#veggies are always better in a little sauce and I stand by that

[normal-with-adhd-is-a-joke]

being an adult is voluntarily buy, preparing, and eating a vegetable and being like "mmm vegetable"

[kushnovice]

Spinning My World

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Stark! Reader

Synopsis: Reader tends to the avengers wounds constantly and when Tony opens an emotional wound in the reader, Bucky is there to help.

wc: 2.4k

Warnings: my first bucky fic, medical, wounds, tending to wounds, sibling rivalry, mention of dead parents, fluffy love, slow-burn, hurt/comfort

AN: Female reader, fluffy, lots of mistakes, self indulgent (Pictures are not mine nor are any characters part of this)

What makes the earth go round? to most people it's money, to others it's family. To me, it's love.

I grew up with Tony Stark, my older brother. He was never that big on affection which was something he picked up from our parents and because of that, Tony and I aren't as close as we once were before our parents died. I spend most of my time making sure the house is always put together and cooking food for Tony and Pepper. I always feel a little guilty as I haven't achieved as much as my older brother and living with him and all of his fancy things just rubs it in. I also spend a lot of time studying. Since we have the money, I am attending an Ivy League school online. Unlike Tony, I don't like robots and technology, I prefer to help people. I am majoring in Medical Science as well as minoring in Psychology, which the amount of work is unbearable.

I sigh as I close one of my textbooks, my notebook, and my laptop, leaving them on the desk in my room. I make my through the long winding halls and into the kitchen, the tiles on the floor leaving my feet cold as I walk. I flick on the light as I walk in and take a deep breath, finally feeling at peace. The kitchen was always my safe space since Tony never cooked for himself, neither did any of the avengers. It was my own tiny world of peace.

I smile softly to myself as I make my way to the sink, I start to wash my hands while humming a song. "Friday, can you play (song name)?" As the song starts playing, I feel more comfortable as I start pulling what I would need from the fridge and the cabinets. I then fill up a pot of water and put it on the stove to boil and preheat the oven before I start separating and seasoning the chicken. I then start to cut up some veggies before checking on the pasta that I am making. After everything is cooking, I take the time to dance in the kitchen, just enjoying the music and how it flows through my body. That was until I heard the door open. I jerk my head to see who it is, only to be stunned by the sight in front of me. There he was, the most beautiful creature this world had ever created, but he was drenched in blood. Without thinking, I walk right up to him and start to examine him from what I can see. "Oh buck, what happened this time?" I ask as I eye him up and down for injuries, feeling better after not finding any serious ones. Bucky sighed deeply, "The mission was hijacked. I'm not the only Injured one." I sigh deeply as I take the food out of the oven and put the veggies and sauce into the pasta. Then, without a second thought, i make my way to the medical clinic, which I pretty much run.

I put my coat on and wash my hands again before putting on gloves. I make my way into the emergency room that we have to see Tony laying on a gurney. I immediately start to cut his shirt and pants off as I examine his body, the deep wounds showing no mercy as they continue to bleed. I sterilize the wound and start stitching him up and taking my time to make sure it's perfect.

After a few hours, I was done with making sure Tony was alright and had checked out all of the other team members. I look at the clock and sigh deeply when I realize that it is close to 1 in the morning. I make my way through the winding hallways again and I stand outside of Buckys room. "Hey Buck, are you awake?" I ask softly knowing his super human hearing can pick up my voice, and sure enough because the door unlocks and slides open revealing that he had just got out of the shower. I blush slightly as i try not to stare at his bare chest, "oh um...sorry I was just coming to give you a quick check up..." I shuffle awkwardly at his door but he nods softly and lets me in his room.

The smell of Axe Body spray and Midsummers Night circle the room. I sit Bucky down as I start to stitch up a few of his wounds. It stays mostly silent, neither of us knowing what to talk about until Bucky speaks up, "aren't you tired?" I furrow my eyebrows, "why would I be tired?" Bucky sighs deeply, "we go on these missions almost daily and you're the only one who gives us medical help, isn't it tiring?" I look up from his stitches to smile softly at Bucky, "No, it's not tiring. If anything, it gives me a purpose and makes me a hero like you guys." I giggle to myself at how corny that sounded before going back to stich bucky up.

After I am done, I make sure I didn't miss any dry blood before I stand up, "make sure you eat dinner, I don't know if the others did yet but you need to eat." I smile at him to which he gives me a small smile at the end of his lips. "I did eat already, it was delicious." I smile at him as I watch him put his shirt back on, "good good, I tried a new recipe today so I'm glad it is good." I smile to myself thinking about how Bucky enjoyed my food. "Did you eat yet?" Bucky asks with a furrowed eyebrow and I'm left shocked, normally i'm the one asking that question. "I was about too, then all of that happened," I smile at Bucky but his facial expressions don't change this time. "You really should eat." I nod my head and start to make my way into the kitchen to see a huge mess of plates and bowls and forks all over the place and all of the food gone. "at least they liked it" I smile to myself as I shrug off my coat and take off my gloves, "Friday, some music please" I speak as I start to pick up the plates and bowls and utensil's and place them in the sink. I then pick up all the trash and wipe down the counter while dancing around the kitchen. I spend a few hours cleaning, until it is spotless before I turn off the music and realize I wasn't alone. As I go to grab my coat and turn off the light, I hear a voice, "Aren't you going to eat?" I whip my head around, looking for where the voice came from until I can see Bucky, just outside the door. "there was no more left, i'm glad everyone enjoyed it." I smile at him but he doesn't smile back, he makes his way into the kitchen and starts grabbing stuff. "woah woah woah what are you doing?" I ask as I watch him start up the stove. "You need to eat. More than any of us." Buckys voice is stern and emotionless but I can tell that he cares. "I'm alright, I'll be up in a few hours to cook breakfast anyways." I look at the time and then at Bucky who then turns to me with furrowed eyes again his eyes studying me and trying to figure me out as he looks me up and down. "Why do you cook for everyone? Why do you go out of your way for everyone? I don't get how that benefits you." I sigh deeply, "I don't do it for me, I do it for you guys. You guys are heros and are saving the world every day. the least I can do is cook you guys a warm meal and make sure you guys don't get too hurt." "But why?" Bucky asks as he cracks open an egg and starts to cook it. "You guys deserve it, you deserve the best." I smile at him softly, watching his movements while I think. "Why do you save the world?" I ask while watching his movements. He seems relaxed and calm "Because if I can help save the world then there's hope to save myself." He speaks in a quiet whisper, "why do you save us? why are you so interested in medicine?" He asks with seriousness, trying to understand me better. "I was never taught self defense so I save the world in the only way I know, medicine." Bucky turns to look at me, "you don't give yourself enough credit, no one does." I can hear how he sighs softly. I let myself smile, knowing this was his way of showing he cared. Bucky finished cooking the food and he made two plates, setting one in front of me while he sat across the table from me. He immediately downs his food within seconds leaving me to take awhile to finish my food. When I'm finished eating, I grab our plates and put them in the dishwasher. When i make my way back into the dining room, Bucky is watching me as soon as I enter the room. "What? Is there food on my face?" I jokingly ask, with a smirk on my face as I make my way back to sit down. Bucky snorts softly at my comment, "No, I just don't get how someone could look so pretty after working for so many hours." Buckys voice is soft but his eyes are full of emotion as his hands fold on the table. I feel myself melt under his gaze as my cheeks start to burn, "Oh, uhm...thanks..." I giggle lightly, "You aren't too bad looking for someone who just got stitched up." I reply causing bucky to be taken aback.

"Why are you two up at 2 in the morning?" Tony asks as he walks into the dining room in his black robe that is barely covering his bare chest and his blazers. Tony somehow still has his shades on as well as his slippers on as he sets down some coffee and a sandwich at the table and sits down. "I was just making sure your sister ate after giving everyone medical exams." Bucky replied as he stared blankly at tony as he ate. "Interesting." Tony replied quickly as he started to eat. "I'm glad that your mission didn't go to badly, not many people were injured." I smiled at Tony as I recall the injuries that everyone had got. Tony sighed as he swallowed the food in his mouth, "Do I get bonus points if I act like I care?" I roll my eyes at how immature Tony still is after all of these years. "Somebody's cranky." I snort to myself, Tony glares daggers at me. "Somebody needs to shut up." I smile at Tony, now enjoying fucking with him. "I don't have enough middle fingers to let you know how I feel." I smirk at Tony, thinking I got the better up. "Frankly, I don't care. Just like how he never cared about Mom and Dad. You know who killed them right?" Tony asks as he glares between Bucky and I. "If you're insinuating that Bucky killed our parents then fuck you!" I yell in Tony's face, not able to control my anger as I get up and storm off. Bucky looks at Tony as Tony finishes his sandwich, not purposefully glaring but staring deeply at him causing Tony to get uncomfortable and scramble out of the room.

Bucky sighs deeply as he makes his way to my room, thinking of the right words to say as he ends up right outside of my door. "Hey...I know Tony's words really hurt but I'd like to tell you my story, not what you've heard from files but my life the way I lived it, when I had control of my life." Bucky expected no response honestly, who would want to talk to their parents murderer? Surprisingly the door swung open as Bucky looked in at my small trembling figure on the floor, a pang in his heart caused him to lose his breath seeing her in such pain.

I lift my head to meet Buckys soft eyes as he moves to sit on the bed next to me. His voice was kind but also firm as he told me all about his life, from his time in Brooklyn with Steve all the way through Hydra, he spoke about my parents last almost as if to save me the pain. "Your parents...they were a mission I had to carry out while apart of Hydra, or else I would have died as well as them...I wish I never had too..." Bucky sighs deeply as he looks at the ground. "You don't have to be my friend or even be nice to me, but I just wanted you to know that I never wanted to hurt anyone." Bucky softly got up, expecting to be kicked out before he felt my hands wrapped around his human arm. "I want to be your friend. It hurts knowing that you did that to my parents and I don't think that hurt will ever go away, but I do know that it wasn't you, that you didn't do it on your own will. I forgive you, Buck." I speak softly as I wrap my arms around Bucky's human hand, taking his warmth from him as it comforts my shaking body as I am able to relax into my bed and into Bucky, feeling safe and comfortable for once. I don't remember what happened after that other than my eyes forcing themselves closed as Bucky's mechanical arm softly strokes my hair.

I wake up to the sun shining brightly in my eyes causing me to instantly rub my eyes. I stretch with a small groan, wishing to be asleep still as I reach my arms above my head. I hear a rough chuckle beside me and open my eyes to see Bucky smirking down at me, "Morning, Doll." I feel my face go red at the nickname. I roll over to face him in the bed, "I'm sorry that I kept you here all night." I apologize softly as I yawn the sleepy feeling away. He smiled softly down at me, the golden sun reflecting off of his eyes making it look like tigers eye. "You have nothing to apologize for, darling." He used his fingers to swoop the stray strands of hair out of my face. "It was the best sleep I have gotten in awhile." He confessed as he pulled me a little closer, his body heat keeping me warm as he smiled down at me cheekily. "Don't smile at me like that, you know it drives me crazy..." I giggle at him softly as I place my hand on his face before leaning in. Bucky closed the gap as he took my lips in his, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me in closer as he chuckles into the kiss.

"How else would I make your world spin?"

[briardoll]

Okay so I know the poll isn’t over yet and I’ll still write about whichever one wins but I love romantic killer so I’m going to write about it here

☆〜（ゝ。∂）

My headcannons for romantic killer

• Tsukasa brings home little cat trinkets for Anzu when he goes shopping, he put them in her room for her without saying he bought anything.

•Hijiri is a really bad singer but he thinks he’s great because no one has ever told him otherwise for fear of losing their job.

•Makoto has period products that he carries with him for his female friends if they need them, he’s never grossed out by any of it because of all his sisters.

•Hijiri’s crush on Anzu was at first sight. When She got in the car he liked her immediately, that’s a reason why he was so willing to work to win her over.

•Saki gets on average 5-7 love confessions a day, sometimes from guys who have already asked her out!

•Junta is a master at sleeping in loud or uncomfortable situations since his younger siblings come and sleep in his bed when they have nightmares.

*We’re so twin like that, I have a billion younger siblings too, (four) so falling asleep in an uncomfortable position is second nature*

•Saki once had her brother beat up a creepy older guy who was following her around, it was witnessed by others and nobody ever followed or creeped on her again.

•Anzu needs white noise to sleep at night but Tsukasa can’t stand it. It’s always a battle about who will get their way that night.

•Anzu likes the weirdest food combos, like dipping her veggies in barbecue sauce, or adding cinnamon to her soup at dinner, it’s appalling to see her eat it to everyone around her.

•Junta likes pistachio ice cream, and Anzu makes fun of it and says he’s like an old man.

•Riri is constantly having to have their wand sanitized because Anzu keeps throwing it into contaminants for casting annoying spells.

•Makoto wears perfume instead of cologne because it smells better to him

•Makoto had really girly things as a kid because they were hand me downs from his sisters

•Hijiri is a germaphobe. Once Junta sneezed around him and he stayed home from school for a week because he needed to “quarantine” himself.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

One Way or Another

Series Masterlist

Warnings: dark elements but nothing too graphic in this one.

Please leave me some feedback either in a reblog or an ask! Likes are always appreciated as well. You know I love yall and hell yeah, you love Professor Steve.

Your last exam is over and you feel a sense of freedom lurking ahead. You can't be certain until you get your grades but with all your effort, you can't imagine you'll fall short. Now you have the whole holiday to recover. Well, you only hope it's refreshing.

Your dorm feels eerily empty so you happily hop at Jensen’s text. He still has a few roommates hanging around so you suggest he comes over. You tidy frantically, trying to hide the remnants of your studious sloth.

When he gets there, you have Netflix mindlessly playing. There's a giddiness to meeting without the lurking stress of classes or exams. No worries, just each other.

You sit on your desk chair as he admires the amiibo collection on your shelf. He sucks his teeth and turns to you with a suspicious leer.

"You didn't tell me had the special edition Link with his mastersword…" he drawls accusatorily.

"Oh, did you ask?" You stick your tongue out.

He rolls his eyes and spins, sitting heavily on your coverlet, the pattern of blue flowers on white, adding an extra dainty effect to your room, a stark contrast to his nerd cave.

"So…" he wiggles his eyebrows as he rubs the bedspread beside him.

"So," you put on a sultry tone and grin, "I thought we could do something special," you stand as seductively as you know how. It feels more awkward than sexy. "A very, very special and intimate thing…"

His eyes round as you come close and put your hands on his shoulders. You feel him tense and flex as you climb onto his lap. You straddle him and run your thumbs along his sideburns. You pull him into a kiss, slipping a taste of your tongue before you part and flutter your lashes.

"Grocery shopping!" You chime and he croaks, stifling a whimper.

"Grocery shopping?" He gulps.

"Uh huh! We can go amd pick out everything we need for or little holiday dinner and then we can come back a play some Mariokart. You said you'd bring your switch right?"

"Mariokart…" he chokes out, shifting under you, hands tentative on your hips.

"And maybe some snuggles," you giggle and lean in, kissing him deeper.

His hand shoot up your back, latching onto your neck as he keeps you from escaping again. He falls back with you but cries out as his teeth sink into your lip. You rip away from him as he touches the back of his skull where he knocked it off the wall.

You dab your lip and laugh, it's painfully fun.

"Hope you don't mind closer quarters," you tease as he pushes himself up.

"With you… the better? Is the shower big?" He winks.

"Alright, alright," you pat his chest and climb off him as you blush, "one thing at a time, let's make a list…"

"Can't we do this tomorrow?"

"The longer we wait, the busier it'll be. And besides, once we're back, I don't wanna go anywhere," you turn back and send him a look, "just you and me  Jen. I wanna enjoy every second."

He huffs and clears his throat, shimmying closer to the edge. He tugs at the top of his jeans and you snatch up your phone as he adjusts his perch on the bed. Maybe it is a bit cruel but you can't help but feel flattered by his squirming. 

📚

Your cart isn’t full. You don’t have much of a budget to stretch and a very economical list. Boxed stuff and turkey legs instead of the full to-do, some veggies you can manage to cook in your measly collection of pots, some cranberry sauce all for you since Jensen doesn’t enjoy it, and some buns.

“Just need to find the perfect pie,” Jensen says as he leans on the handle of the cart, “cherry?”

“Uh, pumpkin, duh.”

“Pumpkin, really?” He scowls.

“Hey, are you gonna shoot down all my suggestions?”

“Who says we can’t compromise… apple?”

“Fine, apple– oh, I forgot some more tea. I’m out of bags. Why don’t you go get in line and I’ll run to get that.”

“I don’t mind, you know I’ll follow you wherever,” he smirks crookedly.

“As cute as you are, I don’t want the checkout to get any more hectic,” you glance over at the dozen lanes open and binging.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“You can survive without me,” you squeeze his arm, pausing to feel his thick bicep. Oh.

“Went up a weight set,” he gloats as he stands straight and bends his arm to emphasize his muscle, “I’ll let you have a closer look later.”

“Please, tone it down,” you shake your head.

“Says the one feeling me up in the pastry section,” he tuts, “I’ll go and brave the hordes.”

“Right,” you scoff and leave him.

As you turn, you nearly run into another shopper. The place is buzzing with the pre-holiday crowds. You dodge and sneak between two tables of discount sugar cookies.

You head along the dairy section, the refrigeration chilling you through your unzipped jacket, and you weave between carts and bodies. You dip down the coffee section and wait for a couple to move out of the way of the tea. You toe in and peruse the labels, looking for your exact brand and leaf.

You find the tag but the spot is empty. Of course! It’s always gone. You frown and search for an alternative. At the very top shelf, you see the reserves. You peak the purple label of your tea. You just need to reach it.

You stand on your toes and stretch out, leaning to grasp for air. Another hand swoops up and grabs the box with ease. You wince and put your feet flat, glancing over at the helpful stranger as he holds out the tea.

“Thanks, I–”

The box moves out of your reach as you come face to face with Professor Rogers. You take a step back, hitting someone else, only to inch back towards the last person you expected or wanted to see. You almost pout as he gives a thought look to the tea.

“Huh, English Breakfast, I would’ve guessed Earl Grey,” he remarks as his blue eyes flick up.

“Professor,” you utter.

“Got a big dinner planned?” He asks, his tone gristly as his glare bores into you.

“Not really,” you lie and turn back to the shelf, “uh, sorry, I thought… I was just grabbing this.”

You grab the yellow box of cheap orange pekoe but before you can flee, he grips your arm, holding you in place as he leans in. You shudder as his breath fans over you as he bends to nuzzle your hair.

“I know you’re with him. Playing fucking house. Enjoy the game while it lasts,” he growls, “cause I’m not playing any more.”

He lets you go as you tear away from him and you nearly topple over. You sputter and look around for some help. Everyone else is too entranced by their own lists and hunts for the next item.

“Get away,” you hiss.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he mutters under his breath as he drops the box in his basket, “you’re not worth that much trouble. But one day you’ll be alone. Or you’ll think are…” 

He slowly pivots and puffs out his chest. He lets out a snicker and you see the flicker in his face, like a shadow passing over. It flies away and he reaches past an older woman to grab the bag of sugar she’s straining for.

“Allow me, miss,” he says to her adoring gaze.

You don’t stick around to see the performance. You know what Professor Rogers is and you know that now that he’s shown you, there’s nothing holding him back.

[homechefpectations]

If I haven't had Asian-Style Noodles with Peppers and charred green onions before then I for sure have had something very similar. Express meals haven't always been a thing and I feel like the noodle meal I'm remembering was a standard recipe from a while back. Déjà vu notwithstanding, this marks the final meal for the week. Prep for the meal was straightforward and simple, a reduced amount of tasks helping keep the recipe on track to honor its "express" tag. The only thing to do was slice up the red bell pepper and the green onions into their respective strips. Edamame went in whole and the garlic and chili came pre-minced. Even the noodles were partially cooked ahead of time. The wonton topping did require me to idly crush within the shipping bag but, while more time consuming than you'd think, wasn't terribly difficult. The sauce was built on the side with corn starch as a thickening agent for the provided garlic sesame sauce and sambal. Near the end of the searing of the veggies, which you can see definitely applied to the red bell pepper, everything else went in to finish the dish. Noodles and sauce were added to the mix and heated up until all were coated and hot. I added in a little extra water to help spread out the sauce and provide more volume to reduce. The echoes of recipe past led me to believe that without a little more volume the noodles would burn. Not sure if that would've happened this time around but the extra time spent in the pan meant things were for sure heated through and well combined. Saranac makes another appearance here as the pairing, this time in Black Forrest schwarzbier form. Any other night I probably would've leaned toward a lighter red or even a pilsner but I figured the heavy malt notes and crisp bitterness of the schwarzbier would play off of the sambal well. I was mostly correct but the beer was good enough to stand on its own so even if there had been a better option I still enjoyed the rest of it after the plate had been cleared.

[tobesolonely]

apartment 41

hi y’all! this is my very VERY late submission for @meetmeinfleetwood​ ‘s “To Lovers” challenge (thank u miss sadie for even still accepting this LOL) but here is some good ol fashioned strangers to lovers with the line, “will you stay the night?” . :D enjoy everyone!

warnings: mentions of alcohol, intoxication, smut :)

word count: ~5.2k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

There were many things you loved about living on your own. You loved that your apartment was always clean. You loved that at the end of a long day, you could come back and brood in peace. You loved walking around in nothing but your underwear without the fear of anyone seeing you. You did things when you wanted, how you wanted. As a self-proclaimed introvert, there was nothing you loved more than living by yourself.

However, during slightly inconvenient moments like these, you wished you had someone else in the apartment with you.

You swore you’d been trying to get your favorite jar of pasta sauce open for at least the past ten minutes. It had been a long day at work, and at the moment all you wanted to do was heat the entire jar of sauce, boil a bunch of pasta, and call it a night. You were growing beyond frustrated–– you even contemplated just breaking the jar open. Ultimately, you decided against it lest you be met with a mouthful of glass.

Feeling defeated, you pick up your phone in frustration and hurriedly punch in your father’s number. The phone rings twice before he answers. “Hello? What’s up, hun?”

“Dad, what should I do if I can’t get this jar open? Like, it’s seriously glued shut,” you set it down on the counter probably a little too hard considering it was a glass jar. “I’m so hungry.”

“Did you try running it under hot water?”

You did.

“Hm. Try getting a good grip on it with a dish towel or something?”

Of course, you did.

