#tomato sauce spilled on bed sorry

[merr1nelly113]

POV: you're the first one to fall asleep at the sleepover /j

sorry, I can't repost this on twt😬 hope ya like it

[forzalando]

anyone can cook

max + cooking date - 3k celebration driver scenario for @foreveralbon !! liyah, i do not know what happened but somehow this turned into just jokes and banter. i am so sorry, i hope you still like it!!!! special bonus scene at the end that is the most unserious thing i have ever written and i apologize profusely for it but i was writing this past bedtime and couldn't get it out of my head this is the end of the 3k celebration blurbs, i am kind of sad but also feel accomplished🥹 i only had to write 6 but i am notorious for not finishing things. patting myself on the back today! pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader word count: 660 words tw: none, unless boxed pasta offends you

“MAX! I said salt the water, not create the sixth named ocean,” you said through giggles. “Here, let me help.”

You cupped your hands under his, leading him to the sink to dump a considerable amount of salt under the rushing water.

“Use about…this much,” you mumbled, tongue poking out and concentrating on dumping the granules into his hands without spilling any onto the floor. Jimmy and Sassy were weaving in between your legs and you didn’t want them tracking salt into every room or, heaven forbid, rolling around in your bed.

After guiding Max to the boiling water, you turned your attention back to your blistering tomatoes and garlic, but not before passing a cheese grater and block of parmesan over to him.

“Cooking is so much work,” he whined. “How do you enjoy this?”

“Max, you’ve literally done two things. You filled a pot with water and salted it, how many things do you have to do simultaneously while in the car?”

“That’s different, it’s fun!”

“Cooking can be fun! Cuisine is an art – it’s therapeutic, calming, and you get to eat something delicious after all your hard work!”

“Yeah, and do a million dishes,” he grumbled under his breath. You immediately shot him a steely glare and he smiled big enough that his eyes crinkled. “But I love doing dishes with you! Quality time, right?”

“Nice save, Verstappen.”

For the next few minutes you worked in tandem and in silence – Max furiously grating cheese and hissing every few seconds when he accidentally caught a finger against the sharp holes, you stirring and perfecting your sauce with ease.

The stove timer interrupted the peace and you called Max over from his place at the countertop.

“Ok, lesson number three of the evening – ”

“What were one and two?” He interrupted you, hints of hesitation and guilt in his voice. When you turned to look at him, your mouth open in exasperation, you saw the teasing look in his eye and rolled yours in return.

“If Gordon Ramsay were teaching you, you’d have been called an idiot sandwich twice and kicked out of the kitchen by now.”

“Lucky me, you’re way nicer, way more patient, and way prettier than Gordon.”

He tickled your ribcage lightly, causing you to flip a spoonful of pasta water across the room.

“New lesson number three – no tickling the chef when boiling water is nearby. Lesson number four, previously lesson number three – never trust the cook time on the pasta box. A true pasta chef also finishes cooking their pasta in the sauce, so we’re taking it out a few minutes early.”

“Wouldn’t a true pasta chef use fresh-made pasta?”

“You’re on thin ice, Max.”

He leaned in swiftly to kiss your cheek and stole the pasta spoon from your hand. “I’ll be dumping the water, I don’t want it to splash on you.”

“Don’t forget to – ”

“Reserve a cup of pasta water, where is your faith in me? I pay attention to everything you say, mijn liefje.”

It wasn’t long before you had served up plates of pasta as fresh as you could make considering you’d just gotten back to Monaco that morning, slightly burnt garlic bread because Max forgot to set a separate timer, and a mixed greens salad so Max’s trainer wouldn’t sue you for mistreatment and neglect.

“I’d say this was a very solid date night,” Max said between chews. “Thank you for teaching me and being patient with me – I take for granted how much you do for me when we’re home.” He pressed another kiss to your cheek, this one longer and messier than the one before.

You couldn’t help but grin at him, a devastatingly lovesick grin, and your stomach fluttered when he returned the exact look. He had a tomato sauce stain in the corner of his mouth and a droplet of spilled wine on his shirt but to you he’d never looked more beautiful.

bonus snippet (i couldn’t help myself, please accept my apology)

“Y/N, I cannot cook. I can count on one hand the number of times I have cooked for myself in the past ten years. I will blow up the kitchen.”

“Relax, I’ll guide you the whole way! You’ll never be near an open flame unsupervised, no sharp knives, we can even start with something simple! Pasta al pomodoro – you’ll love it!”

“When the rat said anyone can cook, he did not mean me, I promise.”

You looked at him quizzically – “Max, what rat?”

“The little French rat, not Esteban, the one who lives in the chef’s hat and makes soup for him.”

“…Are you talking about Remy? From Ratatouille?”

“I don’t remember his name, I just know you made me watch a movie one time about a French rat that could cook.”

“Ok, well, that’s an animated kid’s movie, and actually Chef Gusteau said anyone can cook, but he's right! Anyone can cook, Remy is proof, so get ready to cook on date night.”

“Thanks a lot, Remy,” Max huffed, crossing his arms in defeat.

--------------------

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if you would like to be added to my taglist, please refer to this post!

[vibratingskull]

Hello... I hope you are well... I would love to see Thrawn with a reader who loves to cook meals for Thrawn when he is home. OR

Thrawn trying to cook the reader a meal and accidentally burning it slightly as he can't cook?

Which ever one you want... I love your work!!!

It's very short but very sweet <3

ThrawnxGN!reader

Thrawn always woke up early, way before you, but you’re always the one cooking breakfast.

And that is bugging him, he is not a kid to be pampered and should take on his share of the house chores! 

That is what responsible couples do.

So this morning he woke up with the firm intent to cook you breakfast and give it to you in bed. He leaned towards you to kiss your forehead like a blessing and head to the kitchen.

Having the will is a good thing, but he knows no recipes… 

In fact, all your utensils are quite… intimidating. You got some blades, are they really just for cooking? He takes one knife to weigh it up, get familiar with it. Such a beautiful blade.

He observed you so many times, he should be able to cook something, this is just chemistry and common sense. 

He opens the cabinet and choses a cookbook that inspires him. He leafs through it, observing the pictures of the dishes until he finds something engaging. Following a recipe shouldn't be too hard, he is a soldier, he learnt to obey.

He got this!

---------------------------------

You flare your nose, opening your eyes.

What’s that smell? 

It smells… Burning! You jump out of bed in a panic, expecting to discover the apartment in flames but instead you discover Thrawn in front of a burned dish, his chin between his fingers like he is investigating something.

“Thrawn!” You let out.

He turns his head to you and nods to you as a greeting.

“Good morning, Cha’cah. You are awake sooner than I hoped for.”

“I smelt like fire.”

“It appears I made a mistake by following this recipe. I am trying to discover what got wrong.”

“But… You never cook…” You advance towards him while closing your nightgown, he really burned it to the crisp.

He sighs, admitting defeat.

“I wanted to help you. You always cook for the both of us and I wanted to return the favor.”

“Oh Thrawn, that is so sweet. You didn’t burn yourself I hope?” You worry.

“I am well. Today’s breakfast cannot say the same.”

“This is inedible. We will need to start all over.”

He looks really disappointed, which is rare. 

“I am truly sorry. It appears by wanting to help you I instead aggravated your workload.”

“It is okay, sweety.” You raise on your toes to kiss his cheek, “We can cook together. I will show you how it is done.”

You take out the vegetables and hand them to him to wash them while you sharpen the blades. You demonstrate to him how to cut an onion and a tomato and let him do it while you take care of the meat. You sauté the meat pieces with virgin oil while he adds the vegetables. You then instruct him on how to do the sauce with cream and spices. 

He does well, better than his first attempt. You congratulate him and pour the sauce before stepping back and letting him manage the cooking. He sautés the dish expertly but you remain over his shoulder to oversee the process.

“A little more…” you declare, tasting a bite, “We are close.” 

He mixes the dish with a spatula, letting it bubble for five minutes before turning the fire down.

“Well done, Thrawn!” You applaud cheerfully, “Your first dish!”

“Almost. You helped a lot.” He corrects.

“Of course, it was your first time. I wouldn’t force you to jump in the deep end.” 

“I would like to be able to do it on my own.” He says serving breakfast in plates.

“We will have plenty of occasions, love. And thank you again for wanting to help.” you take his hand on the table with eyes spilling love.

“Any time, Cha’cah. It was my pleasure.”

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar@thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay @obbicrystaleo @germie2037

[youllneverknow28]

stars

ricky Bowen x black!reader

not proof read 😭

After opening night me Gina, EJ, Ashlyn kourtney Carlos, and seb all met up at the local pizza shop still in my clothes I tried my very best not to spill tomato sauce on the white dress. I had seen eyes on me, but not just anyone’s eyes. Ricky Bowen‘s eyes I had had a thing for Ricky since third grade, but I shut those feelings away after he started dating nini and honestly I had kind of felt like an outcast. Gina was with EJ gadget was with Ashlyn Jet was with kourtney. And me and Ricky were the only ones single. my hair was braided curls at the end in the white dress that fitted me oh so perfectly. Every time I laughed, smiled, giggled, or even side eyed I could feel Ricky Bowen’s eyes on me. What the fuck I thought after the show at camp shallow lake I was sure him and Gina would hit it off, but EJ swindled his way back to Gina and now they’re living happily ever after. I wasn’t jealous. Why would I be jealous it’s not like the boy. I’ve had a crush on since third grade just kept getting bitches prettier than me but I’m not nini and they’re my friends now and I don’t have those hateful feelings towards them anymore I just wanna live my life and see what happens next. Go with the flow you know? And that’s what I was truly going to stick with until a walk out of the pizza shop, making my way towards my car when I heard a similar voice stop me “ Hey veah you gotta sec” turning around to see Ricky Bowen “ hey Ricky yeah what’s up” “ nothing at my dads out of town and I was just wondering if you’d like to come back for maybe movies in popcorn?” “ oh yeah, yeah shit let me him. Ask my mom she should be fine with it” I said pulling out my phone turning around and calling my mom after a five minute conversation. My mom asked to talk to Ricky which honestly kind of scary but he was a nice boy “ here my mom wants to talk to you” I said awkwardly mouthing the words. I’m sorry as I handed him the phone. “ Hi Mrs. Wallace how are you?” “ hi Ricky look I’m fine with Nevaeh staying over there, but my daughter better not come back pregnant and she sure as hell better not come back with no bruises and she better not come back with any trace of her being unsafe or hungover so basically, my question is, is my daughter gonna be safe” “she will be perfectly safe I promise” hanging up the phone he gave it back to me as we got in his car and made our way back to his house when we arrived he unlocked his door and made a little couch bed “ so what do you want to watch?” Smirking I said “ high school musical” about 30 minutes into the movie. Ricky suddenly screams “ I mean come on who does barges into song like that” giggling, I told him “ Ricky we’re literally theater kids you can’t hate on the movies that we play” “ ok but what the fuck nobody does that in the real world” “ we do that” He looks at me back at the TV and back at me again. “ we do not do that.” “ ok, Mr. Bowen whatever you say.” After the movie was done he popped in the second one. I asked him if he had any clothes, or I could borrow for the night here me a pair of his boxers and oversize T. As I made my way to the bathroom, I realized I only had my curl cream in the bag that I had brought and usually this wouldn’t be a problem, but it was the only thing I had besides the mini brush I carry all the time my hair was long, but not too long which meant It was hard to manage. I heard a knock. “ Hey, you ok in there” I heard Ricky ask opening the door curl cream all in my hand he suddenly walked in, taking some and running it into my hair “ I hope it’s ok I’m touching your hair” he says, looking at me in the mirror “ yeah it’s fine. I couldn’t do it all by myself anyway.” after he helped me with my hair we cuddled up and continued watching hsm2 and I was out of it in no time

[wandanatfluff]

"I love you"

One shot Fluff (and a little bit angst I guess)

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

Summary: Reader and Wanda are good friends. Reader is in love with Wanda and tells Wanda, but even though Wanda loves Y/n, she tells her that they can’t be together.

Warnings: none

Word count: 3.8 K

A/n: So this is my first fanfiction!!! I really enjoyed writing it and I hope you guys enjoy reading it :-)! Wanda is in italics.

Steve, Tony, Bruce, Nat, and Clint were currently in a debriefing of the most recent mission at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters and that leaves you and Wanda alone in the Avengers Tower.

You open the door of the freezer and grab the chocolate ice cream that you bought earlier this week. It is four a.m. and you are in the kitchen in a pair of soft shorts and a t-shirt. After closing the freezer and grabbing two spoons, you turn off the lights in the kitchen and walk down the hall to room 208. With the ice creams and spoons in one hand you stand still in front of the room. You hear can hear someone sobbing on the other side of the door quietly before you knock. The person in the room quickly wipes away their tears and clears their throat before opening the door.

“Hey?” Wanda speaks with a hoarse voice.

“Hey. It’s me.” You say.

“I brought you ice cream.” And you show her the ice cream. A small, but sad smile appears on her face and she lets you in. She gestures to the bed and you take place on the colorful covers. She sits down next to you and turns on the tv. She puts on a sitcom and you hand her a spoon.

“Do you want to talk about him?”

“Uh… not really.”

“That’s okay.”

Wanda nods her head and tears fill her eyes again as she softly begins to cry. You put away the ice cream that was standing in between the two of you so you can move closer to Wanda. You lay one hand on her shoulder, silently asking for permission to hold her in your arms. Wanda’s body relaxes under your touch and you carefully pull her into a hug. You lay her head on your chest, one arm wrapped around her warm body. Your other hand on the side of her head, softly stroking her hair.

It’s later in the evening and you are in your room, reading a book in the chair next to the window. You flip the page and you are just about to start your next chapter when Wanda knocks on your open door. You put your finger between the pages and you close your book, looking up at Wanda, making sure she knows she has your full attention. Wanda is standing in the door opening, fidgeting with her fingers, like she always does. It’s the most adorable thing.

“I uhm, was going to start dinner. The rest should be here in an hour or so. I could use some help in the kitchen.”

“I mean, you don’t have to… I can do it alone, but just if you, you know, want to.” A shy smile appears on her face and her cheeks turn soft pink as she looks down at her hands.

You smile at her flood of words and tell her that you would love to help her cook. You pick up your bookmark, put it between the pages and lay your book on the side table. You get up from your chair and walk to the kitchen.

“What do you want to make?” You ask Wanda. “I don’t know, I was thinking maybe pasta?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Let me just change my shirt, I’d prefer not to spill red sauce on my new top.” You say and smile. You go to your room and replace your light blue tank top for a short red t-shirt to go on top of your dark blue jeans.

Once you made your way back to the kitchen, Wanda has already started to gather the right ingredients, while mumbling in half English, half Sokovian.

“Chicken… tomatoes… paprika.”

You grin and let out a small chuckle at the way she pronounces paprika. She looks up at you and your eyes interlock.

She looks so good in that red shirt. It’s impossible not look at her. The short red shirt shows a bit of her tanned body and your eyes are immediately drawn to her perfect skin. Your eyes make their way up to hers and they suck you in. You suddenly realize that you are staring and quickly look the other way as you continue with what you were doing. Your cheeks turning the color of the tomatoes.

It was just for a brief moment, but you could have sworn Wanda stared at you. It was probably just your imagination, but it was what you needed to take the first step.

Wanda had already cut the zucchini and was just washing the paprika when you softly touch her wet hands and lay the paprika next to the sink.

A pleasant shiver goes through your body as your hands touch.

You hold each of her hands in yours, so that she faces you. She is looking down at the floor and you let go of one hand to gently touch her jawline, guiding her eyes into yours. You look into her beautiful green eyes as you grab her hand once again.

“Wanda-” You start. Your heart is beating so loud, that you’re afraid she can hear it, your skin on fire and a lump starts to form in your throat as your lips form the words.

“I love you.”

You said it. You finally said, what you were trying to tell her for months now.

I love you, she said it. Your worst fear had come true. Don’t get it wrong, this was exactly what you wanted, but at the same time it was what you feared. You feared your feelings for her. You loved laying in her arms and being around her, without having to talk about anything, without having to tell her how you feel. But it all changed, because she said the three words, that you couldn’t say. The words that would change everything between the two of you. You knew that she expected a response. Y/n obviously wanted to know how you felt and all you wanted to do was tell her you loved her too, but you couldn’t, so instead you said:

“I know right, how could you not.” And you fake-grinned.

You bit your tongue as soon as the words left your mouth. She had just handed you her heart and you made a joke about it. A joke. Literally the worst thing you could do… and the last thing you wanted to do.

You could see y/n’s demeanor change. You caught a glimpse of pain in the e/c of her eyes.

She continued.

“I don’t know if you get what I’m trying to tell you, Wanda, but I love you. I like, love you.”

Of course you knew what she meant, you were just playing dumb and all that because you couldn’t deal with you own feelings. You played it dumb and you hated yourself for it.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

“You don’t feel the same.” She said and she looked down before meeting your eyes again.

You could now clearly see the hurt in her eyes. Before you met y/n, e/c eyes were just e/c, but her eyes are the warmest eyes you have ever seen. They are soft and ever-comforting. Whenever you would cry, you would find comfort in them. Whenever she was sad it broke your heart. And your heart did break, seeing her like this. The fact that you caused it made you feel even worse.

“I, I’m sorry Y/n. I love you too, but not like that.”

You loved her, but you couldn’t be with her. You had forbidden yourself to fall in love with her.

“I get it.”

Y/n let go of your hands and turned around to open a drawer to get a cutting board. She grabbed the mushrooms and started to slice them.

Everything inside you was hurting, your heart shattered into a thousand pieces. You didn’t blame Wanda for feeling like that, though. You understood it. You yourself had come to terms with your feelings a while ago. You loved her and you knew you could never love anyone as much as you loved Wanda, you wanted to be with her. Even though Wanda did not reciprocate your feelings, you were still happy you told her about yours. At least you can now live without constantly wondering if she felt the same about you.

After the two of you finish preparing dinner, you put on your coat.

“Don’t wait for me for dinner. You guys can start without me.”

You leave the compound, stepping into the cold air. You get into your car and drive as far from the compound as possible. You try to hold back your tears as you reach the edge of Central Park. You step out of your car and with your hands in your pockets you enter the park. The wind stings in your eyes and you finally let out the tears. You walk around the entire park while tears stream down your face. After two hours of crying, you numbly walk back to your car. You sit in your car for a moment, your eyes thick and red. Even your nose turned red under the cold outside. You take a detour back to the compound and arrive at around 2 a.m., you lock your car and open the door of the building. The warmth of the air inside hugs you as you walk to the kitchen. You see that Wanda left you a plate with pasta on the counter and you put it in the microwave. Five minutes go bye as you stare at the clock counting down. You grab your hot plate and almost burn your fingers. You sit down on the couch and turn on a random tv show, while eating your pasta.

After you finish your pasta, you fall asleep on the couch.

*** You wake up by Natasha’s voice. She is standing next to the couch.

“Hey y/n, wake up sleepyhead.”

You grumble some noises and shift on the couch. “I heard you come in last night, it was quite late. Are you okay?” Natasha asks you with a slight worry in her voice.

Anyone could have slept on the couch, that didn’t mean anything was off. Natasha knew better, though. Where the rest may have thought you drank too much and had a hangover, Natasha knew better. You never drink. Your brother was involved in a car accident with a drunk driver and he didn’t survive. Therefore, you didn’t drink any alcohol. Natasha and Wanda were the only people that knew about the accident.

You yawn before slowly opening your eyes, but the second you do, you remember everything that happened last night. Your eyes fill with tears as you start to cry and Natasha pulls you into a hug, sitting next to you on the couch.

“Shh, let it all out darling, I’m here.” Natasha comforts you. You cry and your salt tears stain her shirt. When you’re done crying Natasha lets go of you and gets you a glass of water. You take a few sips.

“Where’s the rest?” You ask her with a hoarse voice. “Fury called them in for a mission. We have the compound to ourselves for the next few days.”

You nod your head and to be honest you’re happy that you don’t have to see Wanda for a while, because you’re not sure if you would be able to keep it dry. You slowly sit up straight and take a few deep breaths, before standing up and walking to your room. You open the door and see a framed photo on your bed. It is a picture of you and Wanda at a funfair. You had put ice cream on the tip of Wanda’s and were just about to clean it with your thumb when the picture was taken. You had never seen this picture before, so you assume Wanda must have had it all this time and after last night she decided to give it to you. There was a little note next to the picture.

