stroll into your closet, looking at the array of clothes hanging up. You decide on a casual yet chic outfit and get dressed. You grab the coffee waiting for you on the counter in the kitchen, yet another gift from shoto, stuff Endeavor’s credit card into your purse, and make your way to the outlets by taxi. When you finally get there, you see that the whole group is there. You thank and pay the driver quickly and rush out to meet up with your friends.

“Y/N!” they all say, giving you a big hug.

“Hey guys! Wow, it’s so great to see all of you here together - I can’t remember the last time we all met up!” You say, grinning. As a group you all make your way into the mall, stopping by some high end boutiques and designer stores.

“How’s the fiance?” You ask Ochaco, wiggling your eyebrows. She gives you a smile as she looks through some of the skirts hanging on the rack next to her.

“Oh, Izuku’s great. Couldn’t be more excited about the wedding, if I’m honest.” She says giggling. The two of you talk about the wedding planning and everything for a bit, listening to Ochaco gush about how involved Izuku is with the process.

“What about you Y/N? Any wedding bells in your future?” Mina says, popping into the conversation. You blush and try to make yourself look busy by inspecting the hem on a shirt very carefully.

“Oh, I don’t know. Don’t get me wrong, Shoto and I are going super well right now, it’s just that the both of us are so busy. I always thought that we would get married but I don’t really know about how he feels about it.” The girls quirk their eyebrows at this, confused as to how the two of you hadn’t had a conversation about that yet. Quickly, you clear everything up. “I just don’t want him to think of his parents’ predicament - I mean that was his first view on marriage, and I know that he knows that that’s not how marriage works, but I feel like it might be a touchy subject.” The girls nod and give you reassuring smiles.

“Oh Y/N, you have got to try the dress on. I mean, it’s made for you.” You hear Momo say. You follow her gaze to a mannequin and couldn’t even try to hold back the gasp that left your mouth. It truly was beautiful. The dress was navy in color and was clearly made of an expensive material. The sleeves, which were long sleeves, were also sheer and dotted with small pearls. On the mannequin as well were matching shoes and a bag. You just couldn’t keep your eyes off of it. It was so expensive, in fact, that you had to ask the store manager directly to go into the back and grab you your size so that you could try it on. You had to say, when you put that dress on, you felt like a million bucks. Momo was right, it really was made for you. Sliding the curtain back so that the rest of the girls could see, you didn’t even try to hide your smile as you saw the girls’ reactions.

“Y/N L/N, if you weren’t already taken I would pounce on you myself.” Mina says, making you laugh. You get similar compliments from the rest of the girls, making you smile, and taking the dress and the accessories up to the register. The woman there kindly wraps the dress, shoes, and bag carefully in tissue paper and places the three items into a pretty shopping bag. You had fun during the rest of the day, eating lunch, getting a mani-pedi, and a massage, but you couldn’t contain your excitement at the thought of wearing that dress to yours and Shoto’s dinner date that evening.

After your busy day of shopping, you immediately run home to shower. You had about an hour to wash your hair and body, making sure to shave your legs so that you looked totally put together that evening. You manage to do your hair in your favorite formal style, slip on your dress and shoes, and swing the small matching bag over your shoulder. You put on a tiny bit of make-up, just a light coat of mascara and a sheer layer of lip gloss. You look at yourself in the mirror and almost explode. You even had to admit it to yourself. You. Looked. HOT.

You finally make your way to the restaurant and ask the hostess at the front to direct you to your table. She led you to where Shoto was sitting, looking at the menu. As soon as he registers people coming towards him, he looks up but almost chokes. Seeing you in that dress almost made his eyes pop out of his head. He couldn’t even form a coherent thought as he mindlessly thanked the hostess and watched you sit down across from him. Smirking, you gently wave a hand in front of his face.

“Earth to Shoto! Is someone in there?” You said, giggling softly. The only thing Shoto could say was something that he had been thinking about for the past two years non-stop. With no filter and no reason to stop himself, he made that thought known.

“You wanna get married?”

[bakugotsundere]

Hating Him - Bakugou Katsuki (1)

bakugo x (black) fem reader

( still can read if you’re not)

sorry if it bothers you, i just felt that my black readers weren’t feeling black as they were reading y/n stories cause i for sure wasn’t.

Warning: none

Summary: Bakugo and you have hated each other ever since you met, being on the same track team and having the same friend group didn’t make things any better. you 2 have to act like you like each other for the benefit of the friend group until one day you and him are forced to have movie night with the others and you both have had enough of each other’s shit.

in this chapter: you get invited to the movie night and bump into bakugo

The morning smell of outside filled your lungs as you stepped out your house. It was exactly 5:30 in the morning. The streets were not busy and there was barely any noise, just faint sounds of dogs barking and truck drivers in a distance. It was the perfect time to go for your daily run. The chilly air made you happy, it gave you more of a challenge. you zipped your nike training jacket up. It fit you tight, tugging at every curve of yours. The sky was a foggy blue, a few clouds started coming in, along with the sum.

You walked down the steps of your house, stretching your legs when you got to the sidewalk. You looked ahead and yawned as you walked onto the street. Your neighborhood was fairly nice to say the least. Everybody minded their business, especially since your house had been secluded. After your grandmother died, she left one of her houses she owned to you, making it easy for you since you dreaded the idea of having to share a dorm with someone, let alone having to get an apartment.

you placed your airpods in your ears and played Apparently by J.Cole. J.Cole had been your favorite rapper since you were 12 years old, you missed the days where your 12 year old self would dance around your room to his music, now you’re grown and responsibilities are becoming more than just making sure your chores were done. You stretched one last time before taking off.

...

Once you were done, sweat dripped from your face. your breathing was heavy and the cold water bottle in your hand had been long awaited. The sun was now out. The birds chirping got louder and the old lady from across the street was sitting in her chair with her small cat in her lap, you quenched your thirst, swallowing every last drop of water. “Good morning Y/n” She chirped. You wiped your mouth with your wrist smiling, turning towards her, “Goodmorning Ms. Rodriguez.” you reply as you waved.

You finally go back inside your house, feeling at ease. you take off your black vapor max at the door and go to your kitchen, grabbing a nutrigrain bar, you ate it before going upstairs to get ready for your classes. you took your curly hair out of its messy bun. the roots of your hair were finally breathing and it felt good. you scratched your scalp in satisfaction. you looked in the mirror, loving your features and your brown/caramel skin. you never felt the need to put yourself in the 3 categories because to you there was no need to, everybody in the community was black so why separate it into groups.

you placed the shea butter your mother made for you on your face. you took off your semi-sweaty clothes throwing them into your dirty clothes hamper and looked at yourself in the mirror. your body was perfect to most but you didn’t see what everyone saw. your thighs were too thick for your liking, especially since you did track. your breast were too big to you, they sometimes got in the way while working out. you had a 4 pack from the working out, everybody told you that you had an hour glass body but you hated it. if this what a hour glass body was, you hated it.

you took off your panties, replacing your old ones with Tommy Hilfiger ones. You grabbed a pair of black nike sweatpants that fit your thighs perfectly. You took off your bra, letting your breast breath and put on another sports bra, putting on a white t-shirt fresh out the pack. you ran chap stuck along your plump lips, they were more than plump actually if you like them so it didn’t matter. you picked out the roots of your hair leaving it’s on it’s curly state. you had dyed your hair a ginger color, which made you look like sza a little. your fro was like hers too, very big and curly.

You wrapped your apple watch around your wrist and put on some whit nike socks, along with your white air force ones. Your phone started dinging and it was the gc, you had been in with your friend group.

Mina :) > goodmorning whores. Time for class before you become drop outs.

Denki ⚡️> good morning Mina ;)

Midoriya🥬> Goodmorning everybody, i have a big test in Mr. Aizawa’s today so i have to get to studying, talk to you guys later.

Kirishima> Mornin. It’s beautiful out today, isn’t it and i’m not a whore mina.

You> yea, kirishima i’m pretty sure you got caught with cami in the janitors closet.

Iida> Mine was too, you guys need to stop texting and get to class.

You> sure, see you on the track field lida. this gc is getting deader by the day and it’s embarrassing to watch.

(seen by kirishima, Mina, and Bakugou)

lida> typing...

You shut off your phone with a smile, knowing that got him heated. You didn’t even care for his response. you loved messing with lida, it was funny, you sprayed a little vanilla perfume on your body and you were off to a place you dreaded.

...

You were now in the library studying with Mina. Mina was like your best friend, you told her everything and she told you everything. “Have you seen that picture of trey songz you know what?” she asked and your eyes went wide, in shock that she was talking about this in the library. “yes, but i can’t go crazy over it, he made the shit so corny. the whole post he made afterwards had me cringing at my phone so hard. i was like “boy what the fuck” he too old for that shit.” you told her and she giggled.

“I’m having a movie night with the rest of the group this saturday, you have to come. you never come to things with us anymore. Ever since bakugou started hanging out with us, you’ve been avoiding us. i’ve noticed some type of tension between you 2, i hope it isn’t sexual?” she stated and your stomach churned at the thought of that stuck up dummy.

“No, i just like staying to myself, that’s all. i think i’ll come Saturday as long as it’s not going to be a lot of people you know how busy i am with track and stuff.” you stated in reality you hated being around bakugo. especially since he always felt to make rude remarks towards you when everyone wasn’t around. He was normally mean to everyone, but you got it the worse since you had the shortest running time on the team. When track practice would come around you and him would argue with each other every second. you hated being yelled at or talked to badly and your mother sure didn’t raise a bitch so you talked to him just as reckless as he did to you and he hated every second of it since you were the first to ever test him. your personalities didn’t mix well at all.

“it’s only gonna be, denki, bakugo, kirishima, todoroki, asui, uruaka and deku but that’s if bakugo doesn’t mind.”

“yea, i’ll think about it.” you said softly.

...

you were now at practice and the death stares you received from bakugo made you just wanna slap the fuck out of him. His eyes followed you as you warmed up. You could see him start to come towards you and you sighed. His tall figure stood in front of you, blocking the sun, his body shaded you. “You draw too much attention.” He stated as the boys that were on the team stared at you. You were the only girl on the track team so you learned to get used to it. “I know, why are you telling me this?” you asked and he gritted his teeth, “All of those boys are practically eye raping you.” he states, taking in your appearance and you sighed, “I don’t know what to fucking say. these are the only sizes in shirts they have and if my curves happen to show then so be it. it’s not like the whole thing is out.”

Sweat dripped from the side of his head, he had on a white tank top and some nike shorts with some white vapor max. a towel hung over his broad shoulders. your eyes scanned his body, you never thought bakugo was ugly, he was perfect when it came to looks. He was very tall with a slim, muscular build, and a fair skin tone. He had short, spiky, ash-blond hair that looked soft. His eyes were a sharp and bright red in color that showed his hostility. his looks fit his personality though, very cocky.

“Why do you care?” You asked and his cheeks turned a bright pink and anger came upon him, this line made him mad, “I don’t.” he replied angrily. “Well then stop telling me things i already know. All you do is bother me.” you told and his lips curved into a smirk, “Your existence bothers me, imagine how I feel.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing past him aggressively. He can be so fucking annoying. Imaging having to be on the same team as someone you hate. It’s really irritating, especially when the person is somebody as arrogant as he is. He needs to be humbled.

...

You and Bakugou were the only 2 left after practice, your coach was mad at the both of you because of what happened last week with the sub coach. Bakugou had been bothering you that day and you snapped and then you two decided to have a race on your own which didn’t turn out so well since bakugou got mad that you won in the end.

So now you and him were being forced to do “after practice workouts” with each other. You were now lying on the ground of the track floor, exhausted. Bakugou was right next to you, your chest rose up and down, your breathing heavy and your legs worn out. You looked over at him, and he looked over at you. “This wouldn’t have happened if you just wouldn’t hate me so much and accept that i’m faster than you.” you stated and his red eyes stared at your light brown ones. “Can’t blame this all on me. You hate me as well and you don’t know when to shut up. You don’t have to respond to everything i say but you do.” He said and you placed your hands at your stomach, “I’m not about to let you walk all over me like you do everyone else. Your ego is too big and i’m doing nothing but lowering it.”

“Is that what you think?” he asked and you sighed softly looking him in his eyes trying to search for anything but anger but there was no other emotion but that, his pupils did dilate once he noticed how hard you were staring into his eyes though, “It’s not what i think, it’s what i know.” you said. “i don’t understand why you are always so angry all the time. I don’t even know how you have the friends that you have. obviously that means they see past it but i refuse to. i can’t. sorry but that’s just how i am.” you stated sitting up, he sat up with you staring at you, “i don’t understand how you have friends, you are very competitive and just avoid me then. We can always hate each other from a distance.” he stated and you smiled shaking your head as you stood up.

“Can’t do that when we have the same friends and are on the same team and i’m only competitive when it comes to track. So i’ll just hate you regardless and plus you always keep your enemies close. It doesn’t matter though, i’m still faster.” you added on that last part trying to make him mad and you could hear him start to yell as you walked off and a smile came upon your lips.

There’s no way you could ever be friends with him so why even bother trying. Something about him makes your blood boil.

[otp-holic]

The one place (where something happened) (A03)

“In your life there are a few places, or maybe only the one place, where something happened, and then there are all the other places.” Alice Munro. (or the one where they receive a letter from a familiar name and we go into 4Ks of fluff around a lost afternoon in France)

4K. Lamely explicit at one point. Fanfic + Pictures Inside. Trigger for FLUFF as the main plot. Part of the Never let us lose what we have gained series (AO3)

This was supposed to be a manip with 200 words of bantering and it's now 4Ks of fluff with a few pictures. I've decided to leave them inside the cut because I feel they work better with its context there. I'm sorry for the hassle, but I really hope you give this a chance... unless you have cavities, only like fics with amazing plots or are allergic to shameless fluff.

Please do not repost the pictures, I know this is futile, but… I try :)

DAGUERROTYPE, France 1944 Private Collection.