“Well, I’m not driving over there just to open a jar for you,” your dad pauses. “You have neighbors, don’t you? Why don’t you knock on one of their doors?”

“Isn’t that weird?”

“No weirder than asking to borrow a cup of sugar.”

You thank your dad for the suggestion and hang up with him shortly after. He was right. You just needed someone to quickly open the jar for you and then you’d be back in your apartment, secluded from society until the next morning when you went into work. Besides, you’d been in your apartment for roughly three months now and you didn’t have a relationship with any of your neighbors. You figured now was as good a time as any to at least meet the person who lived directly across from you.

You slide on your slippers and clear the few steps it takes to reach your neighbor’s door. A faded ‘41’ was on their door, and a cheeky mat that read, ‘Did you call first?’ was at your feet.

You tried racking your brain for any memory of what your neighbor may look like, but you were drawing a blank. You were more to yourself than you initially thought you were and made a silent vow to become more social from this point on. You situate the jar of pasta sauce under your arm before placing two firm knocks against the door. Moments later, the door is flung open and you’re met with the smell of something delicious cooking, and a handsome, tall man donning a dirty apron.

“Hi, is everything alright?” he has a concerned look on his face as he looks over the top of your head and into your apartment.

“I— This is a little embarrassing,” you mumble, feeling your body grow warm. “I live by myself and I’ve been trying to get this jar of pasta sauce open for at least twenty minutes and I can’t. Do you think you can?”

His mouth slowly turns upwards into a smile before finally nodding, reaching out his hand to grab the jar of pasta sauce from you. “It’s pasta night at your place too, hmm?” His tongue is poked out of the corner of his mouth as he focuses on the task at hand.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I’m just gonna heat up the entire jar of sauce, boil some spaghetti noodles, and call it a night.”

The pop! of the jar causes you to jump slightly. “That doesn’t sound like very good pasta.”

You retrieve the pasta sauce from him, quietly thanking him. “It gets the job done.”

Your neighbor hums in agreement. “‘M sure it does. If you ever wanna taste some really good pasta though, y’know where I’ll be.”

“I do,” you nod. “Well, thank you again. I’ll let you go back to making your pasta sauce that is just way better than mine.”

He lets out a loud laugh. “I appreciate it. It wasn’t any problem at all, I’m here most evenings if you ever need help opening anything else, uh…” He trails off.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N. Beautiful name. I’m Harry, by the way.”

You look down at the dirty hallway carpet, a wide smile on your face. “Thank you, Harry. It was nice to finally meet you, by the way.”

“You too. Have a good night.”

You give him one more smile before turning on your heels and walking back inside your apartment, gently shutting the door. You quickly look out the peephole and catch him just as he’s closing his door, a dimpled-grin on his face.

It was Friday night when you finally got the chance to speak with him again. You were sitting on your kitchen stool nursing a glass of wine and waiting for your frozen pizza to heat in the oven when you heard someone coming down the hallway. As you had been doing all week since your interaction with Harry, you set your glass of wine down and shuffle over to your peephole, eyes scanning the small amount of hallway that was visible.

Harry comes into view seconds later, four overflowing bags of groceries precariously balanced along the length of his arms.

“Fuck.” You hear him mutter to himself. He attempts to reach in his pocket for his keys but once he realizes he can’t do so without setting at least one bag of groceries down, he lets out a loud huff in what you assume to be annoyance. You scuttle to your shoe rack and slip your shoes on before quickly flinging your door open.

“Hi! Need help?”

Harry jumps and you both watch as the contents of the bag he was getting ready to set down spill at his feet. “Now I do,” he’s already picking his groceries off the floor. “You scared the shit out of me. Also, were you watching me?”

Your face grows warm. “I heard someone coming down the hallway so I wanted to see who it was.”

“Oh, really?” Harry questions, pausing to look up at you. “You came out of your place so quickly, felt like I was bein’ watched or something.”

You know he’s teasing you but you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed that he caught onto what you were doing so quickly. Instead of dignifying his statement with an answer, you bend down and begin helping him pick up his spilled groceries. His hand grazes yours lightly as you both reach for a can of black beans, now slightly dented. It lingers for a moment before he retracts it to retrieve a different item. A quick, side-eyed glance reveals that his cheeks are tinged red.

“What are you making for dinner?” You ask him, standing up and dusting off the knees of your leggings.

“Uh, veggie chili. S’one of my favorites–– hey, is something burning?”

Your eyes widen and you abruptly turn away from Harry without so much as a goodbye, hurrying toward your kitchen that was starting to grow foggy from smoke produced by your oven. You were so preoccupied with helping Harry gather up his spilled groceries that you had totally forgotten you had a frozen pizza in the oven and if the smell was any indication of its current state, it was most likely inedible at this point.

Reaching for the oven mitt you kept next to the knives on the counter, you open the oven and fan the smoke out of your face, holding back a gag from the burnt smell. Your fire alarm immediately goes off once you open the oven and Harry appears a second later, a concerned look on his face. He looks around for your smoke detector and once he sees it he stands on his tiptoes to turn it off. You set your now blackened pizza on top of the oven and turn on the microwave fan. Harry’s already opening windows around your apartment, fanning the air with a throw pillow from your couch.

“Thanks,” you mumble, a wave of embarrassment washing over your body. You feared that Harry probably thought you were the most incompetent person on this planet–– first, you couldn’t get a jar open, and now here you are nearly setting your apartment on fire. “Guess I should’ve set a timer, huh?”

“Yeah, ‘spose you should’ve,” he replies. “It’s okay, though. ‘M about to get started on dinner, you can join me? If you’d like, that is. Maybe you’ll have a new recipe so you can stop eatin’ all this frozen shit.”

“Leave my frozen foods out of this,” you playfully scold him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Thank you for the invite though, that would be great, actually. I’m gonna get this cleaned up and then I’ll be right over?”

“Sounds good,” he neatly situates your pillow back on the couch. “I’ll see you in a bit, Y/N. Door will be unlocked.”

Once Harry’s gone, you move into action, quickly tossing the pizza into the trashcan before running to your bathroom. You try to remember if you brushed your teeth earlier that day but you can’t, so you brush them again just to be safe. You hastily examine yourself in the mirror before deciding you weren’t going to do anything more, not wanting to come off as trying too hard. You were almost one hundred percent certain Harry was just being neighborly–– nothing indicated that he found you attractive, so you didn’t want to make it too obvious that you found him to be the most stunning man you’ve ever seen in your life.

Locking your door, you clear the distance from your welcome mat to his in five steps flat, and take a deep breath before letting yourself in.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that Harry had more skill in the kitchen than an everyday home-chef did. He all but floated around the room, chopping with ease and finesse. The two of you had settled into a comfortable silence as he worked and you watched. Billy Joel played softly over his Bluetooth speaker, and he’d occasionally stop what he was doing to take a sip of his wine and look over his shoulder at you, almost as if he was checking if you were still there because you were being so quiet.

Your head was starting to grow fuzzy as you finished your third glass of wine that night, so you make the (responsible) decision to cut yourself off for the night. “Can I have a glass of water?”

“Course y’can,” he replies quietly, not stopping what he was doing. “Give me just a second and I’ll get ya––”

“Oh, I can get it myself. Just tell me where the cups are.”

Harry stops chopping and turns completely to face you, an amused look on his face. “You’re plastered, aren’t ya?”

“No? Why do you think that?”

Harry laughs. “You can’t hear yourself stumblin’ over your words, but I can. Jus’ stay right there and I’ll get your water. You want ice?”

“How do you know how to cook so well?”

“Culinary school,” he responds coolly. “Ice?”

You’re not sure if you are as drunk as Harry says you are, but you were currently finding the fact that Harry went to culinary school the coolest thing ever. “A chef? No way! What kind of chef?”

“I’m a Sous Chef. Gonna give ya a bit of ice.”

“I can’t believe I live across from a chef! No wonder you were giving me shit for eating canned pasta sauce,” you take the glass of water from Harry’s outstretched hand, thanking him. “Even your water tastes better than mine!”

“I think you’re just pissed, Y/N,” Harry responds, eyes crinkled from smiling. “Do y’like cooked carrots?” Your nose wrinkles in response to Harry’s question and he mutters something about how he’ll leave them out before turning back towards the stove to check on his food.

“How old are you, Harry?”

“Just turned twenty-seven. Yourself?”

“I’m twenty-four!” You exclaim, a little too excited. “Where are you from?”

He turns to look at you, eyebrow raised. “England. What gave it away?”

“Your accent.”

He hums, a small smirk on his lips. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from here. Just moved back home from my college town but didn’t wanna move back in with my parents, so here I am.”

“No roommates, you said?”

“Nope,” you pop the ‘p’, taking a big gulp of water. “You don’t either, do you? I just realized I haven’t heard or seen anyone else since I’ve been here.”

“I do not. I had a roommate when I first moved in but he ended up gettin’ engaged and moving in with his fiancée, so it’s just me for now. I think I like livin’ on my own better, though.” You watch as Harry reaches into his cabinet and retrieves two bowls and starts spooning your dinner into them. He sets the bowl in front of you and hands you a spoon, nodding at you to try it.

You bring a spoonful up to your mouth, blowing a few times before shoving it into your mouth. Your eyes widen at the amazing flavor that fills your mouth, and your eyes diverge to his. “This is incredible!”

Harry looks down at his bowl of food, a shy grin on his face. “Thanks, Y/N. Glad you like it.” He grabs his glass of wine from behind him and moves around to the other side of the island to sit next to you.

“Are you a vegetarian?” You ask, mouth full.

“Somewhat. I’m a pescatarian,” he shovels a spoonful of the chili into his mouth. “More wine?”

“I better not,” you reply, mind still fuzzy from all you’ve drunk throughout the night. “This is seriously so good, Harry. You’re cute, you can cook, you’re nice… you’re like, a triple threat!”

“Callin’ me cute?”

“C’mon, you know you are,” you answer boldly. “I’m just stating the obvious.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he takes a sip of wine. “You’re a pretty big looker yourself.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“You flirted with me first.”

“So what if I did?”

Harry lets out a quiet scoff, going back to eating his food. After a moment he says, “I wouldn’t mind.” You smile to yourself and continue eating, bringing the bowl up to your lips and tipping your head back so you could get every last drop of Harry’s veggie chili. He gets up to get another helping of food as you get up to place your bowl in the sink, lifting your sleeves to wash it.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says as he brushes past you, going back to where he was previously seated. “I’ll clean up later. Do y’want some dessert?”

“I think I will take some more wine,” you grab the bottle from the center of the island along with your glass, pouring a generous amount. “This is good. Nothing like the cheap bottles I get from Target.”

“I’m glad you like it. Thought I’d pull this one out tonight, always pairs well with dishes like this…” He trails off. “Anyway, yeah. Glad y’like it.”

You and Harry finish off the bottle of wine no more than thirty minutes later, having by now situated yourselves on his couch. He turned something onto the television (you think it was Iron Chef), but neither one of you were paying any attention to it. Harry was asking about what you studied in college, how you like your current career and your favorite things to do in your free time. You were asking him about England, his family back home, and why he chose to go to culinary school.

He has a way about him that captivates you— just completely pulls you in— and you never want to stop listening to him speak. Harry leans close to you when you talk, almost as if you’re telling him a secret that he doesn’t want to miss out on.

“I think ‘m jus’ as drunk as you are now,” Harry whispers, letting out an adorable giggle. “Goin’ into work tomorrow is gonna be a proper pain.”

“No one told you to try and outdrink me!” You yell, tucking your knees under your bottom. “Now we’re both drunk, what good does that do?”

“Think it’s more fun this way, don’t you?” Harry lets out a little burp, his face flushing. “Wanna help me clean the kitchen?”

“What happened to cleaning it later?” You stand up from the couch, wobbling slightly before catching your balance.

“Well, I didn’t think we’d get drunk off our arses and sit here talkin’ til one in the mornin’, did you?” He stands up as well, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back as he scooches past you.

“There’s no way it’s that late,” you retort, checking the time on your phone. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to overextend my stay. I’ll help you clean this place up and then get going.”

Harry swats a hand in front of his face, shaking his head. “Overextend your stay? Of course y’didn’t, more than happy to have you here. Do you wanna wash or dry?”

“I’ll wash since I don’t know where anything goes.” You move to the sink and roll up your sleeves, moving the small number of dishes in the sink all to one side so you can fill the other side with water. Silence falls over you again as you clean the dishes from dinner and soon enough you’re done, drying your hands on your t-shirt.

“Thank you, Y/N. We make a good team, huh? Got that done quickly, didn’t we?” He folds the dishtowel in half neatly and hangs it over the handle of his oven.

“Yeah,” you yawn, slipping on your shoes that had been discarded earlier in the night by the door. “I’ll get out your hair and let you get to bed, then. Thank you for having me over and for cooking that delicious dinner, I enjoyed it. I owe you.”

“If it’s frozen food, don’t worry about it,” he jokes, moving to open the door for you. “If you want to cook me something, though…”

“How about I take you out for dinner? I stay out of the kitchen, and you’ll get something edible and halfway decent. A win-win?”

Harry laughs. “‘M lookin’ forward to it. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“I couldn’t decide between Italian or sushi but since you’re a pescetarian, I figured sushi was our best bet.”

Harry looks away from the menu and at you, clearing his throat before speaking. “That was really thoughtful. Surprised you remembered considering how loaded you were.”

“For the last time, I was not that drunk,” you defend yourself, gently kicking his calf from underneath the table. “By the end of the night, you had way more than me!”

“Maybe so,” he replies nonchalantly, looking back at the menu. “Let’s not forget who can handle their alcohol better, though.”

You let out an indignant hmph, and get to scouring the menu yourself. You didn’t eat sushi very often so you figured you’d probably just get whatever Harry got.

“Let’s do sake bombs.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Sake bombs? Are you tryin’ to get me drunk again?”

“They’re fun! Just one?”

Harry shakes his head at you and grins before waving over the waitress, asking her politely for two sake bombs. She comes back a few minutes later with the alcohol and chopsticks balanced precariously on a tray, setting them in front of you and Harry respectively.

The waitress stands back and says, “Ichi… ni… san… sake bomb!” The two of you pound the table until your shot glasses fall into the cup and then you throw your heads back, chugging down the cocktail. When you finally finish chugging your drink and look back up at Harry, he’s staring at his watch as if he’s been waiting for you to finish for ages.

“Oh, you’re finally done? I was startin’ to grow old,” he teases, taking a sip of his water. “Do you know what you wanna order?”

“You’re annoying,” you reply, narrowing your eyes at him. “But I’m gonna get whatever you get.”

“Really? You don’t have any preferences?”

You shake your head. “I don’t eat sushi very often so I honestly don’t know what I should get. I’ll try anything, though.”

“You really did pick this place just for me, didn’t you?” He has a teasing tone to his voice, but his gaze has softened.

“I told you I owed you, didn’t I?”

At this, Harry just gives you a small smirk and signals the waitress over once again to order for the both of you. While you wait for your food to come, you fall into easy conversation with Harry again. It seems like you can talk about anything under the sun with him–– no topic was off-limits, and nothing was awkward. He had to have been one of the most interesting people you’ve ever met in your life. He was well-traveled, knew several languages, and loved to sing and write music in his spare time. Although you felt your own life was rather boring in comparison to his, he made you feel just as accomplished and interesting as he was.

“That was good,” he tells you after you’ve both finished eating, wiping his mouth with his napkin and slouching in his chair slightly. “Think ‘m gonna need to unbutton my pants here in a second.”

“Me too,” you answer with a laugh, making eye contact with the waitress. You mouth, ‘check, please’ and she nods, reappearing at your table with the check. As you’re digging in your purse to pull out your wallet, Harry reaches over and grabs the check before you can even look at it. He reaches in his pants pocket for his wallet and slides his card in before you’ve even looked back up.

“What are you doing?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Did you forget that I’m the one that owes you?” He shrugs.

“You can make it up to me another way. Don’t worry about it,” his voice is low and gravelly. The waitress comes back to collect the check from Harry and after he receives his receipt, he reaches into his wallet to place a cash tip for her on the table. “Ready to get home?”

Home. You know he only worded it that way because you live directly across from him, but you would like going “home home” with Harry, at least for tonight. There was no denying the sexual tension between the two of you was electric–– anyone who was paying attention to the two of you could probably sense it. You wordlessly nod and follow Harry out of the restaurant, intertwining your fingers with his when he holds his hand back for you to grab.

He stands on the curb and expertly hauls a cab, opening the door and gesturing your in ahead of him. Harry’s hand moves to rest on your leg as he makes small-talk with the taxi driver, asking him if he was having a busy night and how much longer he thought he’d be out for. Harry pays the cab fare and wishes the driver a good rest of his night before all but dragging you out of the taxi.

“What’s got you in such a rush?” You ask Harry, a teasing

“Oh? Did I misread the situation? I thought–– this is embarrassing, never mind…” his tight grip loosens on your hand but you pull him back into you, laughing at how adorable he was.

“Harry! I’m joking, I know what’s going on,” you rub your thumb across the top of his. “I was just messing with you.” You see him visibly let out a sigh of relief.

“Don’t mess with me like that, Y/N!” You’re still standing outside of your apartment complex in the dark, as close to one another as you can be without completely melting into each other. He releases his hand from your tight grip and places it gently on your face instead. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

“Please,” you reply breathlessly, standing on your toes. Harry cranes his neck to meet your lips and presses them to yours softly, pulling back only when the both of you are near gasping for air.

“Was that nice?” He asks, thumb caressing your face. Your noses are pressed together and you just nod, still too breathless to speak. “Maybe we can take this inside, then?”

Once inside Harry’s apartment, he nearly rips off the new shirt you bought specifically for your date with him, discarding it by his door.

“Careful with that,” you mutter, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I just got that today. Tag is still onnit.”

You feel Harry laugh into the side of your neck, walking your backward towards his couch. “I’ll cover the cost if it’s ruined then, how’s tha’?”

Harry sucks harshly on your neck, causing you to let out a low moan. “I guess that’s fine.”

“That’s fine?” Harry mocks you, guiding you onto the coach. You hum in agreement as you sink further down into the couch, letting out a sigh of bliss as he peppered kisses along your breast.

Your movements are needy— desperate. Neither one of you were trying to hide how badly you wanted to fuck the other. Harry smashing his lips onto yours once more, his breath warm and tongue salty from all the sushi he had earlier consumed. He attempts to pull his own shirt from his body while not breaking the kiss, and you let out a satisfied hum when he succeeds. Now you’re both shirtless and the only thing stopping you from fucking each other proper is being still fully clothed on your bottom halves.

“Can we get these off?” You ask, tugging at your own bottoms. Harry helps you pull down your tight jeans, struggling slightly to get them off your sweaty legs. Once your jeans are off your underwear follows immediately after, carelessly strewn around the room like the rest of your clothing.

“Y/N…” Harry hungrily takes the sight of your body in, eyes darkening with lust. “You might be the death of me, did ya know that?”

“I do now.”

He sucks on his index and middle fingers and lowers them down to your core, slipping them inside you with ease. You hadn’t realized how wet you were until Harry was knuckles deep, curling his fingers tantalizingly slow inside of you. “Do ya?”

You bite down hard on your lip, nodding at Harry’s rhetorical question. “Obviously.”

He flips the two of you over, so that you’re now straddling him and he’s laying below you. “Take what you want, then–– oh wait, condom?” You nod and move as Harry digs around in his pants, pulling out his wallet.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys that keeps a condom in their wallet.”

He rips it open with his teeth in one swift motion and unbuckles his pants, giving himself a couple of quick strokes before sliding it on. “What if I am? Was quick and effective, wasn’t it?” He rests his hands on your hips and pulls you back on top of him, connecting his lips with yours again. “Now you can take what you want.”

Your hands move up to grip Harry’s shoulders as you slowly sink onto him, wincing at the stretch and burn an unfamiliar partner sometimes brings. You make eye contact with Harry as you take a moment to adjust to his size, noting how his grip on your hips gets even tighter.

“S’big,” you mutter, rolling your hips slightly. Below you, Harry squeezes his eyes shut. “So big.”

“Tell me how badly you want it.”

“You already know. Don’t feel like being teased.”

Harry juts his hips up to meet you slamming down onto him, groaning out loudly from the pleasure the added motion brings. At one point he situates himself so he’s sitting straight up, using his left hand as a support for him to rest back on while his right hand is tweaking at your nipples. He’s letting out a slew of curse words, letting you know it felt just as good for him as it did for you.

“Ridin’ m’cock so good,” he says under his breath, bringing the hand that was playing with your nipples to rest in between your legs. Whenever you slam back onto him you feel him not only deep in the pit of your stomach but also on your clit, bringing you maximum pleasure. “Don’t be so quiet, let me know when ‘m makin’ you feel good, love.”

“I’m already close,” you admit, feeling a bit embarrassed at how it took Harry doing next to nothing to work an orgasm out of you. Well, not literally–– but it felt like it. “Feel s’good inside me, you’re so big.”

Harry lets out a low moan from your words, throwing his head back in pleasure. It hits the arm of his couch with a quiet thump but his pace doesn’t falter in the slightest. “You’re gonna make me cum if ya keep strokin’ my ego like that.”

“You asked for it,” you reply, changing your move from riding to grinding as you were starting to grow fatigued. “I’m close.” You remove your hands from his shoulders and let them roam the expanse of your body, wanting nothing more than to receive maximum pleasure.

“Can feel ya squeezin’ ‘round me,” Harry says, taking his lip in between his teeth. “Know you’re about to come, pet.”

"Harry..." you warn, your movements growing more desperate and sloppy. You weren't normally a selfish lover but your head was so clouded from pleasure, all you could think about at the moment was your release. Harry leans his head back on the couch again and now uses his two free hands to bring you to orgasm–– one is rubbing circles on your clit and the other one is gripping at your breasts as you use your last bit of strength to swivel your hips on him.

You're coming undone not ten seconds later, loudly moaning out the man's name who laid under you. You don't slow your movements, knowing he was right behind you.

"Y/N, fuck, 'm gonna come-" he lets out a low, guttural moan, coming immediately after announcing it.

The sounds of you trying to steady your breathing are the only sounds that fills the room as you both come down from your respective highs. Harry runs his hands along your bare body, eyes hooded from the orgasm that just wracked his body. As you’re beginning to uncurl yourself from Harry, he grabs your hand, pulling you back down.

“Will you stay the night?”

You didn’t know what sleeping with Harry meant for your relationship going forward, but you were glad you knocked on Apartment 41. 