We keep this love in a photograph We made these memories for ourselves Where our eyes are never closing Hearts are never broken And time's forever frozen, still

So you can keep me Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans Holding me closer 'til our eyes meet

- Ed Sheeran

I wanted you to have this.

Wanda

Your stomach twisted as you read the words. You let the picture slip out your hand and rushed to the bathroom. Kneeling down next to the toilet you throw up. Nat heard you and immediately rushed to you. She stood behind you, holding your hair up and softly humming a Russian song. When you emptied your stomach, Natasha got your glass of water. As Natasha left the bathroom, you sat down leaning your back against the wall. You pulled up your knees and with your hands in your hair, you closed your eyes. You felt like crying, but there were no more tears left to cry, you were exhausted. When Natasha came back, she ordered you’d take a shower and then go to bed. You followed her orders and snuggled into your blankets. You were cold, even though your blankets were thick, you probably had a fever. Great. You eventually fell asleep and woke up a few hours later, when Nat came to check on you.

“Hey y/n. How are you feeling?” She sat down on the edge of your bed with two pills in her hand. You took the pills with a sip of water and sighed.

“Better, thanks. The sleep served me well.”

“I was thinking about watching a movie, wanna join me?”

“Yeah, sure.” You got out of your bed, put on your robe and put on a pair of fluffy socks. You walked to the couch, where Natasha was waiting for you with a blanket on her lap. You sat down next to her, laying your head on her lap as she put the blanket over you. You looked up at her, cracking a smile. She smiled back and started the movie.

*** A few days had passed and you were feeling a lot better already. Well, physically. Your mental health was still a mess and you would often burst out into tears, while doing the simplest things like taking out the trash. Today was a good day though. You were able to think about Wanda without breaking down. You were walking on the grass around the compound, taking in the silence. Natasha was out doing groceries, so you had the entire compound for yourself. You decided to take advantage of the situation and went back in to find the piano in the corner of the common room. You sat down on the piano stool and let your fingers rest on the keys. You played a few songs and sang along. After a few minutes you were so lost in the music, that you didn’t hear her enter the room. The song you played was about her and you pretended you were singing the song to her. If only she could hear you…

While the rest was still outside, discussing the mission, you entered the compound. It was a tough mission, especially with all the things that were going through your head, your conversation with y/n playing over and over again. You had already gone inside, headed for your room, so you could give your tired body a shower and change into some clean clothes. You are halfway down the hallway when you hear music coming from the common room. Curious, you open the doors.

There she is, Y/n, playing the piano while singing along. Her hair tucked behind her ear. Slightly flowing on her back as she presses the piano keys. Her eyes closed as her clear voice echoes through the room. The music is soft to your ears until you listen to what she’s singing.

You recognize the song, Y/n would occasionally hum the song with a sad smile on her face. Sometimes she would even let a tear stroll down her cheek. Now that you heard the lyrics that belonged to the tune, you finally understood the sadness in her smile.

I can’t stop these silent tears from rolling down

You and I both have to hide on the outside

Where I can’t be yours and you can’t be mine

But I know this, we got a love that is hopeless

Why can’t I hold you in the street

Why can’t I kiss you on the dance floor

I wish that it could be like that

Why can’t it be like that

…

Cause I’m yours

And you would always be.

You knew Wanda couldn’t be with you, but it didn’t stop you from hoping. Hoping and dreaming of a future with her.

What you didn’t know was that Wanda felt the exact same, that she was in the same room as you, hearing every word that left your lips. She took in every word like they were hers.

Why can’t I say that I’m in love

I wanna shout it from the rooftops

Tears formed in Wanda’s eyes and she wiped them away. She stormed out of the room, sight blurry as she undressed, stepped in the shower and tried to wash off her feelings. The hot water burned on her skin, but she figured she deserved it. She broke your heart, simply because she couldn’t confess to herself that her crush was a girl. A girl.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, merging with the water coming from the showerhead.

And then it hit her. She didn’t just like any girl. She liked you and you weren’t just someone she could stop herself from falling in love with. She could no longer deny her feelings about you. No. She loved you and all she wanted was to be with you. She missed the warm hugs you would welcome her with after another exhausting mission. The soft kisses you would leave on her cheeks. The ice cream you would keep in the freezer for whenever she missed her brother. The sitcoms you would watch with her in silence. She had to be with you.

Wanda quickly finished showering and put on some shorts with a red hoodie on top, matching her copper locks. Her wet hair unbrushed, bound together in a low messy bun. She took a quick look in the mirror, her cheeks slightly red from the warmth, caused by the nerves she felt. What if she had ruined her chance on you? What if you didn’t want her anymore? She figured there was only one way to find out and she went to your room. You weren’t in your room, so she went to the main living room. You weren’t behind the piano anymore. Instead, you were now in the kitchen, talking to the rest, laughing. You looked gorgeous. Wanda honestly didn’t think nor care about the company. She couldn’t stop herself…

You were talking to Steve when the redhead in the corner of your eye caught your attention. She was just as pretty as usual in her simple shorts and hoodie. So pretty that it hurts. You guided your attention back to your conversation with Steve when you felt a hand on your lower arm. Wanda pulled you away from Steve and took you to the living room. She pulled you into a shadowed nook and pressed you against the wall. You looked into her emerald eyes wondering what was going on, but just when you were about to ask her, you felt soft lips touching yours. Your breath caught in the back of your throat as you were completely starstruck. What was she doing? Wanda didn’t like you… right? You shoved aside your doubts, you just wanted to feel her. Enjoy the moment for as long as it would last. You cupped Wanda’s face with your hands and pulled her into another kiss, this time a more intimate one. Wanda’s soft lips clashed with yours as you warmed up inside. Wanda put one hand in your neck and another around your waist, pulling you closer. This was all she ever wanted, it felt so right. Wanda opened her mouth for you and you slipped your tong into her mouth, your tongs slowly moving around each other in perfect harmony.

You gently pulled back, slightly out of breath.

“Wow, I thought you didn’t like me?” You quietly said, not wanting the others to overhear you.

“I never didn’t like you. I just wasn’t ready to admit it to myself, but I am now. I love you and I never want to lose you. I was a fool to deny it. I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.” And she looked down to the floor.

A tear strolled down her check and you gently wiped it away with your thumb, your hand resting on her cheek.

“Wanda, honey. There’s nothing to forgive.”

Her eyes went up to search yours and you pulled Wanda into a soft kiss, reassuring her that there was nothing to worry about. You had never stopped loving her.

And you couldn’t imagine that you would ever.

Songs: Photograph - Ed Sheeran

Secret Love Song - Little mix

[ryosmne]

Safe Place.

Yakuza! Nanami Kento x gn Reader

Hello everyone, this fic is in collaboration with my dear friend @sunfloweroranges you can read their fic here :D

I kind of changed my writing style for this one, I'm trying out different things so let me know how it goes, feedback is always welcome, that's all from me hope you have a good time reading 💜

Summary: You're clueless

Warnings: mentions of blood, mature themes, mentions of murder and head chopping, language, yandare Nanami if you squint.

Grocery shopping is never fun when you're alone, especially making your way back home in the cold winter months, it gets dark so early.

A slight twist of your gut had made you walk back home in a faster pace. Turning your head every couple of steps, you never saw anything, yet this feeling never left even when you got through the main entrance of your apartment complex.

The elevator was broken once more, and you were already out of breath from rushing back, as you took the first steps up, your next door neighbor, who looked way too scary for your own liking bumped your shoulder on his way down.

Jeez he's in a hurry today.

Mumbling a quick apology, even though he was the one that was at fault, you quickly found the strength to run up the stairs and lock yourself in. Some short of commotion was coming from outside the complex that you didn't really care to hear.

That pink haired guy, your neighbor, who was build like a damn door, always got himself in some short of trouble, hearing him yell profanities or even throwing punches was a far too often occurance.

Why did he have to live right next door?

It's safe to say you did the best to keep the hell away from him, not that he seemed to bother with you, neitherless he was fucking scary.

Kento was ten minutes late, he was never late, except for the days that he had to clean up someone's mess, the days someone underestimated the power he held or the days someone dared speak your name. He wouldn't even tell them 'dont you dare speak their name' or anything along those lines. There was no warning when it came to mentioning yo,u only taking immediate action.

Naturally you were in the dark about all of that, Kento -or Ken as you would often referred to him as- kept you far far away from the darkness of his world. That was his way of keeping you safe and at the same time having you as his personal way out of his work and in his defence he didn't completely lie about his employment. He was an investor, just a bit of a different stock market than what you had in mind.

As far as you knew, Nanami Kento was an extremely successful business man, he chalked up his tattoo covered body as just his preferred style, since he is this good at what he does, he likes to say that his work place doesn't give a damn about his ink covered skin and the expensive gifts that he always pressures you to accept are just another benefit of his high profile job.

"Darling, I hope you didn't start without me." Wrapping your arms around your extremely sweet boyfriend you left a small kiss on his lips watching as the corners tagged upwards in an equally sweet smile the moment your lips left his.

"Of course not Ken, it's Friday remember?" Fridays are the established date nights in, you and Kento cook and dine together. More often than not you end up slow dancing to some jazz, or with you laying on his chest Infront of the fireplace, listening to his heartbeat, talking about life while he strokes your hair until the dawn.

Tossing him an apron, after he -like the gentleman he is- tied yours, you got to work on today's dish: Chorizo carbonara.

"You're never late on Fridays, bad day at work?"

You spoke while slicing some papers.

"Yeah, the stocks are all over the place and it's getting me stressed, but it's our night darling, anything else isn't of importance."

Kento always found a way of distracting you when it came to talking about his day, he is always quite vague and when his palm rested on the small of your back gazing down at you with those adoring eyes, it's hard to keep focused on anything other than him.

"Why don't you tell me about your day love?"

He always asked you that, Kento is in awful need of the calm that the mundane life you live carries. He craves to feel that, he still loves the power he holds over people, the way the mare mention of his name makes others tremble in fear of what the man will do to them shall they not comply to his requests -more accurately orders-

"Thankfully work was pretty good today, I finished grocery shopping so we could cook, I got us that wine you really loved too. The neighbor is being weird again but that's not new, maybe moving out isn't a bad idea."

Everything was like music to Kento's ears untill that last sentence. You had mentioned moving out before, but Kento always found a way to convince you not to. The rent was good, this house is close to your work, he would always reason with you until you changed your mind. He never pushed too hard fearing that you'd suspect something, but you only smiled and ended up agreeing with him.

You see, unbeknownst to you, your weird neighbor is Nanami's most trusted man, he's protecting you twenty four hours a day, even as you walked up the stairs today he dealt with another threat that was headed right your way. No, you cannot move before you know everything, but Nanami can't bring himself to break your bubble, he loves you and you love him, the real him, he would never scare you by letting you take a peek at his point of view. Maybe he should run away with you afterall.

"He doesn't look that bad, love. I'm sure he wouldn't hurt a fly."

Nanami knew he was capable of a lot more than that but it was true, your neighbor was an ally and although he would hurt lots of people, you were on the list of people to be protected and Sukuna took his bosses orders very seriously.

"Besides, my love, anyone would have to get through me first before attempting to lay a finger on you."

With the way his lips moulded on yours and his velvety tone, how could you not believe every single word that just came out of his mouth. Kento would die before letting anything happen to you, that little statement helped bring you comfort.

"You must really love my house Ken, can you pass me the butter?"

The moment your back was turned, Kento let out a breath of relief. That little voice in his head he always pushed away yelled at him to tell you everything, he burried it in the back of his mind once more.

"Can you believe that? I swear she drives me insane- Ken are you listening to me?"

That was weird, Kento always gave you his full attention. Perhaps he was tired today.

"Yes darling, you were talking about that Satoru guy, the one who annoys you at work."

Yeah you were, but that was while you were still eating, about twenty minutes ago.

"Babe, you're tired, let's go to bed, we can pick up where we left off another time, you need to rest."

The habit of staying up all night on Fridays had really stuck, but sleeping when your partner clearly needed to, is very much on schedule although it rarely ever happened.

Getting up from the sofa, tagging at Kento's arm to follow you to the bedroom had Kento irritated at how concerned you grew for him. He still feels you're too good at times, all the time to be exact.

You only heard him sigh before he pulled you back on the sofa, having lost your balance in his sudden move, you landed on top of him.

"Stay with me a little longer my love, I'm sorry I spaced out, I'm all ears for you now."

Another invitation for you to just talk to him, he didn't care about what. Kento loved the tone of your voice, how it changed pitch depending on what emotion you held or what you were talking about. His voice was quite monotone, like everyone else's around him. He had to grow thick skin and throw away all short of feelings, but everything he locked away years ago came rushing back the moment he spilled coffee on you six months ago. You hadn't even complained about the burning sensation on your skin as he helped clean you up, you just gave Kento a smile telling him that everything was fine and these things happen.

In his world they don't, someone can breathe the wrong way and lose their head, all it took was your damn smile and that statement to get him to need something different than what he had. Kento never thought he missed a thing, he found out how wrong he was that very day.

Sometimes he wished he never took the time to help you out back then, but that was only because he didn't know that he'd put you through all this.

"So I'm just sat there in a staring contest over the last price of cake, I won but my eyes still feel a bit dry."

You laughed, Kento stared down at you with a fond smile, your head on his lap and your hands tangled in his, brushing his knuckles and examining every bit of his skin with such care, God you were beautiful all over.

While Kento's hands were very interesting a small detail in the cuff of his shirt got your stomach to drop.

"Ken, is that blood?"

He swore he cleaned up, he always cleaned up before coming back to you, he never missed a single splatter. Maybe rushing home after not one, but two people tried to harm you today put him on edge.

He had missed a single drop. He was absolutely disgusted that even that tiny part of someone who dared to say the name y/n out loud infront of him and even threatened your existence was anywhere near you.

"Sweetheart that's probably tomato sauce from cooking, thanks for pointing it out, you know I hate staining my clothes, I'll go change."

Your meal didn't contain tomato sauce.

Why was your gut telling you that something was off?

Kento seemed a bit tense tonight, was it just a bad day at work?

He never really conversed on his profession. The huge dragon that started from the back of his thigh, ended on his left shoulder covering his entire back was just his 'style'. You swore you heard him talk to the pink haired man who lived next door but he told you he was on the phone. Everything little bit of suspicious behaviour you had previously payed no mind to, came to you. On top of that what was his reason to lie about a drop of blood on his sleeve? He could've said it was a paper cut or something, Why did he lie?

Behind the bathroom door Kento only cursed at him self.

Why didn't he lie better?

[keullaesigbeogeo]

Anniversary Date- Lee Jeno

Type: Smut

Word Count: 1.4k +

Summary: It’s your first anniversary with Jeno, and you both decide to go on a date.

“Are you ready yet?” Jeno asked through the door, politely knocking on it. His knuckles created small pats on the hardwood, sounding like rain hitting the ground. It was nice and soothing, almost luring you to sleep.

You shook your head, waking up from your trance. “Yeah, just give me a minute!” You answered his question softly, hoping he heard you. You pulled up the zipper to your dress, loving the way it hugged your body tightly, almost fitting you like a second layer of skin.

You moved towards your dresser, sitting down and applying your dark red lipstick on your lips. You folded your lips together, making sure that there was a thick layer before walking towards the door, unlocking it. You opened the door to see Jeno sitting on his phone, looking through some photos of cats.

A smile appeared on your face as you moved closer towards him. He quickly put his phone into his dress pocket, grinning at you. His pearly white teeth shone brightly under the ceiling light, almost making him look like a light himself.

“Ready?” He held his hands out for you to grab. You gently placed your hands onto his, walking beside him as he led both of you towards the patio. He opened the door, allowing you to go inside first, soon following.

You gasped as you saw all of you favorite foods on the table. You looked at him with wide eyes. “All of this… is for me?” Your voice was barely a whisper, overcome is happiness. He nodded his head while pulling out a chair for you. You sat down, whispering a light thank you while bowing your head.

The dozens of fairy lights dangling on the railing gave you a calm feeling, especially when you saw the setting sun.

“Would you look at that.” Jeno sat down on the opposite side of you, his eyes following your gaze. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You nodded your head, continuing to watch the now night sky, ignoring the clattering that was coming from the table. “There you go. Time to eat.” Your empty plate was now filled with food.

“Thank you.” You licked your lips, ready to eat. Right as you were about to reach for your fork, one was already placed in front of you face.

“Here, eat it.” You opened your mouth, meeting Jeno’s eyes as he slowly stuffed the savory dish in your mouth. You let out a small moan, loving the way the flavors of the food hit right at your taste buds.

Jeno’s eyes widened as he heard the noise, but he kept quiet. He closed his eyes before opening them again, making you look at him confused before deciding to leave it.

“Why don’t we both start eating?” You asked him, picking up your fork. He nodded, taking his fork that he had fed your with and licking it. He took all of the sauce off before he started eating. You stared at him with a red face, looking down and making your hair cover your tomato ears when he looked up.

You heard him let out a small chuckle, continuing to eat his food. “Can you believe that I was able to make all of this without you noticing?”

“Wait, you made all of this?” Your voice came out high pitched and surprised. He nodded his head. “Aww, Jeno, you didn’t have to do that.”

He shook his head. “No, I wanted to. Anything for you.” He wrinkled his nose after saying that. “Aish, so cringy.” You both laughed, loving the moment that was being shared between the two of you. You both finished quickly, being fast eaters.

“So…” You placed your hands in your lap, slightly leaning forward. “What should we do now?” You waited for Jeno to reply, looking at his face. About thirty seconds had passed and he still hadn’t replied. You looked down to where his eyes were looking, quickly changing the position you were sitting in.

“Oh my God! I am so sorry! I didn’t realize-” Soft lips were placed against yours, molding them together. You groaned at the feeling, pulling him closer by his tie. His long eyelashes brushed against yours, creating a new sequence.

He stood up, moving to the side and towards you, now towering over your sitting figure. Your hands went around his neck as he lifted you up, his hands squeezing your ass as he bit your lips, slowing sticking his tongue in. He started walking as he swished his tongue around, mixing both of your spit together. You felt him walk up the stairs before opening the door, softly placing you on the bed.

“Jeno…” You softly whispered, pulling him closer. His hands made their way towards your dress before stopping.

“Are you sure about this?” You nodded you head vigorously.

“What’s the safe word?” Jeno asked while slowly peppering kisses all over your neck.

“Umm…” You groaned as he softly bit your ear, waiting for you to answer. “Blue.” You could feel him nod his head in your shoulder, starting to bite a little bit harder. You moved your hand towards his back, holding onto his shirt tightly.

His hands slowly moved towards your back, unzipping your dress slowly, making sure to not break the zipper. He pulled the dress all off in one go, showing your bare chest. He moved away, staring at your boobs.

“No bra?” His eyes were fixed onto your mounds, not looking away.

You looked away, embarrassed. “Well, the dress had one.” Jeno smiled, moving down towards you chest.

“Don’t worry, I like it.” He hugged your body, stuffing his head into the middle and moving it around. Laughing whenever it jiggled. You laughed too, lightly hitting him on the head.

“Stop it!” You playfully flicked his forehead. He moved away, getting off the bed. He took his shirt off, pants soon following. You looked away when you saw his abs, not wanting him to see the lust that was starting to form in your eyes. He got back on top of you, pulling your face towards his.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked you for the last time, making sure that you were positive about what you were about to commit to.

“Yes, I am.” He slowly pulled your panties off while you pulled his underwear off, his cock springing right up. He pushed you back so that you were fully on the bed, all of you now open to him.

He grabbed onto his cock lightly, slowly pushing into you. Small tears formed in your eyes, the pain starting to come in. “Wait, I’m almost in.” He continued pushing until he was fully in, stopping when all of him was in you.

You waited for a little bit, about a minute before nodding your head. “Yeah, you can move now.” Jeno held onto your hips as he slowly moved in and out, bending his back and pecking you on the lips. You smiled, holding onto his shoulders. “Okay, you can go faster now.” You let out a breath, ready for the feeling of euphoria to overcome your body.