Steve is cooling down from his very early run, enjoying the feeling of the pink sunrise looming over the awakening Brooklyn streets as he walks the last couple of blocks on the way home, when his phone beeps.

“Check your actual mailbox, we dropped something for you there. I think you should appreciate us making it old-fashioned just for you, grandpas!”

Steve smiles at Sam’s text and as soon as he arrives at their building he snaps a picture of the very common and flat envelope with “Barnes&Rogers” scribbled on top of a Stark Logo, to send along his response.

“Nice try, but this is inaccurate. A letter would have never made its way to us without an address or stamp. We’ll send you a proper thank you card to show you how it’s done.”

He can’t help but chuckle at his own joke rereading the text while he opens the door, and when he looks up from his phone and into the kitchen, he is received by a sleepy Bucky looking at the coffee machine like he looks at Steve during their most soft and embarrassingly cheesy moments.

“You love that thing more than you love me, confess it.”

“In the mornings? Yes. I don’t even like you in the mornings most of the time,” he answers matter of factly. “Want some?”

Steve playfully wiggles an eyebrow.

“No way. Your sweaty self is tempting, but coffee smells better. I might join you in the shower later.” Bucky offers him one of the two cups he has poured and he notices the envelope Steve is holding. “What is that?”

“We’ve got mail!” He hands it to Bucky. “I have no idea what's on it, but Sam texted me to say they had something delivered to our mailbox and there it was. Open it.”

Bucky leaves the cup on the counter, face sparked with a curiosity that makes him look twenty-one (and Steve weak on the knees), and goes for it.

The content is a bit underwhelming at first glance: Another envelope, white, no Stark logo, but topped with a bright green post-it with a note on Pepper’s script.

“This got to me via PR. We analyzed it and checked with the source (no peeking, I swear) and it seems legit. With that return address, it’s likely to arouse your interest. Love, P.”

Bucky tears off the post-it and the letter is revealed to be addressed to Steve Rogers at the Stark Tower, but it is when they turn it around when everything goes still for a second.

The return address is some street in Marseille, but what has Steve’s mouth dry and Bucky’s hand trembling just a bit is the combination of the place and the name written on top: Emmanuelle Jaques Dernier.

“Boom?”, Bucky says, trying to cut through their heavy hearts and taking Steve’s hand. It’s a terrible terrible joke, but Dernier would have loved it and he grins.

“That’s a terrible terrible joke,” Steve verbalizes, “but I think at least we’ve reached the same conclusion.”

“Elementary, my dear Steve,” Bucky answers as he opens the second envelope, only to reveal a folded letter and yet another envelope. “It’s a fucking vault of paper!”

Steve takes the letter from him, unfolds it, and quickly scans it (normal office paper, printed, hand-signed) before he starts reading it out loud to Bucky’s undivided attention.

“Dear Mr. Rogers,

My name is Emmanuelle Dernier and I am the great-grandson of Jaques Dernier of the Howling Commandos.

First, let me tell you that we all in our family grew up with amazing stories and praise for you, Sergeant Barnes, and the rest of the team. I never got to meet my great-grandfather or any of them (you), but I’ve always felt like I did.

In fact, that’s the ultimate reason behind this letter: I ached to honor him and I’ve been putting in order all his remaining letters, pictures, and memories so they don’t get lost forever, and there are many things I’m discovering through this journey. So many pictures and tiny details… and amongst them, you and the rest of the Commandos appear at the most random and memorable moments. Nothing that’s going to make it into history books, more like the stories my grandpa used to share with us over and over again, those important tidbits that make him more human.

Anyway, I was going through the pictures he kept when I came across some war photos that didn’t seem to match the 40s timeframe. Typical daguerreotypes from the 20s in a very bad state, probably taken with a camera from the era in 1944 and developed on a later date by somebody who clearly didn’t master the technique.

They were in a very bad state and hidden inside an envelope that said “Terribly drunk soldiers in France making idiots of ourselves in unique and creative ways. Fun evening, horrible hangover. About 20 miles west of the Maginot Line. Autumn ‘44”. I’m attaching a photocopy of that, I hope you can understand my decision to keep the original.

After restoring the daguerreotypes with some experts, all I got were five very bad pictures with silhouettes of people apparently having fun…. but there was one that got a lot better in the cleaning process that feels important somehow. I’m sending the original, as well as the restored version I got.

I, of course, don’t have the whole context, but I hope it brings back a good memory. My great-grandpa might be in the picture, but I don’t think this one belongs to my family or to a museum.

Thank you for your service, I really hope this letter finds its way to you.

E.Dernier.”

“I can’t believe… Steve, most days I’m convinced that day and that place are a figment of my imagination,” Bucky smiles, remembering. “When I think of a moment of pure joy during the war, I think about that afternoon in France, and it always feels unreal. A bubble of air and laughter while we were so surrounded by death.”

Steve nods, reminiscing about that warm and humid September morning when they arrived at yet another abandoned and destroyed little village, this one about twenty miles west of the Maginot Line. They had orders to lie low and wait for twenty-four hours before they started the maneuver to wipe another Hydra base off the map, and that little town was perfect for that.

Among bomb debris and fallen walls, they found one small building miraculously standing next to the remains of the church, so they decided to set camp under a roof for a change since the weather was being a little flickery with the rain, and they had the rare luxury of time.

The inside of the tiny house was as unusual as the outside: nothing was destroyed beyond being dusty and worn by time, and everything they found (furniture, kitchenware, and even fabrics) belonged more to Steve and Bucky’s early childhoods than to 1944, a living museum frozen in time.

Only it was not a museum, but the parish house left untouched and non-raided: old-fashioned clothes, outdated church books, yellowing clergy collars, and, of course, the wine cellar. Oh, that wine cellar… the havoc it unleashed.

“I remember the absolute excitement when Falsworth found all those bottles of old unscathed mass wine from the parish,” Steve brings his memory to words, looking at Bucky, “I’m still a little convinced that we are going to hell for drinking them.”

“Not for that, probably, but it was a wonder nobody died on the spot of wine poisoning, it tasted like sweet vinegar, ugh.”

“But it did his part, right? Took our minds off things; got us drunk, bold and silly.” Steve answers.

“Apparently not all of us,” Bucky says very seriously, looking at Steve.

“Technicalities… I got drunk by proxy. Seeing you all so happy made me giddy and tipsy, too.”

“I came and went… I remember being a little surprised at the clarity of my thoughts at some moments there when some of the guys were basically drooling on the floor. Now I understand, of course.”

Steve squeezes his hand, not much to be said there.

They were already way too drunk by the early afternoon, drinking to the sound of a sudden rainstorm pouring outside. All of them scattered across the small dusty living room and its adjoining kitchen while they went through all the bottles of wine they had been able to find. Cheering for the foregone priest every time somebody raised a glass, and laughing as if there were no ruins or war on the other side; just silly men (boys, really) laughing their hearts out.

“Earth to Steve… I don’t know about you, but I’m dying to see what the hell that envelope is hiding. Especially now that we know about its time stamp.”

“I’m sorry, me too! Gabe drunkenly handling that old camera and those glass plaques the way he did? I’m honestly impressed that he was able to take any pictures at all,” he muses. “Shit, is it weird that I’m nervous?”

“I’m gonna save us the bantering because I’m nervous, too,” Bucky answers in all sincerity. “Truth is, Steve, I remember everything about that day.”

It’s a new admission, a newly opened door for them because for some reason, they have never talked about that peaceful surreal afternoon, and Steve nods in recognition as he silently goes for the envelope one-handed, not wanting to let go of Bucky’s hand because his surface is way cooler than his wrenching insides. Maybe the picture is an overexposed french wall but maybe…

The photo he extracts from the envelope is clearly the original and damaged one Emmanuelle specified in his letter. Anybody else looking at it would see nothing beyond Dernier’s blurry profile, but since Steve and Bucky were there when this was taken, they know exactly what moment Steve is holding in his hand.

“Buck,…” is all Steve can say, struck by the blurry keepsake.

Later in the afternoon when they had already consumed most of the wine and there was not a single coherent thought left in the room, one of the guys took the parish books and besottedly announced that there was a wedding set for today… thirty years ago. Alcohol fueled a goofy idea that escalated at the speed of light, with Morita saying they were going to a wedding because they deserved a celebration, Dernier confessing that he had once considered becoming a priest, and Dum-dum bringing out all the old fashioned clothes from the wardrobe and deciding they were getting nice and clean for the festivities.

“That’s clearly Dernier in the picture killing it in his priest role, right?” Bucky says, half smiling and interrupting Steve’s thoughts. “You know, I went all-in with that fake wedding party. I was laughing to tears when I saw you put on that ridiculously long and ill-fitting jacket from the 10s, feeling weightless and silly for the first time since sailing off, and God knows we all deserved that. And it was all safe and light-hearted until fucking Morita decided you had to be the groom, and...”

“Were you jealous because I won the dashing groom competition?”

Steve’s attempt at a joke is weak, but there’s truth behind it: Morita chose Steve as the groom (“Cap, you are the most dashing and the least drunk”) to a chorus of excited voices cheering for him. Somebody else, most likely Dum-Dum, chose the rest of the roles (Sarge, best man duty; Jones, camera; Morita, keep the wine flowing; the rest of you, misbehave!) and in the blink of an eye, they were all going outside laughing under a light rain, and about to celebrate Steve’s fictional wedding to nobody.

“How could I be jealous?” Bucky cuts in. “Do you remember all you said to me that afternoon? During World War II and in front of a battalion of men?”

“I was drunk.”

“Fuck you!” Bucky disentangles his hand from Steve’s to use both of them to hold Steve’s face and kiss him with violence. “Tell me. Do you remember what you said?”

As if he could ever forget. He can recall every step he took from the house to the makeshift wedding spot amidst the trees where his best man (looking dapper even in that ludicrous jacket) was laughing along Dernier. He can still smell the petrichor, can still sense the blush coloring his cheeks while hoping nobody noticed and can still hear the beating of his heart when Bucky handed him a battered umbrella (“You don’t deserve to get rained on your wedding day, punk”) and a fucking ring made out his shoelaces (“You’ll have to buy something a little more permanent.”). And then…

“Dernier started the ceremony and he wanted to know if I had somebody in mind and I said ‘of course’.” He replays, his voice barely a whisper. “I said I’d had my eyes on a brown-haired Brooklynite since before I could remember. I said that I was pretty sure those blue eyes were set on mine too and that hopefully those eyes would be set enough to want to marry me even if I had never dared to ask.”

He’s been holding Bucky’s gaze the whole time, and he’s far from over yet, but he needs to fucking breathe before he goes on. Neither of them has moved a muscle for the past minute.

“Then he asked me to repeat the wedding vows after him and…”

“And you said Buck, right?”, Bucky interrupts, voice winded. “You fucking whispered I take you, Buck, as my lawful wedded husband till the end of the line. I heard, Steve. Even if the rest of the world didn’t, I did. But you never said anything, so I always deemed it impossible, a product of the corniest nook of my mind trying to outweigh all those bad things, because not even you could be as bold, reckless, and mushy as to do that,…it’s my fucking fault, I should have known better!”

“Not completely reckless, pal. I was scared shitless as I said those words, but what else could I do? You were right by my side about to put a ring on my finger as my “best man”, everyone, including you, supposedly drunk past recollection, and everybody else too far away to hear my whispers. It was such an easy choice in the end because truth should always win over fear. And those vows were. The truth.”

“You have always been too honest for your own good, Rogers,” Bucky is breathless and exasperated and goes for his mouth again, bringing in all he (they) couldn’t in 1944. “You destroyed me, Steve. My knees were as weak as a teenager’s in front of his first crush. I wanted to kiss you so badly when I heard you say all that there in the open… and I couldn’t even acknowledge it.”

“I know. And for what it's worth, I really thought you didn’t remember.”

It is too much. Is it normal to feel this much? Steve would blame it on the serum enhancements, but he was already overwhelmed at 16, so that’s clearly not the answer.

He craves, no, he needs touching, grounding, closer. Bucky. There’s too much space between them even if they are back to kissing like they would have that day in 44, and at any other time if their own lives wouldn’t have stolen those moments from them.

“It happened.” Bucky whimpers, biting on Steve’s lip who abandons his own stool to straddle him, both of them gasping in sync at the feeling of their cocks, hard against each other’s through their soft pants.

Bucky soon ups the stakes by carding his metal hand through Steve’s hair pulling his head backwards to help himself into that spot on his neck.

“Same two moles as when you were tiny, as when we were at that war... Your cute vampire bite. Favorite spot.” He licks on them with the tip of his tongue. Steve growls on cue and Bucky giggles. “Favorite chain reaction.”

“Buck, you cheater, you know what that does to me!” Steve cries out followed by Bucky’s evil chuckle.”Bed, couch, countertop,…I don’t care, but naked. Now. Stained pants due to heavy petting are too much of a trip down memory lane for me. Let me keep a bit of my dignity.”

Steve stands up liberating Bucky from his grip but aching at the loss of contact.

They are naked and making out in the middle of the kitchen in no time; Bucky steadily pushing him against the refrigerator while fiercely grinding against his crotch.

“Hey, ‘teve,” Bucky pants. “The way this is going, it’s my dignity now that's at risk. I don’t think I can make it further than the floor before I come.”

Steve groans into his mouth just at the thought and they start sliding to the floor the best they can until he’s a human blanket moving over Bucky. With no lube at hand, and no time, that’s their best option.

They kiss and kiss and kiss, his hands not leaving Bucky’s sweaty hair. Bucky’s hands on his ass, forcing their groins closer with one while he (almost absently) plays around his hole with the other, driving Steve crazy in the process. Dicks left to do their own thing through pressure and friction. Everything is working. And fast.

“Oh, fuck!” Bucky exclaims “Can you promise me all this stuff with the letter was real and not a long-con plan to assure your fragile masculinity that I love you more than I love that espresso machine?”

That. That silly unfunny excuse of a joke that screams Bucky all over is what pushes Steve all the way over the edge. He fucking laughs as he comes making absolutely embarrassing sounds, pressing their foreheads and noses together until it hurts, and shaking from head to toe without stoping his pressure on the stupid and smug man under him. His lover. His partner. His unofficial husband. His best friend.

