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lavishedinjimin · 5 years ago

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Room 109 -> jjk (m)

↳ Pairing: jungkook x reader ↳ genre: werewolf!au ↳ word count: 6.7k ↳ warnings: alpha!jungkook, omega!reader, omega is in heat, mating, knotting, dirty talk, female solo masturbation, unprotected sex (stay safe!), jk is proud of his size lol, multiple orgasms, pregnancy kink — synopsis: Having Jungkook as your apartment buddy was a lot to get used to. But with one early day, your heat comes up much stronger than usual, and you were desperate for an alpha’s touch.

A/N: I hope this oneshot can heal all of your thirsty, sexually frustrated souls. Also, this is my first time writing about a/b/o fics so please go easy on me. Please enjoy!

Let’s face it, your college entrance exams were hard enough but finding a decent apartment that was close to your university and wasn’t gender-neutral was harder.

Almost all of the closest residencies were full and booked of students that were about to experience a new chapter of their life. College. You get stressed very easily, and the fact that there are almost no more apartments that accepts only girls freaks you out. You are not going to share a goddamn room with a boy. Hell no.

“Mom…” you mewl as you cradled closer to your mother’s side with your laptop in front of you, “They’re all full.” You whimpered when the words ‘Sorry! We are fully booked right now! Try searching for other apartments that attain your satisfaction.’

“No baby,” she hushes you sweetly, wrapping an arm around your small body while caressing your arm. “Don’t give up just yet.”

Trust me, you were close to giving up.

It wasn’t about the point that you hate boys – you don’t. You just don’t trust them. It’s hard to earn your trust, and your parents raised you like that. Your pack had a history of betrayal and treachery from other wolves, and was once a powerful pack was now fragile and weak. Most of your friends were Omegas like you, but they have Alphas to look after them.

The only Alpha friend… well – he’s not necessarily a friend was a guy from your high school, Hyejun.

He once was a part of the pack but with the influence of his father, they left, leaving everyone in a state of confusion. Packs were always there for each other, it was their sole promise. They were the first ones to leave the group. It was surprising that your father didn’t go to try and kill them instantly. Strangely enough, Hyejun never stopped looking after you. Whenever an Alpha tries to make a move on you, Hyejun would somehow pop in and protect you. That was in high school, though. And now you were in college and you had no idea where he is now.

Just the thought of sharing a whole residence with an Alpha creates creepy tingles down your spine.

It was now a week before school starts and you still have no place to live. Without further thinking, you huffed and opened your laptop.

‘Gender neutral apartments near me’

Your eyes widened when you opened a website that was full of apartments that were still available. “Mom,” you called out, and within no more than five seconds she was right behind you, bending down as she rests her hands on the couch.

“Oh, darling! You’ve finally found a – oh.”

“Mom, I know, it’s the only ones that aren’t fully booked.” You spoke desperately.

“Y/n, daughter,” she sighs and walks around to sit on the space beside you. “If there’s no more choice then I guess we have to take the chances.”

“T-Take the chances of what?”

You mother smiles at you, “You know what. It’s better than to live so far away from your school, yeah?”

You look down, “I guess so…”

“Hey, liven up, baby,” she giggles, “Let’s not worry too much. There’s still a chance that you’ll have a nice young lady as your roommate.”

You pursed your lips, nodding. There was no time to hold up a grudge, you need to do what you had to do.

“Y/l/n Y/n.” You told the clerk behind the glass countertop, gripping your backpack and your suitcase tightly. She nods and starts typing on her computer whilst readjusting the black-rimmed glasses on the bridge of her nose.

“Room 109. Shared with Mr. Jeon Jungkook, am I right?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, slumping your shoulders.

“Great! Here are your keys,” she hands you two keys, “and please let Mrs. Han over here take you to your room.” A middle-aged woman appears in your vision, wearing a clean blazer uniform. ‘A beta’, you spoke to yourself, smelling her scent.

“Follow me, miss Y/l/n.”