He started pushing in harder, thrusting all of himself inside of you. You let out a loud moan as he hit at spot that made you get tingles all over your body. He hit that spot a few more times, trying to get in a comfortable position before he hit back there again and again, filling you up with ecstasy.

You could feel him grow bigger and bigger, stretching you out. Your hands flew up to his hair, pulling on it, giving him a signal that he knew all too well.

His cock started to twitch inside of you, getting ready to release. “At the same time?” His voice sounded strained, like he was struggling to hold it in. You nodded your head, not able to speak. You both said nothing more as you both spilled your seeds, your body quickly sucking them up.

Jeno pulled out slowly, careful not to spill anything else that came out. He got off the bed, grabbing some tissues and cleaning you up. He pulled one of his clean shirts over your head, grabbing a new pair of boxers for himself and slipping them on. He moved onto the bed next to you, pulling the covers over your tired bodies.

You moved towards him, laying your head on top of his chest, listening to his quiet heartbeat. He kissed your head, ruffling your hair while turning his body to face you. His arm reached out, pulling your closer towards him. You closed your eyes, wrapping your arms around his body, taking in the heat radiating off of him.

He bent his head down, lifting his left leg so that it was now laying on top of your frame. Your breathing slowed down, reaching a calmer pace, his soon following.

[johnismyreason]

I have a request for a oneshot! Meeting tom in a bar, chatting, flirting, ending up at his place and having $ex🔥

It always takes me so much time to write something I’m sorry... Anyway I hope you’ll enjoy :) 

warnings: smutt, alcohol (kinda), praise kink, no foreplay, dom-ish!tom, and obviously the usual bad English 

The longest day ever. Ugh.

It was one of those days where you just think I just should’ve stayed in bed. Your alarm clock didn’t ring. You cracked your favourite pair of jeans right before heading out, making you running late even more. Your boss gave you yet another assignment in addition of you hundred of other ones. Stacy, your favourite co-worker, wasn’t here because she was on vacation with her boyfrie- fiancé now, wow she just texted you a selfie with her ring, and you remain single. Someone spilled their coffee on your shirt and didn’t even apologise. And finally hen you thought nothing bad can happen anymore, the rain was pouring. Of course you didn’t take your umbrella or a coat with a hood. Thank you London shitty weather. And of course, a car splashed the only puddle of water all over you. You wanted to cry, scream and burn everything down. You lift your head and read in bright red lighting the holy word “PUB”. Hallelujah. You didn’t even think about it, you just walked in.

The place was almost empty, which didn’t bother you at all, since you had enough interactions with humans for the day, maybe even for the week.

You sat at the bar, your coat drenched, your hair sticking to your face, your make up was gone and your mascara left black ink under your eyes. You were sticky and looked gross, but you couldn’t care less anymore. After three minutes with your head between your hands and elbows on the counter, the bartender bring you a shot of vodka.

“Wait,” you called him, “I didn’t order yet”

“Yeah, well, the guy over there got this for you” he replied, pointing at a curly hair young man sat on the banquette behind you, who, with a tight smile, waved shyly at you with just two fingers.

You looked at him with your tired eyes. Shit, he’s cute. He must has a weird obsession for desperate girls. You take the small glass and poured it down your throat.

“Thank you,” you told him a little louder than expected but you didn’t bother pretending you were sorry for three other customers. The young man got up and walked towards you, his bottle of beer in his hand.

“You’re welcome,” he said softly, seating on the stool next to yours. “You looked like you needed it” he chuckled.

“T’was that obvious ?”

He chuckled again before replying “a bit.” and you smiled lightly too. He didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, just looking at you. “I’m Tom by the way” he introduced himself and extended his hand to you.

You looked at his hand, a little surprised by his traditional behaviour, but took it anyways “Y/N”

“Nice to meet you Y/N”. Another smile appeared on his thin lips . He was really cute. “So, what happened ? It seems like you had a rough day, don’t you ?” he asked, taking a sip of his beer. His jaw was sharp and his fingers were long and thin around the bottle.

“You wouldn’t want to know, it’s too long, and boring, and sad and... yeah, pathetic” you said, your head resting on your palm, staring at the counter.

“Well thank god we have all night, and you might think it’s an odd coincidence but, boring, sad and pathetic stories are my favourite.”

You thought about it. He’s a stranger in the creepiest pub in London, you don’t know nothing about him, and he doesn’t know nothing about you. You look a mess and weird, you’re drenched, why does he want to know about your day ?

“You like desperate girls, don’t you ?” you finally said.

“What ?” Tom replied, genuinely confused.

“Or maybe you’re the desperate one and is ready to pick the most rubbish looking girl, as long as you can have your release” you teased

“N-no, no ! I-I just... I saw you by the window getting splashed by the car, I felt so bad for you and I hoped you would come in so I can offer you a drink. I-I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I’ll leave-”

“Wait !” you stopped him from getting out of his stool, placing your hand on his forearm. Now you felt bad. He’s the first and only person today who didn’t annoy you in any kind of way. “Please, stay. It’s been a long day. A very long day” you sighed. Tom sat back on his stool with a tight smile. He ordered two other beers for him and you.

“Wanna talk about it ?” he gently proposed. You nodded and started your narrative. You gave all the details, from the sound of your ripped jeans, the tone of the unkind comment your coworker spat after pouring his coffee on you, to the very beautiful diamond your friend got when she got proposed to what seemed the perfect guy. Tom listened to everything, and kept his focus on your eyes, sometimes your lips, but just for a second. You finished your story after what felt like 10 hours of speaking.

“Wow... that was... a fucking shitty day” he chuckled bringing you warmth to your heart.

You chuckled “I’ll drink to that,” taking your beer and clinked it with his. You sighed dramatically and turned to him.

“What about yours ?”

“Mine ?” he said after taking a sip. “Well, it was way less interesting than yours” he laughed. “Um... I woke up. Got to the grocery store, worked out, watched TV, worked and got to this bar. And now I’m talking to a very pretty girl.” you blushed, not expecting him to say that.

“I bet she smells like flowers” you roasted yourself.

“More like a wet dog but that’s light” Tom teased and you hit him lightly on his arm. You both laughed lightly.

“We’re closing,” the bartender cut you.

“It’s only 9 o’clock...” you responded, your eyebrows frowned.

“We’re closing,” he repeated.

You looked at Tom, rolling your eyes “It’s because of my bad luck, I’m sorry.”

“Oh don’t be. This gives me the opportunity to ask you if you want to come to me place, have another drink.” he asked shyly, putting the money on the counter.

You looked at him awkwardly stuffing his hand in his jean pockets, waiting for your response. He’s really cute. Fuck it, let’s go. You bit your lip into a smile and nodded a yes. His eyes widened.

“Really ? Great ! Um, let’s go then,” he let you walk first towards the door but opened it for you. He told that his appartement is just a few minutes walking from here.

You followed him in the almost empty streets, talking about everything and mostly about him. He was nice and funny and it felt like you knew him for years. He led you to his building and then apartment which was gigantic next to yours. He took your coat and offered you to dry your hair  with his hairdryer while he sets everything to eat. You agreed and followed him in his bathroom. You came back in the kitchen where Tom was preparing dinner. There was a central counter illuminated by three industrial-style lamps. Tom had a folded tea towel on his shoulder and seemed very concentrated on cooking his dish.

“Pasta alla tomato,” he announced with a proud smile and his fingers pinched together, noticing you coming back from the bathroom.

“I’m not quite sure, that’s how Italians call it” you laughed standing next to him.

“Who cares ? It’s gonna be delicious,” he smirked. “Wanna taste ?” he asked with a low voice, his spoon ready to make you taste the tomato sauce. You nodded eagerly, making him chuckle. You parted your lips and leaned towards him, welcoming the spoon in your mouth. You moaned at the taste and watched his pupils dilate for a split second.

“It is delicious,” you confirmed licking your lips. Tom watched your tongue dancing on your mouth and felt his heart beating fast. Suddenly, it was too hot in the room.

“We um... we should take some plates,” he tried to resonate him. He moved around you to grab two plates, forks and knives and placed it on the counter, in front of the chairs.

You kept talking about life and laughed at the strangest stories you two lived. You were having the best time. Tom was nice, funny and it felt like you knew each others for years. Everything since the bar was simple and comfortable. Also, he was really cute. You couldn’t take off your eyes of him. You admired the stain of curls falling on his forehead, and how his biceps contrat when he runs his hand through his hair to replace it. The little wrinkles around his eyes when he was smiling and the joyful burst of his voice as he laughs.

You also noticed a small stain of tomato sauce on his jaw, and without thinking about it, cutting Tom in his sentence, you swiped your thumb over it and brung it to your lips. Before you could reach your mouth, Tom stopped you, interlacing your hand with his fingers, pulling it to his face. He plunged his gaze into yours and wrapped his lips around your thumb. He licked softly your digit without breaking the eye contact. You stopped breathing, your heart pounding in your ears.

“That was mine,” he almost groaned. He then kissed delicately your other fingers while you starred at his lips and his face. He sometimes made eye contact with, making you loose your mind, before closing his eyes refocusing your fingers. He pulled gently on your wrist close to make you lean towards him. Your faces are a few inches away and the tension is so thick, the space between you is barely breathable.

“Y/N,” Tom whispered “please let me kiss you” he tilted his head waiting for your answer. Your breath was jerky, your pupils dilated and all your senses in turmoil. You leaned a little more, closing your eyes and nodded slowly.

Tom placed his other free hand on your cheek and closed the space between you. His lips were warm and rough at the same time, but his kisses were soft and caring. He wanted to make you feel good. The leaned position wasn’t the most comfortable though. So without breaking the kiss, Tom guided you up and sat you on his lap.

“Hm, much better” he said between kisses. You giggled and ran your hands through his soft curls. Tom navigated his lips down your neck and sucked on your hot skin. You tilted your head back giving him all the space he needed. Tom then traced his way down to your chest, his hands running up and down your back, waist and hips. You gently pulled on his curls to bring back his lips on your mouth, both whining and moaning.

“Tom, I need more... so much more” you desperately moaned out of breath. He didn’t say anything. He just got up, holding you around his chest and walked to his bedroom. After letting you falling gracefully on his bed he got up and took off his tight t-shirt. You discovered his muscular features, making you want to touch it.

“Give me your hands,” he nicely ordered. And you obeyed. He placed your palms on his pecs and slowly ran them all over his upper body. Your eyes stared frantically every inch of his skin, in awe of his features. Tom looked at your face with a slight smirk, admiring you.

“You like what see ?” that was so cocky yet so hot. You would gave laughed if it was anyone else, but there was something about him that was so hypnotising.

“I really do,” you whispered, still caressing him.

“Y/N, can I take off your clothes” he gently demanded, lingering his long fingers on your arms.

“Please,” you whimpered. Tom took the time to kiss you before pulling up your almost tired t-shirt and bra.

“Gorgeous,” he groaned and ran his warm hand on your breast. You moaned his name when you felt his lips around your nipples. “you’re so beautiful Y/N”. He pushed you against the mattress, stil sucking on your buds. He slid his hands down your body to take off your panties. “Can I take these off ?”

“Yes, you can” you answered desperately. He wasted no time and admired your glistening core.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside you” Tom got up and grabbed a condom in his bathroom. When he came back he stumbled while taking off his boxers, making you giggle at his eagerness. He almost jumped on the bed and placed the condom on his very hard cock. You looked at him with wanting eyes, licking your lips.

“Do I need to work you out a little ?”

“No, no, don’t worry about that, you’ve done enough” you giggled and he responded the same way. “Please, I just need you...” you whimpered. Tom leaned on you to kiss you, and ever so smoothly entered you. You both moaned loudly.

“Fuck Y/N, you feel amazing” he stayed immobile for a little while so you can accommodate to him, until you moved your hips. He got the message and started thrusting gently but deeply.

Tom never stoped kissing you. On your lips, your cheeks, your neck... every bit on your skin that was reachable was showered by his lips. It was like a drug to him. You couldn’t get your hands off of his body, running them on his back, abs, chest and hair tugging a little on his curls. And each time your did that, he groaned and moaned. He made the prettiest sounds and you were loving it. Tom sped up his movements, holding close to him.

“Tom... umm you feel so good ! Gosh, please don’t stop”, you praised him and deepened his thrusts. They were more calculated, more passionate. Seeing him responding to your praises this way, made you want even more from him, so you continued.

“Um, yes just like that, oh fuck ! Tom, fuck you feel amazing !” he became animalistic in his thrusts and you felt your orgasm getting closer.

“You like this cock pretty girl ? um ?” he groaned in your ear “do you feel how perfect it is for you ? how it makes you loose yourself ? I feel you clenching baby...” his thrusts sped up even harder wanting you to release your pleasure “cum for me Y/N, I’m right behind you. God, fuck- your pussy feels so good, so tight !”

Your nails scratched his back, searching for something to hold onto, you arched your spine and let your orgasm took over you. Tom thrusted a few more times before he cums in you, moans and groans filling the air. He relaxed his body on top of yours, both you regaining your breath. Who knew, after spending the worst day ever, you would end up in a stranger’s bed. Tom eventually rolled on the side, giggling.

“What’s so funny ?” you asked a bit embarrassed.

“Nothing, nothing,” he reassured you, kissing you softly, “it was just... mind-blowing.” You felt your cheeks heat up against his palm.

“I know,” your confirmed. “Thank you for brighting up my day” you joked.

“Anytime, love !” Tom smiled before hesitantly asking you “actually, I was thinking, maybe we could go on a date, or something... I spent a really good time with you. I’m not only talking about the sex, huh, it was an amazing evening.”

You bit your lips and kissed him delicately “I would love that. I had a great time too”

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

He Used to be Mine

Modern!Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 3186 of pure sadness.

Warnings: mention of divorce, marriage break down, drink, infidelity, angst. I’m really sorry again Poe. There is NO happiness to be had here!

With a sigh you shut the front door, the house was dark but you didn’t need lights as you made your way upstairs. This was your house and it had been for the last 10 years, when you bought it with your…..husband. You pushed the door open to your bedroom, the moonlight shining through the window as you sat on the bed, your hand trailing over the bedsheets, the ones you’d bought with him. You’d been on a date tonight and you reeked of perfume, his favourite perfume. It made you feel like a fraud, nasty as memories of his voice echoed around you. Whispers of his declaration of love, whispers of how he’d never leave you and you closed your eyes as you tried to stop the tears from coming but they leaked out your closed lids regardless. You ripped the dress off you had on, the mascara burning your eyes, you hated yourself for dressing up, for attempting to look pretty for anyone other than him. It made you feel cheap, like you were cheating, but you weren’t. You were single and free to do what you liked but it wasn’t a feeling you liked. You stalked towards the shower hoping to wash off the stench of your evening out, the smell of thrice cooked chips and steak stuck to your hair and you hated it, a reminder of another man who wasn’t your husband. Ex husband. Not quite though, still got to sort the house and all the financial mess before you were completely free of him. You leaned on the cold tiles as the hot water washed over you, running down your body and you imagined it washing away your troubles but when you stepped out you felt even heavier than before. You slipped on some pjs before getting into bed, you only ever got in your side, you couldn’t get in his side, it was ingrained in you to sleep on the right and his side was always the left no matter where you were. You tried not to look at the empty side of the bed but your gaze was drawn to the still made half of the bed as you sat there, your light bathing you in the warm glow just accentuating how alone you really were. You hastily shut the light off feeling the familiar despair creeping up on you as you shivered alone in the big bed all by yourself, you scrunched your face up as you tried not to miss his arm thrown over your hips, his face burying in your hair, the way he whispered good night before falling asleep, his body pressed against you keeping you warm. You moved your pillow with a jerky movement as you tried to contain the tears but they spilled from you silently as they did every night since you told him he should pack up and go.

‘Poe? You home?’ You dumped the bags in the kitchen.

‘Yeah I’m home.’

‘I was thinking about salmon for dinner, pesto sauce, some cheese and veg then we can watch that film you mentioned the other day….’ you paused as you tried to remember the film he said and you shook your head as the name evaded you completely, he’d tell you anyway. You unpacked the bags of shopping, putting food in the fridge and cupboards, you looked up and smiled as he came into the room. ‘Hi husband,’ you stepped towards him and kissed his cheek before opening the fridge.

‘We need to talk.’ You looked at the block of cheese in your hand as you ground your teeth together.

‘Oh yeah? What about?’ You said cheerily as you slowly placed the cheese in the door, not quite ready to close it yet, not quite ready to look at his face. He said your name and you closed your eyes refusing to believe this was happening, you slammed the fridge door shut and moved straight onto the pasta on the side opening the cupboard and placing it in there.

‘Can you just stop for a second?’

‘I can’t if I want to get dinner on.’ You said and even you noticed the edge to your voice as you grabbed something else, refusing to turn round and face him, refusing to acknowledge what you knew he was going to say. He didn’t know but you’d seen the messages, all of them.

‘Come on I need to talk to you, please?’ His voice tugged at you and slowly you turned, your hands gripping the kitchen counter in a death grip as you refused to look at his face. He didn’t come near you, choosing to stand the other side of the island as he fiddled with his phone and you noticed his wedding ring was off. Already. He wasn’t wasting any time. He sighed and your eyes flickered up to his face, his hand ran through his salt and pepper curls as he tried to look for the words he wanted to say. You pulled your eyes away from him hating how your heart swelled every time you looked at him, how you felt that rush of love even after you knew what he’d done.

‘I’ve seen the messages.’ His hands stilled and his head snapped up to look at you, his gorgeous face wearing an expression of surprise.

‘What…?’

‘I’ve seen them. Not very well hidden, messaging her on your signed in email account.’ At least he had the decency to look ashamed, you thought.

‘I’m sorry….’

‘I suggest you go and pack.’ You turned away grabbing a tin of tomatoes tightly in your hand as your eyes filled with the tears you’d been fighting for days.

‘You ok, I guess I’ll go and do that now,’ his voice was soft and it felt like a stab in your heart as he left the kitchen, no fight, no denial, just pure acceptance of what he’d done.

You wiped your eyes, still refusing to make a sound as you stared at the open bedroom door, he’d always come to bed after you making sure you were comfy and settled before sliding in behind you and you hated how much you missed him. Had you not been a good wife? Had you done something wrong? Thoughts tumbled around in your head tormenting you every single day, every time you slowed down your brain dragged you down into the pits and you hated how it made you feel. You were sick of crying yourself to sleep, sick of going on rubbish dates because none of them were him. None of them even came close, they all looked promising on paper but not a single one matched up to your Poe.

‘Mrs Dameron?’ You looked up at a smartly dressed receptionist as she beamed at you, her blonde hair in a tight bun and her red lipstick was perfect. Her figure was one to die for wrapped in a tight white blouse and a pinstripe pencil skirt and you couldn’t help but feel hideous and frumpy in her presence.

‘Mr Hanson will see you now.’ You smiled as you gathered your bag to you and followed her down the quiet corridor, her high heels thudded gently with smart steps as she led you to the office of your lawyer.

‘Mrs Dameron!’ He came round the desk taking your hand in his and sitting on the edge of his desk as he sat down in one of his plush leather seats. ‘Thank you for coming, how are you doing?’

‘Oh, you know,’ you shrugged not really knowing what to say, did you tell him you cried every night? Or did you just smile and pretend you were fine? The latter was more socially acceptable, right?

‘Right well, we have a meeting in just over 5 minutes, do you need a drink, tea, coffee?’ You raised an eyebrow as you really thought you could do with a gin and tonic. ‘A coffee will be great.’

‘Great, oh Daisy!’ The receptionist paused at the doorway that disarming beaming smile dazzling you again. ‘Be a dear and get Mrs Dameron a coffee? Extra creamy, yes?’ You nodded, not really caring.

‘I’ll bring it into the conference room.’

‘Thanks Daisy! Right, we should head there as they will be here soon.’

‘’I’m sorry, who’s this meeting with?’ He looked up at you with a pity filled expression on his face.

‘Mr Dameron and his lawyer will be joining us today to talk over the marital assets.’ You nodded, of course they were. ‘Come on, it looks good if we beat them to the table.’ You rose and followed him back down the corridor, your feet dragging slightly as you wished you could be anywhere but here. About to face your ex husband who cheated on you. About to split your entire life between you like all those years meant nothing.