His Buck.

“There’s still too much blood in your brain if you can play that dirty,” Steve states, placing one hand between them grabbing Bucky’s hard cock. “Let’s see if I can do anything about it.”

“Your hand, usually so helpful, but I was already following you after that sound you make when you come and laugh at the same time, shit, it always goes straight to my dick, I’m,…” he keeps talking with difficulty between breaths and moans until he leaves his speech unfinished coming all over Steve’s fist.

They kiss on the lips breathing into each other before Steve rolls over. They are sticky and panting in silence, spread on their kitchen’s floor, Steve’s shoulders crushed between Bucky’s and the dishwasher. Domestic bliss at its most literal.

One lavish fuck and two showers later they reemerge into the kitchen in search of something to eat: Bucky is in charge of the food today, while Steve cleans the mess they left a couple of hours ago.

He’s decluttering the counter when their damaged picture laying there puts a smile on his face but also reminds him of the restored version presumably still waiting inside the disregarded letter, so he grabs the envelope to retrieve its contents: one photocopy (from Dernier’s original writing), and the promised photo.

And it is restored. Everything is clear where it was blurry before: Dernier (so deep into his priest impersonation that he’s not even looking at them), the trees, the battered umbrella, the ridiculous jackets… and them.

“You had the nerve to call me reckless and mushy, Buck?” Steve laughs as he stares at the picture where a very young Bucky is about to put a ring on his finger with the least subtle lovestruck expression he’s ever seen (“and it’s for you”, his brain proudly reminds him) “Wow, you might as well be kissing me there, anything would be more subtle than this!”

“Don’t shame me, you punk, especially not when you were the one responsible for breaking my brain back then!” Bucky answers coming from behind and stealing the picture from his hands to scrutinize it. Goofy grin and raging blush quickly taking over his face. “But you’re one to talk, Cap. You are gazing at that shoelace’s ring as if I were handing you a diamond tiara!”

Steve laughs softly at that and moves his right hand to his pocket, feeling the weight of the little compass he had retrieved earlier from one of his drawers. He used to carry it with him everywhere for comfort, but he has a better option now.

“Didn't you know that shoelaces are forever?” He asks, taking the compass out of his pocket and holding it in both hands as he opens it, nudging Bucky with his elbow to get his attention.

Bucky is confused for an instant while he looks at his young face staring at them from inside the little box. Of course he knew that (he made fun of Steve for days and days) but Steve detects the change in his expression when he notices the other thing.

“Wow, you gigantic sap,” Bucky says, taking the compass out of his hands to double-check he is seeing what he thinks he’s seeing. “You saved my shoelace.”

He had. While they were all celebrating his wedding under the rain dancing to no music, he quietly slipped the little string off his finger and tied it to the most secure place he had back then.

“It’s not a shoelace, you jerk, it’s a symbol. A declaration.” He laughs, stealing the compass back to safely pocket it again.

“You are delusional,” Bucky snorts, kissing the top of his head. But he’s widely smiling and lost in thought as he goes back to their sandwiches.

Steve stays on the spot enjoying the peace in their silent companionship, his focus on the latest news showing up on his phone, the text he’s writing to Sam and the comforting sounds of Bucky moving around the kitchen.

“You might have married me, but I never actually married you.” Bucky blurts out of the blue a bit later, sitting by his side as he hands him a plate with a sandwich and some grilled greens on it. “Do you want mayo with that?”

“Uh?” Steve forgets all about the news and the text and looks at Bucky in confusion.

“Mayo, do you want some?” Bucky repeats nonchalantly.

“No mayo, thank you; but I was actually more interested in the other part, you know, that thing about marriage?”

Bucky looks him in the eye: earnest, blushing and with the same look of smug adoration he had on the picture.

“Oh, that part.” He jokes. “You apparently married me in 1944, but I never married you back. And I would like to.”

“Marry me?” Steve asks and Bucky visibly nods.

“I’m sorry for throwing the idea at you like this, books tell me I'm supposed to have candles, music, and a ring, but you showed me that restored picture and I couldn't stop thinking about it, about proof,” Bucky speaks uncharacteristically slow and very softly, voice trembling here and there while he claps his hand with Steve’s finger by finger for reassurance and as a distraction. “A single photo had the power to transform a moment that existed just as a made-up happy place inside my mind into something tangible and real. Something that would be tangible and real for anybody getting a hold on it and looking at our stupid faces.”

“So stealthy,” Steve says, and they both laugh together.

“Proof, Steve. I was slicing tomatoes and thinking how there’s so much evidence, thousands of files! out there proving that all the stuff that fuels my nightmares were real, but nothing solid about this. Us.” Bucky stops for a moment collecting his thoughts, still smiling even with the heavy subject he just dropped into the mix. “Sorry, I believe I put more time into these sandwiches than into thinking this all the way through so I’m…”

“Take your time, we’ve gone from mayo to marriage to nightmares in five minutes so don’t worry, you have me hooked here.”

Steve makes Bucky laugh again as he intended, and he feels their calloused laced fingers immediately squeezing closer.

“It’s stupid because it doesn’t change anything for us but,.. I don’t fucking know, Steve, I think that picture has messed up with my mind! I instantly found comfort in the idea of people finding facts beyond the nightmares now or in the future. An easy to understand, universal and oversimplified proof of how much I loved you and how much I was loved in return.” Bucky takes a breath and stares at him sporting a million-watt smile. “Marrying you,… I would really love that. And for real this time.”

“Ok, Buck.” Steve instantly replies, eagerness winning over thoughtful and heartfelt declarations. He tightens the grip on their joined hands to drive them to his lips and seals the easiest answer he’s ever had to give.

And it's done!Sorry for the cavities, for going on with the fic when it should have ended and for ending it where it might have had to keep going. It was painful and fun. I'm free!

[giftwrappingpaper]

wangxian bakery au

prompt: "I'd love to enable a creator to write/draw that self-indulgent niche workplace AU they've always wanted to make."

Lan Zhan finds Wei Ying baking bread in the kitchen of a hole-in-the-wall bakery in Yiling.

-----

A low, all too familiar voice hesitantly calls his name. "Wei Ying?"

No fucking way. Wei Ying looks up, raised eyebrows wrinkling his flour-dusted forehead. Yep, that’s Lan Zhan alright; no matter how many years pass, Wei Ying could recognize that face anywhere. His sharp, meticulously perfect appearance makes him look like a high-fashion magazine model cutout slapped on a stock photo of yellowed plaster and secondhand baking equipment.

“No customers in the back,” Wei Ying advises before returning his attention to the dough in his hands. A picture of informality, with a small smirk playing on his lips — a half-hearted attempt to conceal the shock and surmounting panic bubbling in his gut.

How the hell did he find me? one side of his brain despairs, while the other side reassures that at least it isn’t Jiang Cheng.

Lan Zhan continues his stalwart breach of Burial Bakery’s kitchen. What a rebel. “Wei Ying,” he says again.

“That’s me.”

“You’re here.”

“Uh, yeah?”

“You’re in a...bakery. Baking.”

Wei Ying breathed in the calming smell of fresh sourdough and tangy levain. Thank the heavens he had been able to convince Wen Ning to take a lunch break, leaving Wei Ying to man the kitchen alone. This isn’t going to be pretty.

“That’s kinda what we do here, yeah,” he says, eyes trained on his workbench, crowded with floured bannetons and formless lumps of dough. “A helping hand would be nice. I’d appreciate that much more than the gawking.”

Lan Zhan blinks, jawing clenching and ears flushing. Wei Ying’s smirk lifts into something softer. Even after all this time, it’s still so easy to rile him up.

“How’d you even find me, anyway?” he wonders, stretching his dough flat against the workbench, stopping right when it’s about to rip. Gently, of course. Wouldn’t want to pop the gas built up after hours of proofing.

“The back door is open,” Lan Zhan answers faintly. His expression mirrors the face of a guy after finding a years-long missing sock long since chalked off as having been eaten by the dryer. “I saw you from the counter.”

A quick glance to the entrance confirms this. Wen Ning must’ve forgotten to close the door when he left. Damn, that’s no good. Can’t let the cold air flow in. Might mess with the dough proofing in the walk-in.

“Could you close that for me?” Wei Ying asks, briefly letting go of the dough to rub the back of his neck. When Lan Zhan continues to stand there, motionless like a beautiful, bewildered statue, Wei Ying tsks and says, “I’m not going anywhere, Lan Zhan. Gotta get yesterday's proofed loaves in the oven by the hour.”

Miraculously, Lan Zhan obeys. Wei Ying half expected him not to. He and Lan Zhan have never been the closest of friends; Wei Ying was an annoying student, and Lan Zhan has a zero tolerance for annoying classmates. But people can change, he supposes. It’s been over four years, and neither of them are the same people they were before Wei Ying packed up his things and gave up his cushioned life in the Jiang estate and his scholarship to one of the most prestigious universities in the country to start slumming it with the Wen siblings and A-Yuan in their closet of an apartment.

“Aw, thanks,” Wei Ying says when Lan Zhan returns. He belatedly realizes that he should’ve asked Lan Zhan to close the door behind him as he leaves the kitchen that he, as a non-employee, isn’t supposed to be in. Oh well; Wen Qing can chew him out for all the health codes he’s violating later. Isn’t she supposed to be manning the front? Lan Zhan must have snuck past her to get here, so she’s just as guilty.

“So you’ve been here the whole time?” Lan Zhan says, watching Wei Ying shape the dough. “Since you — left?”

“Basically.” Stitch the dough into itself. Then fold and tuck. Push the dough underneath itself with the palm of your hands to create surface tension, giving the newly formed loaf that tight, professional finish. Took Wei Ying ages to get the method down pat enough to be consistent. “Wanted to get out of the Jiangs’ hair, so I left soon after dropping out of uni.”

Dust the loaf with rice flour. Place it into a banneton, seam side up. Into the rack, then repeat. “A friend of mine had just inherited their family bakery. I volunteered to help out, and it eventually ended up becoming a full-time thing.”

Lan Zhan stands there without a word — not that Wei Ying minds. He hadn’t let himself dream they’d see each other again, hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up that he'd be lucky enough to see a familiar face again after all this time. Damn, he thinks, sneaking glance after glance between the loaves he’s shaping, he’s more handsome now than ever. Who knew the gorgeous teenager he’d harassed throughout two years of university would turn out to become a gorgeous adult who somehow stumbles into Wei Ying’s bakery? Even the unflattering cast of the yellow, flickering overhead light Wen Qing had been meaning to replace can’t wash out how black Lan Zhan’s hair is, how his skin is as smooth as a baby’s. How golden his eyes are, peering at Wei Ying as if he’s the sunrise after a long, cloudy night.

Bah. Where the hell did that come from? Maybe Wei Ying really is as self-centered as Aunt Yu claimed him to be.

“I wasn’t aware of your...baking aspirations,” Lan Zhan says, causing Wei Ying to choke out a laugh. He’d forgotten how funny Lan Zhan could be.

“Me neither,” Wei Ying admits. He sidesteps the kitchen mixer he’d spent the last year fixing up — he’d bought it in a sorry state, but Hobart engines are built to last a lifetime, and he couldn’t pass up the deal he paid for — to place another filled banneton into the rack. “But I’m not too mad at where I’ve ended up. Speaking of. How did you end up here?”

Lan Zhan's shoulders hunch suspiciously, and Wei Ying's eyebrows arch into fucking parabolas. “I wanted bread,” Lan Zhan replies defensively. “So I went to a bakery.”

Wei Ying scoffs, unimpressed. “A bakery all the way in Yiling?”

Lan Zhan glances away. “I travel a lot for work.”

Fine — he’ll let it go for now. “Well, as long as you don’t tell anyone back home about this, I guess it’s fine.” Wei Ying pauses. “You’re not gonna rat me out, are you?”

The thought should scare him, but a traitorously large part of him thrills at it instead. The Jiangs' are a key food supplier for the Lans' hotel chain, so Lan Zhan has to have some form of communication with them. Does Jiejie think about him from time to time? And Jiang Cheng...well. They’re still brothers, aren't they? Surely he must, at some small capacity, miss him.

But no brotherly love, whatever left there may be, could erase this: the cold silence that hung over the Jiang family table whenever Wei Ying would show up for dinner. Aunt Yu’s constant disapproval and Jiang Cheng’s wavering willingness to put up with it. The car ride. The screech of metal. The hospital said their Range Rover flipped four times. Wei Ying must have passed out after the first. But he was lucky: only a broken arm and whiplash. He had lied about being too hurt to attend the funeral.

It had been a good decision to leave. It had to be.

The back of his neck stings; a constant reminder. He hangs his head low as he stitches the dough.

“I’m not going to...rat you out,” Lan Zhan denies. He’s closer than he’d been since the last time Wei Ying looked up, his slack-clad hip brushing against the corner of Wei Ying’s workbench. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t. Thanks.” Another banneton in the rack. Slower output than usual. He’s going to have to speed up to reach today’s quota. He gestures to the door. “Now, if you’re not gonna help out…”

Lan Zhan doesn’t take the hint. “You left. Without saying goodbye.”

“Must’ve forgotten to leave a note,” Wei Ying says, nonplussed.

“No one knew where you had gone off to.”

“Kinda preferred it that way.”

“But I didn’t —” Lan Zhan stops. Takes a breath. This is the most emotional Wei Ying has ever seen him, if mildly discomfited could constitute as emotional.

When he meets Wei Ying’s eyes again, his face is in its usual state of aloofness. “I was worried about you,” he tells him. “I wish I had known that you were alright.”

A block of guilt presses on Wei Ying’s shoulders. “Oh,” he says. “Sorry.”

Lan Zhan shakes his head. “Don’t apologize.”

“It’s just — with all that happened with the, the accident, and the handling of the estate —”

“You don’t need to explain anything to me you’re not comfortable with.”