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 125.3 Accidental Bonding (Part 3)

You can start at Part One, if you'd like.)

"Piss off, Malfoy," Jenkins snarled from across the room at the end of the training exercise, drawing Harry's attention from the conversation he was having with Ron. "You are such an arsehole. You think you're so clever, so much better than us," he shoved Malfoy's shoulders, "but you're just a slimy Dark Lord worshiper-"

"Oy!" Harry shouted, darting forward and physically putting his body between Jenkins and Malfoy, "Don't talk to him like that."

"I'll talk to that fu-"

"You need to back down," Harry growled, his body thrumming with energy, fingers tingling with the urge to punch Jenkins in the face, his magic racing hot and bright under his skin.

Malfoy put a hand on Harry's shoulder, "Don't," he said. "He's not worth it."

He glared at the other man for a moment before taking a step toward the locker room.

"Oh, I get it," Jenkins sneered, "some people are so possessive of their pets. He's letting you fuck him now, so-"

Harry spun around so fast that Jenkins didn't have a moment to see what was about to happen as Harry's fist connected with his jaw. "Watch your mouth," he growled, low in his throat. "We aren't sleeping together but even if we were that wouldn't change the fact that he is twice the auror you will ever be." He took another step closer, "He's smarter, faster, and has better instincts. And everyone knows that your pathetic attempts to belittle him are out of jealousy. So you can fuck off before you make an even bigger arse of yourself."

"Alright," Ron said, holding out his hands between them. "That's enough."

Jenkins spat blood at Harry's feet but had the good sense not to say anything more as he left and slammed the door behind him.

Harry turned to see Malfoy storming away from him. "Malfoy," he shouted but the other man threw him a two fingered salute and stalked off.

"What the hell?" Harry grumbled.

(Read more below the cut)

Ron shrugged, "Beats me, mate." He slapped him on the shoulder, "but I wouldn't want to be going home with him. He looked pissed."

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

Regrettably Ron was right, Malfoy was pissed. Harry couldn't understand it and the other man wouldn't say a word to him about it.

They went home and Malfoy shut himself in the bedroom without a word, leaving Harry standing completely confused in the living room. "What the hell?" he repeated.

Hands on his hips, he stared off after the other man and replayed what he'd said to Jenkins for the fiftieth time, trying to figure out what had made Malfoy so mad.

Giving up on trying to puzzle it out seemed like the only course of action so he headed into the kitchen and started dinner. In the past week and a half, Draco had cooked, they'd cooked together, or ordered take out. Harry hadn't cooked anything on his own since he's arrived and honestly, he was glad for the chance to cooking now.

He chopped up an onion, diced a carrot, chopped up a stalk of celery, and minced several cloves of garlic. Then he turned to the stove and heated a frying pan, pouring in some olive oil before tossing in the veggies and letting them cook down while he chopped up lettuce for a salad.

After about ten minutes, he added the ground beef, salt, and pepper into the frying pan and uncorked a bottle of Merlot, pouring himself a generous glass and dumping a few ounces in with the beef and veg.

He cast a simple spell to keep the spoon stirring while the beef browned and he turned to cut up tomatoes and onions for the salad and made a simple vinaigrette. When the beef was brown and fragrant, he added in tomato paste, diced tomatoes, basil, oregano, and a dash of nutmeg before stirring it all together.

With a pleased hum, he put the lid on the pot and cast a spell that would condense the simmering time to about thirty minutes instead of three hours.

While the sauce cooked down he baked brownies, tossed the salad, and prepped the water and spaghetti. Boiling the spaghetti, cutting the brownies, and plating everything was easy after that. Harry topped the bowls of bolongese with freshly grated Parmesan and basil.

Then, after a moment of debate, he decided to bring dinner to Malfoy instead of the other way around and laid out their salads, bowls of bolognese, glasses of wine, and brownies onto a tray. He levitated it down the hall and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Malfoy called, sounding bored and detached and Harry had to take a steadying breath to tamp down the irritation that tone of voice invoked before opening the door.

"Made dinner," he said casually.

Malfoy turned his head from where he was laying on the bed, idly catching a snitch and releasing it. He sat up, his blonde hair trailing behind him, "It smells good."

"You don't need to sound surprised," Harry teased.

Malfoy opened his mouth to protest but Harry continued as he set the tray in the middle of the bed.

"I'm just kidding," he assured quickly.

"Do you really think that it's wise to consume red wine and pasta on a white bed?" Malfoy asked, one eyebrow arched at him as he climbed onto the bed across the tray from Malfoy.

"It'll be fine," Harry assured as he picked up his salad bowl and speared a tomato. "We're wizards, we'll magic it away if we must."

Malfoy hummed but picked up his own salad. "Thank you."

He shrugged a shoulder, "No problem. I like to cook, actually."

"Do you?" Malfoy asked curiously.

Harry nodded, "Yeah. Once we left Hogwarts and I was living on my own, I was eating out all the time and it wasn't doing me any favors. So I learned how to make some simple things that taste good." He tilted his head, "What about you? You're not a bad cook."

His cheeks turned a light pink and he cleared his throat, "That's Granger's doing actually."

"Sorry?"

He sighed, "She made a really good case about house elves. I didn't want to be who my parents wanted me to be so when I moved out and joined the aurors, I basically shunned anything that whiffs of pureblood bullshit. It has no place here," he said gesturing to his home with his fork.

Harry blinked, "That's amazing."

"Shut up."

"No, I'm serious," Harry said. "You're amazing and I had no idea."

"Stop," Malfoy said. "Please, it's not-"

"Is that what earlier was about?"

Malfoy stilled, "Excuse me?"

"Is that why you were upset?" he asked. "You thought that I was taking the piss?"

"I thought that you have an insufferable hero complex that makes me want to vomit," he growled.

"You're a hedgehog," Harry said, finally understanding.

Malfoy froze, "Who told you that?"

"Told me what?" Harry asked.

"That my patronus is a hedgehog," he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry laughed and Malfoy flushed cherry red, his eyes narrowed. "No, sorry," Harry said holding out a hand, "I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing because I had no idea, honestly!"

"Then what made you say it?" he asked suspiciously.

"Just," he paused and took a bite of bolognese as he searched for the right words, "When you start to feel vulnerable or like someone is going to hurt you, you curl into this defensive ball that will stab at someone no matter what they say or do."

"I-"

"You are genuinely one of the best aurors in our class," Harry said earnestly, steering the conversation to something more tangible that they were less like to fight over. "I was serious."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, "You're just saying that because the bond-"

He shook his head, "I've always thought that," he protested. "It's annoying as fuck because it always seems like everything comes so easily to you. I used to complain about it to Ron all the time."

"Says you," Malfoy protested. "You're always doing everything right; throwing yourself into danger to protect people." He shook his head, "By all accounts, what you do shouldn't work but it does. You're a good auror, Potter."

Harry swallowed, "Thanks, Malfoy. That means a lot coming from you."

"Yes, well," he said as he took a sip of wine, "Don't let it go to your head."

Harry chuckled and they took a few bites in companionable silence before Draco started to talk again.

"You didn't have to come to my rescue with Jenkins, you know."

He waved the thought away, "He's an arse. We've had it out before."

"I'm just saying," he argued, "I was fine. Honestly what he was saying wasn't even that bad."

"Not that bad?!" Harry yelped. "He-"

Malfoy shook his head, "It's the bond, Potter, don't you see that? Jenkins has said a lot worse, other trainees have said a lot worse, and you've never felt the need to jump in and defend my honor before."

Harry frowned.

"You're being swayed by what the bond wants you to feel about me."

"I'm not sure you're right," he said. "Because you shouldn't be treated like that at work. No one should be treated like that."

"Be that as it may-"

"I'm just saying, even if the bond brought it to my attention, I would have done that for anyone. If he'd been saying shite like that to Ron, I would have decked him, too."

Malfoy looked like he was going to argue with him, before visibly changing his mind, "You do have a wand, you know. There's no need to resort to brute force."

Harry shrugged, "But there's just something so satisfying about punching someone."

A laughed forced it's way up Malfoy's throat and Harry grinned at him. Shaking his head, Malfoy replied, "You're ridiculous. And this is good, by the way," he added, pointing to his pasta with his fork.

"Good," Harry said with a pleased little smile.

The conversation turned lighter as they bickered about the training exercises and the best approach, but the bickering held none of the animosity it had a week and a half before.

And Harry couldn't help but wonder how much of this was the bond's doing and how much was simply him.

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

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

[limenysnocket]

Salsa Lessons

Summary: Let's take a break... to go on vacation. Since Taika is a snowflake and can't handle the cold, take a trip down south to Puerto Rico!

Pairing: Taika Waititi x Reader

Warnings: SMUT-- oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, dom Taika, a little bit of degradation, swearing, alcohol, (slight) public sex. 18+ ;)

A/N: One last baecation before I disappear again, and I know this'll be good. I KNOW THIS IS LATE. Like... late LATE. Forgive me.

@honorarytenenbaum @olyvoyl @whatwememeintheshadows @mrtommyshelby @dandywaititi

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"MY FACE IS ON FIRE!" Taika was panting and fanning his burning cheeks. The moms running the stand you both went to were cackling at him.

It had been a day since you both landed in Puerto Rico, and after sleeping off the jet lag and trying some of the fine dining, the first thing to do was explore the city, San Juan, from start to finish. Coincidentally, you both walked right into the outdoor market area, where fresh produce was being bought and sold everywhere. That's when Taika, the jackass, got ballsy and decided to try a pepper from one of the stands. He had been warned.

Oh well... guess you can see how that went.

To make up for the commotion caused, you bought a pineapple and a papaya from the same stand, as well as a couple of exquisitely bottled cokes. Taika was consoled, given a bit of coconut milk, and sent right back down the boardwalk. That was the first and last time he tried a freebie from a pepper stand. He was complaining about how his tongue felt (you would have thought that might make him get a little quieter and talk less), and he didn't stop until half of his bottled soda was gone. He sort of forgot about the pain after that and started looking for souvenirs.

You began your walk with him at eight in the morning, sharp. It was near noon by the time you were finished, and Taika had two big bags of fruits and veggies, exotic jewelry, tour maps, and trinkets. You were starving, and, more than once, tried to steal a kiwi from his bags but he would always manage to catch you and slap your hand away.

"They're for later!" He'd say that or make up a different excuse each time.

Taika wasn't neglectful of your hunger, in the end. He took you to a nearby restaurant after doing some searching on his phone and dropping the bags off back at the hotel room.

The restaurant was quaint, but vibrant at the same time. There were colors, dancers, and live music played on a little wooden stage just meters away. Ordering was fine, but it took some time for Taika.

"I've never seen so many things with pineapple in it! And it's not pizza, so it's bound to be good!" He seemed so excited for the food. It made you happy, but you eventually had to pick for him since the waiter was getting tired of actually having to wait.

"I have something special planned for tonight!" Taika exclaimed, the alcoholic drink of his choice being waved around in his hand. You were already reaching for the napkins, afraid he was going to spill something.

So now he tells you...

"Should I be concerned?" your first question came out with ease.

"Honey, if it's anything with me, you should always be concerned," he was smug, but the look on your face told him he needed to fix his wording. "BUT! Uhm... No, no you shouldn't be concerned about where I'm taking you. It's going to be a blast, I promise!"

"Better not be lying, Taik," you warned, and he just started to grin. That made you nervous, but you put the feeling on hold when the food came out.

Two bowls of Asopao de Pollo were placed in front of you and Taika, and they were devoured briefly in the span of thirty minutes. Extra time was added because Taika decided to add hot sauce to his. 'It's to add a kick,' he said. Yeah, whatever.

The rest of the afternoon was spent snacking, and checking out the more historical side of Puerto Rico. Abandoned forts, old canons, battle fields, you name it. It was truly a blast, even when Taika became cocky around one of the forts you visited.

It was at the Sitio Histórico de San Juan when things got... touchy. You were with a group of people, and you and Taika decided to linger around the back so if something interesting was spotted, you wouldn't have to move immediately. Little did you know, Taika was devising a, "ditch the tour guide and go make out somewhere," kind of plan.

Much to your demise, and to your pleasure, the plan worked. The tour guide hardly noticed the two of you disappear down an unknown corridor and push yourselves deep into a dark corner.

The smell was wet, ancient, and dank. Taika had you pressed up against one of the concrete walls while his hands worked their magic, lifting up the hem of your shirt and immediately grasping for your bra. You let him squeeze and grip through the fabric of it and press his body so close to yours, the waistband of his shorts was rubbing a red line across the skin of your stomach.

Your legs trembled while you completely forgot about the tour itself and your fingers started to run through his curly hair. Taika's thigh was moving to be between both of yours and he started to slowly rub the top of his against your clothed cunt. Slowly. Achingly slow.

Whimpers of his name and the sound of your tongue mixing echoed along the dank walls, and whimpers turned to moans, and moans turned into garbled sentences when his hand sunk into your underwear and sought out your clit. You tried to warn him, this was a bad idea. You could be noticed missing from the group and people could come looking for you. There could be papz right around the corner, needing a good look for a filthy headline. He didn't stop, though. He started rubbing faster, playing with you like you were some toy.

You knew he wouldn't give you anything but his fingers. Yet. Taika waited and waited, getting you closer on just clit stimulation, but just as you reached your brink, he started to pull his hand away. Dazed and confused, you looked up, your chest shaking from all the heavy breathing you had been doing. Your hands were grasping at his shirt, damn near begging to have just the tiniest bit more, but the look on his face said it all. Even through the darkness of the corridor.

"What the fuck, dude? I was so close!" You hissed at him. All he did was click his tongue and say:

"That's for later too."

The rest of the tour was dreadful to you. It was long, and hot, and dank while you found your way back to the group. Taika was nonchalantly following just a ways behind you while you consistently traveled in circles or down a corridor and through the next. As if he knew you were getting yourself lost, he eventually stepped in, and lead you back towards the entrance of the fort, where your tour group had huddled together for the last destination and for the tour guide to say goodbye. Oh well, at least you got to take in some historical views.

After one more cramped trolley ride back to the hotel later, you were utterly exhausted, but you knew your night wasn't over yet. Taika still had something planned, and it must have been on the spot this morning too. If he had planned it any further back, he would have blabbed it all out to you by now. You laid on your bed while you could, right on your stomach with your face buried into the pillow, trying to let your heavy eyes fall closed for a second, but the moment you did, you felt a large hand smack you right on the ass.

You flipped over, mad as a hornet when you looked up at Taika. You hadn't heard him come out of the bathroom.

He had dressed himself up in all black. Black button up, tucked into his black pants and pressed firm with a black belt. He looked like one of those pit musicians you'd see when you go to really good musicals with live orchestras.

"Dirty Dancing cosplay, ooor?" you nipped at him and he rolled his eyes.

"Ha ha, you're funny," the sarcasm dripped from him. He then threw a piece of (also black) clothing on. "Put that on."

The reluctance was real, but you followed his orders anyway, grumbling and griping your way through. Turns out it was a dress. A short one, at that, only going down to be just half way down your thighs, but it was comfortable enough. Luckily you had a pair of flats with a slight heel in your bag to pair with it. You had no idea where you were going with him, but you were not about to walk there in heels.

Taika was giving you "the eyes" as you walked out of the bathroom, admittedly messing with the hem of your dress to try and bring it down lower. As a result, came more cleavage that you would have liked, but oh well. At least Taika enjoyed the view.

He took the grocery bags in his hands and in the crook of his arms, and like that, it was time to go.

"We'll be late if we don't rush!" he hurried you. You knew that was just a big fat lie, and he was excited to get to wherever you were going, but you played along for as long as you could.

Taika made you go down the boardwalk again, through flourishes of people while the bags in his arms still jostled from side to side. Eventually, you stopped, just outside of a well lit building, and he took you inside.

He stepped up to a desk, signed something, and set all of the groceries down on the desk. While he did those things, you had a look around. To your left, deeper into the building and with dimmer lighting, there were tables and chairs set up. Almost all of the tables were meant for two, or for four. Before you could investigate further, Taika was back to leading you around, through a few more doors, which opened up to a big ballroom.

A few more people were waiting there, dressed almost in the same fashion as you or even a bit more flamboyantly, and obviously coupled up. Taika wrapped his arm around your waist and made you jolt.

"Care to dance?" he mused quietly and you gulped. You've got to be fucking kidding.

"You're joking," you murmured, but he wasn't, because he took you right over to the group of other couples and started conversing with them while you started to freak out quietly.

Honestly, you had never been the greatest dancer on earth. Sure, you could cut a rug from time to time, but that was in the privacy of your own home or at Taika's place if he happened to pick out a really good song worth dancing to. You knew Taika loved to see you dance, he loved to dance with you most of all, but you both never got into anything fancy.

Now was the time.

Soon, your instructors announced themselves, and the room fell mute while they introduced themselves in their very heavy Spanish accents. You stuck to Taika's side most of the time, even as the mood was set and stone. You would be learning to salsa dance. But what did this have to do with the food? You'd find out later.

To put it simply, things got... touchy. Of course, the one and only Waititi was the one touching you, wrapping his big, strong hands around your hips and making them sway back and forth, but it was personal at some point. His hips were pushed against yours most of the time, and that awakened a more primal sense.

Once the dance had been established, the lavish music and the glow of sweat and cologne heightened your senses, and the lights began to dim or flash with lavish pinks, purples, reds, yellows, and greens. You got lost in the feeling as Taika set his hands on your hips again, his warm palms making your legs ache to feel his skin touch yours. Your back was against his chest while the footwork got complicated. Focused, yet mystical.

All the couples around you, doing the same moves as you, turned to blurry blobs, and your breathing got heavier as the pace of the music piece got faster and faster. Taika's breath drew across your ear, and made you shudder. It nearly knocked you out of focus, because you bumped your hips backwards, and pushed your ass against his hips. Like a chain reaction, you felt his hands squeeze your hips a little more than he was supposed to. So, you bumped your hips back against his again, and suddenly you were whipped around by his hands, and pulled flat against his chest.

The bodies around you still writhed and moved with beauty and grace, then there was you and Taika... in the very middle of the dancefloor while a small hard on pressed against the side of your thigh. He was looking down at you, and through the darkness, just like in the corridor, you could see his expression. It was a look of want. Need.

Before anything could be done, however, the lights flashed back on, and the song had finished. Only you and Taika were out of position. The instructors paid no mind. They just clapped, as well as everyone else. Taika removed his hands from you, but made sure you were close enough to hide the little bump in his pants. You hoped there was nothing other than this, because now you really wanted to get back to the hotel room.

The couples started filing out of the room, back to where the tables and chairs were, and Taika kept you in front of him the entire time, pressed almost a little too closely to him.

"Mr. Waititi," a waitress called to him from the kitchen as you met the front desk again. "Your food has been prepared."

Taika looked at the waitress, then to you. He was debating something. You knew what, but you'd let him figure this out for himself. He was the one with the more visible problem.

"Awesome," Taika sighed, then looked down at you. "Join me for a bite real fast?" He said it through almost gritted teeth. Reluctantly... you agreed.

If it was worth it, that's for you to decide. This place had taken the groceries you bought, fruits and veggies, and made a beautiful dinner with mango kiwi sangria. With the time the lessons had taken, the chefs in the kitchen had made the perfect meal. They had even thrown in a few extra elements like chorizo and perfectly cooked rice dishes. As much as you loved the food, you couldn't forget about the need between your legs. And it was obvious Taika couldnt simply forget about his.

You would watch him squirm in his seat while he sipped on his drink, or you would find him staring at you a little more than usual, and little more intensely with each second. His eyes would gloss over, and his breathing would slow, but he'd snap out of it, only when you said something to him, or a server came out of nowhere to check on both of your meals.

Even if the dinner wasn't as romantic (although more sexually charged than you expected), you still had a fantastic time. As soon as Taika finished his dish, he paid the check and was quick to dash out the door with you at his side. Sure, you managed to have enough time to pack up what was left of your food for later, but that hardly deterred Taika's speed and agility.

The walk back to the hotel room went by faster than you thought. The crowds had started to dwindle, and lights began to dim, because all of the shops and side markets had finally closed down after a long day of work. There was just enough darkness to cover the fact that Taika had his hands all over you. All the way to your room.

The moment you touch the door handle, the frenzy began.

He closed the door with his foot, and with both hands, he grabbed your hips and slammed you against the nearest wall he could find. His lips breathed over yours, whispering dirty praises and hot needs, and his hands reached down to pull up your dress to bunch it around your waist. His hand reached between your thighs, and cupped your wet panties, just over your folds. He started to stroke it, while his lips teased over yours, never kissing you, but needing you.

His strong fingers prodded through the fabric, seeking and searching like he had done with you in the corridor of the filthy base. Filthy actions in filthy places.

You moaned for him, but he seemed busy. He continued to bunch up your dress until your stomach was exposed to him. His parched lips drug themselves down your collarbone, again, avoiding your lips, while your hand shot up into his curly hair.

"Fuck, baby," he muttered, opening his dirty mouth just to use his teeth on you. He bit down on your skin, making a hiss seethe from you through your clenched jaw. "You're so fucking beautiful... making my dick so fucking hard."

You watched him kneel, the position making his pants crumple up, but the bulge in his black pants remained as prominent as ever. His nose brushed over your stomach, and you could feel his tongue prop out softly and hover over the hem of your underwear, just as well as his teeth hooking into them. Your thighs spread on their own, and he started to pull your underwear downwards.

He could see the glisten on your clit and the need drip down your thighs. His tongue poked out again, and you felt it slide across your inner thigh. It crept higher and higher,

He placed sloppy kisses along the soft flesh. The kind of kiss that you could hear. The smack and the pop from the wetness and eagerness to taste more of you and take more of you in. He needed that, and he only got more of it as he neared your core.

"Such a wet fuckin pussy, baby," he groaned and placed his tongue along the lips of your folds. His tongue drug itself along the slit, and dipped in to be right on your aching clit. He swiped his tongue back down, pushing it along your hole. Your legs began to tremble, and he began to dig in like the meal you had gotten at the restaurant only whet his appetite.

He took you seriously this time. The rough pads of his finger nimbly drifting along your hips, tracing every mark, every bump, and every hair, because he wanted to memorize this feeling. He also wanted you to remember these exact moments, when he ate your pussy out on the exotic islands of Puerto Rico.

You gripped his hair so tight, but that only pushed him further into your cunt. His nose swiped along, to add flavor to the sensation. His face, most certainly, would be dripping with you by the end of the night.