She leads you to an elevator and presses the fourth floor. It was a very awkward silence, and you didn’t know what to do but to just stay put in a corner. You know she can smell you. And you wished that she was just another human, just like the woman behind the counter.

She suddenly grabs a hold of your suitcase before you could even touch it, and it made you surprised. She smiles politely, “Let me help you.”

Following right behind her, you both walk along clean white hallways. The floor was glossy black tiles, and the sounds of her heels clicking was the only noise that you could hear – except for the harsh beating of your heart. You were so nervous to meet this Jungkook man, and there were so many questions running through your mind.

‘Was he a normal human? Was he a werewolf too? Is he perhaps an Alpha? Beta? Oh, please, be an Omega. Is he nice? Or would he be loud? I wish he doesn’t smoke – I swear to God if he smokes I’m going to leave this place in a flash.’

“Excuse me miss, we’re here.”

Mrs. Han’s voice departed you from your thoughts and you immediately straightened yourself up. “Oh, s-sorry,” you smile pathetically, readjusting your straps.

The woman just grins and lends you your suitcase back. “Well, I’ll be leaving you here. Please, if you have any questions, you are free to go down the lobby. Other information is stated on the documents we gave you. Have a nice day –”

“Do you know who Jeon Jungkook is?”

Your eyes were wide as you spoke, frantically wanting an answer. Mrs. Han knows what you mean, and she sighs.

“Jeon Jungkook, sweetie, is an Alpha.”

Oh, of course he is.

You were about to throw another tantrum, hell – you wanted to throw up, but she quickly places her hands on your shoulders reassuringly. “Y/n, I just want you to keep safe. He can be a little too much sometimes, but try to make an alliance with him. Don’t get into his bad side, okay?”

You shake your head vigorously, “I won’t.”

“Good, now go in there. We don’t have all day.” She leaves you with a final smile and turns away, heels clicking.

You shut your eyes, throwing your head back. ‘This is my worst nightmare’.

With sweaty hands, you use the keys on the lock and turned the doorknob. You pushed the door slightly, peeking to see if anyone’s inside. You opened the door halfway, and you sigh in relief when you saw no one. “Thank God.”

You pulled your large pink suitcase in and shut the door behind you. Ahead of you were a kitchen and a living room – a decent size for two people. The walls were painted in beige with white trims. ‘I could get used to this’, you thought.

You take a look around, noticing that there were things already placed on some shelves. You cringed when you saw how disorganized the cupboards were. Empty jars of Nutella and peanut butter, expired milk, and many more. Great job, Jungkook.

Speaking of Jungkook – your eyes expand when you see a man who just walked out from a bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his lower body.

You shrieked as you covered your eyes, instantly turning around. You mentally cursed yourself that you know have the image of his half-naked body engraved in your mind. “I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t m-mean to!” You stumbled on your words, panting heavily from shame.

Jungkook, on the other hand, clenches his jaw from your sweet and heavenly scent. ‘She’s an omega’, he thinks, and a smirk slowly crept up his lips. ‘Maybe having a roommate wouldn’t be bad after all’.

Jungkook releases a deep chuckle as he stares at your small figure. He doesn’t try to walk closer to you, knowing that it might scare you. He knows he can radiate a strong aura for new people.

“It’s alright, you can turn around.”

His statement shocks you and you shake your head side to side. Funny enough, you still kept your eyes closed with your hands, even though you were already facing away from him. “I-I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”

“But why?” Jungkook pushes, loving your cute reaction, “We’re roommates now, dear, you’ll have to get used to seeing me shirtless.”

You gulp at his words, suddenly feeling your blood rush into your cheeks. Jungkook smirks when he feels the air in the room change, he knows what he’s doing to you. The wolf in him smells your lovely scent, and he indulges himself in it. He slowly walks closer to your body until there’s a one-foot distance. Your breath hitches up, afraid to breathe. ‘I need to calm down…’

“I’m sorry if I react like this, sweetheart. It’s been a while since I’ve encountered a female omega. I forgot how addicting their scent can be…” he trails off, the last sentence spoke in a mutter as he leans his head down to the crook of your neck. You flinch when you felt his hot breath on your skin, goosebumps arising.