“And my relationship with Jiang Cheng was down the fucking gutter —”

“He misses you.”

“I just felt that it everything would’ve been better off if —”

“I understand.”

“— I just left, y’know?”

At this, Lan Zhan frowns. “I fail to see how your sudden disappearance made anything better,” he says.

“Well, you weren’t there.” Wei Ying sighs, and what little fight he had to defend himself from the past drops to the floor. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

Lan Zhan bristles. “I didn’t mean to — that’s not why I’m here.”

Then why are you here? But Wei Ying is done playing this game. “Look, it’s really nice to see you again. But I kind of have a lot on my plate right now, so if you don’t mind.” This time, his gesture to the door is clear. Leave.

Of course Lan Zhan doesn’t leave; he’s always been so damn stubborn. After a beat, he walks over to the empty sink — Wei Ying prefers to wash the dishes as he goes — and washes his hands. Dries them. Rolls up the sleeves of his button up, revealing forearms Wei Ying can’t help but swallow at. Makes his way to Wei Ying’s side, staring down at the lumps of dough like how a runner glares at the bottom of her shoe after stepping on a pile of dogshit.

“Alright,” he says, “how do I do this?”

Wei Ying blinks. “What?” he asks, like an idiot.

Lan Zhan experimentally cups the nearest dough mound with his palms. It sticks to his hands as he lifts them, streaks of the stuff already clinging to his slender fingers.

“Gross,” he says, monotone, pinching two ends to stretch it; an imitation, Wei Ying realizes, of his own technique.

Wei Ying stares. An incredulous smile spreads across his lips. “You’re —” He laughs. “You’re so weird, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan squints at him, confused, hands still making a mess out of the dough. “You asked for my help.”

Perhaps all those years away from home was enough penance for, at the very least, this. “Yeah," he says, soft. "I guess I did.” Wei Ying sways closer to Lan Zhan’s side. He discreetly sniffs the air in a selfish bid to find...ah, there it is, masked between notes of wheat flour and sourdough starter: sandalwood aftershave, brushing past Wei Ying's nose when Lan Zhan turns to him with an expectant glance.

Wei Ying laughs again. “No, not like that. Like this.”

He lays a floured hand over Lan Zhan’s and, together, they get to work.

-----

also posted on ao3

promo post on twitter

fic commissions

[fanfic-inator795]

RotTMNT Oneshot: Sweet Sixteen

((This scene just popped into my head, aaaaand I don’t feel like writing anything else atm so- hope you all enjoy))

It wasn’t often that the lair was bustling early in the morning; the Hamato-Jitsu family stayed up late, and often slept in even later. But on certain days such as these, only one person was allowed to sleep in...

At about 7 a.m., all activity was quickly shushed as silent shadows crept towards a specific room - a bedroom with red-tinted walls thanks to the small lamp that was still lit. They could hear quiet snores, and grinned to themselves as they snuck inside.

Still somewhat asleep but awake enough that his ninja senses were reacting to certain noises and scents, Raph snorted a bit and turned over as he began to stir from his slumber. He instinctively hugged his teddy - he had chosen Dr. Huggenstein the night before - close and tried to bury his face in the back of its head, hoping for just a bit more sleep.

And yet, his mind was slowly starting to wake. He could smell something fruity and buttery near. He could hear quiet giggles and quiet steps padding across the floor of his room. And, despite his eyes being closed, he could still somewhat ‘see’ figures coming closer and closer, until they were standing right in front of him...

With his curiosity now too much for even his sleepy mind to ignore, Raph opened one eye, and-

“SURPRISE!”

The snapper flinched, startled as he sat up and nearly throwing a punch at his ‘surprise’ - although this was anything but a surprise attack, and due to expecting it, his family easily stepped back, avoiding the hit expertly as they laughed. 

Donnie and Mikey threw bundles of red and green confetti at him, and as Splinter held up the stack of strawberry and chocolate waffles, Leo leaned over and placed a plastic “Sweet Sixteen” tiara right on his big brother’s head. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you~!”

Although he groaned a bit at being surprised by one of their family’s longest running traditions (again. You’d think expecting it would be enough to STOP him from freaking out), Raph still smiled as his family sang and clapped. 

When they finished, Raph naturally invited them all in for a group hug. “D’awww, thanks guys.”

“No probles, Big Brother.” “Happy birthday, Raphie!” “Heh, seems like we got you pretty good this year, huh?”

“Ugh, only ‘cause I was in a deep sleep!” Raph argued, pouting only a little, “I’ll be ready next year.”

Splinter just chuckled at his boys, shaking his head. He hadn’t expected this Birthday Morning tradition to last sixteen years when he started doing it when they were all tots (albeit with less screaming involved, at first) but he was sure glad that it had. “Here,” he said, handing the snapper his breakfast, “Best to eat them before they get too cold and soggy.”

“Right, don’t wanna lose that crunch,” Raph agreed, quickly digging in. Although they still had their own breakfasts to prepare, his brothers and father kept him company as he ate. Honestly, Raph appreciated that just as much as he appreciated the breakfast itself.

Naturally, they discussed Raph’s ‘birthday wish’ plans for that day first - another family tradition, the birthday boy (or girl, in April’s case) gets to decide what they all did as a group that day. For his Sweet 16, Raph had decided on some sparring with Frankenfoot, go-karting at Albeartoland, a small shopping spree at Teddy Bear Town (gotta spend that bday money somehow) and capping off the night with a three-hour wrestling special that was premiering on TV (after presents and cake, of course). 

His bros approved of all these ideas, and after texting the schedule to April and CJ, they gave her approval too.

Afterwards, the brothers moved on onto talking about past birthdays, followed by Leo, Mikey and Donnie all talking about the plans that they had for their upcoming birthdays. But as fun as this conversation was, Raph couldn’t help but notice his father growing quieter the longer it went on.

Eventually, his brothers excused themselves to both grab their own breakfasts and give Raph some space to get ready for the day. (The guy didn’t even have his bandana on yet! How embarrassing - or at least it would’ve been if there was anyone but family there). The only one who stayed was his pop, sitting there as content as ever with a soft, slightly bittersweet smile on his face.

“...Everything alright, Pops?” Raph finally asked, once he had polished off his waffles.

“Hm? Oh yes yes, I’m fine... So, how are you feeling, my son?” Splinter asked, “Sixteen is a pretty big milestone, after all.”

“Heh, I’m good. ...Honestly, it doesn’t feel all that different from fifteen” Raph replied. Thinking about it, he added, “Maybe ‘cause a bunch of stuff has already happened in the past year?” He was now officially a year older, yeah, but it felt like he had already done plenty of changing and growing before then.

Who would’ve thought that he would be given mystic weapons (and later mystic powers), learn about his dad’s past, take down several city-ending threats, meet the spirits of his family, and become a hero alongside his family and friends all before his next birthday? That whole situation was... pretty crazy to think about. Amazing, yeah, but definitely still crazy. In that sense, maybe a more normal and lowkey birthday was just what he needed.

Raph was brought back to the present when he felt his father patting his shell. “Yes, you make a fair point... Still, this birthday is just as much an accomplishment as anything else, and certainly worth celebrating properly.”

The old rat sighed a bit, closing his eyes for just a moment. “You boys are growing up so fast... Before I know it, you will be all grown up. You and your brothers...”

“Aw, come on, Dad...” Setting his plate to the side, Raph pulled Splinter in for a one-armed hug. “We’re always gonna need ya, no matter how old or grown up we get.”

“Heh, I know...” But it was still admittedly nice to hear. “Still, you cannot blame me for being a bit... well, a bit shell-shocked as it were whenever I think about how far you have come, Red. I remember when you were all small enough for me to hold in my arms, and now-”

Splinter stopped, his eyes widening as if he realized (or maybe remembered) something - something apparently funny enough to make him laugh. “Did I tell you- ah, no, I wouldn’t have... Well, no time than the present. Want to know something about the day you were born?”

Raph’s eyes widened at the suggestion, more than a little surprised at his dad’s sudden openness about that day, which Splinter supposed he should have expected, considering previous reactions to anything (or anyone) relating to it.

“I know I do not always-” or ever- “talk about the day I was mutated, but it was not a completely bad day.” He smirked. “I got you boys that day, didn’t I? Heh, you were all so tiny and cute! And you-” Splinter laughed again, and while he was still a bit surprised, now Raph was curious about what was so funny, and how did it involve him?

“Okay, so- this was before your boys were- yourselves. Back when you were norm- ah, average turtles. I was picking you all up, looking at how cute you all were and, well, at one point I decided to give you a kiss on your little head - and you know what you did in return? You bit me!”

“Pffft-!” Raph brought a hand to his mouth, hiding his laughs. “I did not!”

“Oh yes you did!” Splinter shot back, grinning now, “Bit me right on the lip! And I am pretty sure I still have the scar to prove it, somewhere under all this fur. Oh, I was so mad! Heh, but only for a few seconds. It is cruel to be mad at a baby, after all...”

His expression softened a bit as he thought about what happened next. Although Splinter was sure that he would always have mixed feelings about what happened that day and the transformation he received, he would always see the creation of his sons as a blessing that he would always be grateful for.

“Once you were all yourselves, I did all I could to get you boys to safety. And when I held you and your brothers in my arms and saw you all looking up at me... I knew that I would never be able to let you go.” 

Even before he began calling them his sons, even when he still only saw them as ‘innocent creatures’ and had no idea what they would eventually become, they were still his. And they always would be. 

“You have all grown so much that day... And I am not just talking about size, although you especially have certainly gotten bigger.” Splinter looked up and smiled at his eldest. “You are strong, and brave, and so kind... You are more of an honorable man at sixteen than I ever was, and I am so, SO very proud of you, Raphael.”

By this point, Raph’s tears were already beginning to fall, but the snapper could hardly care about that. He just brought his rat dad in for another hug - one that Splinter happily returned. When he eventually felt his son’s grip begin to loosen, Splinter moved to stand on his tip-toes and moved his tail towards his son’s head.

Understanding what he was getting at, Raph lowered his head, allowing Splinter’s tail to lift up the silly tiara as his dad planted a kiss right on the center of his head. “Heh... Happy birthday, my son.”

Wiping his eyes, Raph nodded back. “Thanks, Pops.”

“Oh please, thank YOU for not biting me again.” 

The two shared another laugh, staying beside each other a bit longer. When Splinter did finally decide to leave, he made sure to grab his son’s plate to take back to the kitchen. “Try not to come home too late, I’ll be sure to have supper waiting for you all when you get back. But make sure to enjoy yourself today too, okay?”

Raph chuckled, nodding again. “I will,” he promised - easy enough to do, considering it already felt like a great day. Splinter gave him one last smile before walking away.

As he put on his bandana and his wraps, Raph continued to smile to himself. Maybe he didn’t feel any different than he did at fifteen, and maybe in comparison the days where he escaped a Battle Nexus or fought a dark armor, a birthday wasn’t THAT big of a deal.

But maybe his dad was also right. Maybe it was still an accomplishment that he was a year older - that he was still there, still living and still right beside his family, even after a less-than-normal ‘birth’ and everything that came after. 

Maybe that really was worth celebrating, especially when that celebrating was done with the people that actually made his life worth living.

Speaking of which- “Hey, Raph! You still in there?” “Come on! We’ve already got the dojo set up, and we’re pretty sure Buddy’s just gonna start punchin’ stuff if you don’t get in here!”

“Yeah yeah, I’m coming - and you guys better be ready!” Raph shouted back, grinning. 

With his wraps, belts and bandana all now on, he grabbed his sai, spinning them a few times before sliding them into their holsters. Once that was done, he happily raced out of his room and ran towards the dojo, more than ready to seize the day - seize his birthday - for all it was worth.

THE END

[heresathreebee]

Brackish And Briny Waters (three)

[Ralph Lamont X Female Reader]

Summary: Spend the weekend painting the house with your husband. Previous Masterlist Next

Tags: 17+ | 1.6k words | Painting a house together, aka domestic stuff, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, pulling out, vague mention of rats.

AN: part 4 is gonna get angsty I just finished it

Anything involving greens was a heavy battle between you two, as Ralph seemed to have some kind of vendetta against them. The more blue you got, the less you fought and you eventually settled on a cool tone to use for the laundry room with a compromise to paint floral accents in a forest green tone along the edges of the back wall. You did find an exact replica of one of the original wallpapers in your second bedroom which you wanted to move to the living room. 

Colors selected and purchased, you went home starving and managed to scrape together some left overs with a side of rice to fuel you to start on the real work. You also bought brown paper to cover the solar room window holes until you can finish that room as its own project. 

Ralph rolls up his sleeves and puts on his bleach stained lounge pants to help. You lay down tarp and use up 3 rolls of tape to cover the kitchen and the dining room. Every window and door is wide open as you set your record player to play some 'whistle while you work' type of albums. And whistle he does that husband of yours, enjoying your company and shaking his hips dramatically to make you laugh. You two haven't had this much fun in so long it feels like. 

The summer citrus color you chose for the kitchen was really working for you. Ralph intended to put the wallpaper up in the other room to get 'double the work done' but still you find him working the same wall just to be close to you. You talk about missing that classic NYC pizza and dinner tomorrow and Ralph promises to ask his colleagues about any music shops in the area. 

You take a nap on the porch swing to get away from the paint fumes, an iced tea almost slipping from your hand. When dinner time comes, you cook while he details the removal of the old wallpaper from the dining room to work tomorrow. He's rambling about using a third coat on the living room paint and you don't think it's necessary but you know he'll agree with you come morning. 

"Come eat Ralph Vincent," you scold him for getting paint on the door frame but all is forgiven when he sweeps you into a hungry kiss. 

"I'd rather eat you right now." 

Ralph's flirtations are interrupted by his own ractious growling stomach and you laugh at him as you shove a plate into his hand. You eat together by the window in the living room. While it hasn't been painted yet, you have moved the furniture to the middle of the room and the fumes from the kitchen and dining room are still very strong. You hope it doesn't affect your sleep tonight (or hope it puts you down like a dose of melatonin). 