How long this went on for? You didn't know. You also didn't know it his goal was to disturb your neighbors, because you got pretty fucking for him at some point. He didn't stop until he was satisfied, and you didn't bother keeping track of how many times you had cum on his tongue. You knew he loved the taste. He loved your taste.

Eventually, you both made it back to the bed for once, after one or two earth shattering orgasms. Thighs shaking, breaths colliding, and tongues twisting. His lips touched yours and your mouth was immediately drenched in your own taste, mixed with his.

He got you out of your dress. You stripped him of his clothes. Skin met skin, and it was an instantaneous bon fire of pure, raw sex.

His hand met your throat and he pushed you against the bed while he sat between your legs, unconsciously rubbing his dick through your folds. His lips were on yours again, and he gave your throat a gentle squeeze from time to time.

"Fuck, Taik, just put it in me," you breathed desperately, and the air grew thick. Your eyes never met his. You just watched the way his hips rolled into you, and took the time to feel his scratchy hair rub against your belly each time. You were addicted.

"You're so soft..." His large hands trailed down your stomach, "I'd rather just play with you and see what would happen if I teased you some more." His snickering and plotting drew a whine from you. It sounded so pitiful, he knew you were on the edge already.

"Aw, pretty girl?" He clicked his tongue in a fake sympathetic way, "You don't like to play games, do you? That's such a shame... I thought fuck dolls loved to be played with."

"Taika," you whined again, and you started to wriggle beneath him.

Taika didn't usually mind it when you wiggled about, but something about tonight, it really pissed him off a small bit.

"You want it?" He hissed. "Fucking fine."

You nearly screamed so loud, the hotel walls would have shook, but he shoved himself in, with hardly any warning, and slapped a hand over your mouth.

"You're such a loudmouth... just shut up and take it," he muttered by your ear, and his hips wasted no time making a fool out of you. While one of his hands stayed over your mouth, the other was planted by your head, almost threateningly, and he gripped the bedsheets. If you had just turned your head a little bit, you would have seen the veins popping on his wrist.

Taika pressed his thumb right on the high of your cheekbone, keeping your mouth clamped shut harder as he lost himself in you. Fuck it, you were gone too. High as a kite as he pummeled you and fucked you up something awful.

He was making your sore already, with the intense clap of his hips that never seemed to slow. He was persistent. He was determined.

You let yourself cum for him way too many times that night, and he knew it. He would watch your eyes roll back, and the way your body would weakly tense each time, like you were recieving an electric shock to the brain. And he kept going. He kept going for a long time.

You just let him use you as the night went on, and the look of satisfaction grew more intensely each time you spilled over. It went on and on and on... until he suddenly just couldn't take it anymore.

"Oh my God," he panted, finally letting you speak out and be more vocal, but he had knocked all the breath from your lungs, so there was nothing you could say. "You're so fucking tight... so fuckin pretty, holy shit."

Taika's head rocked back and his eyes watched the ceiling. Shit. He was starting to give out. Shit, shit, shit.

He hunched back over, his thrusts becoming uneven with the ache of anxiousness and lust. It was a blissful, awful, horrible mix. Taika fucking loved it.

A grunt, a groan, and a brand new hickey to get him through it. He finally gave in, burying his face in the same shoulder he marked you on, kissing, lapping and nipping at your skin, as he came, and filled you up.

His body shook and quivered like an earthquake, and soon he felt much heavier on you. Exhaustion kicked in, and you felt like falling asleep right then and there.

You managed a hand to rub up and down his back, comfortingly, and he would let out the occasional groan in response.

"Do you have any more surprises I should be aware of?" you asked, voice hoarse and very very quiet.

"I might," Taika asked after a long pause of silence. "But those are for later..."

[postwarlevi]

This is just me being me....

Soooo! Levi wants to go shopping at the local farmers market. He wants to pick up some tasty food and maybe stop by a place on the way home to grab some plants for the garden.

Which tasty stalls do you stop by and what plants will you guys grab for your garden?

He's eyeing those deals.

CAT! My darling! I must apologize to you (and others) for letting things sit in my inbox.

Part of me just gets distracted, or forces myself to finish my work (not often lol) before interacting. Another part literally feels like I can't do justice to things people send me.... I'll work on that.

(I have no excuse for being so late in tag games except, distractions lol)

Anyway! Let me promote myself LOL I'll take a little inspiration from the Farmers Market fic I wrote a while ago. (this is also slightly self indulgent)

I think you'd have similar tastes and your favorites of course... Am I about to go overboard?

As far as fruit, I stand by Levi liking apples (I have a fic for that too hehe), and cherries, and fresh navel oranges. He's always got an apple or orange for lunch, or snacks on a bowl of cherries when they're in season. And loving apples as well, you're known to make tasty treats like tarts or muffins or crisps, and Levi always has his share.

You can't pass up the pineapple as well, or the blueberries and strawberries in season. Your freezer is full for smoothie ingredients. (Imma make a HC about everyones favorite fruit sometime)

Moving on to veggies, you stock up for salads and quick snacks. Bell peppers, cucumbers, carrots, zucchini, yes! All of it! How can you pass up a 1.5 pound organic zucchini for $1? You can't!

You like winter squash as well like butternut for soups or acorn for stuffing...or both for muffins or casseroles! (I have recipes!)

Also potatoes for baking or mashing yourself. And they last forever.

Okay but the zucchini? You have to visit the cheese stall and get asiago or mozzarella to shred on the zucchini and pop it in the oven for 15 minutes. SO GOOD. Also feta for salads. Cheese is the bulk of your dairy as it's coconut or almond milk in your fridge.

The tea stall! Loose leaf, baggies, give us the usual black or green tea. Chamomile or sage tea, cinnamon and honey lemon, and fruity flavors once in a while like pomegranate or pear mango. :D

Oh and dried fruit and nuts! Levis a weirdo and likes dried beets and such. He can have those. The hazelnuts too. But you both like raw almonds and the nutty granola blend for days you have oatmeal and want a crunch. Sometimes you just use it as a cereal base and throw in the blueberries! Dried fruit like mango or papaya wind up in your bag too. And those apple slices!

We can't forget the bread! You have to watch it here more than anywhere. Rye or pumpernickel loafs, small rolls of sesame seed or garlic herb. Sometimes they're for breakfast and sometimes for lunch.

How about your honey and fresh jams and peanut/almond butters? Gotta have something to put between those sandwiches! Apricot preserves, orange marmalade, classic strawberry jam. (Jam spreads better then jelly!)

You know I don't know where you're going to put all this stuff LOL

Sometimes you also grab eggs, and look at the non food items like the crafty handmade woodwork or coasters (no more coasters!) or fresh bar soap like lavender!

BTW if anyone is waiting for me to throw meats in there, you're going to have to do it yourself haha sorry

Oh wait but maybe you splurge on pasta? There's so many varieties! Maybe you go for lemon garlic linguini, or sun dried tomato fettuccine. And pasta sauce made with organic tomatoes, garlic, onion, basil and olive oil. YUM!

And if you go early and don't eat breakfast, you'll get it there. Strawberry mango smoothies, waffles, guava or chocolate empanadas?? (You eat healthy all the time, it's okay to not once in a while!)

Maybe you get lunch to go like woodfire pizza, or veggie wraps and rice and beans. Yes, you have lots of food, but after lugging it around and putting it away who wants to cook? You need to take it easy for a minute!

As far as plants, more zucchini, you can never have enough. Tomatoes and whatever lettuce variety is your favorite, and fresh herbs like basil, rosemary and parsley.

Fruits are a little more tricky I think, but a fig plant can go indoors or outdoors, and fresh figs are a nice treat! Lemons and limes are a good option too, and you can use them for some flavored water or to keep cut apples fresh :D Maybe if there's room blueberries too, or plums. (and apples)

So, what do you think? You going to the market with Levi? What are YOU getting??

[harryspet]

a long way down [4] b.barnes & s.rogers

[Warnings] dark bucky x reader, dark steve x reader, violence, death, heavy angst, zombies, the walking dead au, mom!reader, sexual assault, blackmail consensual sex, breeding kink, slice of life, little editing

A/N: I fucked up my sleeping schedule again writing this but enjoy the final chapter :))))

In which you’re pushed to your limits.

series masterlist

word count: 4.2k

W I N T E R

Fighting was a dance.

Perfectly choreographed, you could defeat your partner but you believed luck was still a factor in whether you lived or died. Bucky didn’t believe in luck and he didn’t want you to rely on it. Walkers didn’t fight like humans but training with Bucky was making you stronger. Whether you encountered walkers or other humans, you could handle yourself.

He didn’t show you any mercy as his leg quickly moved behind yours, kicking up and effectively tripping you. You collided with the old mat and winced. You opened your eyes to find Bucky standing over you, his hand held out to you.

“Brush it off,” He told you and you grabbed a hold of his hand, allowing him to help you up.

You stood your ground, a bead of sweat dripping down your brow and you stared back at your opponent. Anyone could see that you were at a disadvantage when comparing yourself to the soldier but Bucky warned you not to underestimate yourself.

When he attacked this time, he went for your neck. You struggled for only a second as his hands tightened around your neck. You brought your arm up, twisting your body, and slamming your arm down over his. As his hands loosened on your neck, you grabbed a hold of them, before slamming your elbow back into his face with a loud grunt.

You were free then and Bucky was gripping his bruised cheek, “Good,” He said, his tone was a bit surprised, “That was good.”

You breathed heavily, your hands on your hip. You had been at it for hours like usual. Ever second Bucky wasn’t working, you were with him. After Peter left six months ago, the two of you had grown much closer. Though his actions were always in the back of your mind, you admired the effort he was putting into your relationship. Besides that, he was getting much better with Margot.

Bucky walked with you to get water. The training room was a makeshift tent that barely kept the cold out but neither of you seemed to mind when you were sweating so much. In fact, the two of you ran every morning around the compound.

After taking a swig of your water, you said, “Can you teach me that move from yesterday? The one where you use your thighs to-”

Bucky was looking past you, clearly not paying attention to you. You raised an eyebrow before turning around. Your eyes widened as you took in the site in front of you. You dropped your bottle, successfully spilling your water, before breaking off into a sprint.

You wrapped your arms around the boy you hadn’t seen for months. The one you feared would never return, “It’s nice to see you too,” Peter chuckled, a hand roaming over your back. You squeezed him tight, noticing how much stronger he felt, and the emergence of stumble along his cheek and neck. When you pulled away, you took another look at you. It was like he’d aged a few years yet that same look of kindness remained.

“I never thought you’d- I ...” You couldn’t find the words as you tried to process it all. All you could do was smile and check to see that he was still in one piece.

“Well I’m real,” You hadn’t noticed who was standing a few feet behind him. You paused as you took in her appearance. The awkward, thin grin across her face and the long, coils of her hair that she was hiding behind, “Y/N, this is MJ.”

“Hi,” She spoke hesitantly. Your cheeks heated a bit as you realized that you were staring. You walked past Peter and held your hand out to her, “Peter told me so much about you.” The way she looked at him tugged at your heart. You could sense what was going on between them and it made you feel elated. Not only was Peter alive, but he had also found his person.

“I want to know everything,” You told them, a wide grin on your face, “Dinner, tonight.”

+

Say you won't leave again.

I won’t leave you ever again, doll.

Bucky’s words always echoed in your mind. Months had passed since he uttered them and you could still wrap your arms around him anytime you wanted. As far as you knew, Bucky was keeping his word this time.

Moments ago, Bucky had pulled you into the bedroom you shared. His hands roamed roughly over your skin, his hands like fire, scorching you with passion. He grabbed your jaw with his hand, turning your head as he roughly kissed at your neck.

You held him tightly, your gaze wandering towards the window where snow was falling in heavy sheets. Although he was in the moment, you quickly fell out of it. Bucky paused as he felt your body stiffen. He finally looked up, resting his hands on the wall as he stared into your eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Good things don’t happen without a cost in this world. Peter’s back, he’s alive, but I get this sense that ….” You took a breath, “T-That it’s all going to go wrong again.”

Bucky sighed, shaking his head, “I’m not the world’s authority on thinking positive but, I do know that waiting for the worse is no way to live. He’s here now, why not just appreciate the time you have now?”

You were silent for a moment as you stared into the crystals he called eyes. Bucky was always one for tough love and, although he was still a man of few words, you sensed compassion in his words that you hadn’t noticed before.

You nodded in agreement, “You’re right.”

“Besides,” Bucky shrugged, “The kid basically has a girlfriend now. He’s got another person looking out for him. He’s not alone.”

You pecked Bucky’s lips, “I forgot about words like girlfriend,” You wrapped your arms around his neck and Bucky hands moved down to your waist, “Am I your girlfriend, Buck?”

An amused look crossed his face, “I’ll call you whatever you want as long as you’re mine,” Bucky lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. Your lips smashed together as he carried you towards the bed. As your back hit the mattress, you were already stripping away your clothes.

You and Bucky had gotten quite good at having quickies. With taking care of Margot, and Steve around barking orders, you had to be able to do it quickly and efficiently. In no time was Bucky pinning your hands above your hand and entering you with a rough thrust.

He moved in and out of you with a power like no other. You swallowed each other's moans as your mouths moved against each other. Warmth spread through your body as he crashed into your body like waves against a rocky shore.

You were completely one and you didn’t believe you could possibly get any closer than you were now. Your world moves slowly which you were grateful for, you were glad to enjoy the moment with him. As you both reached the top of the mountain, you were completely his.

The bed shook with the two of you as Bucky finished on your stomach. Bucky breathed heavily, his long hair falling down messily. You began to kiss again but both of you were startled when the door to your room opened.

“Steve!” You shouted, grabbing your shirt to toss it back over your head. Bucky hurriedly began to pull up his jeans and fasten his belt.

“Jesus fucking christ, Steve,” Bucky cursed as his friend entered the room.

Steve didn’t seem bothered as he looked the two of you over. He only crossed his muscular arms and said. “Your guests are downstairs. You should probably get dinner started, Y/N, and Margaret needs a changing.”

You checked your watch which you always forgot was running five minutes late.

“Get out,” You spoke through gritted teeth and Steve only smirked.

“I’ll be in my room if you two lovebirds need me.”

+

You watched from the kitchen as Peter and MJ played with the small one-year-old in the living room. They were helping her walk across the living room by holding both her little hands. Your little one was very active, especially after her naps, and you found it difficult to keep her in one place at a time.

She was also teething like crazy and the only times you got any peace and quiet was when she was with Steve. The two of you were like divorced parents living in the same house, designating times for the two of you to spend time with her. Any time you didn’t have to spend with Steve was also glorious.

Margot babbled loudly, using the few new words she had learned how to say. She was responding to her own name and saying Mama and Dada. She even said Bucky which sounded more like “uh-ee” on her tongue.

She was also starting to look more like Steve every day.

“Smells good,” Bucky said, reaching into the cabinets to grab plates. You were lucky that Steve got the best food rations which meant your household had the luxury of pasta. You continued to stir the pot of pasta, sauce, and vegetables from the lands the people Liberty farmed.

You only smiled as he started to set the table. Your smile didn’t last long as Steve jogged down the stairs, “Veggie pasta,” Steve clapped his hands together, “My favorite.”

You turned off the stove, watching him take a seat at the head of the table, “I didn’t realize you’d be joining us,” You said, a fake smile on your face. Bucky only continued to set the table. You’d promised him you wouldn’t start any arguments with Steve and simply ignore his attempts to get under your skin.

“It’s my home, isn’t it?” The man didn’t even look you in the eyes.

You rolled your eyes.

“Dinner’s ready!” You announced, using your mittens to carry the pot over to the table. You felt a soothing hand on your back and took a deep breath.

Peter and MJ entered the kitchen, Margot was happily placed in Peter’s arms. It had been months but the little girl seemed to remember her old friend. She fussed when you tried to put her in her own highchair so you let her sit in Peter’s lap.

The six of you sat down for a much quieter meal than you were expecting. You and Bucky sat across from Peter and MJ and for a long while you only ate in silence. The candlelights illuminating the table flickered and all that could be heard was Margot’s babbling as she chewed on her own fingers.

Steve finally cut through the tension.  “I’m not making it awkward, am I?” He asked a thin grin on his lips.

You were silent until Peter spoke up, “Of course not, Captain.”

You hated that Steve could send the boy to his death and Peter still had to keep up the formalities. Steve responded with a heavy, patronizing pat on Peter’s shoulder, “This one,” He gestured to MJ, “Where’d you find her?”

The two teenagers opened their mouths to speak and their eyes met as they realized they had spoken at the same time. Peter smiled awkwardly, signaling her to tell her own story, adoration in his eyes as he looked at her, “I-I had a group for a while. There were only about ten of us and … well, what happens to everyone happened to us. Walkers and raiders picked us off until it was only me. I was alone for a few months before I met Peter.”

“I entered her camp thinking it was abandoned. She thought I was a walker and almost shot my arm off,” Peter bounced the little girl in his lap. He was smiling at a memory that most would consider traumatic.

“Sounds romantic,” Steve chuckled and you noticed something darken in Steve’s eyes, “Well, you’re welcome here in Liberty. Everyone here knows what it’s like to lose family, I hope you find a new one here …. What’s your name again, sweetheart?”

“Michelle … but people call me MJ,” Steve’s mouth pulled into a wider grin and you felt sick to your stomach. You were the only one in the room that seemed to notice the way he was looking at the younger girl, “Thank you, Captain Rogers.”

“I’m sure Y/N will find you a job here. There’s plenty to be done,” Steve finally spared you a second glance but you didn’t maintain eye contact.

You simply faced the girl and smile, “Of course.”

You’d make sure that the job was far away from Steve.

+

“Bucky, be careful!” You shouted but both Margot and Bucky were already speeding away. Bucky had made a sled and was pulling the bundled up baby along the snow-covered sidewalk. By the way, she was screaming, you could she was having fun.

Things were slow around the camp for the last few days. With the thick snow, the walkers had slowed down and you hadn’t seen any packs of them for a while. There wasn’t much use in going out for supplies when trucks could get stuck in the snow so Steve officially declared the holidays could begin.

You remembered being extremely pregnant and extremely miserable last year during this time. Now, you could enjoy Christmas with Bucky and Margot.

You walked along the sidewalk, catching up to them. You wrapped your winter jacket closer to you as a shiver went through you, “See, she loves it,” Bucky grinned, proud of his little invention, “She’s a little daredevil.”

He kneeled down to lift her up and you couldn’t help but notice how good he looked with her. His growing paternal instincts were yet another thing to make you hopelessly attracted to him.

You moved closer, grabbing her little hand in yours, “You’ve been out here for a while, little daredevil,” You spoke softly to her and she continued to babble, “You want Bucky to give you a warm bath? … you do, don’t you?”

Margot was her happy self as usual, “Of course you do,” You noticed Bucky’s voice go up an octave and it made your heart flutter. You didn’t mention it, fearing he’d probably stop if you pointed it out, “Your Mommy just doesn’t put the care and love that I do into it.” You nudged his side playfully.

The three of you walked back towards the house together, “I’m going to ask Steve about us getting our own place. Or at least a place without him in it. I’d live in the barracks at this point.”

“He won’t let you take Margot with us,” Bucky spoke solemnly.

“She’ll just split her time between us,” You shrugged, “Parents did that stuff before all of this. Why can’t we do it now?”

“Because he thinks he owns her.”

Your shoulders slumped as you let out an angry breath of air, “I’m still going to talk to him. If I annoy him enough, maybe he’ll listen.”

The three of you returned back into the warm house. After kicking off your boots and jackets, you left Margot and Bucky downstairs. You climbed the stairs and made your way to Steve's office where you knew he had been all day, barking orders from his luxurious tower.

You knocked on the door, but you did not expect to see the person who answered. Your heart stopped as you realized it was her. “Hi, Y/N. Have you seen Peter?” MJ asked you, an innocence in her eyes that you missed in your own. You couldn’t find the words so you simply shook your head, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Captain Rogers.”

You watched as Steve waved goodbye from behind his desk. The girl brushes past you and you stood, flabbergasted, for a moment. You collected yourself, walking inside the office, before closing the door behind you.

“Where’s Margot?” Was the first thing he uttered and your hands balled into fist as you stared at the cocky man before you.

“What the hell are you doing, Steve?” You squeezed your hands tight, feeling your own blood pumping inside your chest.

“I asked you something-”

“No, no, you don’t get to do that,” You pointed an accusing finger, “Your daughter is fine. I’m asking about the girl that just left your office.”

“I didn’t think she was useful in the infirmary, I wanted to talk to her about making changes,” Steve spoke simply, his hands folding against his desk as he leaned forward.

“But that’s where I assigned her. You told me that I could choose,” You tried to keep your voice calm.

“I was being courteous. I assumed you’d make a good decision but it’s slow in the infirmary and they don’t need any helping hands.”

“What job did you decide on then?” You persisted.

Silence fell as Steve looked you over. He never guessed that you’d care so much about a girl you didn’t know, especially since that girl would be the one to take the heat off of you. Steve sighed, pushing back in his chair and standing up from his chair. As he spoke, he stalked around the desk, “I thought she could help with Margot. I know you and Bucky have wanted to be alone for a while. The Barton’s are willing to welcome you two into their home permanently and, when Margot is here with me, MJ is going to help me take care of her.”

You shook your head, “S-Steve, this … this is fucked up even for you,” You knew exactly what Steve planned to do with MJ and because she wants to belong here with Peter, the girl is going to fall for it, “Why?”

“Doll, it’s not like you’re going to give me a boy anytime soon,” Was his simple, disgusting answer.

“Why do you want this so bad? So bad that you would ruin other people's lives for it?” He moved closer but you stood your ground and your strong gaze did not falter.

“You wouldn’t understand,” The two of you stood toe to toe, Steve staring down at you as his fingers brushed over a loose strand of hair. He gently brushed it behind your ears, “But I am going to make my mark on the new world.”

You scoffed, “You want to be a fucking founding father?” Steve faltered, you watched as he tried to keep his face from turning to anger. You were proud of yourself for pushing the right buttons, “Walking around and making people call you Captain only makes you look like a cult leader, not anyone worth remembering.“

He moved forward, practically bulldozing you until your back was pressed against the wall, “You are nothing. Your life is worth so little that you could not possibly understand,” He spoke with gritted teeth, the veins in his head starting to bulge out, “The only reason I haven’t killed you is because of Buck but now I don’t think you’re even worth that. Do you want that? I wouldn’t have to worry about you yapping in my ear.”