You slipped into a seat as your lawyer got his papers out of the briefcase, your eyes were drawn to the door as it opened, the receptionist showing in the other lawyer and her eyes dragging suggestively over your husband. You felt a flush of jealousy as she asked them what drink they wanted, all smiles and teeth as she gently placed a hand on your husband's arm promising to be right back. Ex husband. Your eyes followed her out of the room before dropping back to look at Poe. It had been a few months since you’d seen him and he hadn’t changed, you weren’t sure what to expect but his suit was crisp and clean and you felt a stab that maybe she had done if for him. You stood smiling and shook hands with Poe’s lawyer. You went to sit back down when Poe’s hand grabbed yours before you had a chance to pull away completely. His deep brown eyes looking earnestly at you as your hand automatically gripped his in return.

‘Hi,’ that lopsided smile you knew and loved so much toyed at the corners of his mouth until you snatched your hand back, clearing your throat as you sat back down trying to concentrate on what was being said. Most of it went over your head and the lawyers did the balk of the talking, you coasted your way through trying not to think about how good your husband looked across the table, how good his curls looked today or the stubble on his face. Ex husband.

Finally the meeting came to an end and you shook hands with everyone again, slipping out of the room you swiftly heading to the lift pressing the button a few times hoping it would come quicker even though you knew it wouldn’t work.

‘You know it won’t come any quicker…’ You tried not to look at him as he stood so easily next to you, his hand fiddling with his tie as he looked up the numbers above the lift doors. Thankfully it chimed its arrival and you slipped inside but he followed you and you both reached for the ground floor button at the same time.

‘Oh I’m sorry,’ you gasped in surprise and pulled your hand away.

‘No I’m sorry.’ You stared at the button.

‘You should push it,’ you said softly.

‘Right. Yeah,’ he hastily pushed it and you watched the doors slide shut, silence stretched between you as you both stood awkwardly in the small space together. ‘See you…’ you smiled automatically and nodded politely as the doors slid open, you let Poe exit first trailing after him as he cut a path through the busy foyer and out onto the street. You saw him pause just to the side of the doors pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and lighting one. He took a long drag, his eyes surveying the busy street as he blew the smoke up into the air.

‘I thought you gave those up.’ He looked down at the floor as he rested a foot on the building, leaning against the wall. He took another drag before looking at you.

‘I did.’ You backed up a step, what were you doing? Did it really matter if he was smoking? He wasn’t your problem anymore. You went to walk off but he called your name and your heart skipped a beat. ‘Can I stop by later and grab some more clothes?’

‘Sure, they’ve been bagged up in the garage for weeks.’ This time he let you go, your heart like a heavy weight in your chest as you walked back to the car.

It got to about 6pm when you heard the garage door go, you stared at the gin bottle on the side and the empty tonic cans, ah shit. Maybe you’d had one too many. You slipped off the stall, the floor shifting slightly and you frowned as you headed to the front door, your bare feet padding lightly on the floor. You could hear him moving stuff, putting bags in the car and you placed a hand on the door wishing with all your might this wasn’t happening. You jumped at the knock on the door and you took a shaky breath before opening it, he stood there his curls flopping over his forehead, his hands were shoved in his pockets and his brown eyes wide as he took in your appearance.

‘Can I come in?’ You nodded leaving the door open and heading back to your glass in the kitchen, you downed the last of it before dumping it in the sink wishing he’d just take his shit and go already. The sound of your name made you jump slightly and you turned, using the counter to stop you losing your balance.

‘What do you want Poe?’ Your voice sounded harsh and you refused to look at him.

‘We haven’t talked….since it happened.’ You shrugged.

‘What is there to talk about, you decided I wasn’t good enough anymore and you moved on.’

‘Oh gods, is that what you think?’ He asked, his hand rubbing his face as he looked at you. You took a deep breath trying to stop the tears from flowing.

‘Yes. That’s what I think…’

‘It wasn’t like that at all.’ He took a few steps towards you but you moved round to the other side of the island, keeping distance between you.

‘It doesn’t matter now…’

‘Of course it matters!’ You flinched slightly at his raised voice and he clenched a fist at his mouth as if he regretted his tone. ‘It matters to me, that you know the truth.’

‘I don’t want to hear it…’ you began to head upstairs but he stopped you.

‘Yes you need to hear it…’

‘No!’ You felt the tide begin to wash over you as you stared into those brown eyes you had adored so much. ‘You should leave,’ you whispered.

‘No, not yet.’ You backed away from him slowly making your way up the steps.

‘Please…’ you begged, wishing he would just leave.

‘Just hear me out,’ he said stepping forward.

‘Poe!’ It came out almost as a scream and he halted at the bottom of the stairs. ‘You’re tearing me apart!’ Your shaking hands rose to your face as your vision blurred with tears.

‘Sunflower…’

‘No! You have no right to call me that anymore…’

‘Baby please just let me talk!’ You turned and sprinted upstairs but he caught you before you could lock yourself in the bathroom and you dug your hands in the carpet as you cried loudly at the top of the stairs, he lay next to you, his hands covering yours as he whispered your name, his own pain evident in his voice.

‘You broke my heart!’ You cried against the floor, the sobs coming thick and fast but you still managed one last question. ‘Was she worth it?’

‘No, no she wasn’t.’ You felt yourself crumble, the sobs wracking your body, you had no more fight in you as he gathered you to him, whispering words you couldn’t hear as he held you tightly. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry I did this, I broke us I’m so sorry,’ he kissed the top of your head as you cried into his top, your fingers clutching at the leather jacket he always wore. His warm hands moved to your face tilting you up to look at him, his thumbs gently wiped the tears off your face as you tried to contain yourself, his eyes were red as he gazed down at you, his own tears spilling down his face.

‘Poe…’

‘I’m sorry. I have nothing else to say.’ You nodded slowly pulling yourself away from him, you sat back against the wall too exhausted to move any more than that. He leant against the bannister at the top of the stairs opposite you, his legs stretched out next to you and you noticed he had taken his shoes off.

‘You didn’t have to take them off,’ you said softly. He sniffed and gave a small laugh.

‘Are you kidding? You’re always on at me about my shoes indoors…’ he trailed off as he realised you wouldn’t be nagging him anymore.

‘Did you get your stuff?’ He shrugged as he pulled at a piece of skin on his hand.

‘For now.’ You both sat in silence almost like you didn’t want the companionship to end but knowing it had to. You tried to find something else to say but all words failed you as you looked at your husband. Ex husband.

‘You should go,’ he nodded, not looking at you as he stood up, you used the wall as support leaning against it wishing you could go to bed.

‘Can I…..’ his eyes rose to meet yours as he stepped towards you. ‘Can I kiss you goodbye?’ His voice cracked slightly as his hand captured yours, his warm fingers intertwining with yours as he stepped even closer. Your eyes were wide as he dipped towards you, his hand tensing in yours and his lips met yours gently. You could taste the saltiness from both your tears as you let him in, his tongue taking possession of you completely. His other hand slid up your neck and your hand dug into his soft salt and pepper curls that you loved so much. He stole the very breath from your lungs as he kissed you with a need you hadn’t felt for such a long time and as he pulled away you wished it hadn’t ended. He started making his way down the stairs, his fingers slowly sliding out of yours, the last lingering connection between you both and you watched as it slowly disintegrated right before your eyes. He put his shoes on and opened the front before casting one last look up at you, he held a hand up in a farewell gesture and you did the same, the sound of the door closing echoed around the empty house and you felt more alone now than when he first left. It was over, your marriage was over.

[seokmingiggles]

what kind of future.

Anon requested on 201221: "Would you do a Hoseok one shot of his significant other's 4 year old nephew crashing their bed during the night he sleeps over because of a nightmare and Hoseok is super soft with the reader about this being their future?"

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x gender neutral reader

Genre: very fluffy, established relationship.

2.84k words

Warnings: mentions of a (toddler's) nightmare (aka no warnings).

You and your boyfriend are in charge of looking after your brother's son overnight, and the act makes him consider how he'd like to spend the rest of his life with you. Alternatively, there are many things you admire about Hoseok—one being the tender way he does so well with kids, and one not being the way he seems to possess zero Mario Kart skills.

A/N: Here is the second babysitting-themed request I got. Thank you, anon, for requesting Hobi! I have so much adoration for this beautiful boy ;-; Additionally, this fic is not to be confused with Lee Jihoon's heartbreakingly beautiful ballad of the same title. I definitely recommend listening to it if you haven’t already; it’s full of incredible emotion that blows me away and brings me to tears every time I listen.

•• You were surprised when Hoseok, your boyfriend of five years, hadn't hesitated to agree when earlier today you mentioned how you're scheduled to babysit your older brother's son tonight.

You know he's good with kids. Hobi has the perfect amount of energy and positivity to get along with them; it's one of the many traits you admire about him. Even though the two of you have been dating since the beginning of your college years, you and Hoseok have never really discussed your future, including marriage and having children. Although you don't doubt he would be a good father one day.

Your brother, Seokjin, was in desperate need of a date night out with his partner and had asked if you wouldn't mind looking after Jisung for the evening until tomorrow morning. You agreed instantly. You aren't ready to have kids of your own anytime soon, but you thoroughly enjoy spending time with your nephew.

"Thanks again for this, (Y/N). I owe you one."

Your brother arrived at your apartment at precisely 5 pm like he said he would, with Jisung already running to your living room and flopping on the couch upon opening the door.

"It's no problem. Jisung's fun to hang out with, and Hoseok likes him too," you could feel your heart soar at mentioning your boyfriend. "He should be here in about an hour once he gets off work. Hopefully, I'll be able to entertain Jwi until then."

"You're better with kids than you think, don't worry too much," Jin playfully ruffles your hair before saying his farewells to his son (who is already preoccupied with your couch cushions).

You wave goodbye to your brother and encourage your nephew to do the same (although the boy is adamant about creating a pillow fort in your living room; Seokjin apparently doesn't often let him in his house).

"Do you have more pillows, Auntie? And maybe blankets too!" Your couch is already naked of cushions, with Jisung sitting on the floor surrounded by the pile he’s accumulated.

You comply with his request and manage to find some spare blankets in the linen closet, along with a couple more pillows.

You follow your nephew's orders of where to place the soft additions on the floor. "What are you planning on doing once we finish this fort, Jwi?"

The boy murmurs, "I was hoping we could play Mario Kart."

You should have expected that answer; it’s one of his favourite things to do on the few occasions he's come over.

Soon enough, your small living room houses a busy arrangement of scattered couch cushions and duvets to make a comfy fort. The four-year-old is nothing less than thrilled about the finished product.

"Auntie, I'm hungry."

You almost forget that you are babysitting, and therefore responsible for feeding the boy.

"Let's go see what food we have in the kitchen," you stand and hold out your hand, which Jisung eagerly takes as the two of you wander into the kitchen. "Has your favourite food changed? Or do you still like pancakes?"

The boy squeezes your hand as he thinks. "I still like pancakes. I also like pizza." He hums in deep consideration, "Maybe I like circle-shaped foods."

You think he's adorable.

"There are a lot of tasty circle-shaped foods, that's a good answer," your eyes scan the interior of your fridge, moving to your cupboards shortly after when you can't find what you are looking for. "I'm sorry, buddy, but it doesn't look like I have the right ingredients for pancakes tonight, though."

Jisung audibly expresses his disappointment.

"Here, let me see if I can call Hobi. Maybe he hasn't left work yet and could kindly pick up some mix on his way." You trek back to the living room to retrieve your phone and find Hoseok's contact.

The line rings once, twice, and a few more times until it goes to voicemail.

It’s unlike Hoseok to not answer his phone, so you try once more.

"Auntie! There's someone at the door."

You must have missed the knocking as you focussed on the dial tone.

Hoseok finally picks up on the line as you make your way to answer the door.

"Special delivery," you hear through the phone and in front of you as you open the door.

You break out into a smile, which only becomes wider as you spot a couple of pizza boxes Hoseok carefully holds with one hand, his other one keeping his phone to his ear.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" You help him with the boxes as you usher him inside your apartment. "Because you always seem to know what I'm going to ask you before I even say anything."

"It's just one of my superpowers, don't you know I can read your mind, (Y/N)-ie?" He makes some silly sound effects as he displays how he can 'read your mind.'

"Pizza!" Jisung calls out upon seeing the cardboard boxes on the counter. "Oh, hi, Hobi!"

"Yeah, you better say hi to me," your boyfriend sweeps your nephew up in a hug and lightly spins around with him. "I'm not just your pizza boy; I'm your favourite uncle too, right?"

Jisung laughs as they spin. "I think you're my only uncle, Hobi."

"Exactly. So I must be your favourite by default then, hm?"

"Ah, stop teasing and go wash your hands. Both of you!"

"Yes, Auntie," both Jisung and Hoseok say, the latter mostly to keep teasing you despite your request.

Dinner is louder than what you are used to. The times where you would eat alone when Hoseok would be working late or simply not over seem like a distant memory as you’re sat between the two boys at the small table, seemingly alternating between bites of pizza and bubbly laughter. Jisung had asked if you all could eat in the living room fort, but you could already picture the tomato sauce stains and spilled crumbs decorating your furniture, so you denied his request and were met with a pout in return. But his pout didn't last for very long once he took a bite of the cheese-adorned food.

Seeing how Hoseok gets along so well with your nephew does something to your heartstrings; how he would listen to Jisung with the utmost attention and not hesitate to give the most perfect response in return. Your boyfriend is clearly gifted with children; you can't contain the smile on your face as you listen to him discuss something about dinosaurs with the toddler.

"I want to be Bowser when we play Mario Kart, Auntie," the boy tugs on your sleeve to pull you from your thoughts. "He's a dinosaur, right, Uncle?"

"Actually, I think he's a turtle," Hoseok considers, "but he does look kind of like a dinosaur, doesn't he?"

Jisung agrees without a second thought, now practically vibrating in his seat from the excitement and anticipation of playing the game. It helps that his tummy is now full of pizza, courtesy of your amazing boyfriend.

It isn't yet 7 o'clock, so you figure the three of you could play for a bit before your nephew has to go to bed. With fingers free from pizza grease, you all pick up the small switch controllers and choose your characters for the Kart racing game. Jisung chooses Bowser like he said he would, while Hoseok opts for Yoshi, and you with a Shy Guy in your favourite colour.

You are aware that Seokjin also has this game at his house—your brother was ecstatic when he learned his son also likes to play video games—but you couldn't have expected Jisung to be that well-practiced for a four-year-old. You knew you could beat Hobi at the game, you have many times before, and this evening was no different, but your nephew is unexpectedly your biggest competition.

An hour and a half quickly passes by with the sounds of competitive shouts and the in-game noises of Hoseok's character falling off the map too many times to count. You love Hobi, but certainly not for his Mario Kart skills. Sure enough, it is time to get Jisung ready for bed. You collect the overnight bag your brother left at the door, moving to the bathroom to help the boy get changed into his pyjamas and brush his teeth (in the other room, you hear Hoseok start another race so he could practice by himself).

After only minimal fussing, you manage to get Jisung tucked in the bed residing in the small room doubling as your office and a guest bedroom. Even though it’s only a twin-sized bed, the boy has plenty of room to be comfortable during the night.

"You know where to find us if you need anything, okay, Jwi?" You are now by the door saying your final goodnights to your nephew with Hoseok beside you after shutting the game off. "I'll also leave a nightlight in the hallway so it won't be completely dark."

"Thank you, Auntie (Y/N), goodnight. Goodnight, Hobi." Jisung waves at the two of you after yawning with a wide mouth.

You and your boyfriend wish a final goodnight before you close the door until it is only slightly propped open.

Hoseok takes your hand as you leave the short hallway and find yourselves back in the living room. You are finally pulled into a warm hug.

"Should we clean this up tonight?" Hobi whispers into your hair as he embraces you.

You relax in his hold, also keeping your voice low when you say, "No, Jwi will probably want to sit in his fort again tomorrow morning before Jin picks him up."

You feel a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

"Okay," Hoseok begins playing with the ends of your hair. "Why am I so tired too? It's only 8:30."

"There's nothing wrong with going to bed early." You turn your head so you can see Hobi's pretty face, "Who knows what time that kid will wake us up in the morning. Jin said he's still an early riser."

That is all the motivation Hoseok needs to take your hand once more and lead you to the bathroom so you could also get ready to go to sleep.

"Hey, Hoseok?" you whisper in the darkened room, feeling for his hand beneath the covers.

"Yeah?" he hums back.

"How did you get to be so good with children?"

There is silence as your boyfriend thinks, then claims, "It's funny that you say that because I don't think I'm particularly good with kids." He stops once more, thumbing the back of your hand. "All I do is make sure I listen to them properly and treat them well. I don't think it's anything special."

You move closer to Hoseok, finding a safe place in his side. "I think it's special. I've seen you before with other kids too, not just with Jisung, and it's the same thing. They just seem to like you." You run your fingers upwards on his arm until you reach the side of his face. "You're very likeable, Hobi."

With your thumb grazing over Hoseok's cheek, you lean in to give him a kiss against his soft lips. He tastes of peppermint from your toothpaste but smells familiar, like home.

"You're very lovable, (Y/N)," he replies, mirroring a hand on the back of your head. Although you can't see his face in the darkness, you can hear the smile in his voice. "I love you."

"I love you too."

You and Hoseok unexpectedly succeed at falling asleep at around 9 pm. Yet, you aren't sure for how long you manage to sleep as you are awoken by Jisung, who has appeared on your side of the bed.

"Auntie?"

Jisung's voice is quiet. He feels bad for waking you up, but he keeps your sentiment in his mind about coming to you if he needs anything during the night.

Hoseok is the first to wake at the sound of sniffles. He reaches over to turn on the dim table lamp, only to find the toddler with tear-stained cheeks and tightly clutching his favourite stuffed whale plushie.

You stir from the sudden introduction of light and sit up, becoming immediately concerned at Jisung next to you.

"Hey, come here," you coo, helping the boy get situated between you and your boyfriend in your bed. "What's wrong, Jwi?"

The boy sniffles a few more times before saying, "I h-had a bad dream."

Hoseok had already moved around him, now taking a tissue to help dry his face before rubbing soothing circles on his back. Jisung moves to sit slightly closer to Hobi, leaning into his touch.

"Do you want to talk about it?" your boyfriend asks, his voice is nothing but gentle.

Jisung nods, "There were monsters. Big monsters with spikes. They looked scary." He squeezes the plush whale, "They were chasing me, but I wasn't fast enough."

Hoseok nods as he listens carefully, gently swaying as he rocks the boy to calm him down.

"Would you feel safer if you stayed here?" you offer. "I promise you no monsters can get in this room."

Jisung accepts with a quiet "Please," and begins to settle beneath the covers.

It doesn't take much for the toddler to relax; Hoseok is humming some tune barely audible to you as you stroke the top of his head softly.

Hobi becomes silent when the sound of Jisung's breathing steadies out, and his grip on the whale loosens.

Despite your tiredness from your interrupted sleep, you remain in that position watching your nephew as his chest rises and falls. His small nostrils on his round nose flaring every once in a while.

And as you watch the boy, Hoseok watches you.

He admires your beauty—an obvious quality, but something to admire nonetheless—and the way your touches are so delicate. You have expressed your doubts about being good with children in the past, but all Hoseok can see now is how caring you are as you make sure Jisung is properly asleep and feeling better.

"Hey, (Y/N)?" Hoseok whispers, "What kind of future do you think we'll have?"

You direct your gaze to your boyfriend and nearly melt at the way he is looking at you so fondly.

"What kind of future do you think we'll have?" you smile and repeat the question to him, suspecting that he already has an answer.

Hobi beams. "I can picture us in a similar situation down the road, except maybe it's our own child between us." He carefully fixes the blanket ever-so-slightly so that Jisung is fully covered. "I can picture us in our own house one day after we're married. It'll have a nice kitchen with plenty of room for slow dances at midnight and a big bathtub in the ensuite that I know you'll use plenty." He gently tucks some hair behind the toddler's ear. "I can picture us growing old together." His gaze once again meets yours. "That's the kind of future I want to have. Anything is optional, except for you. You're the only requirement I ask for, my love."

You want to squish into Hoseok's embrace once more, but you refrain yourself from moving at the dispense of Jisung's newfound peace.

Instead, you whisper back with glassy eyes, "The only kind of future I want is with you, Hobi."