"Floyd's got a boat," Ralph tells you. "Says he takes it out on the water almost every day. Asked if I wanted to join him." 

"And are you?" You spin another forkful of angel hair spaghetti on your plate. 

Ralph slurps his like a child. "Am I what." 

"Are you going to join him on his boat?" You speak slowly and patronizingly. Ralph pinches your breast and almost makes you drop your plate. "No. I hate boats. I hate water. I don't want to be trapped for hours out there listening to him talk about paintings and philosophers, at least at work I can walk away." 

You chuckle. "I think Floyd sounds very interesting. What do you have against him?" 

"Nothing," he protests, "he talks too much. He's loquacious– that's what Justine calls him, and she's one to talk. If you must know, he's actually my favorite– he knows when to keep his nose out of my business." 

Dishes are made slightly more difficult with Ralph hanging off your shoulders. He peppers kisses up and down your neck, even finds a hickey from the morning that's started to fade and he remarks you. You dig your dripping fingers into his hair when he finds that spot on your neck and gives it some much needed attention. 

"Ralphie, baby, please," you whisper, "I could use your help with these." 

Dishes are done in record time and suddenly you're being whisked away to your bedroom (not that you were complaining). This room has the wallpaper that you had no intention to change aside from a fresh upgrade. Ralph takes your hand to spin you around and back you into your shared room all the way to the edge of the bed. Along the way he plants kisses from your hairline to your collarbone before he lets you fall atop the thick quilted bedspread. 

He gazes at you with a warm expression. The soft "my girl" he whisperes makes your heart swell. 

You expect him to pick up your legs and pull you by your knees to the outside of his hips (want him to even), but Ralph has other ideas it seems. It's not until his head is between your legs that you realize what he's up to (or rather down to). You gasp a lung full of air and grab him by the hair of his head. 

"Jesus," you sigh. 

Your husband's rumbling laughter causes your thighs to twitch. "Say my name, I'm the one doing all the work." 

"Yeah but you love– aha!" His beard brushes your inner thighs and leaves a delightful burning sensation in the deepest part of your soul. "Fuck…" 

You pull his hair harder and feel the soft locks stretch in your bloodless grasp. You can feel that immortal coil wind tighter and tighter inside you as Ralph devours you. You start chanting his name, the pitch of your voice beginning to crescendo the closer you get to that fire cracker ending. Ralph doubles his efforts, eager to have you fall apart on his tongue and fingers. 

He's more than making it up to you tonight. 

When you come, your body curls in on itself and your thighs lock around his head, effectively deafening him. You have no idea if he can hear the scream that rips from your body but you can't either as your eyes rolls back in ecstasy. 

You relax onto the bed and feel it dip with an additional weight to your side. You slide into Ralph's easy embrace, his dry hand coming up to hold you to him and just rest for a bit. 

"Fuck," you say huskily, "you're really good at that…" 

Ralph kisses you in answer, trying to deepen the connection but you have to twist away to catch your breath. Instead he plants lingering, sweet kisses on your neck, your cheek, your hair. His hand caresses your back in circles until you're nearly asleep from the motion. 

You flinch when you feel his nose brush against yours. "Baby… don't fall asleep." He sounds so sweet until his voice darkens and he says, "I'm not done with you yet." 

You lose track of time and all you can feel is Ralph Lamont. You're both covered in a sheen of sweat and his hips rock leisurely into yours. You don't know who grabbed who but your hands are tangled together and refuse to let go. Ralph's breath dusts over your neck, cool in contrast to the fire of his physical form pressed against you. You want to come again but you let him draw it out, let him love you tonight. 

"Ralph." You whisper in his ear, begging with no pressure to change pace. You're happy if he's happy and he is very content to keep thrusting into you to his peak and slow down, never stopping but always making you want more. Your man kisses you flush on the mouth and adjusts his position. His thrusts change. They grow from hypotonic and shallow to a little hard and more purposeful. You moan at the feeling, your legs locking around his hips to draw him deeper despite your exhaustion. 

Your orgasm washes over you nice and gentle, nothing like the force of the first time. You're conscious enough to lock your ankles around Ralph's hips, but it still doesn't prevent him from slipping his flushed and reddened cock out and finishing on your stomach as he always intended. You feel a strange tickle of disappointment as you come down from your high but push it to the back of your mind for later. 

Some way, somehow, Ralph still has enough strength to clean you both up and tuck you into bed. He curls around your body despite the near unbearable heat and falls fast asleep, his soft snores right behind your ear lulling you under the tide of sleep. 

DAY FOUR

"Morning." 

Your Saturday is awash of more painting and moving furniture with Ralph. He made coffee and eggs and brought it to you in bed, then dragged you down to look at the frayed wires on the clothes dryer machine. 

"Might be rodents," you muse. "I'll get some traps on Monday and find my soldering iron." 

"We'll get traps tonight," your husband countered, scratching his chin, "the sooner the better." 

You finish removing the old wallpaper in the living room and carefully put up the new one with little fuss. The kitchen still smells of paint but it's dry (it had better be, you left the windows open all night and it's freezing in here) so you put the kitchen utensils and appliances back and remove the protective tape and brown paper. Ralph is proud of the precision work done in the corners and edges, patting himself on the back and yours. 

"We did good babe," he said, "by this time next week, we'll have the whole house done!" 

You laugh at his optimism. There were still cobwebs to dust, cracks to spackle, floors to polish, windows to replace. This was the very reason he picked this place… 

To keep you busy. To keep your mind from wandering to those dark places that linger in your past. 

At least it was working.

Tagging people who might like to know: @werwulfy @hoodoo12 @escape-your-grape @go-commander-kim @fundamentally-lazy @mimiscappinisideblog do y'all wanna be here? If not lemme know please 😅 DM me

[anakinlove]

Listen the things I would absolutely do for like 28 movies of just straight whole days of Anakin Skywalker, like I realize it would be boring for other people but I would die for that. Since we do not have it though, take some of my domestic Anakin headcannons:

You genuinely cannot convince me that Anakin doesn’t snore. Like not loud snores, just quiet little ones. Because he’s such a “go, go, go” personality that I feel like when he does get to sleep it’s a deep sleep, so he just softly snores. (when he’s having a nightmare it’s little whimpers instead)

Personally, PERSONALLY I know this man picks his aftershave/cologne based off the smell vs. usability. I just feel like he’s so conscious of what he smells like, that he has to always smell like this specific thing

I think he definitely tends to subconsciously preserve water. Like, won’t leave the sink dripping, takes fast showers, if he pours himself a glass of water at 3 am he finishes the whole thing instead of dumping a little out like I tend to do, but he never realizes he’s doing it and it doesn’t affect his life in a major way, it’s just one of his take aways from Tatooine

Speaking of take aways from Tatooine. You’re telling me Anakin isn’t the King of Spice ™ ??? You’re gonna sit here and tell me that??? Absolutely not get outta here

SPEAKING OF SPICE, he’s such a good cook. His mom absolutely 100% taught him how to cook and he has such a taste for it. He’s the type of person who can take a bite of something and name everything in it.

He taught Ahsoka how to cook. And he literally said “No family member of mine is going to be a bad cooker Ahsoka, get in the kitchen.” When she offhandedly mentioned that the most she could do was heat up something in the fridge.

Absolutely thinks of Ahsoka like his kid. I also agree with brother/sister, but like he raised her 100% so he thinks of her as his first kid, and was like “Oh I already did this once I’m so excited to do it again” when Padmé told him she was pregnant. (also was going to have the baby call Ahsoka their older sister LIKE LOOK AT ME AND TELL ME IM WRONG DO IT I DARE YOU)

He does the laundry too, like I feel like he really likes mundane chores because they are a stable, constant thing that have to be done. Like if he’s overwhelmed he’ll go do the dishes for a while, or vacuum, or sit and fold laundry. I just feel like he’s the type of person that likes that

However, his room? Absolutely an organized mess. Like he knows where everything is and its mostly droid parts, or half finished projects but it still looks messy. His robes are folded nicely, and his bed is made, but wow are there parts everywhere.

Also we been knew that this man is a genius but he literally built the equivalent of a fucking car from scratch when he was NINE, he builds droids all the time. He’ll make little droids all the time, and they’ll just follow him around his living quarters at his heel sometime, like puppies. When he has too many he walks down the Jedi hall and drops them off at their respective location like “Hello I made another bandage droid and uh, he needs a home” and just make sure all of his droid kids have good loving homes where they are being useful. Anakin has supplied at least 200 droids in his time in the Temple.

He likes to visit the Youngling creche to just sit and read to the kids because despite what happened after he fell, I really think Anakin likes kids. So if he’s having a particularly bad day he’ll go hold the youngest babies and just sit in a chair and rock them (the crechmasters will never say this, but Anakin gained their whole trust and hearts the first time they caught him singing a lullaby to a crying child)

HES SUCH A GOOD SINGER, IVE SAID IT ONCE AND I WILL SAY IT AGAIN

Uh okay I’m going to stop there for now because I could keep going BUT I really shouldn’t because this wasn’t prompted at all. (For everyone reading this, slide into my ask box if you want any x reader fics based on these, or if you want more or different types of headcannons!!!)

(THIS IS THE SAME AUTHOR)

[whumpzone]

Tomas and Rowe - Part 7

look at me smashing out chapter 7 ahead of schedule !! but I’m gonna reiterate again that uni is starting up, so updates may begin to slow down. with that said, please enjoy!

Masterpost

taglist: @sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @oceanthesarcasamfox @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk (just ask if you want to be tagged!)

CW: pet whump, general violence, mentions of self-harm (but not actual), dehumanisation

-

And then Kasia would come again. He seemed to always know when Master was out of the house. It was no different today.

"Hello, pet," Kasia said. Rowe didn’t look up, instead sliding silently to his knees. Kasia had him well taught already. "You may speak, this time."

"Thank you, sir." Rowe’s stomach felt hollow with fright. Every time Kasia appeared he was unprepared. He always seemed to arrive just as Rowe had started feeling calm. Maybe even settled. But the minute he heard that voice he felt like he’d just been caught doing something awful. And this was all so wrong! This wasn’t his Master; he shouldn’t be grovelling like this. He was Master Tomas’s property. It went against all of Rowe’s training to let Kasia treat him like his Pet.

But… what could he do?

The gentle rattle of metal brought Rowe back. He mechanically pulled his t-shirt off and didn’t resist as Kasia put the handcuffs on, securing his hands in front of him, hanging between his hip bones.

"Tight enough?"

This was a game. Rowe could win this one. Kasia played it every time. "No, sir. Not yet." He gritted his teeth as the cuffs ground deeper into his wrists, hissing quietly, but it was certainly better than making Kasia angry.

"How are things going with Tomas? Are you being good for him?"

This was a game Rowe couldn’t win. "I- I am b-being good."

"Mm?"

"I’m being good," he said, clearer. "H-he’s gone out for grocer-"

A smack on the head made his thoughts whirl. "He?"

"M-master! Master To-omas, Master Tomas h-as gone out for groceries."

Another smack. "Stop panicking. You’re so damn annoying. And yeah, I know. He told me he always goes the same time each week so you won’t freak out so much. So lucky for you, he hasn’t twigged that it’s not him leaving that gets you messed up, so much as it’s me coming over. But-"

Kasia grabbed Rowe’s chin and hauled him to his feet. "You’re still giving him trouble. All your trembles and flinches and-" He flung a hand at Rowe’s face, stopping a hair’s breadth from his healing nose. Rowe couldn’t help but jerk away with a gasp. "-all that. So you see? You’re not being good. You’re being a fucking pain."

"I’m s-sorry-"

"No you’re not," Kasia said, matter-of-factly. "But you will be."

-

The knife trailed casually along Rowe’s collarbone. Tiny threads of blood ran down his chest, which was rising and falling normally. His back was perfectly straight against the chair.

"That’s good. Stay nice and calm for me."

"Yes, sir."

"Tomas needs a Pet that doesn’t cry all the time. You don’t want to stress your Master out, do you?"

"N-no, sir, no."

Kasia dragged the knife along to Rowe’s shoulder, digging it in deeper as he cut down his arm. Rowe focused on being blank, and obedient, and keeping his breathing calm, and not making any noise, and not pulling a face, and definitely not crying. He could do this. The knife was momentarily taken away from his skin, leaving the cut to fill itself up with blood.

"Does it hurt, pet?"

"That doesn’t matter, sir."

"Good boy."

Kasia kept his eyes firmly on Rowe’s face and slashed his forearm without warning, watching for any sign of pain or fear. Rowe steeled himself. He wouldn’t give it to him. He let the adrenaline of the sudden cut overcome the pain.

Kasia frowned, clearly hoping that Rowe would falter. He swung the knife viciously along Rowe’s bicep, then another above his bellybutton, then another frighteningly close to his neck- but Rowe was being good-, then another diagonally across his chest. Kasia stood, the knife hanging by his side, taking heavy breaths as he watched Rowe. By now, blood was running down Rowe’s upper body in rivulets, seeping into the waistband on his shorts and dripping off the end of his fingertips.

"You look creepy."

Somehow, this hurt more than being told he looked ugly, like Kasia usually did. "I’m sorry, sir."

Rowe felt a lump in his throat as he swallowed, and a new prickle of fear took over him. He couldn’t cry, he’d made it this far, Kasia couldn’t see him cry. He knew being obedient wasn’t enough to earn him any mercy- Pets were made to take pain, they didn’t deserve pity. He had to be perfect, and then maybe he’d only be hurt a little bit. He took a breath, and the way it hitched made his heart sink.

"What’s this?" Rowe screwed his eyes shut and bowed his head, but Kasia delicately placed the bloody knife under Rowe’s chin and lifted his face up. "Look at me, pet."

When Rowe opened his eyes all he could see were watery shapes- a blink sent tears running down his cheeks. Kasia clicked his tongue.  "I’m disappointed."