It was then that you realized that you were losing your leverage. As much as you wanted to anger him, this wasn’t the fight that needed to be had, “Fine, it’s your fucking world, Steve. Just find someone else to help you. Haven’t you done enough to Peter?”

His exterior seemed to soften but only a little bit, “It would save you a lot of hurt if you stopped caring so much.”

“Steve,” You stated firmly, “Just leave her alone.”

If you gave me a son, I wouldn’t have to hurt her,” Steve countered, his hand starting to trail down your shoulder and then to your waist, “Break Bucky’s heart but save her, huh?”

Your muscles were tight as his hands roamed over your body but you didn’t fight him. You could do it all over again if that meant that MJ could have the family she wanted and that Peter would have her. Even if it killed you this time, you could do it to protect them.

“O-Okay,” You nodded, tears threatening to sting your eyes, “Not now, please.”

He seemed to ignore you as he pulled you away from the wall, pushing you back towards the desk. You stumbled as your backside pressed against the desk but Steve moved quickly, pushing you down so you were bending over the desk, “Steve!” You wiggled beneath him as he began to yank down your pair of jeans.

“Shut up,” He grunted. You almost sunk into the idea that your movements were futile. You used all the strength you had to push yourself up, slamming your back into his front. He stumbled only to wrap his muscular arms around your front. You continued to struggle and, as he held you tighter, you slammed your foot down on his own.

He was panicking, you could tell and you hoped he’d give up but he only spiraled further. The soldier threw you to the ground and you landed with a thud. Your vision went black for a moment as you felt him climb on top of you. You could hear him telling you to “shut up” as your vision returned.

The room was spinning but you’d never forget what happened after that. Bucky came from nowhere, just like the knife in his hand. There was no argument or fight to witness. There was no wrong or right to be discussed. The knife only entered deep into Steve’s neck and then he was collapsing on top of you.

Bucky kicked his body to the side, grabbing a hold of you as you shook furiously. Steve’s blood was warm and it covered your face and chest, “You’re okay now,” He said to you, wiping your face, “You’re okay now.”

You wanted to feel something when you looked at his lifeless body. You were nothing but numb. He had no compassion for you and you felt none for him. In this new world, there was little room for compassion. After all, this was the long way down.

E P I L O G U E

You had to leave Liberty. You had slain their king and they’d hunt you down, burn you at the stake, and steal back their princess.

When Bucky made that decision, the world you had adjusted to over two years was suddenly gone. But you were not alone. You had Margot. You had Bucky. You even had Peter and MJ. All of you escaped the settlement together, Peter refusing to stay without you, and started your long journey to nowhere.

There was a good chance that your plans would fail and you’d end up as all groups did. You moved east, hoping to escape the harsh winter. First, the gas ran out, and then you were left to hike. Next, the food supply began to run thin after a month on your feet. A screaming, hungry toddler was no friend to walkers.

A saving grace appeared when you were all at your wits’ end. The prison was an oasis in the middle of a desert. With tall barbed wire fences and armed guards, you prayed that it was safe. Your group approached with raised hands of surrender, hoping for sanctuary.

It was risk seeing as how they could steal your supplies and leave you all for dead but it was a risk you were all desperate to take.

“Stop!” A sniper shouted and everyone immediately halted.

A woman with bright red hair appeared behind the gate, rifle in one hand and walkie talkie in the other, “Romanoff here at Gate A, we have non-infected. Four,” The other side was silent as the woman looked us over. Based on her facial expressions, you weren’t hopeful that they had any room for you.

The woman was about to turn around but. with his hands still raised, Bucky began to speak, “We’re only seeking shelter for a short while. We have supplies to trade ...  At least take the women and children,” You looked to Bucky with wide eyes but he continued on, sure of his words, “You wouldn’t leave a toddler out here, would you?”

The woman paused, not bothering to address us. She simply spoke into the walkie talkie again, “Tony, there’s a baby and they look harmless enough.”

You could cut the tension with a knife as you all waited for a response. Finally, the device beeped and you finally received a response to whatever God was sitting in that guard tower, “Pepper’s going to kill me but fine, this is what she gets for all the narcissism lectures. Let them in after you’ve confiscated their weapons and checked for bites. Tell Bruce to have a look at the baby too.”

It wasn’t the light at the end of the tunnel but it was good enough for now. Bucky placed a hand on the small of your back before leading you forward.

+

i’d love to know your thoughts on the ending! thanks for coming on this journey with me :)

[cosmicbash]

One the angsty prompt ideas I’ve been thinking about is Kells practicing how to cook for weeks so he can surprise Em by cooking him dinner, maybe for an anniversary or something, and on the day Kells has planned to surprise him, Em is hours late, leaving Kells alone for the evening. If you’re interested maybe you could write something like this? 🥰

3 years together. One thousand and ninety five fucking days between him and this old dorky man.

It's insane. Downright impossible to believe but Colson knows it's as real and true as the 2 year sobriety chip he's got hung around his neck on the gold chain Marshall gifted him with it this morning.

Both their relationship and his sobriety are as intertwined as their lives are now. Marshall's like the glue that holds all of his pieces together. Picking Colson back up, time and time again whenever he shattered in the beginning and filling in the gaps with his own loose pieces until it was Colson's turn to do the same. Which, by then, it only made sense to combine their puzzles and broaden the picture.

Now Marshall swoops in for Casie's PTA meetings he can’t make during tour. Holding the phone and helping him FaceTime for soccer games and school conferences when flight delays or bad luck keeps him late.

Colson tags along to Whitney's first few dates out in LA, weaving through the public spaces Marshall never could without drawing attention just to make sure she's safe and respected.

They tag team any situation involving the girls, even though Alaina and Hailey both still snicker at him from time to time, and Casie rolls her eyes at Marshall's rules. They're more than just dating now.

They're family.

And even just thinking about that brings tears to Colson's eyes.

Or maybe it's the onions. Baze said chewing gum helped mitigate this fucking problem but goddammit does it burn-

"Fuck!"

He has no idea how he got it in his mind that he could actually cook a meal, let alone a full anniversary dinner for Marshall but here he is. A pot and pan already cooking on the stove and his fingers knicked a dozen times in his rush to cut up more veggies for the sauce. 

It's insane.

But Colson's following through with it anyway, because he fucking loves Marshall and that bastard cooks dinner for them every single holiday or occasion so it's about time he stepped up to the plate and did it himself. 

Plus he's been secretly practicing for weeks with Baze over both FaceTime and a few in person lessons. Perfecting his simmering styles and meat seasoning to make the tastiest meal he can manage all on his own.

So far the last three times he's made the dish his bassist had given stellar reviews so there's little chance he'll somehow fuck it up tonight knowing it's for Marshall…..at least, he hopes.

The minor setbacks his butchered fingers have brought aside though, so far everything was coming along perfectly. His noodles are boiling (never over the rim, thank you wooden spoon trick), his meats marinating, and as soon as he tosses these sliced onions in his sauce will be cooking down beautifully.

All in all the night is starting to look like it just might be perfect.

Until 6 o'clock passes by and Colson's ears never pick up the click of the front door knob, or the hum of Marshall's escalade pulling up front outside.

The food's still simmering, minutes away from being actually done so he doesn't worry too much. Sure he was hoping to have a sweet moment where his boyfriend comes home and catches him cooking at the stove like a traditional housewife, but seeing his face when the food's done and plated promises to be just as cute.

Besides, Marshall has always fit the housewife role so much better than him anyway. Even the apron Colson's wearing is one of the older rapper's, stolen from his small collection in the pantry to protect his designer sweater.

Colson doesn't start to worry at 6. Traffic can be a bitch.

7 though? And then 7:30 when his texts go unread and his calls ring all the way through to voice-mail? That's when the blonde starts to fret. 

He's luckily put off plating because some brief flash on uncertainty had run through him after the food finished so it's stayed warm and simmering on the stove. But even that had to come to an end before 7:30 because his sauce would singe or his noodles might squish, so now Colson's trying to keep busy by perfecting the presentation. Shaky fingers swiping around the edges of Marshall's plate to clean up a splatter of sauce. Every Chopped Judge rambling off feedback in his head until he has it looking like something he's certain even Gordon fucking Ramsey would ask for a bite of.

By 8 the dinner table is set. His plate, Marshall's, the bucket of low alcoholic wine they both love chilling as a centerpiece. Colson even lights a few candles and adds some flowers from this mornings gift exchanges to keep himself from screaming.

There's a pit in his stomach that's steadily been growing though. Every passing minute and glance to his phone where he finds no change only carving it deeper. 

Marshall should be home. He never runs this late at the studio without a call, let alone without a message. He's treated his work like any other 9-5 job since before they ever even got together, always strict about his routine and careful to make up for over run hours by leaving earlier the next day. Usually Colson likes to bust his balls and insist he live a little more spontaneously but tonight isn't the one to pull that.

Especially not if it means Marshall's going to completely forget to check his fucking phone and leave him trying not to think the worst.

Colson only males it another 5 minutes before he caves and texts Paul. Fingers tapping fast across his screen to draft multiple desperate sounding messages before he finally settles on a "Em bust his phone again?" That feels just casual enough to not embarrass him in the off chance Marshall decides to burst through the front door seconds after it sends.

The door stays closed though and Paul doesn't open the message at all. 

Now Colson can't even start passive aggressively eating dinner on his own if he wanted too. The pit in his stomach has torn itself open wide into a nauseous chasm. Every scary possibility he wanted to avoid thinking about spilling forth from the dark trench like ghouls.

He's dead. Some crazy fan broke into the studio and shot the whole place up. No one's gotten around to tell him yet, that's all. They're too busy dealing with the fallout.

No, Em's security is beyond top tier, and with how close Colson and his current bodyguard are he knows the guy would call him immediately. Marshall's fine.

Unless… what if he was in a car accident? Or some road rage incident gone fatal? Colson's seen Marshall's short temper flare up while driving. They've made dozens of jokes about it in the past, so is it really that unreasonable to believe?

Colson's pacing in the front haul when he calls Porter. Phone tucked between his ear and shoulder while he fights his shoe laces, heart racing in his chest. Prepping to fly out of the house the second Denaun tells him what fucking hospital Marshall's staying in, praying it's at the ICU section and not some fucking morgue.

"Kelly?" The older man sounds confused when he finally answers. Voice high and tone light like he's expecting this to be a butt dial. "What's up man?"

The lack of rush or worry in Denaun's voice almost soothes Colson's panic right on the spot. Surely he wouldn't sound so casual if something had happened. 

It's enough to keep Colson from immediately pleading for Marshall's safety at the least. "H-hey, uh nothing really-" Maybe Marshall is even with him right now, realizing how fucking late its gotten and how shit of a boyfriend he's been and that's why Denaun sounds awkward too. "Just uh, waiting for Marsh to get his slow ass home ya know? Sorry, aheh, I'm probably sounding like a fucking needy girlfriend right now, calling his friends and shit-" the longer Colson rambles the more embarrassed he actually feels in the moment.

God he must sound pathetic right now. Panicking over Marshall being a few hours late.

"Waiting? Didn't Marshall head out like 2 hours ago?"

"W-what?"

Colson's blood feels like actual ice in his veins.

"He isn't home? I mean, I know he was gonna stop at- fuck is it already half past 8? Marshall seriously isn't home?" Denaun's sudden panic only heightens Colson's own, but he can't get any more words to come out. Not with how a rock feels like it's jumped up his throat. "Shit, Ryan are you getting through to him? Try Paul-"

Ryan's there too? 

"What? Paul's gotta fucking answer-"

They can't get ahold of Paul either?

"Kelly have you-"

Marshall's missing. Colson's been standing around making dinner for hours, worrying over the portion sizes and appearance of his plates and Marshall's been fucking missing. What kind of partner is he? What will he even tell Hailey? Alaina? And fuck Casie is supposed to be coming up this weekend so they can all go vacation together before his next tour-

The front door bumping into his shoe startles Colson out of his frozen panic. Denaun's angry shouting dropping from his ear, as he twists and meets a pair of sheepish blue eyes peeking around the hardwood.

"Hey." 

Marshall's…..

"Is that my apron?"

So fucking dead.

"Is this your--" Colson's fingers are curling around the edge of the door so fast he doesn't even care that it makes his phone fly to the floor. "That's what you want to fucking say to me!?" His anger is boiling fast, replacing the cold in his veins with lava. "You fucking piece of-"

Marshall stumbling inside with the yanked door is expected, but the flash of bandages and a sling douse Colson's flames like a bucket of water. "Ow, fuck just give me a second to explain-"

He's hurt.

Now with all of Marshall visible Colson's hyperaware of dry blood splattered on his white graphic tee and scratches partially hidden within the rapper's beard along his cheek. "I got in an accident out on the M-8, it was minor but-"

Colson really can't handle all these rapid mood switches Marshall is putting him through today.

“You fucking idiot-“ Tears are bubbling up in his eyes and it’s like his hands can’t reach his partner fast enough. Pulling Marshall into his arms for a tight hug despite the pained noises his actions inspire. “Stupid, old asshole-“ Marshall’s hurt, the cars probably wrecked, but he’s home and that’s enough of a relief to finally smother that pit weighing down his stomach. “Don’t ever scare me like that again!”

A moment passes before he’s hugged back, shock more than likely freezing his partner up but when Marshall does loop his good arm around Colson he pulls him close. So close Colson is the one who’s bones feel like they might ache. “Can’t make any promises about that,” The older rapper’s palm feels warm when it climbs to cup his neck, Marshall’s face turning to press a kiss into Colson’s throat. 

That brush of lips is the final crack to release the flood gates.

"I love you."

"I know."

"I really really fucking love you."

"I know baby."

"I don't care how old your ass is, you better hold out and fucking die after me like a proper goddamn boyfriend, you hear me Marshall?" He's getting snot all over the older rapper's shirt. Full on smearing it across his own cheek and the fabric with every pointless rub of his face. "I love you so fucking much. Can't do this without you."

"Told you I'm not dying after you unless you kill me first, and I'm chasing you into the afterlife once you do go too. Fuck all the marriage shit, death ain't parting us either you brat." Marshall's tone is light and his palm is doing wonders to comfort him by rubbing circles into his back. It's enough to slow his hiccupped breathing down a few notches. "I dunno if you noticed but, I'm a little obsessed with you."

That drags out a wet snort. "Y-yeah?" When Colson pulls back to meet Marshall's eyes he swears he can see a wet shimmer starting to glaze over his partner’s as well. "Prove it then."

There's a flicker of something in blue eyes, so fast that Colson almost thinks he hallucinates the emotion altogether. But then Marshall's wrapped up arm wiggles between their bodies. The dark blue of the sling catching and sliding so his scratched up fist can shimmy its way partially out. "Planned on it-" There's something clutched tight there, black peeking out from between Marshall's finger and thumb. It's got Colson's heart dropping down into his stomach all over again. "What do you think I was driving so late on the M-8 for?"

"Marshall-" It can't be.

"Colson." But his shithead of an accident victim boyfriend is pulling back, both his good arm and slung arm awkwardly flailing in the air for a moment as he drops down on one knee. The visible wince not hidden as well as Colson imagines the man wants it to be. But Marshall's eyes are softening, and the blonde feels completely cemented in place. The only part of him moving being the uncontrollable shaky quiver of his bottom lip. "I had a whole moment planned, there were flowers, balloons, and those stupidly expensive alcoholic chocolates you love, but they all got absolutely trashed in the crash. Like, half of Detroit is probably going to think the Macies Thanksgiving parade started early. Paul called to have it all replaced, and honestly some intern is probably going to come banging on the door in about 20 minutes but I don't want to wait-" There's a flash of genuine worry that's furrowing the skin between Marshall's brows as he continues. "So I'm sorry this isn't gonna be that fancy perfect proposal you've always dreamed of-"

"Shut up." Colson's voice can't go above a whisper. His tone quick and clipped from how anxious he is to hear the man finally finish. "Just- shut up, ask me. Ask me Marsh, please-"

"Fine, always need to rush me."The rapper's lip quirks at the corners. Hands transferring the small box between eachother with a bit of fumbling. "Will you, Colson Baker-" Until Marshall can finally get it open with an audible clunk. "Legally commit to being with my annoying old ass forever?" 

[bellakitse]

So I have been letting the current state of the world and my personal life get in the way of my writing, something that is very much therapy for my depression. In an effort to get out of my funk, and be able to write my longer fics, I have decided to do Flash Fiction Friday. 

Every Friday I will strive to post a quick fic.

This first one is dedicated to my two best friends, my support system, and truly the great loves of my life. @insidious-intent​ (who made this beautiful gif above) and @beka1820​ (who holds my hand through every story I write) I don’t know what I would do without you two in my life. Love you darlings.

So here we go, the first Stef’s Flash Fiction Friday.

All the Reasons

In the three years TK Strand has been dating Carlos Reyes, there are many things he’s come to adore about the man he loves more than he ever thought possible. He loves that Carlos is a ridiculously cheery morning person, where TK will hit the snooze button at least four times before he has to groan out of bed; Carlos gets up at least ten minutes before his alarm, whistling as he heads for the bathroom. If he didn’t love him so much, TK would smother him with his pillow for this.

He’s endlessly amused that Carlos likes to listen to Latin Trap music while he cooks, shaking his ass better than any stripper as he stirs sauces or chops up veggies.

TK appreciates that while horror movies freak him out, Carlos will still watch them just because TK enjoys them. He holds Carlos close as he hides his face in the crook of his neck as a thank you for putting up with his hobby.

He all but melts when it’s time for them to go to bed. For how big Carlos is, he insists on being the little spoon when they sleep. Carlos will arrange them to his liking until TK is practically on top of him, covering his body with his own. Only then will Carlos fall into a peaceful sleep, a soft smile adorning his face as he dreams.

TK loves that Carlos isn’t just his boyfriend, the man he loves, or his soulmate, though he’s certainly proven to be all those things. He’s also TK’s best friend. The one person besides his father that he can be at his worst with. When he’s all but broken from the memories of past mistakes. When temptation rears its ugly head, and his hand itches to reach for a bottle – beer, or worse yet, pills. It’s Carlos that is there, never judging, always ready to hold him as he cries and rages over an addiction that will never completely go away. It’s Carlos that dries his tears and tells him how proud he is of him. It’s Carlos that promises him he can overcome his shortcomings and that no matter what, he’ll be there standing next to him as TK fights his demons.

He loves how gentle and kind Carlos is, not just with him but also with his family, friends, and TK’s own father. He still remembers when, early in their dating, with his dad still in treatment how Carlos took it upon himself to care for both of them. Making hearty soups for Owen when he realized that both the Strand men weren’t fans of the kitchen, and he would make Owen shakes meant to help with detox from the chemo. More than once, TK found Carlos in their kitchen cooking and keeping his dad company until he arrived, not wanting his dad to be alone as the treatment took a harder toll on the man.

Most of all, he loves that he’s never once doubted that Carlos loves him just as fiercely as he loves him. He’s an all or nothing kind of guy; he knew from the moment they first kissed that if he opened his heart to Carlos, he would hand it over to the young cop completely. It’s why he resisted so hard at the beginning of their relationship to let it grow. Once he stopped fighting the gravitational pull that is Carlos Reyes’ entire being, loving him became as vital as breathing for TK. To be loved back by Carlos is a blessing he is thankful for every day.

“You’re a million miles away.”

TK startles out of his thoughts; he looks up from the couch to see Carlos leave their kitchen with a plate in his hand. He smiles as Carlos sits down next to him, kissing him on the cheek when he’s settled before he offers him a spoonful of the flan he’s been working on.

“Mmm,” TK moans at the rich flavor that fills his mouth. “It’s delicious.”

“I added coconut this time,” Carlos informs him, chuckling when he opens his mouth for another bite.

TK smiles around the mouthful, pleased by the treat Carlos is feeding him.

“So, what were you thinking about?” Carlos asks as he takes a bite for himself. “You seemed deep in thought.”

“I was thinking about all the reasons I love you,” he answers honestly, his heart tripping over itself at how Carlos’ expression softens in that way that is just for him.

“Are there a lot of reasons?” he asks, teasing in that loving way of his.

“I could fill a library with books on all the reasons I love you, sweetheart,” he tells him; the smile he gets in return is brighter and warmer than the Texan sun. “I want to be with you forever.”

“Really?” Carlos whispers, his voice filled with so much love for TK, it instantly makes him come to a decision. The reaction to it is so intense, it amazes him it’s taken him this long to realize. He gives it voice before doubt has a chance to seep through.

“We should get married,” he says, his conviction growing with each word. He’s never been more sure about anything in his life.

Carlos looks at him, brown eyes blown wide, the thankfully empty dish in his hand going slack. He continues to stare at TK for a moment, not seeming to realize that his silence is making TK’s heart skyrocket. Then, he gets up without saying a word, leaving TK behind as he heads for their bedroom.

TK blinks rapidly, not sure what’s just happened. His throat feels like it’s closing, and his blood roars in his ears, but he doesn’t have a chance to have a breakdown before Carlos comes back into the living room, breathing hard as he clutches something in his hand.

“Are you serious?” he asks in a rush. “Did you mean what you just said? Do you want to get married?”

TK looks at Carlos, taking in the tense of his shoulders, he looks like a spring ready to go off, but his eyes, his beautiful brown eyes that TK loves oh so much, look so full of hope and anticipation, TK forgets that his heart started to break just moments ago and nods.

Carlos exhales, his whole body going soft as he comes back to sit down next to TK.

“I bought it six months ago,” he says as he opens his hand to reveal a simple white band with a trio of diamonds encrusted in the middle. Carlos smiles as it makes TK gasp. “I have been trying to figure out the perfect way to ask. Leave it to you to beat me to the punch,” he says, tenderly amused.

“I didn’t do it perfectly,” he whispers now with regret as he looks at the beautiful ring in Carlos’ hand. “I just blurted it out, and I don’t even have a ring.”

Carlos shakes his head at him. “Baby, the fact that you feel the same way, that you want to marry me too, that makes it perfect,” he answers with a gentle smile as he wipes at the tears that have now slipped down TK’s cheeks. “Can I put it on you?” he asks, chuckling when TK nods rapidly in agreement.

He isn’t done slipping it on TK’s finger before TK pulls him into a hard kiss. They’re laughing and crying by the time they come up for air. He presses his forehead against Carlos’, taking in that beautiful smile of his. “I’m going to tell you every day all the reasons I love you.”

“How long is that going to take?” Carlos asks teasingly, his smile deepening as he brushes his lips against TK’s once more.