“You don’t have to be nervous. I don’t bite.” He says smugly and you can practically feel the smirk wearing on his face. You jump when he places both of his hands on your hips. “H-hey—”

He swiftly turns you around so you were now facing him. His hair was still damp, some of it covering his eyes. You couldn’t even dare to look down, yet you can see how muscular he was on the very bottom of your eyes. Your stare wavered when he made eye contact with you, his eyes holding so much authority and control.

“May I get your name, pretty girl?”

You chew on your bottom lip with the petname he gave for you, eyes blinking twice – three times.

“Y/n.”

“Y/n,” your name rolls out of his tongue so perfectly, his voice so pleasing. “Nice to meet you, I’m Jungkook.” He smiles, showing off his pearly whites. That smile that probably makes a lot of girls – and boys – heart to flutter. Every word you knew was stripped out of your head as you didn’t know what to reply.

Realizing that you were still on his grip, you held onto his wrists and pushed them away from your body.

“U-Umm, nice t-to meet you.” You force an awkward smile, gripping the handle of your suitcase tightly to ensure your balance.

Stepping back, you finally see a clearer vision of his appearance. He was tall – really tall, probably a head and a half taller than you. He was built really nicely, his figure strong to protect his pack as he was born to do.

Jungkook cocks his head to the side, smiling smugly when he notices you staring at him for far too long.

“Oh, I-I’m so sorry… I better get to my room now.” You mumble, proceeding to go…actually—you didn’t know where you were going.

“Here,” he chuckles as he moves your hand away from your suitcase and he grabs a hold of it instead, “I’ll show you your room.”

You follow Jungkook behind him and let me tell you, his back muscles were unbelievably impressive. ‘Why isn’t he ashamed by all this? He’s only wearing a towel, for god’s sake!’

“I’m sorry I didn’t clean the area, I wasn’t told that you were coming today.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that. But it’s okay though.” You replied, smiling politely even though he can’t see you.

He leads you to a white door and stops in front of it. “After you,” he smiles and you thank him quietly, the blush on your face still clear and evident. You open the door and you smile brightly when you see how spacious it was. You walk further inside and notice the neat, twin-sized bed.

“I promise you that this room was locked when I got here. The management only opened this when you booked it.”

You ran your hands on the soft mattress of the bed, “Did they clean it?”

“Of course they did, sweetheart.” He chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest.

Your eyes widened for a split second before you clench your jaw. “Stop calling me that,” you fight the urge of blushing once again, not making any eye contact with his own burning irises. You didn’t like what you were feeling – you didn’t like that you felt so frail under his overwhelming watch.

“You’re body’s telling me something else though, Y/n.” he walks around to face you with a sly smile plastered on his face. You didn’t look directly at his face, but you were faced right in front of his built arms. Some beads of water were still tripling down his skin and cause you to gulp. His biceps flex involuntarily, beautifully-toned abs right in front of your view. It was mouthwatering. You tried to fix your direction somewhere else, but his body was just begging to be seen.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You mumbled. Jungkook doesn’t say anything else – thankfully – and he smiles at you.

“Well, I guess I’ll be leaving you here. Please make yourself at home,” he steps back with a handsome grin, shaking his wet hair away from his eyes. “You’re free to do anything, just don’t eat my food, okay?”

You crease your brows together, wanting to chuckle at his statement, “I wasn’t planning to.”

“Good.” He proceeds to walk to the door, “See you around, Y/n.”

“Must you always stay quiet all the time?” Jungkook suddenly plops beside you on the couch, interrupting your daily reading session. You can see his face close to your left shoulder on the corner of your eyes, trying to analyze whatever you’re reading.