Rowe whimpered. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-"

This man wasn’t even his owner, but displeasing him meant more pain. Sure enough, Kasia dug the knife into Rowe’s thigh, slowly pulling it down until he reached his knee. The cut was perfectly straight. Rowe braced himself as Kasia lifted the knife, but he wasn’t prepared for it to nudge itself back into his leg, starting at the top of the cut and following it down, pressing a little deeper.

"You want forgiveness?" Kasia asked calmly.

Rowe’s breathing was becoming desperate, and he couldn’t suppress a whine as he opened his mouth to speak. "Hh- yes, yes, please-"

"Beg for it then. Be a good pet and beg."

"Please," Rowe gasped. This felt all too familiar. "Please, sir, s-sir, I’m s-sorry-"

"What are you sorry for?"

"Not good enough."

"I’m so-sorry f-for being such a b…bad pet! I’m sorry f-for crying," Rowe whimpered as the knife started its journey down the cut again. The pain made his limbs shake, only aggravating the cut further. "Agh- please!"

"Please- sir- I know I’m worthless, I- ah! B-B-But I w-want to be better- so please- f-forgive me…"

"And?"

"And- I, I, uh- agh!" Rowe cried out as the knife twisted in his leg, forcing his words out faster, "Ah, ah, th-thank you, sir, thank you f-for teaching me, I n-needed this, I’m- ah! I’m grateful!"

The knife stopped, but Kasia stayed silent, so Rowe continued. "I’ll b-be good, I’ll be quiet, I w-w-won’t inconvenience Master Tomas, so tha-ank you, thank you sir, th-this is what I deserve as a pet…"

He chanced a glance at Kasia’s face as he pulled the blade away. He was looking at his watch, frowning. "Time for me to go."

Rowe whimpered as Kasia moved around the unclip the handcuffs. Please, at least tell me that was good, tell me I did it right, tell me I begged the way you wanted, tell me I’m good, I’m good, I’m good…

…

The house smelt strongly of bleach. Tomas winced, kicking his shoes off in the entrance. "Only me, Rowe!" he called. Not five seconds later there was a small figure kneeling at his feet, forehead to the floor.

"Welcome back, Master."

"Hey pal. Up you get, I need your help with the shopping."

As the pair set the groceries down on the kitchen counter, Tomas wrinkled his nose again. "What have you been doing in here?"

Rowe looked up with frightened eyes. He hates being questioned, mused Tomas. Always thinks he’s done something wrong. "I- I was cleaning the furniture, Master. I th-thought it might please you."

"It does," he reassured. "It smells very fresh in here. And since you cleaned it, you might as well get to enjoy it, hm?"

"My…my place is at my Master’s f-"

"I know," Tomas held up a hand to stop him. "I’m not testing you. But a lot of pets are allowed on furniture." Well, my mate lets her dog up on the sofa. That’s close enough, right?

"O-oh, really, Master?" Rowe asked with a glint of hope, before freezing up again, "I mean! I’m n-not questioning you, Master, I d-d-didn’t mean that!"

"It’s okay. Yes, really. You don’t need to ask for permission- from now on, you’re allowed, okay?"

"Yes, Master."

"Now, let’s unload all this food, yeah?"

Tomas rummaged in one of the bags, bringing out a packet of cheese. He handed it to Rowe, underlining a word with his finger. "What does this say? Take your time."

Rowe’s lips moved silently as he sounded out the letters. "Ch…cheddar."

"Well done! That was so good! Want to try another?"

"Yes please, Master."

"Good! Now, I’ve got one I need to write down. It’s a whole sentence, but I think you’re ready."

Tomas looked back at the shopping. What was easy to read? What was pronounced phonetically? He didn’t worry that Rowe obviously already knew what everything was called- he was so keen to learn properly he wouldn’t dare lie. Eventually he handed him a small spice jar.

"Puh- ah- pap- r…rika. Ah! Paprika?"

Tomas smiled as he quickly scribbled the words on the side of the paper bag, keeping his handwriting neat and even.

"Try that."

Rowe brushed his hair out of his face and leant in. "My name is Rowe. Hello, Tomas."

"Hello, Rowe!"

Rowe took a step back with a jolt, looking up at him uncertainly. "I- I- I didn’t mean to- to address you w-without your proper title, Master."

"And yet you just did."

Rowe quaked, shrinking away from him, but Tomas forced himself to be steadfast. Come on Rowe, you can do this.

"You were. You’re being good. You’re still being good."

"I’m sorry! I d-didn’t- I didn’t me-mean to, I w-was doing what y-y-you asked Master…"

"Th-then…"

"Try saying my name again."

"T- T- T… I can’t," Rowe whispered, "I d-d-don’t want to be hit."

"I won’t hit you. It’s okay. I’m not your old master."

"I w-was trained to always address my Master properly."

"I know," soothed Tomas, not stopping to think too hard on what Rowe’s ‘training’ entailed, "I know being here is confusing. Can you just try, one more time?"

"T- Tomas…" he forced out, ducking his head and bracing himself. Tomas reached out and Rowe flinched, violently, before seeming to catch himself and force himself to stay still. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from trembling, even as Tomas gently rested his hand on the side of Rowe’s head, rubbing his thumb up and down. It took a few seconds, but Rowe leaned into the touch, his breathing coming under control again.

"There, that was really good. Well done, Rowe. I know that was hard for you."

"Master?"

"It’s okay, it’s okay. We can work on that. For now, I think your reading is coming along just fine. I’m very happy with you."

"You… you are?"

"Mmhm. Now, let’s finish putting this stuff away. I have some work to get on with."

-

Tomas’s smile vanished as he closed the office door. He hadn’t been imagining it. He’d kept calm, and casual, but there were definitely cuts on Rowe that hadn’t been there when he left. They were hard to miss, long searing red slices poking out from his white t-shirt and the bottom of his shorts.

He ran a hand through his hair, pulling on a curl by his ear. What to do, what to do? How had he got those?

He remembered a horror film he’d seen once where a woman had lived in captivity for so long that she kept harming herself even after she was freed, because living without constant pain was too unnatural for her. Had Rowe given himself those cuts? Had he- Tomas’s eyes widened- had he also broken his own nose? Was he that desperate for punishment that he was willing to punish himself?

His panic rose as he realised Rowe could be doing that right now. What was he thinking, making Rowe call him by his name? It was far too early for that, he was still learning it was okay to sit on the damn sofa, Christ alive Tomas.

He rushed back downstairs to keep an eye on Rowe. He had to figure out a way to stop this.

[sneezefiction]

apple pie & ice cream

Kenma x Reader - Scenario

desc: gloomy days can always be brightened with sweet smells, cinnamon sugar, and a homemade apple pie from yours truly: Kenma Kozume

a/n: to the anon who requested this a little while ago... happy birthday, love!! i hope you’re okay that i switched things around a little bit & had Kenma make you something sweet instead <3</i>

warning: slight language

wc: 1580

---

Some days are longer than others.

You’ve never had a good explanation as to why, but there are at least some telltale signs.

Like when red lights seem endless, your favorite song doesn’t sound as pretty as it should, and you just can’t keep your tired eyes open. Even with a cozy mug of hot tea in hand or the gentle stream of sunlight filtering through your office’s window, the warmth on your fingertips and face simply refused to reach you on the inside.

It also doesn’t help that you were flipped off not once, but twice, by some shitty drivers when you clearly had the right of way.

So you determine that the faster you can get home to Kenma, the better you’ll feel.

You take every short-cut and any back road, impatiently awaiting the moment that you can kick off your uncomfortable shoes and step out of those constricting work clothes. To turn on the air-conditioning and crash into a couch that proves to be far more welcoming than the outside world. Even just a nice, long stretch would do your aching back and heavy arms some good.

But most of all, you long to sink into Kenmas chest and lazily breathe in the comforting smell of home that rested on his well-worn hoodies. To run your fingers through his silky, soft hair and make messy braids out of it while sighing heavily to relinquish the day's grip on your tight shoulders. You can’t wait to bother him until he sets aside his black and red headphones to kiss your forehead and pull you into a soul-catching hug.

Most crappy days call for extra love from your gamer-boyfriend… but today Kenma has really gone out of his way to shower you in sweetness. Literally.

You’d sent him an awfully lengthy text about the number of crazy drivers on the road, the dreary weather overhead, following it up with a recap of your teary-eyed breakdown in a fast food chain parking lot... and you topped it off with just how much you missed him.

So he did the one thing he knew could lift anyone’s spirits.

Kenma got to baking his world famous apple pie.

Countertops were covered in white and brown sugar, apple peels, and other various, scattered ingredients. A store-bought pie crust was preheating in the oven, because only God knows how long it would take for Kenma to learn how to make that from scratch. Spices plumed in delicate, little clouds throughout the kitchen. Everything was coming together beautifully.

Kenma mumbles to himself quietly, a little miffed that he’s missing his weekly streaming session...

But secretly, he’s been meaning to do this for you for a long time. 

He’s been dying to thank you for putting up with his incessant live shows and never-ending computer gameplay. For living with him in his rental house even though he could probably (definitely) afford something far more luxurious. And you deserved luxurious. You should be decked out in diamonds and fancy cashmere, lounging on a sofa atop some rooftop garden oasis that overlooks the entirety of Tokyo, and dancing the night away at clubs and galas.

But you chose him. 

Simple Kozume. 

A smaller-framed boy with a knack for video-games, patterns, and strategy. The one they jokingly called “pudding head” in high school. That kid who used to hide behind his own hair because the world around him was far more daunting than he thought he could handle.

Kenma would rather stay in and binge a series on netflix than spend a night out on the town. He invests himself in playing an overly-competitive tournament of Mario Kart with you over flying out for a highstakes game of poker in Vegas. He prefers nights surrounded in fairy lights when you collaborate on videos with him, throw popcorn at his long hair, and drink a bit too much just because you both compliment each other more when you’re a little tipsy.

You love all of this about him and you’ve reminded him time after time that you wouldn’t trade him for the world… yet Kenma is still determined to at least have this apple pie done by the time you get home.

But as luck would have it, you’re early.

The lock to the door clicks and twists as you slide it open with a few squeaks.

Your senses are instantly delighted by the blooming fragrance of cinnamon and nutmeg. An ambrosial wafting of warm apples and pastry dough permeates the airspace while the added ginger and lemon cut through the sweet scent.

As if the room had just handed over a fluffy blanket and set you in front of a crackly, wood-burning fire, you’re filled with that much needed comfort. 

You’re home. And it smells so damn good.

If heaven had a scent, this was it. And you might as well be wearing a halo and angel wings.

“Kozume…?” You call out, wondering if it was really your boyfriend in the kitchen creating that mouth-watering aroma. 

“...yes, y/n?” He replies slowly, trying to clean up the countertops, a little frustrated that the pie wasn’t finished in time for your arrival.

“Is that you? Or did Gordon Ramsey break into my house and take over my kitchen?” You giggle, waltzing into the kitchen, the stress of the day being alleviated immediately upon seeing those speculative, gold-speckled eyes.

His hands are in his hoodie pockets, but when your form turns corner into the kitchen and makes its way toward him, Kenma draws them out and sneaks his hands up to your cheeks, cupping them gently.

He leans in, his expression a tad quizzical and somewhat mysterious, and whispers…

“You’re an idiot sandwich.”

A laugh bubbles up and out, shaking your whole body as you wrap your arms around his frame. You’d seen him just this morning, but wow you’d missed him and his extensive knowledge of meme culture. Now Kenma has his arms draped around your waist, hands squeezing at your hips a little. Your flustered but smiley expression spurs on a soft chuckle, a gentle yet deep rumbling in his throat.

“I thought you’d be back a little bit later, but I’m glad you’re here.” He murmurs out, voice tired but so soothing to your ears.

“Mmm, I’m glad to be back… now are you gonna tell me what that magnificent smell is? Or should I open up the oven and check?” The cheeky tinge to your voice causes him to pull away from you for a moment to look you in the eye.

“If you want it to turn out well, I’d keep your pretty little hands away from the oven for the next few minutes.” Kenma quips.

You playfully stick out your tongue but then proceed to place a teasing peck between his eyes, making him crinkle his nose cutely.

“So, when you sent me those texts earlier, I might have accidentally made an apple pie.” Kenma admits, looking away.

“Accidentally?” A grin slowly spreads across your face, eyes glinting with humor.

“Yep. Accidentally.” He shrugs, “I found some ingredients and a pie dish and I just accidentally threw it all together. So yeah, how convenient is that?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. 

He’s really something else. And to think your day had previously been wrought with misery and disappointment.

“Mmm I don’t know, Kozume… it doesn’t sound like an accident to me. I think you did it because you wanted to be sweet.” You whisper softly into his ear.

Leaning back to brush away a strand of his hair from his face to get a full visual of his cat-like gaze.

“And why would I do that?” He teases gently.

“Oh, I don’t know… maybe because you love me?” You poke at his shoulder.

“Huh? Love?” He gives you a goofy look, raising both eyebrows in mock confusion. “...Is that some kind of sauce?”

He tries to keep a straight face, but the quirk of his lip gives him away.

You just stare at him before giving in to another fit of rolling giggles. The hearty, unrestrained laughter overtakes the both of you, causing you to double over and clutch your middle in an attempt to hold yourself up. Kenma has his back up against the counter-top, holding the edges of it with both palms to keep himself steady and from falling to the floor. 

As you both recover from aching lungs and that cloudy, euphoric feeling, you can’t help but let a smile plaster itself on your face.

Kenma has done many things today.

He gave you a reason to come home with hope in your heart. He’d drawn you into a heartfelt, soul-refreshing hug. He had made you laugh like nobody ever could. He’d even baked you an apple pie.

But best of all, he‘d held you together.

Like he always did.

Every single day, without a doubt in your mind, you could celebrate and smile. Because you would always have this cinnamon-covered cutie to smile and crack up with. He would always brighten the most mundane of weekdays and find the loveliest of ways to match your moods.

You two are like apple pie and vanilla bean ice cream.

And speaking of ice cream…

“Hey, Kozume?” You bring him into one more bear-like hug.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Did you get ice cream to go with the apple pie?” You ask, your face preciously tucked into the crook of his neck.