TK smiles back, his heart so full it feels like it will burst. “Only the rest of our lives.”

[ask-voreganronpa-boys]

Teruteru x burrower!reader vore fic!

(Don't ask why the reader was somehow got on the island without anyone knowing. Idk either)

Is was a warm afternoon on Jabberwock island. You had taken up residence in the Hotel Murai Kitchen. Where the food was always stocked up and there was plenty to eat! It was also very warm due to the openest of the dining hall. There were plenty of places to hide. You had made yourself a little room inside a cabinet. Even with all the supplies and shelter, there was one problem…

Teruteru Hanamura. The chef. You only knew his name due to how many times people snapped or yelled at him. Though it didn't seem like he minded much. You would watch him from afar, amazed at his skills in the kitchen, the delightful smell of the food always filling the air and your nose. You supposed this was his Ultimate.

You always would find a way to watch over him, climbing on the vents, hanging off of the silverware rack. You loved watching him dazzle and perform in the kitchen, as if no one else was there. You could feel his passion without even talking to him

Until now.

"Well well well! What do we have here? A little mousey in my kitchen? Oh tell me what holes you've crawled into in here?" The giant chef teases you, holding you with his Tongs to keep you still. How did you get in this mess? Moisture from the vent made you fall onto the counter, alerting him of you

You squirm frantically in fear, trying to break fear of the tongs grasp on your hips. "P-please let me go! It w-won't h-happen again!" You pleaded, though you didn't notice, you were blushing.

"Now why would I do that?" He smirks and puts his finger under your chin to make you look up at him, "y'know, dirty little pests need to be punished. I wonder how I should punish you~" he chuckles at you. He looks around the kitchen, spotting the fajita he was in the middle of making

Your eyes follow his. Realizing what he meant now. Your panic mode activated. You squirmed and fought in his grasp, "n-no!! Please!! I don't want to die! I'm so sorry! Please I'll do anything please just let me go!!" You cried out in fear. You never imagined meeting him would result in this!

"Now who said anything about dying? I just said punishment." He laughs a little at your expression. "I can't tell if your liking this or if your upset. With that blush of yours I can't tell" he remarks as he made his way over to the warm dish. There was a lack of meat on the fajita, which ment that you were…

You couldn't finish your thoughts as you were taken from the tongs and placed in the middle of the tortilla on top of the sauces and veggies. Before you could scramble out, the top of the tortilla closed on top of you and you were lifted up, "perhaps a little creature like you will become my new secret recipe, hm? You look cute enough for it. I can't wait to explore every little crevice on your tiny, vulnerable body~" he chuckles lewdly.

You were too flustered to struggle and squirm... God he was even more handsome this close up. But again, your thought process was interrupted as the giant took a bite off the tortilla, bringing you into his mouth almost immediately.

You fell onto his tongue with a wet thud, trying to get up but was bombarded with the other parts of the fajita. You squirmed and tried your best to get out of the way of the teeth that was already at work chewing up the bites of food. Suddenly you were pushed into the soft and chubby cheeks of the giant, pinned and forced to watch the food get decimated, looking back and watching it get taken down his strong throat.

You were forced to watch him continuously chew and swallow down more of the meal. Finally, he pushes you back to his tongue and continued his attack on you with the slimy, strong muscle.

You were exhausted at this point. Teruteru hums around you, "well I was correct! You are the best thing I have ever tasted!" He manages to says around you. Even after all this, you still blushed. Why was this so enjoyable…? Why were you still flustered…? Why did you still crush on him…?

He took a little more time rolling you around in his mouth, swishing you around like a tiny piece of candy or a drink. But when he finally thought you had enough teasing, he tilts his head back to swallow you.

You didn't even have enough energy to cry out, not like it would even help. So you resigned and let it happen. You watch as the usually dark insides turn red the further you descended. While this was beautiful, but you were just so tired. It was so warm… why did this feel so comforting…?

You eventually fall into his gut, dropping into the mushed up food from before. This makes you come back to life. Groaning, you try to wipe the gunk off of you. That was in vain. Because as soon as you slung the majority off, more fell on top of you.

"C-Come on!! I wasn't enough for you!?" You cry out in annoyance. "Do you have to eat the rest!?" You huff and run to the nearest wall

Teruteru laughs after he took another bite of the Fajita. "Well you might've been delectable, but I can't let this meal go to waist~" he laughs teasingly, reaching a hand down to rub his stomach

You growl and push at his walls, kicking and trying to make him spit you up. What happened was completely different than what you anticipated …

"O-Oh~!" He moans in shock. "Wh-whatr' ya d-doin-!?" His voice changes a little with the change of mood.

You stop rubbing, mostly out of shock yourself. "Wh-what!?" You mutter in confusion. He liked this!? And most importantly, why did you find this cute!?

"P-Please little mousey~ P-Please save th-that for l-later!" He squeaks out shakily. He stands and lays a hand on his stomach. Now with this little promise, he tries to go get food ready for dinner

You attempted to protest. But didn't…why was that…? You resign and sit down. Just wanting to rest up and little. Maybe try to understand your thoughts a little better. You sigh and rest your eyes for a little bit, only to fall asleep quickly after.

[eatsleepandsupernatural]

Soy Sauce and Sam

Request: Hi! I'm wondering if you could write a ABO one shot or whatever with one of the brothers with a male reader? Could it also be fluff, please? It could be anything you want

Pairings: MaleOmega!Reader x Alpha!Sam Winchester

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1820

A/N: Hey Guys! First of two request filled! Again so sorry for the absence! Hope you like this one, I loved writing it! Another ABO request and Saved Chapter coming soon. 

Masterlist

   You struggle to stay calm as you glance at the mess around you. Your sister always made it look easy and now you wanted to throw it all into the bin and give up. You have soy sauce in your hair, vegetables litter the floor and the chicken you are trying to cut up looks like it has been massacred by a hammer. All you want to do is to make dinner for your Alpha, but you can’t cook to save your life. He and Dean are due to be home from their hunt any minute now and the first thing they’ll do is come and check on you. You don’t know how you are going to explain this mess. You dip your finger in the home-made teriyaki sauce and bring it up to your mouth. You don’t want to, but you need to know if you’re going to have to tip it out and start over or not. You knock the bowl off the bench with a groan, too much soy sauce. This is an absolute disaster. 

   ‘Dude, what have you done to my kitchen?’ You freeze at the sound of Dean’s voice and grimace at the mess surrounding you. 

   ‘The bin exploded.’ You say, speaking before thinking is one of your many bad habits that always seems to get you in more trouble than necessary. 

   Dean raises his eyebrows, arms crossed. ‘You know you’re going to have to clean all this up. And if I find out that you ask Cas to help again, I’ll tell Sam about your midnight snacks.’

   You understand that Dean felt very strongly about the kitchen, but you aren’t a child. You are about to mouth off when Sam appears in the doorway, immediately stopping you in your tracks. 

   ‘What the hell?’ His wide eyes take in the mess before landing on you. 

   ‘He trashed my kitchen.’ Dean interjects, waving his arms around aggressively. 

   ‘I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation, (Y/N)?’ Sam replies, always the peacemaker.

   ‘I can’t cook.’ You supply, leaning against the bench for support. You are still disappointed at your lack of culinary talents, but you’re calmer now that Sam has arrived. ‘And Dean, I may be an Omega, but I’m not a kid. I know how to clean up after myself.’ 

   Dean’s eyes flash briefly with an uncontrolled instinct but he shakes it off and offers you an apologetic smile. You roll your eyes in response and give him the finger. 

   ‘If you can’t cook, why did you try?’ Sam questions, obviously still confused.

   ‘I wanted to cook you dinner, didn’t really work out.’ You say gesturing to the mush of raw chicken. 

   ‘No, I suppose not.’ He replies with pursed lips. You knew that expression, he is trying not to laugh. You glance over at Dean, to see that he isn’t trying to hide his amusement at all. 

   ‘Whatever, I didn’t have high hopes anyway. It probably would have tasted like shit.’ You try to hide your disappointment behind a nonchalant persona.

   ‘Alright, well I’m going to leave you two lovebirds here.’ Dean says turning to leave the kitchen. ‘Don’t burn the kitchen down.’ He speaks before disappearing completely.

   ‘Asshole.’ You mutter, as you turn your back on Sam, crouching down to clean up the vegetables that had ended up on the ground. 

   ‘What were you trying to make?’ Sam asks, poking at the chicken, ‘this looks almost salvageable’ 

   You scoff, throwing a handful of vegetables in the bin, ‘Teriyaki Chicken.’ 

   ‘Ah, that explains the soy sauce.’ Sam chuckles quietly, grabbing some paper towel to wipe it up. ‘Do you want to restart, try again?’ 

   You meet his eye for the first time since Dean left the room, ‘No, Not really. I’m too pissed off.’ 

   ‘Do you want a hug?’ 

   You pause halfway to the bin and turn around to face him, ‘Does it look like I want a hug?’ 

   Sam looks you over for a minute, smiling calmly. ‘It looks like you want to punch something, but I thought a hug might be even better.’ Discarding the soaked paper towels, he holds his arms up, an open invitation for you to seek comfort in his warmth. You can’t say no. 

   You dump the veggies you’re holding into the bin and walk back over to him, leaning into his embrace. You don’t hesitate to nuzzle further into his chest, scenting him, the smell of leather, books and hair product surrounds you in a calming blanket. Although you would never admit, you love the way Sam is able to calm you so easily. Not even your parents were able to do that. 

   ‘Better?’ 

   ‘Of course. What are we going to do now? I ruined dinner.’ You tighten your grip on Sam, still needing the calm scent he was releasing. 

   ‘Well, if you let go of me, maybe I could help you? We could probably use some of the chicken, I’ll sort through it and cut some more, if you cut up some fresh vegetables.’

   ‘I don’t want to let go, or cut vegetables.’ You mutter into his chest.

   ‘Don’t you want dinner?’ 

   ‘Not if it means having to let go.’ 

   Now that you had him, you didn’t want to lose him. The day has been long and stressful, you hate when he leaves to go on hunts and cooking is now your worst enemy. 

   Sam understands this and finishes clearing up the rest of your mess with you attached to his arm. He leads you through the library, where Dean is resting with his feet up on the table and a beer in hand. 

   ‘Kitchen’s clean, but raincheck on dinner.’ Sam says, gesturing to you next to him. 

   Dean raises his eyebrows at the sight. It’s not often that you allow yourself to be vulnerable in front of him and after a sharp look from Sam, he has to bite back whatever rude comment he was about to say. 

   ‘I can see that.’ He mumbles. 

   ‘If you wouldn’t mind getting dinner, please. I don’t mind where it’s from, just one of the usual places. (Y/N) and I will make dinner tomorrow.’ 

   Dean eyes Sam, before nodding and standing up. ‘I’ll be back in half an hour.’ 

   Sam turns around, making his way back to the room you share, your arms still wrapped tightly around his waist. Once in his room, he pulls you off and gently sits you down on the bed, passing you one of his jackets. ‘Wear this, I’ll be back in a second.’ 

   Sam is gone before you can protest and you press your face into his jacket. 

   ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ You mutter to yourself. You know that sometimes when Sam gets back from a hunt you get clingy, but this is a whole new level. 

   Sam comes back in with a pile of clean clothes which he dumps onto the bed. ‘Alright shoes off.’

   ‘What are we doing?’ You did what he told you to, but not without questioning his sanity.

   ‘We’re snuggling.’ He replies, hopping up on the bed, creating a nest with the pile of clothes he brought in.

   You frown at him, still confused. ‘Why?’ 

   Sam pauses what he is doing to look up at you, ‘I think, because of what happened in your past, and our still fairly new relationship, you're starting to experience feelings of anxiety when we are separated. I’m guessing you've been ignoring them, channelling your nerves into something productive like cooking, which is good. But every time I’ve come back from a hunt, you’ve been slowly getting more and more attached. It’s okay, but it’s something we’re going to have to work on.’ 

   You are so embarrassed you almost leave the room, but the look Sam gives you is one of complete adoration and love. So you slide into his embrace, and find yourself completely surrounded by him and his scent. 

   ‘How long have you known?’ You ask, snuggling into his chest. 

   ‘I suspected it a while ago, I believe today confirms it though, don’t you?’ He pulls me closer to him and runs his hand up and down my arm. 

   ‘I’m sorry.’ 

   ‘(Y/N), you’ve got nothing to be sorry for, we all have our moments. Anyway, do you just want to snuggle or do you want to put on a show?’ 

   You remove your face from your Alpha’s warm chest to meet his caring gaze. ‘Can we just stay like this? I missed you.’ 

   ‘Of course. So, aside from making a mess in the kitchen, what else did you get up to the last few days?’ 

   You are ashamed to say that you didn’t do anything besides your failed attempt at dinner. You spent most of the time watching TV in bed. And when you weren’t doing that you were trying to get into the locker where they keep the guns so you could practice shooting. You wanted to go on hunts, but Sam wouldn’t let you. Stupid Alpha. 

   ‘Not much, just TV’, you tell him. 

   Sam chuckles, ‘So you didn’t try to break into the gun locker?’ 

   ‘Nooo…’ 

   ‘Nice try, you left the light on in the armoury, and a lock pick next to the locker. You couldn’t have tried to be more obvious. What distracted you?’ Sam’s voice had hardened a little and you could feel a scolding coming. 

   ‘I noticed what time it was, I had to start cooking.’ 

   Sam laughs quietly before bringing up the topic you knew he would. ‘(Y/N), I don’t want you hunting.’ 

   You sat up, frustration building in your stomach. ‘Sam, I’m not some weak, helpless little female Omega. I may be an Omega, but I’m not completely breakable. Sure I’m smaller than men who are Beta’s or Alpha’s but why does that automatically put me on house arrest?’

   Sam sighs, he gave you a look that told you he knew this was coming. ‘I know you aren’t weak and I know you hate it when I say it's for your protection, but it really is. There are no Omega’s in the FBI or any other law enforcement agency. That means we’d be leaving you alone in a motel, and that’s a big no. And if you’re there fighting alongside me, I’m going to be more worried about you, than myself or the person we are trying to save.’ 

   He brought his hands up to cup your face and gently kissed your forehead. ‘I’m sorry (Y/N), but I just can’t have you hunting.’ 

   ‘Sammy, (Y/N)! Food!’ 

You sigh loudly, and move to push Sam away but he grabs your wrist. ‘I understand you’re upset. I’m sorry, I really am. But you are safer here, it’s as simple as that. You just have to trust that I’ll come back.’ He gives you a small smile, getting up and moving to the door. 

   ‘By the way, you still have soy sauce in your hair.’ 

[smol-and-grumpy]

Sky Full Of Stars - CH02

Sequel to Something Just Like This

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, ex mobster boss, still a little cocky, less ruthless and not at all short tempered anymore. Instead, he thinks he’s hilarious (she doesn’t agree, though). They both try to live a quiet life. And Dean hopes, very hard, that his former life won’t come knocking at their door.

Warnings: Really fluffy. 

WC: 3109

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dean tries to be quiet, he really did, but as old houses are, the stairs creak underneath his weight when he descends. He flinches, squints his eyes and moves faster, trying his best to make himself feather light, and absolutely fails.

He hops off the last step, walks into the kitchen on his bare feet, makes a cup of coffee. He knows that he needs to get back to work when he wants to finish the house on time but Y/N’s so damn distracting.

Especially when she takes naps during the day because she’s more tired than she’s ever been. In fact, she’s even more tired now than when she was in her first Trimester, which is weird but what does he know, he doesn’t have to deal with the hormones so all he does is shut the hell up and let her sleep.

They’re only at half time, something over five months.

When she feels really tired, she likes to take baths to relax and then taking naps after, and Dean hates that. Absolutely super hates it. Can’t stand how he can’t help but join her. Not always with the baths but certainly with the naps.

It first started two months into her pregnancy when they were still painting her art room. She would start to paint and after a couple of hours she’d ask him if it was okay for her to go lie down. When he checked on her later, she was grinning at him from inside of the bathtub with foam all over her face. 

That first time that he discovered her in the tub when she was supposed to go lie down, he couldn’t help but jump right into the tub with her, sat her on his hard cock and let her fuck herself on him. He took her out and laid her down after, ate her out before her body was even dry. 

Their sex life was not boring by all means, but since she’s pregnant she became insatiable. 

Dean would lie if he said that he minded it. 

And if he can’t fuck her with his cock (honestly, she can really wear him out), he fucks her with his fingers (sometimes he thinks that carpal tunnel syndrome is on his horizon), and if his fingers and hands get tired, he eats her out until his jaw cramps up. Like he said, he doesn’t mind. It’s not like they’re going about it like rabbits. They don’t do it every day either but once she starts, it’s hard for her to stop.

So since then, she’s been taking naps and he naps with her. It’s tempting to just stay in bed all day, kissing, cuddling, making love, sleep. And if she wasn’t pregnant and they wouldn’t expect a little baby in roughly five months time, he wouldn’t even care about the house, but Dean needs to get things going if he wants to finish it. 

Sometimes, Sam comes around to help. Jess’s pregnant too. Is even ahead of Y/N by a month. So whenever Sam’s over, Dean would drink a beer with his brother and they exchange their thoughts and worries. Dean’s gotten much better at talking nowadays. 

Bobby showed up once too, and Gabe whenever he’s free and then Gabe would help Dean out. He gets so much done when Gabe’s here. It’s the ease of having worked together for so many years that makes a difference to Gabe and Sam. Also Gabe is no fucking pain in Dean’s ass like Sammy is. 

But most of the time, they’re on their own in their little house with a view to a sky full of stars. It’s never dull around here either. She’d find ways to get on his nerves and he might not even do it on purpose but he apparently can annoy the fuck out of her as well. Dean apparently talks too loud. Or he chews too loud. Or brushes his teeth too loud. Every little thing can be too loud. The hormones are fucking with her senses.

He drinks his coffee, it’s caffeinated. He once tried to sneak in decaf coffee but she just sat there and stared at the mug and started to cry. So he gave up on it, because she limits her intake. She already had one this morning so Dean gulps down his, burning his tongue off, but it’s better for her not to see him drink it. It’s also better for him. 

While he’s standing in the kitchen, he decides to make lunch. Cooks up some pasta with homemade sauce and he’ll chop up some veggies to throw it in with.

Dean’s chopping away at a bell pepper when he feels arms coming around his middle, her face pressing into his spine, right in between his shoulder blades. 

“Mmh,” Y/N mumbles into his back, he feels her voice vibrating along his spine. Her little bump’s pressed into his lower back. “Smells good.”

Dean grins, but doesn’t stop chopping, “Me or the food?”

“Food.” She says and he can feel her chuckle on his back.

“Not me?” 

Her hands brush along his stomach, feathery strokes travel down to the waistband of his sweats, and then she strokes along his clothed cock. Dean holds in his breath. “Baby, I’m chopping something here.”

He abandons the knife though, because he’s not dumb and is not risking chopping his own hand off when she palms him through his pants.

“You always smell good, that’s not fair.” 

It’s Dean's turn to grin. He takes her hand from his cock — that grows hard just from her touching it and it's still the same, he can’t not get hard when he’s around her — and turns around, picks her up and sits her on the kitchen island on the other side of the stove.

She’s pouting, just like he thought she would be. 

He stands between her legs, his hands on her thigh and around the small of her back as he looks up to meet her eyes, cranes his neck to kiss her pout away. 

She wraps her hands around his neck and Dean likes how she plays with the short hair there. 

“What are you cooking?” Y/N asks and nuzzles her nose against his chin.

“I’m making pasta.”

Her hand comes around his face, fingers scratching at his scruff and then she says, “I was thinking—”

“—No,” It came out of Dean a little too fast, can’t help it because he knows what she’s going to say. 

He knows her better than he knows himself, he told her once and it’s still true. He knows that she’s pregnant and has cravings and she really almost never wants to eat the thing he cooks her. Even though she’s okay with it first but then she changes her mind, wants something else and after she takes a couple of bites of said something else, she changes her mind again. It’s driving him fucking crazy is what it is.

The old Dean might have been mad, might tell her to fucking make up her mind but the new Dean is taking everything in with patience and an easiness he never knew he had. The only thing that really annoys the living hell out of  him is that she mostly has cravings for things they don’t have in the house and he would have to go to the store to get it. But that’s on him too, because he doesn’t want her to drive in his car with no real seatbelt. She would then argue that they still have her car which is parked in the garage but they haven’t used it for a while and Dean doesn’t even know if it would still start up because unlike the time when she was gone for the year where Dean would take her car for a spin every other week to make sure it’s still running smoothly, he didn’t have the time nor desire to take her car for a spin since they moved, and however, that’s not really the point anyway. The point being, he doesn’t want her to drive at all, because he’s still scared of what could happen if she gets into another accident.

He bought a new car already, thinks of ditching his Baby every time he has to take his family out and about, opted for a big family van but it’s custom made and it takes another couple of weeks to be delivered.

“Hey, you don’t even know what I wanted to say.”

“Baby, I’m making pasta. I’m not going to the store again for your cravings. I’ve been twice this morning already and one time late last night.” Dean says, and it’s true. Last night she wanted her coconut ice cream and when he brought it back, she realized that her hormones made her not like the taste of coconut anymore and she ended up crying. That was a night ruined and Dean wished he didn’t even go out at all.

The next store is twenty minutes out and if Dean gives in every time she craves something, he will never get anything done around here. 

Y/N swats at his chest, but her lips curve into a playful smile, “‘M not telling that you should go to the store.” She leans forward then, pulls him closer by the back of his neck and he wraps his arms around her.

“Then tell me, I’m listening.”

“What would you say if I tell you to go out for a couple of hours in the evening.” She mumbles into the crook of his neck and that’s when Dean knows that she’s scared that he’ll be mad because she’s not able to look him in the eye.

He frowns a little, “Why do you want me to go out?” She hugs him tighter and that’s when he adds, “Am I crushing you? Do you need space?”

“No, everything’s okay. I just want to do something and I need you out of the house for a couple of hours. Cas will come pick you up.”

Dean frowns some more, “So, you actually already decided for me.”

She comes out of her hiding and is looking at him, a smile so bright it makes his heart leap. “Yes.”

He rolls his eyes, but only for the dramatic effect. “Okay, but don’t do anything stupid, alright?”

“Me? Something stupid?” She gasps with one hand on her chest, “Never!”