Your boyfriend glows at your words and warms your heart with his dimple-clad smile.

Down the road, you would, in fact, end up engaged to Hoseok one day, and soon after to be married as well. Your house wouldn't have a bathtub in the ensuite, but the kitchen would have plenty of room, and your husband would ensure that he twirls you around like the royalty he sees you as.

One day, you would find yourself with a daughter of your own and catching Hoseok brushing her hair as she gets ready for her first day of kindergarten. She would be so happy with the little ribbon he tied in her hair and would run to your arms to show you.

One day, you would find yourself going grey with Hoseok still next to you; the same Hoseok who would kiss you silly to wake you up on the morning of your birthday, the same Hoseok who would insist on paying for your dinner every time he'd request a date night.

The same Hoseok who would tell you "I love you" in the most gentle tone of voice, never failing to make your heart soar at his words.

One day.

But now, you remain here, in your small apartment with no ensuite nor a large kitchen. You're here, laying next to your beautiful boyfriend with your nephew between your bodies. Both boys are fast asleep, yet you remain awake and thinking about what kind of future you'll have.

What kind of future will you have?

You're open to anything as long as it contains Hoseok.

Yes, one day. ••

[poptod]

In Death (Josh Washington x Reader)

Description: You take care of him.

Notes: posted this wrong had to correct it here it is Word Count: 1.8k

+

He wasn't weak when they found him. Scared, yes – but not weak. He fought back and he hurt them, but they controlled him, and sent him to the hospital where he was contained for a month. For the better half of that month he was not allowed visitors, not his parents, not his friends, but you visited him anyway. You weren't allowed inside his room, but you stood outside with your face pressed against the glass. He breathed deep when he slept – almost normal, with a Joker-like tear in his grin, teeth like a shark, and blood dripping from the wounds that refused to heal.

He turned to you and did not grow angry. He turned to you and he almost smiled – almost human – and the doctors let you in. So you sat at his bedside, talking nonsense and reading him stories. Unfortunately his condition had fed a sickness to his mind, and though you showed up every day, he did not remember his time in the hospital.

His memory started to work like any other's only when he returned home from the hospital, kept in his room he recognized so easily. No one could tell if it was a conscious recognition or just a comfort in a familiarity he couldn't decipher, but it kept his tantrums and screeching at bay, and the sight of you sitting on his bed was one that calmed his temper. He didn't know why that was.

You spent all your time in his home, growing a fair enough relationship with his parents as you took care of him. Both his mother and father were busy, and as much as they wanted to be there for him, they couldn't fund his medicine and spend time at home. That was where you came in; you moved into the bedroom beside his and you took care of him.

Running the bathwater, you peeked out into his room, where he sat entranced with the poster above his head. A small smile came to you before you turned back to the adjacent bathroom, dropping lavender and honey scents into the steaming water. Once it filled halfway you put in bubble mixture, watching as mountains of it began to appear, stopped only when you turned the faucet off.

"Josh?" You called softly, looking out to find him still staring at the poster. Quietly you made your way to him, taking his hand in yours and pulling gently. "I ran you a bath."

You couldn't tell if he understood your words. No one did, but nonetheless he followed you, a half smile on his face, which was as much as he could do with the scars healing across his cheeks. They were a horrific sight, still gaping and scabbed but you'd grown used to it. 

Sitting him down on the edge of the tub, you raised his arms, pulling his shirt off of him while he looked up at you as though you carved the moon into the sky. He often looked like that around you. You knelt in front of him, helping to pull off his socks and jeans before removing his boxers, all of which you kept in a pile on the floor while you helped him step into the warm water.

Immediately a rough sigh left him, his eyes closing as he sank into the bubbles. Rolling up your sleeves you grabbed a nearby cup, dipping it into the water before pouring it gently over his head, watching carefully for any sign of distaste. Like usual he enjoyed it – you supposed you'd enjoy warmth too if you were stuck in winter mountains for six months.

"Do they hurt much today?" You asked him, your soothing voice always a helper in your interactions.

With a water-soaked hand you cupped his cheek, running your thumb ever so gently over the injuries, helping the biting cold dissipate. He shook his head – a simple no, but when you tried to withdraw your hand he pulled you back, placing your warmth over his scars and melting into your touch.

"I'll need that soon, but alright," you murmured with a quiet giggle, an expression that had him smiling a crooked, broken smile.

Once more you ran water through his hair, letting him keep your hand sandwiched against his cheek (he still hadn't moved his hand away from yours) for another minute or so before moving to the shampoo.

"You're quiet today," you noted in a hum, massaging the shampoo into his scalp in just the right way. You'd gotten a lot of practice.

Like usual, he didn't respond, at least not in words. Despite his appearing to have forgotten english, you kept talking to him like normal – maybe it was laziness on your part, but you liked to believe he could understand you. Eventually he'd gain the consciousness to speak again. After all, he was getting slowly better, and with each passing week he grew more civil.

"Close your eyes," you said, preparing to run water over his sudsy head. He did so, and as your cup spilled warm water down his neck, he hummed pleasantly.

You went slow till you finished up, reaching low into the tub to release the plug. Even though your sleeves were rolled up nearly to your shoulder, you still managed to soak your shirt, bubbles still resting on your chest and stomach. Not that you minded, but you'd have to change shirts to make lunch.

The doctors told you one good meal a day – vegetarian of course, and snacks were allowed throughout the day. You kept to their words, though you could tell it annoyed Josh. He must've missed his old favorite foods quite a lot. If he remembered them.

Stirring the tomato sauce, you eyed Josh sneaking out of his room, making his way over to you. He looked over your shoulder and you could feel his breath, a warmth that only grew when he wrapped his arms around your middle, his chest against your back. Resting his chin on your shoulder, he hummed a tune you couldn't quite identify, pressing his cheek against your neck and jaw. You chuckled.

"Pasta or baguette slices?" You asked, looking to the unopened box of spaghetti and the freshly baked baguette his mother had gotten from a nearby bakery.

Unwinding himself from you he knelt at the counter, coming to eye level with the two objects. After a moment of looking between the two, he reached for the baguette, handing it to you.

"Alright," you said as you took it, offering a smile before he left the kitchen.

You sliced about half the baguette up, setting the pieces on a tray seasoned with olive oil, salt, and a hint of garlic. The tomato sauce would go well on it, and since the sauce already had garlic in it, you didn't need too much for the cooking sheet. With the sauce and the bread boiling and cooking away, you cut up broccoli and brussel sprouts. Those soon went into a pan, before being seasoned with olive oil and jalapeno slices. Fresh vegetables always took a shorter time to cook, though Josh liked them a little overcooked, which was a little harder for you to enjoy. Still, you found comfort in the routine, always happy to help him.

When you finished you called Josh over, who quickly jumped over the couch and rushed to your side, looking over the food with a hungry look. To be fair, he usually looked hungry. You helped him load food onto his own plate before getting your own, joining him on the couch, where you pulled up Hatari on the television. A classic.

He couldn't sit through the whole movie, so at the midway point you paused, taking care of the dishes before joining him in his room. For the most part he stayed up there, and this time was no different as you found him lying on his bed. In his hands he held an ADHD fidgeting toy covered in scratches from his claws which, to your surprise, were fading at the same pace of his scars. No one expected them to go away, but it was a pleasant revelation.

"I brought cookies. You know, the ones I made a couple days ago," you said, climbing onto the bed with him and placing the cookie box between you. "There aren't any more heart shaped ones, though. Sorry. I only made three of those."

One for his mother, one for his father, and one for him.

Scooting across the sheets, he leaned against you, his posture much lower than yours to the point where his head was almost in your lap. You placed your arm over his head, resting your hand on his shoulder and tracing tiny shapes on his shirt.

"We'll need to go take your medicine soon," you reminded him softly, something that had him burying his face deeper into your waist. "You can sleep for now, though."

He loved touching you, that much was obvious to anyone who observed your interactions for more than a minute. Something in his mind told him you were safe – you couldn't be more thankful for that little memory, as faint as it was.

He never said your name. He didn't always recognize your voice if you called from another room. When he had nightmares, he didn't realize it was you waking him up unless you turned on the lights. But sometimes, he tried to sing to you. Weird, yes, and according to his friends and family he never sang before the incident, but it was sweet, and... lonely. There weren't any words, and despite that it still put an ache in your heart. Other times he tried to massage you, but you couldn't bear him doing that for very long, what with his claws. He clung to you when you sat beside him, especially in bed – he'd wrap his arms around your waist or chest, slinging his legs over the lower half of your body till there wasn't even a chance of escape. Over everything, you found it endearing. His parents found it embarrassing.

He didn't remember when you first spoke. He didn't remember driving you to the outskirts of town just to ask you on a date – he didn't remember you saying yes, and he didn't remember how you made him banana bread when he mentioned that he liked it. He didn't remember that you kissed him, and he didn't remember kissing back.

He didn't remember anything to do with you or any of his friends, or really any part of his life.

No, he didn't remember you, but he recognized you.

Only you.

And to him, when you murmured 'I love you' into his ear, you were all that existed.

[drarryangels]

the loss is slow, for you and me

Wow. I wrote something. You are shocked. I am shocked. It’s a good day. 

Read the full shebang here.

Snippet here:

It began with a headache, a sore throat, an interrupted call.

The headache first, at nine in the morning, after Draco's morning tea.

"Earl grey?"

"Please," Draco replied, holding his hand out as Harry passed by to trail his fingers over the edge of his waistband. "Thank you."

Harry dropped a kiss on his head and pressed the mug into his palm. "Have a great day at work, darling."

Draco smiled up at him, took a sip of his tea, stood to put his robes on, and then walked out the door.

For November in London, it was a fairly nice morning. Gray skies, no wind, a dusting of rain. Chilly enough for a cloak, but not cold enough for the fur lined one that Harry had bought for him last December. Draco smiled at the homeless man on the corner, handed him a biscuit from his lunch box (made by Harry, of course. Draco never knew what to pack for lunch). He went on his way, took the phone booth down to the Ministry, and smiled at the woman at the guest counter who looked as if three separate finches had flown through her hair. By the time he reached the elevator to take him down to the Department of Mysteries, there was a pounding behind his skull.

"Mornin', Draco."

"Good morning, Wilson." Draco smiled at the man. Wilson's shoulders were hunched over and his eyes folded in the corners. "How was your date night with your wife?"

Wilson smiled. "Quite nice, thank you. How's Harry?"

Draco patted Wilson's shoulder. "Perfectly Harry."

"Glad to hear it," Wilson said, and Draco turned to make his way to his desk.

Draco sat, in the same way and in the same place that he did every morning, and pushed his weight back in his rolling chair. He held his mug of tea close to his chest and smiled. By this point, the pounding had turned into a dull throb, but Draco hardly noticed. He was too busy thinking about Harry, and his earl grey tea, and his plans for the pub this evening, and also Harry. In summary, this day was to be just like every other day. The same walk to work, the same woman at the front desk, the same conversation with Wilson, the same tea, the same thoughts. In fact, it wasn't altogether unusual for Draco to have a headache at this time of the morning either. Although usually the headache had to be instigated by one of the Unspeakable interns, who still hadn't figured out how to keep their mouths shut about just about anything, and were always making problems with the other departments.

Right on cue, a bang sounded down the hallway, followed by the straggled yelling of poor Mr. Wilson, and the frantic running of a pair of young shoes.

"The next time you tell the Aurors about our Mortem case, I'm going to..." The voice faded off down into another corridor.

Draco sighed, and his headache grew.

-

It was the sore throat that alerted Draco to the fact that something may not be quite right with himself.

It came around eleven, right along with the lunch post.

"Malfoy?"

Draco twirled around in his chair. "Yes?"

"Mail for you."

"Thanks, Buchanan."

Draco took the envelope and slipped his thumb under the seal. He couldn't think who he'd be getting mail from that would send it through his work address. Nearly all of his correspondents simply sent messages through his personal owl.

Draco unfolded the letter and skimmed over the contents. Another inquiry on the Mortem case. Draco tossed the letter onto his desk and rested his head back. The headache was becoming almost unbearable, and he didn't have the bandwidth to deal with another case breach. It was all the ridiculous interns, trying to brag about their workload, and it was screwing up the Unspeakables' investigation plans. Every time they got close to finding an information leak, another intern would spill the latest news of their glamorous, top-secret job . Draco had had quite enough of it. The case was already several months over schedule because of it. Several months wasted that Draco could have used in various other ways. New cases, Unspeakable recruitment, employee training, a week of vacation with Harry, appealing to Sullivan to get rid of the interns. The Unspeakables could get their own coffee, for heaven's sake (Draco had been making his own beverages for years for fear that one of the young interns would poison his cup on some diluted revenge path).

And so, the itch in his throat first twinged.

Draco drank more tea first, then took a Calming Potion. He figured it might be from stress, so he took a walk around Muggle London before coming back to his desk. The itch grew to a scrape, then a grind, and then a blindingly painful grating that flayed Draco's throat every time he so much as swallowed or breathed.

He went to Mungo’s. They said he had a cold, so he went back to work.

He finished work, glared at the interns, and walked out of the Unspeakable offices. Took the elevator, nodded to Bailey, who was filling in as head of the DMLE while Robards was on leave, and left the Ministry. He apparated home, and then stood on the front step outside his and Harry's apartment, and tried to imagine how he would explain to Harry that he didn't feel like going out to the pub with Ronald tonight after all.

-

"That's okay."

"I'm so sorry. I know it's been weeks since you saw him, but I just really don't一"

"Draco." Harry set a hand over Draco's knee and smiled at him, his smile crooked and his eyes honey warmed. "It's alright, really. I'm not going to make you go if you're not feeling well."

Draco sighed and brushed a hand through his hair before settling it over Harry's hand. "Why don't you go? I'll stay home and rest, and you can go see Ronald."

Harry leaned further back into the couch and began to circle the tips of his fingers over the bunched seam of Draco's trousers at the joint of his knee. He looked at Draco, his gaze slow and careful. "I'm not going to leave you here. I'll just firecall Ron and reschedule. Then I can stay here and take care of you."

"Darling, I really don't want you to miss out一"

"Draco," Harry interrupted. He pressed his fingers down into Draco's kneecap. "I'll stay."

Harry made spaghetti, Draco's favorite, and wobbled both plates between his hands as he took them back to the couch, where Draco still lay. Draco would've gotten up and helped make the garlic bread, but he honestly hadn't had the energy to get off the couch, and Harry had insisted that they could live without garlic bread for one night.

Harry set the plate down on Draco's lap and settled himself on top of Draco's feet. "Feeling alright?"

Draco tried to smile and nod. His headache and his throat were worse, but he didn't want to say. "Much better," he said.

"Liar," said Harry, and Draco didn't disagree.

"Call Ronald," Draco told Harry, reaching out to take his plate from his hands. "I'll wait."

Harry kissed the place Draco's thumb met his wrist before handing him his plate, nearly tipping over with the weight of pasta, and going to the next room to reschedule pub night with Ron.

Draco sat, cradling his and Harry's plates of spaghetti in his hands, staring down at it blankly while the murmurs of Harry's voice rose in the other room, muffled by the crackling of the fireplace. Draco was thirsty. It was the stupid scratch in his throat, scraping up and down and up and down. He needed water.

Draco set the plates on the coffee table, careful. His hands shook a little. He swung his legs over the side of the couch, stood, looked around the room, and promptly blacked out.

Harry heard the bang, cancelled the firecall, and ran to the living room. He found Draco, face down, sprawled, and covered in broken porcelain and spaghetti sauce. And so the call was interrupted, and the third part of Draco's impending illness was complete.

-

Draco woke for a short time to find himself sitting upright in the bathtub, water clouded with tomato sauce around his thighs, and one Harry Potter sitting between his knees. Draco smirked, got light headed, and nearly passed out again.

"Hey," Harry murmured. "Head down, between your knees."

Draco obeyed and his vision slowly cleared. He didn't dare lift his head again and risk another epic collapse.

"You're lucky the plates didn't cut you," Harry said, scraping idly at a tomato stain in Draco's skin, reading Draco's mind.

"I'm sorry," Draco muttered. "I got dehydrated. Or I have low iron, maybe."

"Or you're sick," Harry supplied.

Draco shook his head. Wet hair, blonde, a little too long, stuck to his cheeks and his forearms where his head was resting. "No. I simply feel a little off. I'll be alright after a good night's sleep."

Harry had the kindness, or perhaps the common sense, not to argue with Draco on this. Draco dropped his head down on Harry's shoulder in thanks, and Harry ended up washing his hair, and his skin, and his face (with the fancy face wash, Draco demanded, not the bar soap for heaven's sake). He pulled him out of the bath by the armpits and wound him up in four separate freshly laundered towels. Draco smiled at him, gripped Harry's waist, dropped his forehead into the stretch and turn of Harry's neck, brushed his lips across his throat and whispered a dozen words of nothing to him.

"Do you think," Harry said, after they were both dressed and tucked into bed, "that Robards will let me quit the Aurors?"

Draco turned to look at Harry across the half of a pillow in between them. "You never said you wanted to quit the Aurors."

"Well, I hate the paperwork something dreadful."

"Why, of course," Draco said, turning back to the ceiling. "I understand."

"Do you think he will?" Harry asked.

"How can he not?" Draco said. He ran his fingers through the sheets, skimming through folds, edging around creases, until he found Harry's hand. "You're Harry Potter."

Draco fell asleep that night with his fingers gripped in between Harry's, and the night sparkling beyond their gray, empty ceiling.

-

"Sweetheart."

The sheets rustled beside Draco, but he didn't roll over. It was hot, so hot, but he didn't feel like rolling over or kicking the sheets off.

"Sweetheart," Harry whispered again.

A cool hand lifted up to brush along the line of Draco's shoulder in the dark. Draco shrugged it off and groaned into his pillow. "'M hot. Lemme alone," Draco muttered.

The sheets lifted abruptly off Draco's torso. Draco didn't bother scrambling after them. It felt nice, the cool air swiping over his skin. He smiled into his pillow and burrowed further down into the mattress.

"Draco," Harry said. Draco almost lifted his head at the twinge in Harry's voice, but it was so hard to do so because his neck really was too sore to make any movement. "Draco," Harry said again, blind panic clear in his voice. "You're hot. Really hot."

"Yes," Draco mumbled. "I'm very hot."

" No. " Harry's voice broke. A hand gripped onto Draco's shoulder and pulled hard, rolling him over onto his back. Draco peeked up at the crown of Harry's hair through the crusted slits of his eyelids, curls and tangles backlit by the dim yellow bathroom light. "You're burning up." There was a pause. "Oh god," Harry said. And then arms were sliding under Draco and struggling to lift him, and he was unsure of what exactly happened after that.

"Draco, Draco, Draco." A breath. "Draco, Draco, Draco." A huff of air.

Another voice. "Harry, he's going to be alright."

Harry's voice. "Right."

Draco struggled to peel his eyelids open. He wanted to see Harry.

He couldn't get his eyes open. All he could see was the swarming darkness of the inside of his eyes and mind. He could hear though. That was something.

The chant of Draco's name began again in Harry's voice. "Draco, Draco, Draco, Draco." A pause for air. "Draco, Draco."

Draco opened his mouth. His lips split a little and he flicked his tongue out to taste the blood.

Harry's breath hitched audibly, suddenly close to Draco's face. "Draco? Darling? Can you hear me?"

He wanted to see Harry so badly.

Draco tried to open his eyes again, and slowly, very slowly, with the uncomfortable sense of something peeling back reluctantly, his eyelids lifted, and Harry's general shape came into distorted focus.

Harry smiled, his eyes glassy and ringed with red and heavy dark circles. There was a slight choking sound, and then Harry lurched forward on top of Draco.

"Oh god," Harry said. "Thank god you're awake. Please never do that again."

"Do what?" Draco forced out. His voice emerged scratchy and harsh.

"The blacking out thing. The not waking up for four days thing. You scared the shit out of me." Harry leaned away from Draco a bit to place his forehead up against Draco's.

Draco stared at him, cross eyed. "Four days?"

"Yeah." Harry let out a sort of laugh. "We're in Mungo's, baby."

"Don't’t call me baby. You only call me baby when you have to go on long distance missions," Draco huffed. He folded his arms over his chest. "And I went to Mungo's before and they said I had a cold."