No reply. Had he heard you?

“Kozume? Did-”

Cue a huge sigh from Kenma.

“...Where are my car keys? I need to go to the store immediately.”

---

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @miss-rin, @shou-kunn, @senkuwu-chan, @super-noya, @stcrryskies, @holaaaf, @sugacookiies, @vintgicals, @moonlightaangel

(comment, dm, or send an ask to be added to my general tag list)

[seokjinsdisciple]

It’s a Deal - seven

supernatural! johnny x reader x jaehyun,  mate!au

Word Count: 1.7k

sorry its been forever oops

tags: @thatonekpopsweater, @queen-of-himbos , @yourchasingsunsetslove, @a-brooding-bird, @sokkigarden, @tardis-world

send me a dm or an ask to be on the taglist

warnings: language, supernatural stuff, arguing?, mentions of scent if that needs to be tagged idrk

<previous   seven       next>

series masterlist

You had sworn yourself to not go near the two fae boys, their handsome faces intoxicating you more often than not. You didn’t like making stupid decisions. But when you were around the two of them, stupid decisions seemed to be all that you could make. 

Two weeks had passed since the events at the palace, and to be honest, you were very relieved that the boys had been leaving you alone. It felt nice to return to school, work and the normalcy that was being a college student. You didn’t have to think about the fae, well at least not that they were real, and it was nice. 

You couldn’t help but worry a little at the disappearance of the two boys who had been annoying you for weeks, but you figured that they could take care of themselves. You were right. 

So you went along like you normally would, attending your classes, studying for your exams and working. You had found yourself at the library more often than not. You needed to study for your finals. Or at least that's what you kept telling yourself as you sat in the same spot of the library where you had a perfect view of Dong-young working. Yeah it was a little creepy of you to watch him, but you were there to study, only to study. 

You found yourself at your table in the library, glancing around to see if you could spot the cute bunny boy who had helped you a few weeks ago. He was normally at the front counter, but you couldn’t find him today. You promised yourself you would just do one subtle peer around the bookshelves to see if you could spot him, so you did. Then, with no sign of him you bent over to pull your books and computer out of your bag, jumping out of your skin when a voice echoed from behind your chair. 

“Looking for someone?” The voice from behind laughed. You were met with Dong-young’s mischievous smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Have I been that obvious?” You asked, the heat of embarrassment flooding your body. 

“Only a little bit,” he smiled at you, “But I would be lying if I said I hated having such a pretty girl watching me.”

“I swear I also had to study,” you muttered, giving an awkward chuckle as Dong-young just smiled at you. 

“Well, if you’ve done enough studying, I was hoping you would join me for lunch somewhere?” 

“Lunch?”

“Well today is the first day I’ve had off in awhile, and I was really hoping we could spend it somewhere besides this library.”

And who were you to say no to that? So you followed him out of the library, through campus, and into a small little cafe. 

The two of you talked easily, joking around as if you had known each other for years. You laughed, and yeah you flirted. Truly the lunch felt like a dream, and it was the perfect way to relieve some stress from this semester. And Dong-young was sweet, like so sweet. He paid for lunch, held your hand, and gave you his scarf as you walked around the park. He really was the perfect gentleman. He walked you home, hand intertwined with yours the whole way. 

He went with you to get your groceries, carrying them with you back to your apartment. 

“This is me,” you spoke, nodding your head towards your apartment building. Dong-young just smiled, gently handing you the groceries you had gotten before shoving his hands in his pockets.  

“Thank you for joining me today,” he grinned, leaning down and planting a kiss on your forehead.

“I had a really good time,” you smiled back at him, “Thank you for not being creeped out by my staring.”

“Never creeped out,” he laughed, scratching the back of his head as he asked “I was hoping we could trade numbers?”

You pulled your phone out as he got his, the two of you swapping phones without a second thought. 

“Oh no,” he spoke, pointing to your phone’s black screen, “It’s dead.”

“That’s alright,” you smiled, “You have my number now. I will be expecting a text and a second date soon.”

“Don’t worry,” he chuckled back, “If you don’t hear from me soon, which you will by the way, you know where to find me.”

“You bet I do,” you smiled back, giggling as he took your hand and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles. 

“I’ll see you around, YN,” he gave a short wave before turning on his heels and walking away. 

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you watched him walk away. Smile never leaving your lips as you climbed the stairs up to your apartment. You were elated, and you couldn’t wait to plug your phone in and wait for a text from Dong-young. At least until you heard two very familiar voices echoing through the hallway of your apartment building. 

You had taken the brothers' absence in your life for granted. A fact that was clearly evident as they stood bickering with each other in front of your apartment door. You couldn’t help but groan as you handed them the bags of groceries that you had been carrying. Wordlessly unlocking the door and letting them continue their arguing as you held your front door open. 

The two men walked inside easily, barely glancing at you as they continued arguing. You couldn’t tell the full extent of the argument, but you figured it had something to do with their father. You rolled your eyes as the boys placed the groceries on your counter, shrugging your coat and Dong-young’s scarf off of your body and throwing them half-hazardly on the back of one of your chairs. 

The boys' incessant bickering filled your ears as you began to put your groceries away. The joy you had felt with Dong-young slowly transforming into irritability at the never ending arguing of Johnny and Jaehyun. 

“Enough,” you started, rubbing a hand across your face to relieve some tension, “help me put the groceries away and then you can continue fighting about whatever it is you are fighting about.”

“Sorry, pet,” Jaehyun walked over to you, pressing a kiss to your temple before reaching around you to start putting the groceries away. 

“You seem stressed,” Johnny said, coming up behind you and wrapping you in a hug. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, exhaling contently, but then he tensed, “You smell weird.”

He pushed you away for a second, crinkling his nose before sniffing you again. He practically growled as he said, “I don’t like it.”

“Since when can fae smell that well?” You asked, subconsciously sniffing your shirt. 

“Mm,” Jaehyun shook his head, “It’s not a fae thing its a-”

“Jaehyun.” 

He took one look at Johnny’s glare and coughed, awkwardly smiling as he took an exaggerated sniff of your neck.

“I’m just kidding,” he said, “It’s totally a fairy thing, nothing else at all.”

“Um, ok then?” You chuckled awkwardly, grabbing the cereal box and putting it into the cabinet above you. 

“Just please go shower?” Johnny asked, covering his nose with his shirt.

“That seems a little mean, Johnny,” you frowned, sticking your tongue out at him, “but yeah, I’ll go shower.”

You shuffled off to your bathroom, sniffing your shirt again, not smelling anything different. You huffed as you turned the shower on, fae could be so rude sometimes. Never in your life could you imagine telling someone they smelled bad. 

You undressed, testing the temperature of the water with your hand. Your ears perked up as you heard the boys start talking again. 

“You’re gonna have to tell her sometime, Johnny,” Jaehyun said. 

“I know, but now is not the time,” he replied, “There’s too many things going on.”

“Whatever you say dear brother,” Jaehyun chuckled, “What’d she smell like anyways? I thought you were going to vomit when you smelled her.”

“It’s not funny Jae,” Johnny groaned, “She smelled like another man, like him.”

“That’s impossible! There’s no way she smelled like him,” Jaehyun said, you could hear him moving around the kitchen now, probably putting away the rest of the groceries. “Clearly someone has been spending too much time talking war strategies with father.”

“Oh please, Jaehyun not this again,” Johnny groaned, “You know you have other duties to attend to, my only duty is making sure no one in the family gets killed.”

“Yet you are only worried about her,” Jaehyun snapped back.

“She can’t protect herself,” Johnny yelled back, “You are a trained warrior, Mark has powers to protect him, Jaemin and Jeno will protect each other. She has no one to protect her but me.”

“She has us Johnny. And you know each of our brothers would do anything to protect her too.”

“You don’t get what it's like Jae,” Johnny’s voice was barely audible now, you had to lean against the door to hear him clearly, “-to find her and not be able to be with her feels like I am dying.”

You closed your eyes, straining your ears trying to hear what Jaehyun would say back, but he was too quiet. Your thoughts were swirling as you finally got under the spray of the water. The warmth cascading down your body as you tried to piece together what this meant. What was Johnny hiding from you? And why did he feel so compelled to protect you? You watched as the soap swirled around your feet and slid into the drain, left with more questions than answers.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch42: Maybe Baby Part 2- Between The Toaster And The Fridge

Intro: Steve comes home to a very, special welcome…

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut! (NSFW) No under 18s. Teeth rotting fluff…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N- More thanks to @angrybirdcr​

Chapter 42 Part 1​

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

The recruits around Steve were laughing, and he had to smile himself. He’d just told them the story about how he had managed to get a flag down from the top of a pole once when he was training, right before he go the serum. He’d taken the pins out of the bottom of the pole causing it to crash to the floor where as everyone else had tried to climb it, including Gilmore Hodge. God, what a prick he had been.

“So, the moral of the story is just because it’s the path of least resistance, it doesn’t mean it’s the wrong path.” Steve looked around at the assembled team, smiling to himself as he repeated the words Natasha had once said to him, words he hadn’t agreed with in that circumstance but here, well, they fit.  “Consider each task on its own merit. Decide what your end goal is and then look for the simplest, safest and least strenuous way to achieve it. Conserve your energy for when there’s no other option open to you because that’s the time that you’ll truly need it.”

With that he nodded to Rhodey and moved to the side of the room, folding his arms across his broad chest as he looked at the assembled trainees. They seemed like a good bunch this lot, receptive to his advice and teaching which was an improvement on the lot he’d had a month or so back in Colorado. They’d been a nightmare and when they were awkward it made being away from his girls so much more of a chore. At least when they were like this, it made him feel like it was worthwhile. He took a few more questions, gave a bit more advice before they called it for the day and he headed back to his room to make sure he was packed, ready to head home the next afternoon. It had been three weeks this time, and whilst he’d spoken to Katie and Emmy every night it still didn’t make him feel any better at being away from them, even though he knew it was part and parcel of his job. 

It also wasn’t helping their baby-making plans either.

His phone was vibrating in his pocket and he smiled when he saw who it was. Flopping down on the bed he beamed at Katie.

“Hey sweetheart.”

“Hey handsome.” she smiled, yawning slightly

“What you been up to?”

“Been busy with this Half Way Home proposal.

“How’s it going?”

“Good, Pepper’s giving it the once over before we send it into the Senate. I don’t think they’ll have an issue, I mean we’re not asking for funding but with them behind us it means the sale should go through easier.”

“Sounds like you have it all planned.” He smiled “Bet Natasha is pleased.” “Hmmm” Katie frowned. “She’s flown off again this evening.”

He groaned “Johannesburg?”

“Yeah.” she shrugged “She won’t give up. Says she owes it to Clint to try.”

“She’s on a hiding to nothing.” Steve sighed “I don’t know what she thinks she can do.” “Who knows, but if it makes her feel better who are we to argue. We’d do the same in her position.” And Steve had nothing else he could say on the matter, as he knew she was right. He had done the same, pretty much.

“Can’t want to get home tomorrow.” he changed the subject, smiling. “Three weeks apart isn’t exactly helpful on the whole trying-not-trying front is it?”

“Not really no.” Katie gave a soft laugh

Steve grinned cheekily “Every time I’ve jacked off in the shower I’ve had this horrible, guilty feeling that I could be washing a little me down the-“ “Oh my God!” Katie snorted as Steve laughed loudly, his right hand flying to his chest “You’re disgusting!”

“You love it!” he smirked, and she sighed and looked at him.

“I love you.” she said simply, and he could do nothing but grin stupidly back at the screen.

“Hi Jen!” Katie greeted as she walked up to the coffee counter, Emmy walking behind it like she owned the place, casually heading into the back to find Brooke.

“Hi!” Jen turned to her, “Usual?” “Erm, to be honest with you coffee isn’t what I’m after today.” she said “Had a disgusting hangover yesterday that I’m still recovering from so can I get a tea and one of those Danishes please?”

Jenifer chortled, “Take a seat I’ll bring it over and join you for a bit.” Katie smiled, paid for her drink and food and headed over to the comfy sofas by the window. Sinking into the well-worn leather she pulled out her phone and flicked through a few emails, pleased to see Pepper had proof read their proposal and made a few minor tweaks. She had just fired it off to her secretary to make the changes and forward on when Jennifer sat opposite her, pushing her food and drink over the table. Katie was that hungry she wolfed the pastry down in about four bits, before leaning back, wiping her fingers with a napkin.

“I think sugar and carbs maybe the way forward today” she laughed “I feel better already.”

“Why is it the older you get, the longer hangovers last?” the woman asked and Katie shrugged.

“Gone are the days I could sink shot after shot and still make it out unscathed.” she rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her tea appreciatively “Being an adult sucks.” She spent a few hours at the coffee shop, leaving Emmy there after Jennifer had assured her it was ok for her to stay, before heading into the city to find Steve a gift. This year, four, was either fruit, flowers, linen or silk. Which was a random combination when you thought about it. But she found a really nice grey linen blazer that would suit Steve, and smirking to herself, bought a silk slip that she could wear to bed. Always nice to keep him on his toes as she had said last year.

She picked Emmy up and then stopped on the way home to fuel up the Camero, As she leaned against the side of the car, watching the numbers tick over on the pump, the smell of gasoline filled her nostrils, almost choking her and she was overcome with a wave of nausea and vomited straight onto the floor.

“Fucks sake.” she groaned, as she managed to compose herself, waiting for the feeling to subside. Thankfully Emmy was too engrossed in something on her phone to notice. Eventually, her stomach stopped flipping and she finished, paid and headed back to the Compound, wondering if she was coming down with a bug. But then, as she walked down the corridor with her bags the strong stench of bleach from one of the labs made her once again feel the need to hurl.  

Something clicked in her mind and she paused, suddenly feeling very hot.