Dean begs to differ. There’s one time she drew a bath and forgot about it. They needed to exchange the flooring of the bathroom after. Or that time when she burned the omelettes because she was distracted by her book. Or that time when she came back from the store and placed the milk in the freezer and ice creams in the fridge. The list goes on and on, but Dean rather not list them off, because he couldn’t win the argument. 

She once said that she can’t even take care of herself and while that might not be true while she wasn’t pregnant, he thinks it’s true now. It if wasn’t for him, she would have flooded and burned the house to the ground by now.

“Liar,” He only grins at her, kisses her then before she can say anything else. 

Y/N’s sitting on the couch and strokes Bubbles while Truffles is lying on the floor when Dean comes down from taking a shower, she can hear him walking down the stairs, it creaks awfully loud under his weight. He told her that he wants to work on that too, so the baby wouldn’t wake up all the time when he’s going up and down the stairs.

Bubbles loves its new home, the cat especially loves the space, loves going out and roaming around, and has already made friends with other cats and of course Bubbles doesn’t mind Truffles at all, would sometimes let the dog lick her and the feeling is mutual.

She’s actually glad Dean agreed on getting a dog. She never knew that he would cave because he told her that he’s not really a dog person. Come to think of it, he’s also not really a cat person. He’s not really any kind of person except of her, he said that himself. Now he has to share her with a baby and he’s slowly working up to it. It’s not going to be easy but that little one will also be half his so she guesses that Dean will be able to work on his issue. That issue still being that he’s afraid someone could take her away from him. 

Dean is working on himself, she can see that. Sees it in how he’s much more relaxed and she likes that. Likes how he wakes up with a smile on his face everyday. Likes, how he smiles more in general, how he’s less grumpy. How he doesn’t have to work all night and come home with bloody shirts. 

Nowadays, the only stains on his shirts and pants are from renovating the house or pottery.

Yeah. Pottery.

They are sharing an art room now. He’s doing pottery in one corner of the art room. It’s one of Bobby’s friends, Rufus, who’s also Dean’s friend and a closet psychologist who suggested that Dean tries pottery to help calm him down when the storm inside of him takes over. 

Sometimes, Dean would come in when she’s painting, sits down wordlessly and starts to do pottery. She won’t say a word either. Will sit there and paint until she can see the crease between his eyebrows even out.

He’s so distracting when he does pottery, though. His fingers and arms work on the clay. Sexy is what it is. It gets her hot and bothered every time.

Dean walks into the living room, dressed in casual jeans and a plaid shirt, smelling good and the scent makes her light headed. 

Just when he bends down to kiss her, Cas rings at the gate. That’s right, they have a gate. Dean’s overprotective but she understands, considering who he was when she met him.

He pecks her nose, her forehead, places his hand on her belly and rubs at it. “I think that’s my date.”

“You have fun,” She breathes into the kiss and feels his lips widen into a grin.

“Fun? Without you?” 

She rolls her eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Dean leans lower, kisses her belly through the shirt. “Be good,”

She frowns a little, “The baby or me?”

“Both.” Dean boops her nose and gets up, walks to the door and is out.

*

After Dean has left, she takes a long shower, gets into fresh comfortable clothes and starts to prepare everything she needs. 

It’s going to be a surprise. Dean has always done so much for her. He always makes sure that she has everything she needs, and has devoted his life to keep her happy so that she would stay, so that he could keep her. Even though she told him that there’s really nothing that would drive her away from him anymore. Guess he still doesn’t believe it so he does the only thing he knows he can, twists and bends his life around to make room for her in it. To make room for their family.

She orders pizza, places mats on their terrace, sets up fairy lights. She actually wanted to use candles but Dean hid all of them because he doesn’t trust her to not burn the house down.

Two hours has passed and Dean should be home in a couple of minutes. She has an agreement with Cas to get him home as sober as possible. 

Y/N moves pillows and blankets from the couch out to the little camping site she created. The pizza arrived a couple of minutes ago either, so she takes it out with her. She’s hungry and takes a bite out of a slice, hoping Dean doesn’t mind that she started without him.

Like she thought, Dean walks in after she has finished her first slice, and he calls out for her. The house is dark, the only light source is out here and she hopes he gets it, follows the source out to where she is waiting for him.

“Babe?” He slips out onto the terrace, slides the screen door shut behind him.

His face is lit up by the moonlight and the little fairy lights. She sees him smile, it’s all white and wide. 

“Surprise,” She smiles back at him.

She waits for him to get out of his shoes and join her on the mat beside her. He places his hand on her shoulder, the tips of his thumb circles on the back of her neck as he pulls her in to kiss her temple. “Is that why you wanted me to go out?”

“Duh,” She grins and he kisses the grin away.

They dig into the pizza and she knows that she forgot something, so Dean has to get up and comes back out with napkins and two bottles of water.

After they ate, they lay down, his head on her shoulder, while he rubs at her tummy.

“You see the stars?” 

“Yeah,” She whispers.

“Thank you,”

“No, I have to thank you.” She says, tilts her head, kisses his temple, his scruff tickles her chin. “You’ve done so much for me so at least I can do something too, even if it’s just something small.”

“It’s something big, alright,” Dean cranes his neck, kisses her cheek, leaves his lips here, “You’re doing more for me than you know,” He’s about to say more but there’s something happening in her tummy, something that feels like gas bubbles that are locked in there. Like she’s had too much fizzy drink, only that she had none. She felt it a couple of times already but it’s the first time that he probably feels it too with his palm on her stomach.

Dean swallows.

“Is that?” He props himself up on his elbow, leans over her, and there’s one more bubbly feeling.

She smiles at him, nods her head and his smile spreads on his face, the crinkles around his eyes deepens. Y/N cradles his face with one hand, letting the pad of her thumb travel over the crinkles that she loves so much.

Dean kisses her then, still smiling and chuckling. 

“The baby’s probably excited to see the stars too.” She whispers into the kiss, wonders how long it’ll take for them to feel a real kick, for Dean to feel it.

CH03

[emmakillianfan]

A Christmas Story for You

To @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ for Christmas. While I haven’t had as much time for it as I had hoped, I hope you are having a wonderful Christmas and enjoy this little story that kind of got away from me. Merry Christmas and a very happy new year to you!

Due to illness and post graduate studies I’m a bit rusty on the fanfiction story writing, but I hope you enjoy it. I have loved the opportunity to be your secret santa. As I said from the beginning, I’m a big fan of your writing.

Getting to Know You at Christmas

Emma Swan hated to mingle at these social events her parents held each year as a welcome to the holiday season. Her mother easily socialized with people, remembering names and details of each person’s life in the coastal town of Storybrooke, Maine. Her father was just as gregarious, shaking hands and clapping older gentlemen on the back as the mused over details of long-ago exchanges and funny occurrences that she never quite could understand. She liked people, even had friends. But there was something missing for her from the conversations and laughter that seemed to lift over the swell of Christmas carols and the flashes of lights from the tree and cameras snapping shots of huddled groups of friends, family, and compatriots.

“Your mother is worried about you,” Ruby Lucas-Gale said with a knowing smile as Emma reached for another mini pizza and shoved it in whole. “You don’t look happy.”

Keeping her lips sealed, Emma shot her friend a plastered smile and shrug.

“You could at least move away from the bar. She’s going to think this is a re-do of last year’s party where you went to bed with a bottle of tequila under each arm after telling everyone that you were sleeping until the new year.”

“I should have kept that promise,” Emma groused, giving a slight wave when her mother looked at her pleadingly. “I could have avoided the Christmas Karaoke party at Victor’s, the cookie exchange at your grandmother’s, and let’s not forget the pot luck at Regina and Robin’s where I was shamed for bringing your grandmother’s frozen lasagna as my contribution. Not only had Regina made one, but I didn’t even realize it was still frozen.”

“You brought a pie too,” Ruby reminded her. “I don’t remember anyone noting that was store bought.”

“I ate it in the car working up the nerve to go inside because my mother set me up on a date. Who does that? Blind dates on Christmas?”

“She means well,” Ruby added consolingly, patting her hands down her red dress that seemed to creep up her toned thighs each time she moved. “And Graham was…”

Emma held up one hand in protest. “Don’t defend him. First he was your ex. He was nice but a little or more than a little too intense with his whole getting back to nature and communing with animals thing. My mother has horrible taste in men for me. For a woman who believes in fairy tales and calls my father her prince charming, I don’t think she would survive a day on Tinder.” It had been the long running commentary at the parties that somewhere in the crowd was there to be set up with Emma. Some who did not partake in the dancing or singing along around the piano would try to guess who it was going to be this year. Bets were currently on about a gawky man with a green tie who was currently chatting up Zelena Mills in the corner.

“Just remember she means well.” Linking arms with Emma, Ruby pulled her friend out onto the makeshift dance floor and began to sway her hips to the beat of a modern Christmas tune that Emma knew was by some current pop singer. “So I’m guessing your next date is in here somewhere. Where oh where could he be?”

“You are annoying,” Emma pouted, folding her arms over her chest yet still swaying a bit to the up-tempo beat. “I thought you had money that guy in the green tie.” He was the typical type her mother would love to see her date. She could hear the school teacher turned public servant now telling her how she just knew he was the kind of guy she would love to get to know.

“Possibility,” Ruby said, tapping her bright red lips in mock thoughtfulness. “What about Archie?” He’s been hanging around over in that corner in a conversation with Regina and Robin for a little bit now. Seems to look over here every once in a while.”

“Everyone is looking at you, Ruby,” Emma hissed in exasperation. You are showing more skin that is advisable with the temperature and you’re currently bumping and grinding to Christmas tunes.”

“Maybe he’s setting up some pre-marital counseling for them. Okay…one of the guys from the mines? Leroy?”

“That’s a tad incestuous since they are practically my uncles.” Emma scanned the crowd to see her father and mother in conversation over by the French doors leading out to the patio that had been sprayed with twinkle lights and that included a new audio system he had spent the day fiddling with as her younger brother tried out the microphones in his own rendition of some sort of heavy metal meets classic rock rendition of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. He was just 14 and still at that awkward stage, suffering the embarrassment of parents who doted and friends who loved to point that out to him. Her own son idolized him though. “I’m thinking he’s a no show. My mom is in her plotting mode. Look at the way she’s talking to my dad.”

Sure enough her parents were furtively whispering, her mother holding up a hand to hide her mouth as though nobody would notice. It would be debated for years to come which of the two women noticed him first though. A slender, tall man with piercing blue eyes and sardonic smile seemed to rush up to her parents and hug them in turn. Even though Emma couldn’t make out the words, her father gave the man his double shoulder clap before spinning him about to the crowd and pointing out a few people.

“Maybe him,” Ruby said, lifting onto the balls of her feet even higher than her shoes allowed and balancing herself against Emma. “He’s a hottie.”

“Doubtful,” Emma noted, swinging her gaze across the room to the man in the green tie who was now eating a banana and doing nothing for his resemblance to a simian creature as Ruby had declared. “I don’t have that sort of luck. My mother doesn’t…” She never got to finish the sentence when she noted who had just entered the party and made a line straight toward greeting her parents. Neal…the once love of her life turned affection into weapons and her self confidence into a puddle of what if. She was better now, but the sight of him seemed to jangle her nerves in a way that made her doubt her recovery. They managed to co-parent their son with little trouble, but he wasn’t one she wanted to see socially. The fact he always had a date on his arm just added to her discomfort.

Ruby was one of the few people who understood. Twirling her in the direction of the mystery man who was now noshing on a few of the crisp veggies without bothering to dip them into the various sauces, Ruby leaned in and whispered loudly in Emma’s ear. “Don’t question it. Just go introduce yourself. It’ll be less awkward that way.”

Emma would forever question the logic in that, but for the moment felt her feet begin to move one after the other and in no time she was standing in front of him. His eyes were even more striking up close and she caught a whiff of his cologne that was a spicey scent that she would later blame for her mouth watering and her words feeling like they slid off her tongue without regard to custom or reason.

“Emma,” she said by way of invitation. Her smile was a little forced and her hand held out in mid air a beat too long as he shoved a celery stick in his mouth and raised his own in greeting. “I guess my parents probably told you that.”

“Your parents?” he repeated, the smiled he was giving her lifted higher on the right side of his face as did his right eyebrow. He seemed to be surprised by her, almost as if he was not expecting the conversation. That irritated her a bit.

She gave a wave over her shoulder to where they stood by the fireplace. “Mary Margaret and David. The Nolans. You were just talking to them.”

“Aye, David and my older brother went to school together back in the day. They invited me to…”

She brushed off his explanation. “No, I get it. It’s so them. They don’t think I have any skills in that area at all. Apparently, they have given up on finding someone local.” She shrugged and when he seemed he wasn’t going to answer, she reached across and grabbed a carrot stick. Placing it in her mouth she made a face and immediately removed it. “Rabbit food.”

“You do know how to flatter man, love. I’m not sure I would want to be just one of the multitudes.” His smile was wider as he watched her, his questions about her easy and slick as she tried to explain that her parents were young when she was born and waited nearly two decades before their miracle child was born. He seemed to know nothing about her, which was odd for a set up. Maybe he was just being polite.

“So you’re not from around here,” she asked when he paused to take a drink. Even over the rim of the cup his eyebrows raised again. “I’m the sheriff. I sort of notice things like accents. I do sort of like accents like yours. Different than other guys around here.”

“Boston by way of London,” Killian answered. “And you, love? Always a resident of this seafaring town?”

“Most all my life,” she admitted, leaving out a few pit stops along the way. “Mom probably told you that the best place to take me for a dinner date is Granny’s. She loves it there, plus Granny will spy on us and give her updates every few minutes. I’m more into this Italian place near the docks. Awesome seafood and pasta. And their lasagna isn’t frozen. It’s more date like, I think. You know, checked table clothes, drippy candles, wine, and all that.”

“A classic romantic?” he asked, clearly amused.

“Well, I mean if we have to go out, it makes sense to go someplace like that.” She held out her hand and gestured to his phone. “I’ll give you my number in case mom hasn’t already. A date is a date, but might as well get a good meal out of it.”

“By all means,” he said, handing her the latest device on the market. She noted that he did everything with his right hand, his left staying next to his side and covered in a black glove. She was about to mention it when she heard her father’s voice and laughter.

“You’ve met our Emma,” David said, joining the duo at the table and placing one hand under Emma’s elbow. “Our daughter can be a bit blunt. I hope she hasn’t insulted you or made you change your mind.”

“Dad,” Emma said, swatting him playfully.

“She’s been absolutely brilliant,” Killian answered, shoving his phone in his pocket. “By the way, love, name’s Killian Jones. I don’t believe I properly introduced myself.”

David nodded knowingly. “Killian is here to work with your mother on her bid for the mayor’s office. He’s a wiz when it comes to all things in local politics. Very highly recommended.”

“Work for mom?” Emma asked weakly, trying to ignore the not quite so humble smile that played about Killian’s mouth. “You mean he’s not…”

“Of course, Regina is taking time off to plan her wedding and then get settled into married life. She recommended Killian to run your mom’s campaign since Archie is considering and Mal has already announced. Anyway, it is good you met. Killian’s going to need to talk to you about your role in promoting our family. Maybe you can meet up at Granny’s later this week.” David glanced around the room and gripped his daughter’s arm harder. “I wanted to introduce you to someone I met when I was buying supplies for the farm. His name is Walsh.”

Emma stammered a bit, her face turning pink as Killian continued to hold that smile that showed both bemusement and cockiness. “Walsh…”

“Go ahead, love,” Killian said. “We’ll finish our conversation at this Granny’s or perhaps you might like the atmosphere.”

Emma was sure that her face was bright red as his eyebrows lifted up and down in a way that made her wonder just what lascivious thoughts were rolling around in that head of his. She felt those blue eyes on her as her father made another excuse and led her over to the man in the green tie who was smiling nervously at her and oblivious to her discomfort and not so secret looks over at Killian Jones.

She nodded appropriately and even asked a few questions about Walsh and his furniture design business. Her own rental was outfitted with castoffs and hand me downs that had seemed comfortable and worn at the time. He was telling her why it was important to have pieces that spoke of her uniqueness and character. At least that was what she heard on the occasions she bothered to listen and didn’t internalize the flinches and groans as her parents introduced Killian Jones to every person in the room. She wasn’t pleased to see most of the single women giggling and flashing him flirtatious smiles that he easily returned. There was no need to be jealous, but still the emotion was creeping up her spine as she watched him actually kiss Ruby’s hand like something out of a novel.

“I could show you sometime,” Walsh interrupted. She jumped at being caught unaware and repeated the words back to him in hopes of making some sense of the situation. “My shop. I have some really beautiful pieces I think you would like.”

“Well, if I am ever in the market,” she said, realizing that he was holding out a business card with his personal number written on the back. “Have you met August and his father Marco. They do some of the most beautiful woodwork you have ever seen. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

“We were right about the monkey guy,” Ruby said defeatedly, kicking off her shoes and reclining on the bed in Emma’s childhood bedroom. The room didn’t quite do justice to the angsty teen she had been, but still boasted teen idol posters of boy bands and even the dollhouse brought by Santa one year. “But that other guy was cute and quite the charmer. Even I was about to hit on him. I had such high hopes for your mother.”

Emma flinched as she unclipped her hair and left it to fall around her shoulders in soft waves. “Yeah, so he’s not my set up of the year. Yet I asked him out, sort of. I don’t know. I made a fool out of myself.”

“He didn’t seem too offended,” Ruby suggested. “I mean I was distracted once Dorothy agreed to dance but every time I looked in his direction he was looking in yours. And I might add that was pretty often.”

“Right, he was probably trying to figure out what was wrong with me.” Emma was about to bemoan her embarrassed state a little more when her phone dinged out one and then another text message. She reached over to grab it and groaned with the realization. It was Killian. Ruby immediately wanted to know what he had to say and proceeded to inspect the picture he sent just in case Emma was confused if he was the guy in the green tie or not.

“Emma, you might have had a rough start, but he’s hot. And he’s clearly interested. Why else would he text?” Passing the phone back, she shrugged. “And let’s face it, you and commitment aren’t that strong of allies. He’s from out of town. Mary Margaret said he travels all over to do these little campaigns. I’m seeing excellent fling material.”

The text was taunting her, a coy comment about Italian restaurants and then a reminder of who he was with the picture. “I should answer him. I mean it would be rude not to answer, right?”

“Your mother would say not to be rude to anyone, but I’m telling you there is no reason to be rude to that guy.” Ruby reached over and grabbed a 10 year old magazine from the table, clearly bored with the conversation. “But I mean it is up to you. Text him. Don’t text him. Your choice.” Ruby flipped the pages casually, bringing up what dresses Regina was going to want them to wear at her wedding. She insisted that red wouldn’t be that garish at a Christmas event. It wasn’t until Emma refused to correct her that Ruby even looked over cautiously. “You haven’t texted him?”

“I was thinking about it.”

“You like him, don’t you?” Ruby propped herself onto one elbow. “It’s written all over your face.”

Emma shoved the phone back in her bag and let her head loll against the mattress as she sat cross legged on the floor. She rarely was in this room now, but somehow it felt comfortable and almost nostalgic to discuss dating and boys with her friend just down the hall from her parents. At least she wasn’t practicing writing his name with hers or anything like that. “I don’t get crushes.”

“You’re much too tough for that.”

Emma wasn’t exactly wrong about her aversion to crushes. She was in her twenties and already sheriff of the small coastal town. She wore practical boots or sneakers more than heels and her long hair had not seen princess curls in months. This event at her parents was the first time she’d worn a dress except to church. “If I did, and I’m not saying I do, what difference does it make. I’m a grown woman, mother of a 10 year old, and I have a career. I’m hardly going to make cootie catchers and see if his name comes up after saying some horrible rhyme.”

Ruby nodded thoughtfully and went back to the magazine. “Not to mention horribly ugly and boring. I don’t know how I put up with you.”

“You are going to pay for that one, Ruby,” Emma laughed, tossing a pillow and joining in as Ruby cackled with laughter. They were both laughing so hard that Emma barely heard the familiar chirp of her phone ringing. Holding up a hand to silence her friend, she shushed her and reached for it. She only hoped she sounded less winded than she felt as she said her own name and waited for the response.

“I hope I didn’t call to late,” a male English accent sounded on the other end. Even without seeing him in person, she could already picture that bemused smirk and light in his eyes. “I meant to check back with you, love, but time got away from me and then you were gone.”

“Oh um…good…I mean great…I mean you didn’t call too late,” Emma gestured wildly at her friend who was making choking signs in response to her word vomit. “But why did you call?”

“Well, love, you did give me your number,” he reminded her. “I tried texting, but didn’t get a response. I thought perhaps you were screening, but I had to give it a shot. I was hoping you might have a bit of time for me tomorrow – breakfast perhaps? I know you said you preferred that little Italian place, but I have never known such an establishment to be open very early. Perhaps that Granny’s, you spoke of? We could save the Italian place for our dinner date. I have been craving some ravioli lately.”

“Date?” Emma stammered, ignoring the way that Ruby looked ready to pounce. “I…”

“You did sort of ask me out and I must say it was a masterful way to do so. I would love to accompany you for dinner, Emma. But first we have a bit of business to discuss about your mother’s campaign. Breakfast then? 8 a.m.? Granny’s?”

“I’ll be there,” she answered dully as he spoke politely for a moment about thanking her for her time.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

Emma’s father had not gotten the memo that she was going out for breakfast, as he was flipping pancakes onto a large plate as she descended the stairs, handed her son his permission slip for the field trip, and dodged the family’s collie that seemed to be underfoot. Her mother showed no signs of worry as she sipped her morning coffee and reminded Emma to wear a scarf and hat as she consoled her husband that there were not too many pancakes and Emma wouldn’t have eaten them all anyway.

She pulled her yellow bug up in front of the diner, taking the last of the spots at 8:05 a.m. That was early for her and not a big worry that she was late for meeting with Killian. That was until she walked in, kicked a bit of the snow off her boots (the black ones with a heel that were in her old closet and could not be described as practical – don’t judge), and spied Killian at one of the booths talking to Tink. The bubbly blonde was petite and perfect, a face and voice like a cherub in a painting. Every year she had the solo at the church choir’s Christmas Eve performance and every year people wiped away tears at her beautiful rendition. She didn’t look very angelic as she perched on the edge of her seat and leaned forward to talk animatedly with Killian. Her smile flashing at him and even an occasional stroke of his arm with her hand to emphasize a point. Even in the 90 seconds she had been standing there kicking her boots and unwinding the mile long scarf from her mother, she had watched the waitress stop by and lean across the table to give Killian quite the view down her shirt.