"I know, I know," Harry said, and pushed his face closer to Draco's so their noses squished together at the tips. "And I only call you baby when I'm scared, you git."

"Oh." Draco pulled back a little. Trying to look into Harry's face from less than a centimeter away was making him dizzy. "You're scared to go on missions?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "It has nothing to do with the missions."

Draco tilted his head. "Then why are you scared?"

Harry lifted a hand up to Draco's cheek and sighed. "I'm scared about you."

"Me?" Draco almost laughed, but his lungs hurt too much to get the sound out. "I'm not the one who leaves for month long missions. What do you have to be scared about me for?"

Harry looked down, at Draco's lap. Draco looked down too. There was nothing particularly interesting. Just the coarse gray threads of the standard issue Mungo's blanket, and Draco's hand, braceleted by a charmed ring that displayed Draco's vitals.

Harry inhaled deeply and held it there for a long second. "I worry when we're not together." He looked up at Draco, and Draco followed him with his eyes. "I don't like being away from you. I get scared something will happen if I'm away for too long. Like I'll come back and there will have been some random attack. Or some Ministry employee will have harassed you straight out of your job. Or you'll get sick and I'll come back and it'll be too late, and I won't be there to say goodbye一"

"Harry," Draco interrupted. "None of those things will happen."

Harry stood abruptly. His cheeks went ruddy, then blotchy, and his eyes squinted up tightly in the way they always did when Harry was trying really hard not to cry in front of Draco. "You don't know that, Draco!" Harry exhaled harder and shoved his hands through his hair, turning half away from Draco. "It's happening right now! What if I had been gone on mission when you collapsed onto the coffee table? What if there hadn't been anyone there to take you to Mungo's when you were burning up in the middle of the night?" He dropped into the small folding chair in the corner, shoved in beside a collection of half dead flowers. "You could've died. You would've died."

"What are you talking about?" Draco said. "I'm a little sick. I'm not dying."

Harry bolted to a standing position and threw his hands in the air. "Draco! You are dying!"

Harry looked as if he regretted saying anything as soon as the words left his mouth. He clapped his hands over his mouth and whirled around so his shoulder blades glared at Draco.

"Harry?" Draco said quietly. "What do you mean?"

Harry shook his head hard, still facing away. "Nothing. I didn't mean anything."

Draco paused. "I'd rather hear whatever it is from you than from one of the Healers, please."

The tension seeped out of the muscles in Harry's back. He knew how much Draco hated getting information later than everyone else. Harry turned back and slowly lowered himself on the edge of Draco's bed.

"The Healers say it's tarda amissi ," Harry said. His eyes didn't meet Draco's. “Well, Hermione figured it out first, of course. But the Healers confirmed it.”

"What does that mean?" Draco asked. He reached his hand out and Harry caught it between his.

"Some curse." Harry dropped his chin back and stared up at the ceiling, his breath coming out too hard and fast. "Hermione said it means 'the loss is slow.'" Harry slowly lowered his gaze to look at Draco. "They were waiting for you to wake up to tell them if you got cursed in the past four months." Harry shook his head. "I told them you would've told me if something had happened to you, or if you'd gotten hit by an unknown curse, but they didn't believe me. I mean you would've told me, right?"

Draco stared at Harry hard. "Harry. We've been together for ten years. I've been in love with you for almost double that amount of time. There should be no doubt that I would've told you. Of course一of course I would've told you."

Harry nodded and blinked furiously. "Right, of course. I know. I just一four months. How did we not realize something was going wrong inside of you for four months?"

"Harry," Draco said softly. "Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Blaming yourself."

"I'm not一"

"Yes, you are. You're thinking, what if we had realized sooner? What did we miss? If we knew something was wrong earlier, then we could've stopped it."

Harry's silence was his response.

"You haven't even told me what the curse is," Draco said. "What it does."

"Right." Harry looked up at Draco. "Um. Can I..."

"What is it?"

Harry swallowed. "I want to be close to you right now."

Draco smiled a little. "Darling, you don't have to ask for that." Draco carefully scooted himself to one side of the bed, ignoring the throbbing ache in his joints as he did so.

Harry crawled up the bed and curled in next to Draco, his face pressing into the side of Draco's neck, one of his hands resting over Draco's stomach. Harry didn't waste any time. "The curse works itself slowly through your body, shutting down one function at a time until you're dead." Harry's hand tightened over the slight dips and curves of Draco's belly.

Draco didn't feel anything wrong yet. Yes, his throat hurt, and his bones felt as if an erumpment had been sitting on them for several hours, and possibly his head was still pounding. But he didn't feel like he was dying. Draco wasn't ready to die.

"And then what?" Draco asked.

"What do you mean?" Harry bit at the soft skin under Draco's ear. "And then you're dead. Dead, dead, dead. I'll never see you again, or touch you again, or kiss you, or lick you, or一" Harry let out a strangled cough. "And it's been in your body for four months ."

"Well," Draco said because he was not sure what else there was to be said.

"Well," repeated Harry.

So he was dying.

[iatethepomegranate]

We are not alone in the dark with our demons: Chapter 9

A fic in which Caleb buys a house with Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha, becomes a professor, learns to be a person, and fights to protect others from what happened to him.

Content warnings: Caleb's backstory, implied abuse, medical trauma

Chapter summary: The morning comes, and there are two boys who need Caleb's help.

Chaper notes: My writing is slowing a bit, and work is starting to pick up. Updates will probably be slower from now on. Chapter title is from Woodwork by Sleeping At Last

****

Chapter 9: The world reappears and it breaks us new

The morning was slow. Essek read as Caleb lay in bed for a while, taking stock of the aches in his body and the cracks in his psyche. Caduceus had healed most of his injuries, leaving him mostly with minor aches and pains that were no different than he had experienced on the road. And the help from Caduceus and Essek last night had meant he had been able to sleep. Not as much as he needed, really, but enough that he wasn’t going to burst into tears if someone looked at him funny.

He was as okay as he was going to be. He soaked in the last few moments of warmth in bed, and Essek’s hand scratching his scalp like he would a cat, before heaving himself up and getting ready for the day ahead. This one would be difficult, too.

They ate breakfast together on the floor of Nico’s room, conversing quietly. Caduceus had served grilled tomatoes with poached eggs, toast and fried mushrooms in a generous sauce of butter, mixed herbs Caleb couldn’t place, and a ton of garlic. Food was more appealing this morning, and Caleb was famished. He also had a headache, probably from dehydration, so Caduceus had brought him a huge glass of water.

“Caddy, you could be a professional cook,” Beauregard said through a mouthful of food.

“Swallow your food before talking,” Caduceus said, ignoring her comment aside from a small smirk.

She swallowed. “Whatever, man.”

Essek was eating carefully, like he was afraid to spill anything on the floor. “Do we know when your old friends are arriving, Caleb?”

“They didn’t give us an exact time,” said Beauregard. “So who the fuck knows?”

“No later than eleven,” said Caleb. “Possibly by ten. They said they would be here in the morning.”

“I mean, 11:59 is still technically morning.”

“Not for Volstrucker.”

Caleb watched the others as their shoulders tightened, jaws clenched, eyes burned with fury at the implications they read in Caleb’s soft tone. Before they collectively breathed out and went back to eating. It was an odd mix of comfort and sadness to see how strongly they were affected by what he, and by extension the Volstrucker, had been through. He felt okay enough in this moment that it didn’t break him.

Essek laid a hand on his knee. Silent comfort. And he was okay enough that that didn’t break him, either. Even as tired as he was.

He helped Caduceus wash the dishes afterwards, needing to do something with his hands while they waited. As they stacked the dried dishes and put them away, Caduceus spoke for the first time since they had begun.

“You look better.” Caduceus kept his voice neutral, as if making a casual observation. Caleb was grateful for that.

“I feel better. Thank you for last night.”

“Oh, psh.”

That was the extent of their discussion on the matter. Wulf and Astrid arrived shortly thereafter, moving stiffly with poorly-concealed pain. Caleb met them at the door. Astrid headed straight upstairs with barely a word, but Wulf lingered in the centre of the living room.

He watched Astrid’s departure with a tense quirk to the corner of his mouth. “So, we all agree yesterday was fucked up, right?”

“I am the last person to disagree, Wulf.”

His eyes slid to Caleb’s; his face was stern as it often was, but there was pain in his eyes that he probably wasn’t displaying by choice. “You all right?”

“As all right as I can be, I suppose.” It was true now; it hadn’t been last night. “You?”

“Hm.” His mouth twitched. Looked away. “Not my favourite memory to revisit.”

In the moment, there had been no time for hesitation. Caleb had needed to give directions and get shit done. And he had known Wulf was the best option to handle Nico in whatever state they found him in.

“I’m sorry,” Caleb said. “You had the best chance with him.”

“I know.” Wulf exhaled through his nose, rubbing his wrists and hands as all of them often did to work out the kinks of repeated spellwork. The three of them used to do it for each other. Now Caleb and Essek sometimes did. He wondered if Wulf and Astrid still did it. “For better or worse, I have experience.” He swallowed. “There were no good options. Didn’t like to watch you run into a burning building, either, but…” He looked away.

Caleb wasn’t sure what to say. They were still awkward with each other. It wasn’t that long ago that Wulf had quite literally stabbed him. And now Wulf had just spoken more to Caleb than he had in a very long time. He was still rubbing his hands, looking everywhere but Caleb, and the whole thing was extremely uncomfortable.

Caleb had been uncomfortable a lot in social situations, especially in the last year. He could take it. And he could easily either wait Wulf out or bait him into speaking whatever else was on his mind.

“Wulf.” Caleb found the right tone, the one he had once used to break Wulf down when he was having a bad day and wasn’t talking about it.

Wulf closed his eyes, his grimace becoming an irritated half-smile. “What?”

Caleb waited. Wulf looked at him, annoyed. Caleb smiled at him. Wulf looked away, swearing under his breath.

“Wulf,” Caleb said slowly, “what’s the matter?”

He crossed his arms (great forearms as always), shoulders hunched a little. And when he spoke, it was almost too quiet for Caleb to hear. “Can I have a hug?”

“Ja, of course.” Caleb would be lying if he said he’d expected that, but he certainly wasn’t going to turn Wulf down. They were both going through a lot right now, and despite the light stabbing, Caleb did still care a great deal for him.

Wulf didn’t move. Caleb waited a moment longer, until it was clear Wulf was not going to initiate. So he stepped forward and put his hands on Wulf’s shoulders until he looked at him.

“All right,” Caleb said. “Come here.” He slid his arms around him, and Wulf stepped forward, tentatively holding onto his waist. Wulf relaxed into the hug, folding downwards until his forehead met Caleb’s shoulder.

He breathed, and shuddered a little. Caleb held him tighter, and could feel the barest tremors surging through Wulf’s body. His hands spasmed on Caleb’s back.

When they finally separated, Wulf cleared his throat, straightened his coat and said, “Not one word. To anyone.”

“Don’t worry,” Caleb said wryly, “your reputation is safe.”

Wulf raised his eyebrow; it was attractive. “Cute.”

“Some things haven’t changed.”

The moment was taut, like stretched twine. Wulf chuckled. “Some things have.”

“Oh?”

There was a soft laugh from the stairs; Astrid had evidently doubled back. “Careful, Wulf. His drow boyfriend is upstairs.”

The tension snapped; Wulf stepped back, the ghost of laughter still on his lips. “Yeah, I don’t know how you seduced the Shadowhand of all people, but you were always really fucking charismatic.”

Caleb looked towards the stairs, past Astrid. “It was more complicated than that, but… here we are.” They had wasted enough time. “Let’s do this.”

The others were already assembled in Nico’s room, Caduceus carefully portioning out the correct amount of diamond dust. Essek was posted up in the corner by the door, while Beau and Yasha filled the space closer to the bed. Caleb positioned himself on the other side of the door from Essek. Wulf moved in to fill a gap near Beauregard, and Astrid moved closer to Caduceus. Nico knew her best, as far as Caleb could tell. It was a good spot to be.

Caduceus looked to Caleb. “Anything we should be prepared for?”

“Hard to say,” Caleb replied, reluctantly digging into his fragmented memories of his time like this. “He will be disoriented. Likely afraid. Have we taken all his spell components?”

“Everything we could find,” Beauregard replied. He did not like the uncertainty in her tone.

“Those of us who can counterspell should prepare,” said Caleb. “Just in case. Muscle, be ready to grab him. He might not…” He sighed. “My situation was different. I knew where I was. I knew I was in danger. He may be more confused than I was.” Caleb had been confused and disoriented, but the fear of recognising that he was in a room at the sanatorium had overridden all of that. Adrenaline had pushed him towards survival. He had no idea how Nico would react. But in an unfamiliar place, with mostly unfamiliar people, realising the memories that drove him to murder his parents were false?

It was going to be ugly.

“One moment,” said Essek. He pulled out a pearl and pressed it to Caleb’s forehead, casting Fortune’s Favour. He did the same for everyone except Caduceus and himself. He could, in theory, have cast it using a higher level slot to catch more people at once and save his pearls, but it would come at the cost of losing more powerful spells he may need later. Caleb had a stash of pearls in his study, and was already plotting to make Essek accept them. Then Essek situated himself at the door once again.

“Do you have Counterspell?” Caleb asked him, having never seen Essek cast it.

“I picked it up recently.”

“Good.” Caleb took a deep breath. “Ready, Caduceus?”

“Ready.” Caduceus began to cast, reaching out to touch Nico’s forehead. He closed his eyes, brow furrowed, and Caleb was concerned what effect this may have on him. Then there was a bright light and the diamond dust vanished from his hand. Caduceus pulled back.

All eyes on Nico. The boy squeezed his eyes shut, groaning. Then he sat up, eyes darting around the room, pausing on Astrid for a second, and Wulf. And then a gasp. His hands were moving.

Caleb counterspelled. It didn’t take. He burned his mote. It didn’t take. There was a split second where his mind slowed time and he watched every other caster try to unravel Nico’s spell. And fail.

A huge roar. A burst of light and heat. Caleb’s head cracked against something solid and his vision went dark.

Then hands were on him, and he was awake. Caduceus pulled him to his feet, and rushed over to Essek, who was curled up in pain but conscious, casting Ray of Frost at flames licking the walls.

The others had already made it to their feet. Nico was nowhere to be found.

Astrid shook her head like a dog shaking off water. “We need to move.”

“We’ll stay here and handle the fire,” Caduceus said, helping Essek to his feet.

The rest of them were out the door in seconds, Beau and Yasha in the lead because they were fast as fuck. They spilled out into the street.

“Bren,” said Astrid, “thoughts?”

“Check all routes out of the city. I’ll message the Cobalt Soul. You message any Volstrucker who may help.”

“We’ll link up with the monks,” said Beauregard, grabbing Yasha’s hand and rushing south towards the Court of Colours.

Caleb had an idea. “Wulf, would you like to be a giant eagle?”

“Do it.”

Caleb grabbed his cocoon and cast. Wulf’s form shifted into a huge eagle, and he took to the air, almost buffeting Caleb off his feet.

Astrid tugged Caleb northward. “I suspect he knows the northern areas better.”

“Right.” Caleb pulled out his copper wire. “High Curator, Nicolaus has been restored, but he fled. Beauregard is on her way to ask your aid.”

“We will mobilise the monks. Thank you for the warning.”

Astrid had shot a quick message to one of the Volstrucker. Caleb spotted a Crownsguard on the nearest street corner.

“Excuse me!”

The guard took them in, taking special note of Astrid. “Uh, yes? How can I help?”

“Have you seen a young man with dark hair, no coat or shoes, come through this area?”

“I don’t believe so, no.”

“If you do,” said Astrid, “do not engage.”

“Is he a threat, Archmage?”

“He is a frightened young man,” said Caleb. “He is not a threat if he is not threatened.”

“Get the word out,” said Astrid. “If I hear he has been harmed, there will be consequences.”

Caleb pointed to the giant eagle overhead. “Oh, and he’s with us.”

Then Caleb and Astrid ran further north, towards the market. Caleb was already doubting himself; maybe looping in the Crownsguard had been a mistake. And Caleb had used his one concentration spell to turn Wulf into an eagle, so there was precious little he could do magically from here.

“Caleb,” came Essek’s voice. “Caduceus communed with his god. The boy has a spellcasting focus. He is moving north. That is all we know. Good luck.”

“Thank you. Stay safe.” Caleb looked to Astrid. “Nico has a spellcasting focus and is moving north.” He then passed the information to Beauregard with another Sending. And one to Wulf; he recalled somewhat understanding Common while in giant eagle form himself. Astrid Sent to her Volstrucker contact.

“The Volstrucker are mobilising to reach the gates,” she told him.

“What are Nico’s favourite spells?” Without his spellbook, the boy would be limited in his casting. “Aside from Fireball.”

“Mostly Evocation spells,” said Astrid. They were reaching a crowd at the market, which was going to be a problem. She grabbed Caleb’s hand, pulling him along, both their heads on a swivel. “He’s a firebug like you.”

“Any illusions we should worry about?”

“Disguise Self, most likely. I don’t know if he had it prepared.”

“I guess we will have to watch for body language as well.” This was a fucking mess. All this preparation, and they’d managed to lose the boy anyway. If he had managed to disguise himself, it would have been a simple task to move through the market unnoticed.

“Caduceus is attempting to scry,” said Essek. “I will update you.”

“Danke schön. We are in the market. Volstrucker are moving ahead. He may have disguised himself.”

The market was just walls of sound and people and distraction everywhere. If Nico were were, they weren’t going to find him. So they pushed ahead onto the other side, catching their breath.

“I’m starting to think this is a fool’s errand,” Astrid muttered, pressing a palm to her ribs.

“Are you hurt?”

“No more than you.”

There wasn’t time to argue the matter. “Do you have Invisibility prepared today? Or Fly? I have to keep Wulf in the air.”

“I have Trent’s boots today. I can turn you invisible, or help you Fly.”

“Flight may be best. We do not want to lose track of each other.”

Astrid cast the spell and activated her boots, sending them both into the air. They soared to the nearest rooftop and landed, watching the market with a better vantage point.

“We should move ahead,” said Caleb. “If he’s still here, we won’t see him in the market.” They flew further north, dimly aware that children were pointing at them. So much for keeping this quiet; Ludinus would no doubt hear about this. And be a pain in the ass.

They paused on another rooftop; the northeastern gates were visible from here. Caleb’s heart sank further with each passing second.

“The scry went through but he cannot see much. The boy is disguised; a half-elf girl with red hair and freckles. Dressed as a barmaid.” Essek cast the spell again. “Not much detail around him. There are stones, but also dirt. He’s running now.”

“He may be outside the city. Thank you.” Caleb pushed off the roof, trusting Astrid to follow. He Sent to Beauregard. “Caduceus scried. Nico’s disguised as a red-haired half-elf barmaid. I think he’s outside the city. He’s running.”

Beauregard’s response began with a drawn-grown. “Motherfucker. We’ll head out the southeast gate and curve north.”

Astrid had also Sent to her Volstrucker contact. They flew for as long as the spell lasted, touching down close to the city gates. The Righteous Brand soldiers guarding the gate watched them curiously as they ran past, but made no move to stop them. Astrid’s authority was saving them a lot of grief today.

They searched the road, the fields. But it became more and more evident that Nico had evaded them. Eadwulf touched down beside them as the spell ended and he was human again. Caleb leaned against a fencepost, willing himself not to crack.

“We should regroup,” said Astrid. “Your place, Bren?”

He nodded. Took a deep breath. Started walking. He Sent one last message to Beauregard. She and Yasha linked up with them near the gate. They walked back to the house together.

****

Caleb was used to feeling like a failure. But this one hurt more than most. The group sat in Beau and Yasha’s living room, drinking tea Caduceus had made.

“Caleb, you’ve got the most experience here,” said Beauregard. “What’s the kid thinking?”

The answer was simple. “Get out.”

“Where would you have gone?”

“The nearest woods,” said Caleb. “For me, that was the Pearlbow Wilderness. He may try to head there. Lots of cover, places to hide, few people.”

“I can scry on him again,” said Caduceus.

“Go ahead.”

Caduceus set his teacup aside and closed his eyes, concentrating. It would take a few minutes.

“I will have the Volstrucker search the area,” said Astrid. “If the scry works, we will have an easier time.”