“Hey.” Bruce looked at her as he appeared from the lab. “You alright? You look a bit pale.” “Yeah, fine.” she nodded, swallowing “Just remembered, I forgot to grab something. Emmy, can you take these up to the apartment and go straight to Nat? Bruce do you mind just…”

“No, course not.” He smiled, “In fact, I have something to show you Em. Remember that research I was doing into the…”

Katie didn’t stay to hear the rest, Emmy wandered off after Bruce chatting away, whilst she turned back the way she had come and hurried back to the car. 

***** Steve walked back into the apartment and was greeted by a whirl of sandy fur before Katie appeared hurriedly crossing the hallway to throw herself into his arms.

“Missed you.” He smiled, as he bent to give her a kiss.

“I missed you too.” she pouted, her hands fisting into his light blue button down “Three weeks is far too long, I don’t like it.” “I know, sorry baby.” he smiled “Where’s Emmy?”

“Nat’s” Katie said as she turned and headed back to the kitchen “I know it isn’t our anniversary until tomorrow but I wanted get you all to myself right away.”

“Yeah? Got something in mind?” He grinned, wrapping his arms around her from behind, nipping at her neck before he rest his chin on her shoulder.

“Yeah, feeding you.” she chuckled as his stomach gave a loud rumble “Hungry?” “I’m always hungry.” he pouted, his arms still wrapped tightly round her “Doesn’t help that whatever you’ve been baking smells so good.”

“Saffron buns.” She smiled and Steve let out a groan off delight as his stomach rumbled again “And seeing as you’re so keen to get your hands on one, can you get them out of the oven?” she nodded towards it and twisted away from his hold “I’m almost done with the rest of the food.”

Grumbling slightly at the loss of her warmth against his chest, he straightened up and pulled the metal and glass door open before he frowned. A single bun sat on the tray in the middle of the large oven. What was that about?

“Honey, what…” He turned to look at Katie who was stood behind him, biting her lip. He frowned, before he turned back to the bun in the…

Oh. Oh!

Steve spun round that fast he nearly fell over. Katie smiled at him, her eyes shining at the look of surprise on his handsome face.

“You’re - um. You - you’re…?” Steve couldn’t quite form his words. Katie smiled, as he swallowed hard “Katie…”

“Yeah. Although I think the correct term might be ‘we.’” 

“Sweetheart you…” he looked at his wife, not quite able to believe what she was saying “We’re, really having a baby?” “Yeah.” She nodded, sniffing slightly as she reached for him then with both hands, cupping his face in her fingers. “We are. You’re gonna be a daddy, Steve.”

“Shit!” He exclaimed with a laugh “I’m gonna be a daddy!” with that he pulled her into his arms and swung her up in the air, the same way he had done when she’d agreed to marry him, causing her to laugh before he gently brought her down again, her arms sliding around his neck as he set her on her feet, pressing another kiss to her lips.

“How far gone, do you know?” He asked, pulling back an inch. “Not sure. It can’t be that far but I have an appointment with the ob-gyn tomorrow morning. I wanted to make sure everything was okay after, you know…”

Steve glanced down at her stomach and moved his hand towards it, pausing.

“You don’t have to ask.” Katie smiled softly, taking his hand in hers and guiding it onto her stomach. Steve took a deep breath as his fingers splayed out gently across her belly under her palm, his face shining with pure unadulterated emotion as his eyes stayed focused on his hand.

He had never felt so happy or so alive in his life.

*****

A tiny blip. Nothing more than what looked like static brought tears to both their eyes as Dr Kellet pointed to the image.

“Well, Mrs Rogers” she smiled “from this I estimate you’re roughly eight weeks pregnant.” “Eight weeks?” Steve asked, as he did the maths in his head. Eight weeks took them back to the fourth of July, his birthday…

Katie grinned to herself as she felt Steve’s arms slide around her waist and his lips gently brushing on her neck, his stubble scratching at her skin.

“I’m trying to cook you lunch here.” she sighed as his hand worked beneath the waistband of her denim shorts. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers skated into her underwear.

“Want me to stop?” he asked as her head fell back against his shoulder and she bit her lip.

“Didn’t say that.” she muttered as his fingers slipped further into her folds, finding her spot. His other hand slipped up her vest top and splayed on her stomach, pulling her back into him further and she let out a soft squeak as he slipped one finger into her. He continued to work her, she was putty in his hands and eventually when he knew she was close he moved and spun her round, pulling her to him, his arousal pressing into her as he kissed her, hard, his hands cupping her cheeks as he backed her into the wall. Her hands strayed down to the buckle of his belt and she quickly undid it, wasting no time as she slipped her hand into his boxers, grasping him hard. He bucked at the touch and let out a hiss.

“Easy soldier.” she grinned into his mouth as he let out a groan, his hands dropping to her shorts. In a flash she was out of them and her underwear and he lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist, back pressed against the kitchen wall.

“Shut up.” he mumbled, kissing her hard and she laughed into his mouth, a laugh that turned into a gasp as he pushed into her with no warning at all.

“Gonna fuck a baby into you doll.” He growled and her head rolled back, banging slightly on the light yellow painted wall. “Say that again.” she moaned.

He punctuated each word with a hard thrust “I’m…gonna…fuck…a…baby…into…you…” he purred, one hand resting by her head on the wall, the other snaking under her top and pulling down the cups of her bra. He rolled each nipple in turn between his thumb and forefinger leaving her grinding down against him for more friction as she kissed him again, hard, her gasps coming thick and fast as he rutted up, his hips snapping back and forth in a fast and deep rhythm. Steve let out a groan, his tongue sliding against hers sending the familiar red hot pokers of desire straight to his belly. His wife still managed to turn him on as much as the first time they’d ever been intimate together, despite there being what felt like a life time of ups and downs since then. If anything he was convinced that’s what made it better. He knew her body as well as he knew his own, every curve, every dip, every scar, blemish freckle and she knew his, each and every single inch of his skin, his limbs. Her hands grasped at his back, sliding up his t-shirt, nails raking down his skin, the stinging sensation causing him to grunt again as his rhythm picked up slightly, gaining momentum as he could feel himself going. “Come on, baby.” He muttered, his forehead pressed against hers “Wanna see you let go.”

“Stevie.” Her voice was a whisper, as her eyes fluttered closed for a second and he felt her thighs tighten around him, her mouth falling slack for a moment as her head tilted back. He moved the hand that was against the wall to her neck, holding her head in place and when her eyes opened again, those beautiful green orbs locked onto his she gave a low, sultry moan and he felt her walls tighten around him.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He mumbled as the strands in his stomach began to tighten “I love you, so much.” and with a final few snaps of his hips he came with a loud moan, his head falling to her shoulder, lips latching onto her neck as he thrust through his orgasm, before he stilled, both of them catching their breath.

Their baby had been conceived between the toaster and the fridge.

“So from that you’re estimated due date is the ninth April…” Dr Kellet smiled, tapping at something on her computer and then turning to gently wipe off the gel she had placed on Katie’s stomach. “So, do you have any questions?”

Of course Steve did. He spent a full thirty minutes drilling the woman about all the types of things Katie could and couldn’t do. Dr Kellet smiled, before she answered all of them, and some he hadn’t asked, in particular one about how sex was fine up until the birth if Katie was comfortable, warning him in fact that many pregnant women felt a spike in their libido in their second trimester. This caused Steve to flush and Katie to silently snigger.

“And lastly, I do hate to warn you about this as well but the term morning sickness, its bullshit. Should be called All Day Sickness”

“Tell me about it” Katie rolled her eyes. “Smells are the worst trigger.”

“Yeah, that’s very common.” the Dr Smiled “The good news is it should die down, if not go completely by about twenty weeks, but just keep yourself hydrated and rest up to avoid fatigue.”

“Thanks.” Katie smiled at her, “I’ll bear it in mind.”

As they walked back to the car, Steve’s arm curled round Katie’s shoulder and he pulled her closer, dropping a kiss onto her head. She smiled to herself, leaning into his touch as he gripped the scan photo they had been given with his other hand.

“I still can’t quite believe it.” He shook his head, reaching into his pocket for the car keys. “I know.” Katie’s voice was little more than a whisper. Steve turned to face her, his hands linking at the bottom of her spine “I can’t wait to tell everyone.” “We’re not telling everyone until twelve weeks is up.” she said, shaking her head “Bar Tony, Natasha, and Emmy.”

“Now?” He grinned, and Katie laughed as she snaked her arms round his neck.

“So impatient, Captain Badass.” She grinned as she leaned up to kiss him. “But yeah, let’s pay Tony a visit!”

Steve spent the entire forty-five minute journey grinning like an idiot, chatting about plans for nurseries and all sorts of stuff, he was incandescently excited. Katie simply let him go on, his happiness was infectious although she did at one point have to get him to pull over so she could vomit out of the passenger door.

Steve was out of the car like a shot and round to the other side, crouching down, his hand gently stroking Katie’s flushed cheek.

“You okay?” He asked, his face concerned as she reached for the bottle of water that was in the cup holder.

“Get used to this.” She groaned, laying her head back against the head rest.

As they walked up the driveway to the porch, Pepper spotted them immediately from where she was sat on a chair on the grass, Morgan happily led on her tummy on the tartan blanket. She greeted them as they approached and Morgan let out a loud shriek at the sound of their voices.

“Moo, you’ve gotten so big!” Steve smiled as he swept her up and she beamed back at him.

“Well you haven’t seen her in a few weeks.” Pepper chuckled, as Steve gently pulled faces at the infant, causing her to give him a huge smile. “They grow fast.” “You’re not kidding.” Steve mused and Katie smiled, unable to stop her heart blooming at the thought that he would be doing that soon enough with their own baby.

“Hey guys.” Tony smiled, walking out of the house and dropping onto a seat next to Pepper. “Not that it’s not nice to see you but we weren’t expecting you.” “Yeah, well, we err, have some news that we kinda wanted to tell you in person.” Katie glanced up at Steve as he gently placed Morgan back on the blanket and Katie sat on the wicker couch opposite her brother and Pepper, Steve perching on the arm next to her.

Pepper twigged immediately, smiling at Katie who grinned back.

“What’s the matter?” Tony frowned, “Are you sick? Is something wrong with the business?”

“Oh come on Tony, isn’t it obvious?” Pepper looked at him

“Errr no.” he frowned. “What-” he looked at his sister “-what’s supposed to be obvious?”

Katie glanced at Steve who gave her a grin before he turned and looked at his brother-in-law.

“You’re gonna be an uncle, Tony!” he smiled, dropping an arm round Katie’s shoulders.

Tony stared for a minute and then slapped his knees triumphantly, a huge grin breaking across his face. “You’re kidding me! Really? Really?” He leaned forward, intently scrutinizing Katie’s midsection until she tossed a throw pillow at his head. He dodged it, looked at her for a moment before he jumped up and swept her into an enormous hug. She stood up to greet him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Kiddo, that’s, wow, it’s awesome!” He spluttered.

“Thanks Tony.” She sniffed, stepping back as her brother reached up and cupped her face in his hands, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Guys, congratulations.” Pepper gave Steve a hug and then turned to Katie when Tony had finally released her, giving the younger woman a squeeze.  

“Wow, Baby America - you gonna dress him in star spangled diapers?” Tony paused, faltering, as he was shaking Steve’s hand. “Or her, or maybe one of each?”

“One of each?” Steve frowned.

“It isn’t twins.” Katie rolled her eyes

“You gonna find out what it is?” Pepper asked.

“I dunno we haven’t discussed it.”

“Wait, they can find out?” Steve frowned “They can find out what it is before it’s born?” Tony looked at Steve “Remind me how long you’ve been defrosted?”

“Tony.” Pepper warned him before she turned to Steve “Yes, Steve they can.” “But you guys didn’t?” He frowned. “We didn’t want to know.”  Tony shrugged, dropping a kiss onto the side of Pepper’s head before he clapped his hands together. “This causes for a celebration, only not you young lady.” He pointed at Katie and she rolled her eyes “Yes, beers.” he continued chunnering away to himself, heading back to the house.

“You two okay to watch Morgan?” Pepper asked gesturing to where Morgan lay on her back, legs wriggling furiously “Just keep an eye on her, anything she can get hold of she’s sticking in her mouth…”

The two of them nodded and sank back into the chairs and Steve dropped a kiss to Katie’s head, his arm curling round her shoulders as she snuggled into him, kicking off her shoes so she could swing her feet up onto the cushion besides her.

“Happy?” He asked.

“Ridiculously” she responded, giving him a soft kiss.

***** Later that night they broke their happy news to Emmy, only she didn’t react the way they had expected.

“So,” she looked down at her hands as her fingers twisted around one another, the way they always did when she was worried, “does this mean I need to pack my bags?” “What?” Katie frowned, “Why would us having a baby mean you need to pack your bags?” “Coz, well, you’ll have your own kid now.” she shrugged “Not like you’ll want me around.” Steve and Katie shared a look and Steve shook his head, dropping to his knees in front of the girl as Katie sat on the arm of the chair she was in.

“Of course we want you around.” Steve looked at the girl “Emmy, you’re part of our family now, and all this means is that our family is getting a bit bigger.”

Emmy looked up at Steve, her eyes shining with tears, before she looked at Katie, and melted into her arms as the woman gave her a hug.

“You have a home with us for as long as you want.” Katie pulled back, smiling “And besides,” she winked, “you’ll be our chief babysitter.”

Later that night, when she was getting changed for bed, Steve couldn’t help but just watch Katie as she moved around the bedroom in her sleep shorts and bra. The fact she was growing his baby just made her all the more beautiful to him, and when he couldn’t stand not touching her anymore, he threw his legs off the bed and moved to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder into the mirror as she finished cleaning her teeth. One hand came to rest on her hip, while his other hand slipped down, palm spread protectively over her bare abdomen as he pressed tender kisses to her cheek and throat.

"I love you,” he whispered softly against her ear.

She leaned back against him, looking at the two - no, three of them in the mirror, her husband’s head bowed against hers, their child beneath his hand.

For once he fell asleep before Katie, and as she lay there, gently stroking the back of his neck she couldn’t help the immense happiness that overwhelmed her. Things were about to change, again, for them. But this time, it was a change they both welcomed.

**** Chapter 43

**Original Posting**