Ruby must have noticed too, as she left her spot behind the counter and fluffed Emma’s hair with an encouraging nod and a teasing note that Emma was wearing lip gloss. Spinning her with one hand on her shoulder, Ruby sort of nudged her in the direction of the booth with a hissed reminder to smile.

“Killian,” Emma said, ignoring the pout from Tink, whose real name was Isabella but didn’t want to be confused with the town librarian, Belle, “sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, love,” he said, scooting out to stand as she arrived. “I was going over a few notes for the kick off and Tink here was catching me up on some of the ideocracies that make small town politics so fun.”

Emma flashed a quick smile at her childhood friend, watching her slink out of the booth and tell Killian she was in the town directory if he wanted to call. He did not follow her with his eyes as she sashayed toward the door, nor did he smirk like Emma wanted to do when Ruby called after Tink to tell her that she still owed for her morning tea. It wasn’t that she disliked Tink, but there was that feeling that made her feel ill when she saw her flirting with Killian.

He gestured for her to sit down a simple glance toward the counter sent the waitress scrambling to bring them menus and take their orders. Or maybe it was just his order, as he had to call her back to get Emma’s. Despite his seemingly healthy eating style the night before, he matched her order of a hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon. Granny had even fancied it up with chocolate shavings.

His questions were easy at first, wanting to know about her childhood and then her job. While a few were personal, he did not seem to be prying. She even managed to ask him a few and he offered some answers of his own without objecting too loudly and then quickly getting them back on track. She learned of his naval experience that paid for his education and how he had become involved in the campaigns and politics of small cities and his love of the ocean and aged rum.

“So is your position as sheriff an elected one?” he asked, casually resting back in the vinyl seat across from her.

She was taking two sips to his one when she noticed the way he smiled as he watched her. Instinctively she raised her hand up to swipe at the whipped cream that might have gathered on her nose but found none. “What?” she asked in exasperation. “Did I make a mess?”

“No, I am simply enjoying watching you share your experiences as sheriff. Your passion for it shines on your face, love.”

She knew she was probably blushing and rolled her fork through the home fries as a distraction.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

For the next few days they saw each other often. There was the announcement of her mother’s candidacy where she helped place signage. She ran into him when she went to inspect a license of one of the vendors at the skating rink and ended up sharing a drink and conversation. While pondering which type of creamer to buy, he popped up out of no where and offered a suggestion. He was even there when the church choir had a rehearsal, claiming he was talking to some potential volunteers. He did apologize for that when the choir director called Emma out for missing two of her cues in a row because she was watching him, in the words of Regina, make doe eyes at her and silently flirt.

In the mean time, her mother had been talking up Walsh’s skills in design and potential as a date for Emma. There was now a gaping hole in the living room at the farm house where her mother was having him design a custom entertainment center. Her brother was already complaining that the television on the floor was not the greatest idea. Emma tried to explain Walsh wasn’t her type, but her mother wasn’t hearing it and was asking when she was seeing him again. Given that she had not saved his number and had mutually agreed with him that they weren’t really each other’s type it seemed unlikely. However, Mary Margaret was so cutely sure she had done well this year that Emma hadn’t the heart to tell her.

One morning over doughnuts at the station her mother read the speech Killian had written for her campaign and asked her daughter for feedback. Emma offered a few remarks as the woman adjusted the clutter on her father’s desk.

“I think he’s handsome,” her mother said at one point. “Kinda has that mysterious look to him.”

“Who?” Emma asked distractedly. “Dad?”

It was the pronoun game.

“No, I was talking about…” The phone ringing cut off what Emma was sure was a pep talk about Walsh. The conversation was left unfinished as Emma went to investigate the case of the missing trash can lids. Spoiler: some of the kids were using them for sledding.

It was a full two days later before she saw Killian again. Granted he had texted a few times and called her “by accident” when he claimed he had meant to call her mother to discuss strategy. He was humming a tune and scrolling through his tablet when she and her son, Henry, spotted him inside the library. Apparently, he had set up shop in the corner and had everything but a receptionist there to greet visitors. Her son, who had heard his name a few times from his grandparents, pointed him out in a totally obvious way that made Emma want to crawl under the table. Somehow she managed to take a few steps closer and do more than the wave she originally planned.

“Nice office,” she said of the table he had commandeered. “Quiet I guess.”

“It has it’s perks,” he offered. “I was heading over to talk to your father. He said he would be at the station this afternoon. I take it you are not?”

“Short break to get my son home before I go back to face the files on my desk.” She knew her son was already done checking out his three books and would be joining them any second. She only hoped he would not blurt out an inappropriate question. She was about to send up a silent prayer when she noted that the glove Killian normally wore on his left hand was off and a synthetic material prosthetic was in its place. Before she could say anything, he looked down at the hand as though surprised by it and shrugged.

“Naval accident, an accident.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize,” she said not sure what else to say about it. It was clearly an old injury and hardly one she had a blame in causing.

“Tis an old pain,” he told her. “Most days I don’t really think of it.”

She nodded, glancing at her son who was still in conversation with Belle. “Does that mean you are getting more comfortable with me?” She instantly regretted saying that, as it came off a little weak.

“You do seem to put me at ease, love.” He winked at her and leaned a little to the left as her son ran up beside her. “You, lad, must be Henry. Your grandparents tell me you are quite the author.”

Henry nodded enthusiastically and continued the conversation for a few more beats, nearly forgetting his mother was there. Even a comment from another patron, Will, that Killian was clearly trying to get to the mother through the son, went unnoticed by all but Emma who stood taller and tried to let it slide. Killian was quite the conversationalist, observantly noting that Henry was holding a book on piracy along the New England states. That really got them going until Emma reminded Henry that she needed to drop him off at home to meet the tutor and get back to work.

That was how she ended up with Killian sitting in her living room and then the two of them walking side by side back to the station to interview her father. He opened doors for her, asked her less probing questions, and complimented the way she handled one of the boys known for getting into trouble with a stern look and warning. She was starting to feel natural about it all when he stopped short at the wreath decorated double doors and scratched behind his ear.

“I was wondering, love,” he said, shifting his eyes to the door and back to her again. “Rather I was hoping you might…well, bloody hell, I was hoping to ask you on that date. I gather you weren’t aware of who I was or why I was here when you sort of asked me.”

“I thought you were the guy my parents set me up with this year. It wasn’t my finest moment.”

He smiled nervously, his lips tight and his eyes again darting to the doors. She realized he was looking to see if her father was lurking. “It was rather adorable actually and I was thinking…”

She closed her eyes as he searched for the words, something she was sure he rarely did in his life. He always seemed to know the perfect thing to say and the perfect way to say it. “Killian, you don’t have to…”

“And if I want to?”

“Then maybe we could meet up tomorrow evening? Or wait no…tomorrow is the winter carnival for the kids at the orphanage and I am hosting the movie portion. Maybe Thursday…no Henry’s got his soccer game. I would say Friday but I’ve got choir practice and Saturday is mom’s campaign rally.” She truly looked sorry about her schedule as she shifted from one foot to the other.

“Busy lass,” he muttered. “I suppose we’ll have to consider another time. Or by chance are you free this evening?”

Biting down on her lip, she closed her eyes briefly. “I want to say yes, but my father is in there and I’d rather not mention this to him. And given that my son is likely to either eat potato chips and chocolate milk for dinner, stay up past bedtime for video games or inappropriate movies, or worst yet burn the place down in an attempt to see what he can melt in the oven, I’m thinking I need a back up babysitting plan that doesn’t include my parents.”

“Rather not hear the I told you so? Or are you hoping to keep me your little secret?”

“My parents are a little on the enthusiastic side when it comes to my love life.” She tilted her head back for a moment and then made eye contact again. “I have a plan, but you have to swear to me that we won’t be going to Granny’s or any place else they would be spotted.”

He assured her that paper napkins weren’t on the menu. “I have no issue with being circumspect, love. Trust me, I can plan an evening for us.”

If she didn’t trust him, she didn’t show it as he ushered her inside and greeted David. His cheeks were a little red from the cold and she knew hers were too. However, David never seemed to notice their conversation outside. She saw him pulling out his notes when she spoke up and asked David if Henry could perhaps have dinner with them. She managed to ask nonchalantly, simply a scheduling glitch.

“Any particular reason,” David asked, barely hiding his smile.

“I’m going out,” she answered vaguely, crossing her denim clad legs and pulling a stack of files into her lap. “Did you see Leroy’s file? I need to check about his court date.”

“Haven’t seen it. Anyone I know?” He was trying to watch her in the reflection of his computer screen, sneaking a few knowing looks at Killian who was flipping casually through his notebook.

“Oh you know,” she said, pausing to look at a document, “that guy from your party.” She didn’t want to lie to her dad, but she could tell he was not going to let up. It was one thing to have her father believe it was Walsh but another to flat out tell him that.

Killian seemed to understand, interrupting the awkwardness with a cheeky smile. “Since Emma appears to be on a deadline and you’ll be entertaining the lad this evening, it sounds like we need to get through these questions to prepare your wife’s talking points. Let’s start with the most obvious. You have a role that is second in command here at the station and in the community. How does that work with you effectively reporting to your own daughter?”

Emma let out a little sigh and as her father droned on about how proud he was of her, she shot Killian a grateful look. Her father seemed to take pride in both his work and how well she did her job, showing him pictures of celebrations after tough cases were solved and the commendations she had gotten from the governor. Most grown children worry that they aren’t successful enough or are somehow a disappointment to their parents. Emma didn’t have that worry when David Nolan talked about her.

He was still talking about how well Emma had worked with Regina who was stepping down to concentrate on her new life when Emma slipped out to change. Neither he nor Killian seemed to notice that she almost spoke up twice to tell Killian that maybe tonight wasn’t the best timing. Then she reminded herself of Ruby’s advice. He was a nice and more than good looking man. He didn’t even live here. So what if she went out with him. It was just fun.

She repeated that to herself as she went to her car to head home and change. That is until the realization hit that she didn’t really have anything to wear. A trip to one clothing store in town would rouse suspicion and the tailor was a friend of her mother’s. There was only one place to go.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

“No leather, no spiked heels, no red, no plunging necklines, and I would preferably like to sit down without flashing everyone in town,” Emma said as Ruby dove into the bowels of her closet up above Granny’s. The woman had squealed, hugged Emma, and asked if certain parts had been shaved or waxed. Emma assured her that was not an issue and that she just needed something that didn’t have the capacity for her shoulder or hip holster. Ruby had of course said she had just the thing.

With no sign of her wardrobe addition, Emma looked at her phone and two unread texts.

Killian: Your father is in search of your old scouting badges. I feel like we should have code words. Perhaps not. Meet me at the docks at 7?

She answered quickly, not wanting Ruby to interfere with the response that would probably be inappropriate. A quick see you then and an internally debated smiley emoji would have to suffice. The next message was from her mother.

Mom: David says you have a date. Very exciting. When you come by to pick Henry up, I want to hear all about it. I’ll wait up.

Her mother was going to be an issue. She loved the eternal optimist that was her mother, a woman who had more than her fair share of darkness, including losing two parents early in life, but rose above it to see the good in people. Wasn’t that what Emma was doing. She was seeing the good in Killian despite the voices inside that said this was a bad idea. Well, she could rationalize it that way. Her mother truly wanted a happily ever after for her daughter, something even  Emma couldn’t disagree with in scheme of things. The fact that her mother even believed in such things was pretty amazing.

Ruby emerged with a black dress that looked more like a set of random strips all stitched together. Beneath it was a red dress that flared out and looked more appropriate for dancing. And beneath that was a soft mauve frock with a full skirt and wrapped bodice. She knew that was the one she wanted to wear, but knowing Ruby she had to at least try the others. Half an hour later she was wearing the lighter colored dress, matching nude heels, and her hair was what her friend called casually curled.

She was standing with her arms crossed for warmth at the docks at 7:01 when Killian emerged from one of the sailboats with a single red rose in his hands. “Apparently,” he said, steadily walking the gang plank despite the swell of the waves that had her not quite sure if she was standing still or not, “it is nearly impossible to procure just a rose this time of year. You almost ended up with a pot of poinsettias.”

“It’s beautiful,” she remarked. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble.”

He assured her that it was no trouble and that she was beautiful herself. Below deck he had a small table set with real dishes and flatware, a bottle of wine and containers of pastas and sauces from the Italian restaurant she had mentioned. The only thing, he mused, was that he could not do the candles since such items were not really safe on a boat.

“Confession time,” he said, clinking his glass with hers. “I borrowed the boat. I don’t have one here in Storybrooke.”

“I knew that,” she admitted. “It’s my uncle Leroy’s boat.”

“Short man, scruffy looking, kind of grumpy?”

“Always grumpy, yes. It’s nice of you though. Not too many prying eyes.”

He took a sip and pondered that for a moment. “I take it that you would prefer to keep things clandestine just in case. I am also guessing that you gave the information to your friend Ruby just in case I turn out to be a murderer.”

“I can take care of myself.” She squared her shoulders off.

“Aye, I believe you can, love.”

The rest of the meal passed with pleasant conversation and only a few awkward pauses that were usually filled before it got to be too much. Killian had even brought along a set of speakers to stream music allowing them to dance. It was a tough that even Emma thought was sweet as his arms were around her in a way that she admitted fit. She wasn’t sure how much life was left in his phone or when the clouds that had been building all day would open up with snow, but time seemed to stand still as they swayed. Her eyes closed and her head resting against his right shoulder. He lifted their entwined hands and softly kissed hers. She was glad her eyes were closed and her head nestled against his chest.

She could feel his breathing change and his hold feeling tense. Her name came out as a whisper from him. She lifted her head and found his eyes searching hers. “Emma? I would very much like to kiss you.”

“I’m not sure you can handle that,” she teased in just as soft of a voice. Yet she closed the space between them and let him close the rest. Their lips touching softly at first and then with more passion. Her hands gripped at his shirt, pulling him toward her and his hand hovered at her hair before threading through it with a sort of awe she had never experienced.

They might have stayed like that for a while had the siren of her dad’s cruiser not shattered the cold and quiet night. Maybe they should have stayed below deck, ignored her father’s presence on the docks. However, that plan faded as his footsteps grew closer and she knew, just knew that someone had spotted them on Leroy’s boat and reported it. Resigned to the fate that her father was about to find out who her date was with and probably have an opinion about it, she took a step back and turned to climb up into the cold. While he said nothing, Killian placed his own jacket, a worn leather one, over her shoulders. It was a gentlemanly gesture and one that shouldn’t surprise her.

“Dad?” she asked, holding one hand over her eyes to shield it from the giant flakes falling silently from the sky. “Did something…”

Her father looked startled and even a little embarrassed to see her there. His breathing was normalizing when Killian emerged too, which sent his eyes wide and his gasp of surprise sharpening. “I didn’t realize…”

“Everything okay, mate?” Killian asked. His dark colored shirt and black vest offered little warmth against the plummeting temperatures. However, he did not indicate it by shivering or otherwise complaining.

“Sure…I mean I was just answering a call about someone attempting to break in cars when I saw Emma’s bug. Someone said they thought they saw the suspect run this way and…”

Emma gave her father a nod, taking a deep breath to switch back into her role as sheriff. “Any description?”

Her father’s eyes drifted to where Killian’s hand was covering hers and giving it a slight squeeze of reassurance. They narrowed and his voice faltered as he answered, “light colored hair, red sweatshirt, about 5’9”, thin.”

“Sounds like a juvenile,” Emma assessed. “I’m assuming we don’t have any camera visuals. Last time we investigated over here the cameras were malfunctioning and I haven’t noticed…”

“Emma,” her father said, his boots shuffling a little on the worn planks of the dock that were beginning to be covered in snow. “You don’t have to…I mean…You’re on a date…I guess you are.”

“Well, yeah,” she said, glancing at Killian who seemed to be enjoying the moment. Suddenly she felt the urge to clear up the misconceptions she had caused. “I didn’t mean to…” She cleared her throat. “I know you probably thought I meant I was seeing that Walsh guy.”

“Your mother’s buying an entertainment center from him,” David answered with confusion. “It’s not my business who…but where is Walsh?” He did manage to lower the flashlight and seem less ominous there on the docks, but still had his hand on his hip and was rocking backwards as he waited for explanations.

“I’m not really sure. I haven’t exactly seen him since the party.” Emma glanced at Killian who was standing closer to her than she realized. That wasn’t exactly unpleasant as a prospect. “Killian and I…”

“You and Killian,” he father parroted with the confusion that it hadn’t dawned on him. “You and Killian what?”

Killian gave her hand another squeeze and took a step forward as though offering himself as tribute. “Aye, mate. I do fancy your daughter and she and I have been spending time together.”

Blinking back at them, David appeared to running through the occasions he had seen them together and attempting to digest this information. “So the conversation about intentions toward Emma should be delivered to you and not Walsh?” It was too dark to know for sure, but Emma thought he looked a little disappointed.

She reminded him that there was a potential thief on the loose and he assured her he had it under control and to go back to her date. Killian just sort of shrugged and offered his analysis that it wasn’t that much of a secret after all. They talked a bit longer, took a slow walk toward her car, and both hopped in with him saying he would walk to Granny’s after she was safely at her parents with her son.

“That’s ridiculous,” she said, speeding up the wipers against the snow. “I can drop you off. No need for you to freeze.”

He looked toward her in the dark car and gave her a soft smile. “Your father is bound to have told your mother about our date, love. I know you had hoped to keep it secret. I only wanted to offer my services should you want them to fend off her disappointment and concern.” He jumped when she placed her hand over his prosthetic.

“I didn’t mean for it to be a secret. I guess I just don’t want to disappoint them with another failed attempt at matchmaking. My mother has to be ready to give up by now.”

“Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully, “she might have to give up anyway. If we were to date, surely she would not attempt to replace me each year.” Her hand jerked away fast, something he noticed. “I hoped you might want…”

She sighed, turning her car off the coastal road to the one that led toward town. “Killian, I am the one who originally asked you out. Even if that was a misunderstanding. I had fun. I enjoy spending time with you. But…”

“But?”

“But we live in two different cities. The special election is going to be over next month. What kind of relationship can we have when you’ll be off on your next job and I’ll still be here? I’m not 18 and free to wander around after you. I have a job, parents, a son, and responsibilities.”

“We could…”

“Killian, I like you. I like spending time with you, but I’m not interested in starting a go no where or long distance relationship. I want more than a pen pal. Think about it. You do too.” The driveway of the farmhouse was coming into sight and then disappeared as she passed it. “I’ll take you back to Granny’s. No sense in talking to my mother about this. We’ll just say it was a one time thing.”

“As you wish.” His voice was quiet, deep, and almost wistful.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

As the holidays grew nearer, Emma’s parents and Killian went into campaign overdrive. There were photoshoots of the whole family on the farm. Her mother even managed to sneak in a few candid shots of Emma and Killian. Speaking of Mary Margaret, she was only mildly disappointed at Emma’s secret that she was not seeing Walsh. That was quickly erased as she said she had considered setting her daughter up with Killian, but was quickly dissuaded when her internal voice said her daughter would object. Nobody corrected her on it.

For his part, Killian worked hard and would try to sneak in time with Emma. They shared a few lunches, walked around the farm discussing a few strategies, and shopped together for a present for her parents. He sat with them on Christmas Eve when Emma performed with the choir for mass, looking just as in awe and proud as her parents did. He even joined them for the evening meal on Christmas, leaving behind a gift for Emma rather than making a big deal of her opening it in front of everyone.

As the wreathes were removed and the snow seemed not as white, the election day finally drew close and Killian was even more of a fixture. He was constantly showing up with a new tactic and shoving his client in front of cameras to announce a proposed initiative. Everything from illiteracy to hunger would be addressed by Mary Margaret Nolan for mayor. When election day arrived, more than 60% of the voters chose her and he beamed proudly from the sidelines. Most people noticed the hug shared between Emma and Killian, but it seemed to be just part of the celebration. It went so long into the night that nobody really saw the two of them saying goodbye the next morning.

“I wish it was different,” she admitted, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Perhaps someday, love. After all, nothing stays the same.”

She watched as the Uber driver loaded his bags and Killian reluctantly slid into the backseat. Their eyes were locked and the unsaid words hung in the air. She wasn’t sure she even breathed again until she was pulling up in front of her parents’ house. Her father was flipping pancakes, but her mother was at the doorway even as she dragged up the steps of the front porch.

“I like him,” her mother said. “He’s a good man.”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed, accepting the hug and hurrying in before the next gust of wind. “I just…I don’t want this every time we see each other. I don’t want to miss him and have the constant feel like a clock is counting down the hours.”

“I know, Emma. And that is very practical, but if you…”

Emma didn’t wait for her mom to finish the statement before greeting her father and asking about setting the table. It wouldn’t be the last time that her mother brought him up. She would over the next few months, mentioning seeing him at some event or another. Emma never asked, but her mother would always update her on his well being. It wasn’t that Emma didn’t know. He still called. He texted. When he was in the area he would invite her to dinner or to an event. She occasionally went but always told herself it was just casual. He never tried to kiss her again and she never sat herself too close to him, despite Ruby’s advice to do so.

A book he had mentioned to her once said of the protagonist and her lover turned best friend, “they would continue to call and write until eventually they were just acquaintances and no longer a real part of each other’s lives.” That’s what Emma resigned herself to when he didn’t answer her text or voicemail inviting him to her parents’ annual party. He’d been pretty scarce for the past few weeks. Their conversations short and usually interrupted by something or someone. She once even heard a female voice in the background and wondered if he was seeing someone. That idea hurt more than she wanted to admit.

She wore red to her parents’ party, her hair hanging loose and the smile on her face tense and unyielding. She was sipping on champagne and watching as Regina and Robin twirled around the room still in bliss nearly a year after their wedding. Walsh was there too, dancing with Zelena and inking a new design deal with Marco. Neal had brought Tink as his date, which made Emma roll her eyes. And her parents were at their prime greeting and hugging all of those in attendance.

“Emma,” her mother called out when a few more guests were greeted. “Come here. I want you to say hello to someone.”

Ruby gave her a sympathetic look as Emma begrudgingly dragged her feet over to where her parents were standing. And there he stood, Killian in a freshly pressed suit with a wide smile on his face as she approached. Her mother was giddy as she mockingly introduced them. “Emma, you remember my old campaign manager, Killian, right? Well, he was in town getting settled because his new job at the governor’s office starts next month. I was thinking that he might be just the kind of guy you’d like to get to know.”