“I’ll see if we can spare a few monks to back you up,” replied Beauregard.

“He won’t go near Vergesson,” said Wulf.

“No,” Caleb agreed. The thought of the boy coming anywhere near that place made him physically ill. “He will lay low for a bit, and then probably go looking for a small town on the edge of civilization. Somewhere no one would expect to find a wizard. He has fire for warmth, evidently, but food and water will be an issue.”

“Think he could survive in the woods?” asked Beauregard.

“Probably.” Caleb had.

“We’ll find him,” Essek said quietly. He was not a man given to empty platitudes.

“I hope so.”

The energy in the room was almost depleted. The group sat there, deflated, while Caduceus worked through his ritual. At the point, by Caleb’s count, that the spell should have connected, Caduceus jolted and opened his eyes. He shook his head.

“He resisted. I can try again tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Caleb hadn’t meant to speak. It was… this hurt. A lot.

Caduceus scanned the group. “Who needs healing?”

Everyone, really. Astrid and Wulf grudgingly accepted the assistance, and were unable to hide how much they visibly relaxed in relief.

“Bren, meet me in my office,” said Astrid. “I will mobilise the Volstrucker in the meantime.”

“I’ll talk to the monks,” said Beauregard.

****

Caleb took a few minutes to himself before walking to the Academy. Just a moment to sit in his study, count and sort the various inkwells he now owned, and breathe. The others let him have that time.

Then, he headed out with a purpose. Astrid was already settled behind her desk when he arrived.

“The Volstrucker are organising for a search pattern,” she said, waving at him to sit at a seat in front of the desk. She had switched to Zemnian the instant they were alone. “It’s out of our hands at this point. We have another matter to discuss.”

“Felix.” Caleb sighed, and almost felt like was going to collapse the floor with the force of it. At least the chair caught him. “He needs to go home. And we need to tell him the whole story of what happened with Nico. I can teach him Sending. If Felix is up to it, a familiar voice might help.”

“I agree,” said Astrid. “We also have to explain the situation to Felix’s parents. That will be challenging.”

Caleb tried to imagine how his own parents would have reacted if they had learned their own son was ordered to kill them, and intended to do it. He was not strong enough to follow through on that thought experiment. Not today. Maybe not ever.

“We need to put him back in school when he’s ready,” Caleb said. “He will stew in this if we let him.”

“If you would like to convince his parents, be my guest.”

“That may be a conversation for another day. How much does Felix know about what happened with Nico?”

“That Nico followed through on the order, but we are taking care of him.”

“And now we have to tell him we fucked up. Again.”

Astrid laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them. “No. We prepared best we could. He was searched as much as your friends could without invading his privacy. We were ready with counterspells. But fear is a powerful motivator. You know that.”

Caleb had rolled out of bed and overpowered one of Ikithon’s guards. An important one, given he had an amulet. And, of course, Essek had once dragged him from under a tower with his bare hands. People could stretch themselves past their usual limits if under enough duress. Trent had operated under that philosophy.

“Bren,” Astrid said, quiet but firm. “I know this is a lot, but I need you to hold it together.”

Caleb breathed, and steadied himself. “I can do that.”

“I know.” She reclined in her seat, casting around her copper wire. “Felix, do you mind if Bren and I pay you a visit? We have news.” She listened. “All right. Let’s go.”

They walked the familiar path to the dormitories. Caleb had been so proud to walk these halls once. Maybe he could be again, but it would never be the same.

They found Felix in his temporary room, seated at a wooden desk with his spellbook, glaring at the pages. He tore his eyes away as they entered, slamming it shut.

“How’s Nico?”

Astrid looked at Caleb for three seconds. “Felix, do you remember what Trent told you about Bren?”

“He said a lot of things,” Felix said warily.

“Nicolaus and I had similar responses to following Trent’s orders,” said Caleb. “We took him to my house to keep him away from the Assembly and let him rest overnight. This morning, my friend Caduceus restored him.”

“He fled, despite our best efforts,” said Astrid. “We have people out searching for him.”

Felix still had his hand on his textbook, slowly sliding downward as his grip slackened. “I don’t understand. What happened?”

“When Nicolaus killed his parents, he had a… break.” Caleb was not good at explaining this. “He was awake, but unresponsive. Caduceus had a spell to pull him out of it, but coming back from that is disorienting. Despite the steps we took to prepare, he hit us with a fireball and escaped while we recovered.” Gods, Nico was probably injured, and without a healer.

Felix burst from seat. “And? Did you go after him?”

“Yes, of course,” said Astrid. “We searched from the ground and the air. And we have leads, and people are still following them. I have mobilised the Volstrucker and Bren’s expositor friend has mobilised the Cobalt Soul. We are not easy people to find when we do not want to be found, but we will keep searching. Bren had an idea, if you would like to help.”

Felix looked at her like she had slapped him. “Of course I want to help!”

Caleb paid his agitation no mind. “We floated the idea of teaching you the Sending spell yesterday. We did not have time then, but we have it now. Then, you can talk to him.”

“Okay. Teach me.”

“Here? Or would you rather we bring you home first?”

Felix laughed, and it was more unhinged than Caleb would have liked. “Yeah, okay, take me back to the people I almost fucking murdered.”

Astrid crossed her arms, gazing sternly up at him. “Felix.”

“It’s all right, Astrid,” said Caleb. “This will take a few hours. Let’s make use of those Academy resources, ja?” Most dormitory rooms had a supply of paper and ink, enough to transcribe a few spells at a time. He found a stash in the desk and sat on the floor, laying it all out in front of him. He beckoned to Felix. “Shall we?”

Felix scrubbed at his eyes and sat down with Caleb, slamming his spellbook onto the wooden boards. Astrid retreated, with some excuse about keeping an eye out for the Martinet, and a promise she would get the kitchen staff to send them a snack.

Caleb had lost a lot of his confidence around people a long time ago, but he knew pain when he saw it. He knew a little something about pain.

And a little something about hurt wizards looking desperately for a distraction by throwing themselves into study.

[matchamorphosis]

𝑀𝐸𝐿𝐿𝐼𝐿𝐿𝐴 𝐶𝐴𝑅𝑅𝐼𝑆𝐼𝑀𝐴

𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡, 𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 || our beloved and sweet Steve Rogers tries to boost his sweethearts mood with music, pasta and art.

𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒 || fluffiest fluffy fluff

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 || avenger!steve rogers × black!fem!reader

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 | 3.1K

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 || 18+ sfw, depression mention, anxiety mention, a little bit of crying, red pasta sauce on white shirts, a lot of kissing, steamy scenes hinting smut but not detailing it any further, cringe poetry at the end. — minors do interact —

𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑠 || be my baby by the ronnettes . man on the moon by zella day . adore you by harry styles

𝑤. 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 || i’ve been meaning to get this idea out and I finally managed to do so! pretty please like, reblog, and comment what you guys think and if you like my content follow me to see more of my future works! anyways, enjoy reading cherubs!

he notices the shift in the air.

the lack of your smiles and sweet giggles around the house. the house always silent now without you passionately speaking about a novel or book your obsessed with.

an absence of blasting music you would usually play when you’re experimenting with a new recipe. the soft music of your soothing humming as you take care of the vegetable and flower garden. or simply just openly talking about your plans that you’ve planned to him.

instead of being enveloped in the virtuous sunshine that you were. spreading your rich buttery rays— a grey cloud has formed. for you wake in silence, cook in silence, just breathe in silence.

it’s not good silence… it’s a grey silence that sets a dreary fog in the sunny Brooklyn brownstone. Steve has been wanting to know what’s upsetting you so sorrowfully yet the move to confront you about it isn’t the touch up he really wants.

the night before when you tucked yourself in bed his thoughts instantly knew that tomorrow was going to be your day. all for you and specially catered for you and only you to give your heart whatever it needed.

anything to see his sweetheart smile again and to hear the symphony of her laughter.

the morning comes and Steven wakes before you, showers and prepares a breakfast in bed meal fit for a fairy queen in those mystic fairy tales. bringing it to you when you stretch your arms and legs on the crisp cotton sheets of your shared bed.

♡ naked you are from the precious love making from the night before, your eyes widen at the tray in Steve’s hands and he smirks when your eyes gaze to his bare chest that isn’t covered by the white button up

♡ “good morning sweetheart,” he says steadily placing the tray to your sheet covered lap, you quirk and eyebrow to him, it’s mainly you who makes the breakfast because he always makes the pancakes lumpy with unsifted flour and eggs crunchy with shells

♡ waiting eyes filled with adoration he’s looking down on you just waiting or you to take a bite of his self made meal and you look down with a shaking laugh before taking the fork besides the plate of pancakes and taking a bite in them

♡ as you expected you bit into a lump of raw batter yet you forced the swallow the bite down, covering the thick taste of pancake batter with a fresh bite of a strawberry

♡ “they weren’t any good were they? try the eggs- and I promise no egg shells this time!” he explains taking the plate of pancakes and moves the steaming small plate in front of you, and you’re surprised as you notice the eggs weren’t abnormally dry and cold or runny with excess butter and milk

♡ the eggs go into a yellow contrast against the colorful colors of red peppers, chives, and mushrooms with little pieces of bacon here and there you were willing to actually enjoy this

♡ lifting your fork you look up at his eager eyes as you take a bite of his eggs and your utmost surprised to find them delicious, your mouth watery for another bite

♡ and with that other bite steve smiles and internally praises the aggressive five step Gordon Ramsey YouTube video he watched

♡ sure he wasted eight eggs and a ton of your garden vegetables in making the perfect scrambled eggs for you but it was worth it seeing you finishing the last bits of fluffy egg

♡ you wash it down with a cup of coffee steve prepared for you, humming in delight, one of the many things steve rogers can get right and not overthink is the right amount of sugar and cream in your coffee

♡ the soft sips between you two as you both enjoy your cooling cups, steve opens the rest of the soft curtains of the large windows letting the sunlight fill the room you keep the cool white sheet against your chest

♡ finally feeling like today is going to be a good day you find that it couldn’t get better when you lightly gasp as steve trips on the small persian rug, spilling some of the lukewarm bitter liquid from his daisy yellow mug onto his white button up

♡ the laugh that exerts you is untamable but the playful glare of steve’s stare also is as he takes of the button up and throws it into the woven laundry basket in the corner of the room, taking a slight advantage as you gaze upon his muscled structure

♡ the jump from his position to the bed is heavy enough on the mattress that you bounce up, causing the coffee in your mug to spill on you

♡ the gasp that follows steves laugh is return by your piercing glare as you settle the coffee mug down on the night dresser besides you

♡ smacking steve’s shoulder away as he attempts to draw closer and closer to your exposed chest, having you soaked the white sheets with the brown liquid your neck and upper chest are sticky with coffee and smelt like it to

♡ “go away, i’m mad at you,” you murmur but you don’t even attempt to push steves face away from your neck, his tongue licking the sweet coffee from your skin

♡ “c’mon sweetheart, even when I made you breakfast and fucked you good last night,” he says, the same devious tongue sliding down from your collarbones dips to the space between your cleavage and steve snuggles his face in the warm of it

♡ the sun's glare streaming from the open windows shine on you two as you feel steve’s muscled arms wrap around your waist, “steven?” you quirk although those strong arms are swift enough to carry you over his shoulder, a giggle leaves your mouth as you’re carried from your bed to the bathroom

♡ steve starting the shower, the steaming water and gentle soap foam scrubs cleanse the sticky coffee from both your skin but it seemed the coffee wasn’t the only sticky warm essence that needed to be cleaned from both your skin

♡ the afternoon rolled by, the steamy interactions of you and steve in the shower ended hours ago however the same teasing is still persisting as you two prepare your lunch

♡ you and him have loved the pasta in that one restaurant he took you on a date months ago, and it was like a single sparking magnet as you two both said that pasta would be great this evening

♡ so immediately, you jumped from your side of the couch forgetting the remote in your hands as you surfed through the channels and he followed you after dog earring his current page of his book

♡ and for once in a short while cooking in your own kitchen is bringing you joy again, the chopping board in front of you presenting the sliced tomatoes fresh from your garden, you’re thrilled that this summer beared more than last years crop

♡ turning your head over your shoulder you see steve hovering over the stove, stirring the minced garlic and onions that soak and simmer in the olive oil in the large pot, slightly moving his shoulders and hips to the upbeat temple of The Ronettes

♡ you shake your hips turning and walking by his side, his eyes never leaving yours he stirs the mixture as you place the tomatoes in the steaming pot the delicious hiss of the juicy redness basking in the garlicky onion oil has you both hovering your noses over the pot and taking a deep inhale, giggling as you two let the pot come to a heavy simmer

♡ you refill your empty glass with wine again, noticing steves is empty as well you refill his as you savor in the open mouthed neck kisses, teasfully scolding steve as he bites

♡ the music coming from the small tiny stereo is impossible for it to flood the thoughts in your mind but it seems to do its lyrical magic as steve takes you by the hand and twirls, hands at your hips and yours on his broad shoulders you dance and waltz around the grand white marble kitchen

♡ the misplaced steps eased with wine soaked giggles and chuckles, the smell of the ready tomato sauce, shredded parmesan, and homemade flour pasta dough transport you two to that lovely date you two had at the italian restaurant months ago

♡ even though you two can dance forever, both your tired feet hurry to complete your homemade meal; the sight of the red sauce drenching the thick noodles with the shredded pieces of cheese on top and the buttered bread basket have you both hurrying to prepare the lunch outdoors

♡ dressing the backyard table handsomely, the checkered red and white table cloth covers the rusty ancient metal the scene beautiful around the vast flowers and green vegetation

♡ white china plates along with the companying wine glass, shiny forks and napkins go atop; the bottle of red wine and pot of pasta in the middle you complete the table with a vase of fresh plucked flowers

♡ steve grabs your waist from behind, you lace your fingers with his as you find your both swaying side by side, you move your head to see steves eighth glass empty softly smiling as his lips reach down to kiss your cheek

♡ it only makes him wrap his arms around you tighter; “dear?” interrupting his trail of kisses he only hums a response, continue to dance while adorning your neck with his wine-suckled lips

♡ “what are you doing?” the deep giggle from your lips is replaced with a moan once you feel his fingers rub your cunt through your blue gingham sundress

♡ “i’m sorry darling but I can’t think when you’re around, you drive me,” he whispers and that makes you smirk, “you can’t get drunk steven, may I remind you that dreaded blessing doesn’t grace you,”

♡ that remark is disregarded as you moan yet again when his hand creeps under the hem of the dress, trailing his fingers to rub the wetness of your underwear

♡ “I get drunk off your love, you are indeed a blessing in disguise,” he hums in your ear

♡ “and what would the disguise be? dreaded?” your voice slightly weak although you keep your best to respond in the same teaseful manner

♡ “when I get drunk off your love, I understand more and more that anything dreaded about you is how addicting your love is.”

♡ that helps ease the uneasiness in your belly a little but your quietness isn’t so reassuring so he twirls you in the spot, he will not have you unhappy on this special day

♡ “let’s eat baby, I hate to waste our meal to only dig into the one in front of me,” his words reel a bashful smile from you and you two find your way to your table, finally forking the cheesy pasta into your mouths it goes excellent along with the buttered rolls and glasses of wine

♡ forceful after forkful, glass after glass you two talk just how you two used to and the feeling fills the anxiety riddled hole in your chest, he enjoys the strong smiles and giggles from you as you both childishly slurp your pasta and wine

♡ a loud drunken snicker spills from your mouth when his forkful of pasta lands on his white button up again and again, the poor white article stained with red pasta sauce and red splotches of wine, his second one of the day

♡ “steven I fear for the next white button up in your closet,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes at you however a smug smirk forms as he shrugs his shoulders

♡ “you’re right dear, I wouldn’t want to add onto our laundry,” he says and you smile while taking a sip of your wine and he disguards the stained article of clothing to the empty chair besides him

♡ the white wifebeater showcasing his thick arms and toned chest, the yellow sun rays seem to fully bask his body, creating a golden glow against his skin

♡ even when you could unashamedly stare at him forever you feel your face heating up as his smirk and sexually provoking stare meets your eyes

♡ you roll your eyes at his handsome smug face, looking down at your plate, your forkful of pasta in one hand and glass in the other

♡ steve goes back to his pasta however his wandering hands rest on your knee and you aren’t surprised how you practically melt just from that action

♡ “try to not make a mess of yourself steven, you’re doing the laundry this week,” you slyly smirk giggling when he keeps attempting to slip his fingers in between your tightly shut thighs

♡ “don’t worry about me doll, but I can smell your mess from here,” he smirks and you’re breathless as you open your legs and allow his fingers dip into your mess

♡ pure loveliness that’s what you embodied, lying upon the crisp white sheets of cotton the sunlight creates a glowing aura around you

♡ a pencil in his hand he does his best to captivate and illustrate the hills and bends, the dips and curves of your smooth bare skin

♡ the colors are vivid and bright in the cerulean rises of his eyes, the shiny green grass beneath the thin white sheet, your rich skin in the peachy pink sheer drape, the golden rays shining down against the apples of your cheek

♡ how is steve capable of capturing all of this?

♡ there is a twinkle in your eyes, a smile pulling on your shiny lips, the perplexed uncertainty displayed on your lover's face is humorous; the way his fist is under his jaw as he looks in pure concentration at his sketch

♡ you eyeing his bare chested physic is ironic, that now you are mentally sketching your lover as he sits unknowingly mistaken as to what to do to improve his sketch of you, it seems like the universe has planned you two to be parallels

♡ steve looks like the white marble statues those genius architectures long ago spent decades trying to perfect, to make the boulder of marble into something someone could worship

♡ the warm cloud buzzing in your chest is truly youthful and pure knowing this carved marble Adonis is yours, the truth has you smiling to yourself, the sweet sight he’d see all the time despite the few days you were in your sad blue

♡ the joyful beam so pearly white and charming it reminds steve of the beautiful women who covered his mother’s makeup tins, he seems to keep marveling at your beauty instead of sketching

♡ “dear?” your voice soft and smooth it awakens him and moves his eyes from your bare thighs to your eyes, and that’s what he has gone wrong, your eyes; he was never good with drawing eyes and it be an insult trying to draw yours

♡ “yes dear?” his voice coming off an octave deeper the angel he has his head makes a few blond hairs fall from his hairline to his eyes and you giggle

♡ gliding your fingers through the golden locks moving them away to see his blue irises digging into yours, but yours are down to the pink plumpness of his mouth

♡ it’s a tell on the neediness although the sharp features he possesses makes you bat away shy and steve laughs this time

♡ one of his hands softly grabbed your turning face, the smile you both share individually is childish and pure like young school children sharing a kiss at recess

♡ although you two aren’t children the way steve smirks at your state and how your hands touch all the right spots on steve chest is making you guys feel young

♡ if only the sun didn’t have to set you two can bask in the yellow sunlight and enjoy your session of naked body sketches, baskets of strawberries and diamond glasses of rosè

♡ but when your lips touch, the sun doesn’t set nor does it rise for the feel of your mouth against his makes all of humanity reset, the blissful seconds of the warm sunlight leaving your skin you have one another to keep you warm

♡ when your lips part the sun is disappearing in the sky and the moon begins to show herself, the honey bees not swarming the flowers they will return tomorrow morning

♡ the shadow presenting itself in the brick ground and grassy patch garden steve carries you in his arms into the house

♡ as you lay your head on his chest you know that blue feeling in your chest is slowly passing but as someone as patient as steve is to you and the kindness you give to yourself and to him you know

♡ tomorrow will be the different yet hold the same adoration as today, forever

♡ the poem steve has planned for reader that he will read to her before she goes to bed ♡

DEAREST LITTLE HONEY you are a gift for the mind and soul, your sweet remarks and actions are like the buzzing bees of spring. collecting and gathering the yellow pollen, you gently pluck the saturation just from a touch. a shoulder, hand, cheekbone you collect all the sweet smelling pollen from me, yet you give it back.

but how? you may ask, a bumble bee does not give back the pollen it took from a flower! but it does, it returns the pollen from the flower, from time to time in quick seconds with devoted speed, time and amity.

it passes the pollen from flower to flower, till it’s love sprouts thousands more. and the flower the bee started with does not grow old but it eventually releases its seeds of opportunity. for the act of one simple flower, one kind favor sprouted the love and devotion of a thousand. and we should know that I am not a small flower fearing the love of the bumble bees anymore but a field of flowers that continue growing passionately. I am a product, the very nature of the aftermath of your sweetness, my dearest little honey

[trillian-anders]

grilled cheese

pairing: chef!bucky x plus!reader

warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff, a little self-depreciation. mostly fluff.

word count: 2746

Description: chef!au; you can tell a good chef by how he makes his grilled cheese.

for @captainscanadian​;; the cbc 1k writing challenge 

just a taste masterlist

“May I have the… king burger and a side of the Parmesan truffle fries please?” This food truck was your favorite in the city, it just so happened to be parked right outside of your job, and definitely served up some spicy creole flavors. It had gumbo and jambalaya by the cup, a burger that shouldn’t work as an ode to kings bread but it did and fresh beignets straight from the fryer if you had a sweet tooth. 

“Would you like something to drink?” The men who worked it were just a plus, the two of them both terribly handsome, the one currently taking your order was smooth. Impossibly smooth. The gap in his front teeth was incredibly endearing, but the wedding band on his finger and the sweet tone he usually used with you led to you believe his marriage was a happy one. 

“We’ve got the Big Shot Pineapple back in,” A sweaty bottle placed on the ledge, “I know that’s your favorite.” And you did love some pineapple soda, but you’d been trying to eat healthier, and ignoring the fact that you were ordering a burger and fries you fought yourself for a moment on whether or not this soda would be too much. 

“Stop pressuring her, Sam.” The man behind him joked, “She’ll get the soda if she wants it.” A smirk on his lips. Your heart skipped a beat. It was no secret to your coworker behind you, Nat, that you had a crush on Bucky Barnes. His strong jaw and bright blue eyes, that tight bun on the back of his head and his fucking biceps. Those strong arms that were wrapped in colorful tattoos. You’d sat near the food truck every Friday since it’d started parking here two months ago and watched him work. 

The kind smile he’d give people, the funny remarks as he cooked their food. The sweat dripping down his face as he lifted the lid off the pot of jambalaya to spoon out a portion. You’d drool over whatever you’d ordered that day watching him work. 

“You should ask him out,” Nat popped a fry into her mouth. “He likes you.” You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of the cheap pineapple soda that was just so fucking good. 

“He’s nice to me because I tip well,” You wiped your fingers on a napkin, watching him powder beignets and hand them to a sweet little boy, icing sugar still on his fingers. You sighed, looking down at your burger. “Maybe once I lose some weight.” The burger was half eaten as you stare at it with despair. You had been doing so well today, but the sign on the side of the truck said they were only making it the week of Mardi Gras so they wouldn’t have it next week so you HAD TO get it. 

It was a very good reason. 

“What’s wrong with you right now?” The red headed goddess asked, being someone who hadn’t been a pound overweight her entire life. You rolled your eyes, “No seriously, you’re the same person whether you’re overweight or not. And I can tell when someone likes you and he likes you.” 

“I know I’m the same person,” You took another sip of soda, “I’m just….” How do you say it? “Guys have to be into my body type, I guess. I can’t just go out and approach anyone for a date.” You popped a fry in your mouth, “They have to like fat girls.” 

“I hate when you say that.” Nat shook her head.

“Say what?” You licked the parmesan truffle flavoring off your finger. 

“Fat.” You laughed, rolling your eyes.

“Doesn’t mean I’m ugly.” You took a glance over at the subject of the conversation, Sam must have said something funny to him because he was laughing. That head thrown back, grab your belly laugh. Fuck he was so hot. His eyes met yours across the pavilion. And he winked. He fucking winked. 

“Just go ask him.” Nat stole another fry. “He always gives you extra fries, he practically pays for your lunch,” There was always something they ‘forgot’ to charge you for after they swiped your card. 

“No big deal.” Sam would say, he would elbow his buddy, “It’s on the house.” It happened more often than would be normal. 

“I’m just saying, instead of thirsting over him, at least go give him your number.” Maybe next week. This week you’d spilled some juice from your burger all over your blouse. 

“Next week.” You agreed, “New week I’ll give him my number.” 

You’d been on track with your diet all week, the salads, protein smoothies, healthy snacks. That way, you reasoned, on Friday when the ‘Connect Nola’ food truck parked on the pavillion you’d be able to treat yourself with something good. 

And something better than good. 

He was wearing a black t-shirt today, his hair in a high bun on his head, strands framing his face. A clear plastic poked out of the back of his shirt on what looked like fresh ink he’d gotten since last time you’d seen him. The special was a boneless fried chicken breast and red pepper jam on a biscuit. 

“That’s what you should get.” Bucky said from his place over the flat top. Two fryers working hard next to him. “It’s my recipe, so it’s good.” 

“As opposed to mine?” Sam smacked his friend, scooting himself around him to pluck the pineapple soda from the cooler. Bucky laughed. 

“I’ve got some fried green tomatoes for you too if you want them.” He winked. Your mouth watered. 

“You’re going to kill me.” You sighed, “Of course I want them.” Bucky smirked, 

“Good cause they’re almost done.” He was stirring some kind of sauce in a metal bowl that after he placed the four thick slices of fried tomato in the paper container he poured over top. The two paper containers were placed on the counter, pineapple soda sweating next to them. You pulled out your card, flipping it between your fingers when Bucky stepped in front of Sam to hand you your food. 

“How much do I owe you?” Your voice was breathy, heart racing at the sight of him so close. He leaned over the side, crossing his arms on the counter. 

“Dinner, tonight maybe?” A charming smile, almost bashful. Your heart skipped a beat. 

“I was going to ask you out.” You laughed. His smile widened. 

“Well now you don’t have to… so?” His number had already been scribbled on the take out container next to him. “I’ll see you later.” Nat elbowed you to respond. 

“Yeah… yes!” You took the warm containers from him, his fingers brushing yours. “Yes, later. Okay.” You bumped into Nat as you stepped backwards. “Bye.” 

He smirked in response, “Bye.” 

“I have nothing to wear.” You groaned over the phone. Nat laughed from the other side, 

“What about that black dress with the flowers?” The one you’d bought from the flea market in the summer. “Wear that.” 

The doorbell rang and your heart dropped. “Fuck, he’s here. Hold on.” You quickly shifted through your closet finding the dress she was talking about. “Just a minute!” You called to the man behind the door. “I’m so fucking disorganized.” You said to your friend on the phone, “Where are those heels?” 

“The black ones with the thick strap? They’re under your bed. You kicked them off when we got back from brunch last week. I’m sure.” She was right. The dress was soon slipped over your head, heels buckled. “Use protection, be safe, and if you need anything call me.” Your face flushed with the thought. 

“Hey,” You panted, opening the door. Bucky stood on the other side, nice slacks and a dark blue button down. “Sorry, I was just…” You gestured behind yourself, catching your breath. 

“It’s okay,” He laughed, “I uhh…” He raised a brown paper bag he’d been holding. “I figured I’d cook you dinner, if that’s okay?” So you put on the shoes for nothing, he laughed, “I’m sorry, but yeah, you put on the shoes for nothing.” 

“Shit,” You covered your face with your hand, not realizing you’d said it out loud, “Sorry.”

“You’re fine,” Bucky lowered the bag, “Can I come in?” You stepped to the side,

“Of course, I’m sorry.” Being an adult you’ve taken a lot of time perfecting your living space enough that you didn’t need to go out if you didn’t want to. You were fairly proud of your home, the apartment you’d spent the last couple years in slowly collecting items to finally make it yours. From the soft velvety throw down to the little knick knacks that didn’t make it too minimalistic. 

“You’ve got a really nice place here,” He put the bag down on the kitchen counter, he pulled out a bottle of wine and what looked like the ingredients to, “Grilled cheese,” He shrugged sheepishly, “You can always tell a good chef by his grilled cheese. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“Not at all,” You dug through the silverware drawer, pulling out the wine key. “I love grilled cheese.” Two stemless glasses joined you on the counter as you poured the red wine, Bucky opening two different cabinets before finding your pans. 

“We’ve got to get you better pans than this.” He joked, waving your cheap Walmart nonstick pan in the air. 

“That pan does exactly what I need it to do,” You laughed, “Sit and gather dust.” He rolled his eyes, quickly rinsing the pan out and drying it. You took a sip of your wine as he started. 

“Have you always wanted to be a chef?” You asked, stealing a piece of cheese off the cutting board. It was a sharp cheese, tangy on your tongue. He cut another slice. Three different cheeses he had for this sandwich. Along with sun dried tomatoes and a slab of uncut bacon. 

“My Ma was a really good cook,” He begins, “When I was a kid I would always be in the kitchen with her, cooking and baking.” A thick bar of chocolate, eggs and other baking ingredients had been set off to the side for later. A dessert he was going to make that he said would be a surprise. 

“Cooking has always been love for me. It’s a good way to bring people together and a good way to show someone you love them.” His fingers stopped slicing the cheese, looking up at you through his lashes he backtracks, “Not that I love you, not that I don’t care about you because I care about you, but I don’t love you, but not like—“

“I get it.” You laughed, taking another sip of wine, the red in his cheeks in a full flush. He took a steady sip of wine, 

“Have you always wanted to work for Stark?” The cheese was set aside, the thick crust bread sliced, he lay the slab of bacon on the cutting board, working your knife that he’d very expertly sharpened, down the slab, cutting thick slices. 

“Not always,” You mused, “I kind of just fell into this job. My roommate from college, Natasha, had done an internship there during our last year and I originally wanted to go to graduate school, but I haven’t quite decided if I wanted to stick with my major or not, so she helped me get a job just doing clerical work and overtime I’ve just worked my way up a bit. Now I run my own department. So I guess I’m not going anywhere.” He nodded, laying the thick pieces of bacon on a baking sheet, the oven already preheated. 

“What did you want to do?” He asked, placing the bacon in the oven. You sighed, 

“It’s dumb,” He turned to you with an incredulous look, 

“Try me.” He started making a batter for the dessert. 

“I wanted to be a writer.” You shrugged, “Like books.” You gestured to the small library you’d collected for yourself. Stacks of books in your living room next to the shelves of books on your walls. “I have drafts of things, but nothing serious.” 

“You should pursue that.” He poured batter into two medium size ramekins he’d brought himself, tapping the bottom against the counter. “You seem like you’d be an amazing writer.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Not good enough.” To tell the truth you’d sent out a couple chapters to some publishers and had nothing but rejection letters, you’d all but given up on it. 

He told you more about his family, his sisters, how his parents were still very much in love. “Sam and I with our buddy Steve had all enlisted at the same time.” He flipped the grilled cheese revealing a perfectly crisped brown bread. “Steve decided to have a military career so he’s working in DC right now, Sam and I decided to own our own restaurant, right now we’re going the food truck thing until we have enough to buy our spot in the city, then hopefully we will have the truck and the home store.” 

The grilled cheese was fragrant, the three cheeses melted together on a spread of the sun dried tomatoes, thick cut bacon in between. He took his chefs knife and cut the sandwiches down the middle, plating them with ease. “This is so fucking good.” You moaned, the first bite, the crunch, the cheese, the tang from the tomatoes, the bacon perfectly cooked and melty in the middle. Bucky smirked at you from across the table, finishing off his first half. 

“I’m honestly surprised you asked me out.” You popped a piece of crust that had fallen onto the side of the plate. Bucky looked at you confused. 

“Why do you say that?” Fuck it was the wine, making you feel a little shitty. You were a little drunk to be fair. 

“You’re just…. You.” You gestured towards him, “So fit and handsome and like… I don’t know.” Bucky shook his head. 

“You’re gorgeous,” He scoffed, “You’re literally the whole reason we even started coming to the pavilion every week. I don’t want to hear that shit.” You sat back in your chair watching him take another sip of his wine, stunned. “Guys really fuck me up because someone probably treated you like you needed to be a certain way to be loved and it’s just not true. I’m attracted to you, you’re kind and funny and smart.” He wiped his fingers on his napkin, “Doesn’t matter to me either way.” Your weight. Didn’t matter. “I like you.” 

His eyes were intense and sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m sorry.” You said quietly, “I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t.” His hand gently grasped yours, pulling it up to his lips. “I just wanted you to know I like you, no matter what.” Okay. Okay. He leaned in, shifting in his chair to lay an arm over the back of yours, taking the hand he held and placing it on his cheek he softly pressed his lips to yours. 

Your lips parted and met again. And again. And the timer went off on the counter. His phone shrill and loud letting you know dessert was done. “Hold please.” He whispered against your lips. You felt cold when he removed himself from you, puttering around in the kitchen you heard the stove being turned off and he returned a moment later. “Careful they’re hot.” Two perfect chocolate molten cakes, icing sugar and white chocolate sauce drizzled on top. 

“Thank you for tonight.” The two of you stood in front of your open door, his shoes had been slipped back on, hair no longer in a messy bun it hung loose around his shoulders. You were sure it had been your fingers that had worked it loose, but you couldn’t be sure. 

The hot and intense make-out session you’d just had on your couch, tongues mixing and tasting of chocolate. Heavy breaths and soft moans melding together, and just the appropriate amount of wandering hands. 

“No,” He said, twirling a strand of your hair around his fingers, “Thank you.” A breath away he pressed his lips to yours again, slowly. Savoring it. “Breakfast tomorrow?” He breathed, resting his forehead against yours in your doorway. You grinned, running a hand down his arm, 

“Same place?” He grinned before taking your lips once more,

“It’s a date.” 

.

.

.

taglist//  @bookish-shristi​ @saturnki​ @jennmurawski13​ @geeksareunique​ @the-soulofdevil​ @tinmunky​ @captainscanadian​ @albinotigerpython​

[kookiebunnii]

d4u || a-tier healthcare

aug. 2018. finally moved back in today. i needed to get something for classes this year, but jungkook’s gone and hurt himself again. i swear the boy barely functions when he stays up all night playing overwatch. if he keeps this up, well, he better like hello kitty band-aids. 

pairing: best friend!jungkook x reader

genre: slice of life

word count: 1.4k

warnings: brief mentions of blood (like .2 seconds worth)

Most people you knew absolutely dreaded when school started. As soon as August and September roll around like a couple of snickering troublemakers, your fellow collegians would weep knowing that classes and exams were about to insert themselves into their schedules. It meant that summer, and all the freedom and laughter associated with it, was coming to an end. Instead of enjoying the bright sunshine and baby blue skies every day, the scenery was being replaced with drab grey walls and chairs that felt uncomfortable no matter how you sat.

Surprisingly enough, it didn’t really bother you all that much. You had spent summer working full-time at a relative’s restaurant as a waitress, meaning that you never got the chance to really take a vacation. The three months you were blessed with passed by like a blur. They were filled with placating tipsy adults or bawling infants, carrying as many plates as you could in your arms without spilling mystery sauce all over yourself, and bringing yourself to smile consistently on an 8-hour shift. It was far from an ideal summer, to say the least. In fact, you were relieved that classes were starting. Now, you could work and learn about concepts you were actually interested in. Besides, it also meant that you would get to move back into your apartment near university, which you shared with Jungkook. The boy loved traveling and spent most of his time jumping from one destination to another, filming small videos for G.C.F. You could count on one hand the amount of times you spent physically with him over the break, and as much as it pained you to admit—you missed watching him embarrass himself on the daily.

Late August was still warm, teetering curiously between summer and the beginning of autumn. You had just finished moving back into your place, feeling refreshed with a shower after the long trip. Deciding to head out and do some stationary shopping before preparing dinner, you pulled on your favorite shoes. It wasn’t like you needed anything in particular, since you’d keep the same 3-subject notebook from last year-- but the store you loved always had the cutest animal-shaped post-its. Surely it couldn’t hurt to find some (FaveAnimal) ones for this quarter, just to start off on the right foot.

Humming to yourself, you bounded down the stairs of your complex while double-checking your pockets for all your personal items. As you walked at a leisurely pace, you began wondering what Jungkook could be doing at this hour. You saw that his things were already back in his room, meaning that he was back for school as well. Maybe you’d make some pasta for the two of you when you get back, since he always liked when you cooked for him.

“Y/N!”

Hearing your name causes you to look up, realizing that the familiar saying really was true: speak (or in this case ‘think’) of the Devil and he shall appear.

“Guk?” you ask, observing the way he’s slightly favoring his left side as he walks towards you, “You good?”

You can see him wince as he approaches, but still trying hard to brush the pain off with a silly grin, “Not exactly.”

Pulling at his wrist, you realize that the skin on the side of his hand is broken and bloody. There’s dirt and bits of granite adhering to his skin, streaks of dried blood all over. You stay silent as you look down to observe his knee, seeing that his jeans are ripped with red stains that definitely weren’t part of any fashion statement. He had hurt his knee as well.

“Did you fall?” you guess, letting go of his arm to look him in the eyes questioningly.

“I bought a penny board over the summer since my classes are sorta far from each other this quarter. Guess I need more practice,” he shrugs nonchalantly before walking in the direction of your apartment, waving you away.

Frowning as you watch his back retreat where you came, you realize that by being the stupid worrywart you are, you only had one real choice in this scenario.

Sorry cute stationary, mommy’s gonna have to reschedule.

Sprinting to catch up with him, you silently walk beside him as the two of you head back inside the apartment. Even though he struggles up the stairs a little, you don’t hold him up or anything like that. You know that he hates when people treat him like a kid, so you’ve grown accustomed to accepting his stubbornness. Unless he’s literally on death’s door or asks for your help, you let him be responsible for himself.

Leaning his new penny board against the doorway, he enters the apartment with a sigh before heading to the bathroom to clean his wounds. Clicking your tongue like a disapproving mother, you head to the kitchen to look for the first-aid kit. After a couple of mishaps involving the kitchen knife and your clumsy fingers, you learned that that was the best place to keep it.

Pulling out some bandages, rubbing alcohol wipes, and anti-scarring cream, you follow him into the bathroom.

From the faucet, water runs over his hand as he gently brushes blood and dirt away from the injury. You can tell it hurts by the way his jaw is tight, and a small part of you feels bad to see him in any sort of pain…even if that pain is probably due to him trying out a trick he saw on Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater or something.

“Give me.”

You grab his hand and turn off the faucet. Patting his hand dry with his towel hanging from the side, you look at it closely to make sure the opening in his skin is relatively clean. Satisfied, you open up an alcohol swab and smile widely, “This is gonna hurt a lot!”

“Why am I not surprised that you seem to be happy saying that? Whatever…just hurry up” he looks at you blankly, but you can still feel his arm tense at your words.

You start with a quick and heavy swipe, and to his credit, he doesn’t even flinch. You follow up with more gentle administrations before tossing the wipe into the trash. The anti-scarring scream is cooling, so he’ll probably enjoy it a bit more.

After finishing up his hand, you let it go and catch his round, brown eyes staring at you. You stare back for two seconds before sticking your tongue out and causing him to laugh.

“Alright string bean, show me those kneecaps,” you roll up your sleeves to show that you mean business.

“On the first date? Damn,” he whistles before starting to unbutton his jeans.

“Alright I guess you’ll be handling your knee yourself.”

Closing the door behind you, you can literally feel the amusement radiating from him in waves through the wood. It was a wonder to you that he could be so casual and teasing with you, but once he sees a pretty female within a 10-mile radius, he’d act like a frightened rabbit. After all these years with him, he probably didn’t even see you as a woman. It didn’t particularly bother you, since you were just as friendly with him as he was with you. He’s seen you walk around the house with bed hair and dark circles, so you never felt the need to be cautious or nervous around him. The two of you cared for each other in a comfortable, relaxed way.

As you pull out tomatoes and fresh herbs from the fridge, you hear Jungkook leaving the bathroom. He fills up his favorite Overwatch mug with some water and takes loud gulps as you begin cutting your ingredients and boiling a large pot of water over the stove for the spaghetti.

“Pasta?”

You make a noise of affirmation. He gives the top of your head a few gentle pats which you understood as him thanking you for everything. You stop in mid-chop to pat his hand atop your head in response to let him know that it wasn’t a big deal at all. The beginnings of his special bunny smile start creeping in, and you resist the urge to tickle him to hide your own embarrassment. Just as you open your mouth to say something, he messes up your hair and runs into his room before you can get a punch in.

You wonder if he’s actually 21 this year or 11.

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