“Well, a person doesn’t blabber around when they’re reading, huh, Jungkook?” You snap, clearly annoyed at him. You were just about to enter the goddamned war scene of the story. “I’m sorry that I don’t give you the attention you always want.” You roll your eyes, fixing your gaze back on your book.

Jungkook looks taken aback from your words, causing him to raise a single brow up. “Hmm, someone’s got a sharp tongue.” He leans closer to you, making you feel timid. His mouth was so close to your ear, and his breathing sent shivers all over your system. “I never would’ve thought that you can be so bratty,” he growls the last few words in a deep voice.

Bratty? You shifted in your seat, feeling a little bit weird. You didn’t like to be called a brat, it makes you feel degraded.

“I’m sorry,” you ended up saying that in a whisper, cautiously lifting your head to look back up at him. Jungkook’s heart beats faster on his chest, seeing your big eyes staring at him so innocently and so cutely.

Oh, the things he wanted to do to you.

Jungkook chuckles, “It’s okay, sweetheart. How’s abooouuut…” he drags, scooting closer to you, “How’s about I treat you to lunch? You know, get to know each other a bit more. I’ll pay.”

You didn’t hesitate to nod your head, agreeing to his offer. You instantly placed your bookmark and closed the book as you sprinted back to your room to get ready. Anything for free food.

Jungkook laughs at your adorability, watching you shuffle excitedly. He brings his hand up to his lip, playing with it. He was just as eager as you are – but for different reasons.

It’s been approximately nine days since you’ve been living with Jungkook, and let me tell you, it was a tough nine days.

You would’ve thought that he would lose this sultry and sensual attitude of his around you after a few days but no. It stayed with him. Sometimes it would get very tiring with all of his teasing and suggestive comments but you held your guard up.

Unfortunately, Jungkook found your weak spots. Jungkook knows what words to say to get you all riled up. He just knows what to do just to make you weak in the knees, and knows what to say to have goosebumps raise on your skin.

Yet thankfully, he never touched you. It was because of the way he presents himself, the aura that he carries with him makes it feel like he owns every place he walks into. But then again, he’s an alpha, and they can take whatever they want in just a loud growl.

But there was no lie that he’s really handsome. He had a perfectly sculpted face, not a single flaw ever to be spotted. His long hair that would go past his ears always looked breathtaking on him, especially when wet.

You would be blind if you said that he wasn’t attractive and fine.

You woke up drastically with your chest heaving up and down, your breathing not normal than it should be. You can feel sweat trickling down your spine, all over your neck and your forehead. You felt hot.

Immediately springing into action, you throw the covers away from your body and you remove your pajamas, leaving you in your shirt and underwear. You nervously bite on your lip as you step your foot on the cold floor and made your way through the darkness of your room into the bathroom.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, eyes expanding in utter horror when you see that your pill bottle was empty. “No, no, no, no, no!” You immediately shuffled through every drawer and cupboards and prayed that you’ll find an extra bottle somewhere. “Did I not pack extra heat suppressants?!” you whisper-shouted to yourself, eyebrows joining together in frustration.

How stupid can you be?

“Okay, okay, calm down,” you paced back and forth, combing your hands through your sweaty hair. Your first instinct was to call your mom, but god it was 5 am in the morning and you didn’t want to wake her up, especially on a Monday where she goes to work. What the fuck were you going to do?

You definitely weren’t going to risk the chances of going outside of your room. You don’t want Jungkook to see you, not at this state. You mentally cursed yourself when you can feel your slick slowly dripping down your thighs, making you whimper involuntarily.

You closed your eyes tight, taking a deep breath. Walking out of the bathroom, you instantly made your way to the door of your bedroom and locked it. You just have to lock yourself inside your room until your heat is over.

Laying yourself back on the bed, you wondered if the pills you took yesterday didn’t work. You started your heat two days ago, and you even made sure that you’ve scheduled your pills.

But as time passes, the feeling never went away. You couldn’t sleep. You could feel yourself getting hotter and hotter as each second passes as hair was stuck on your neck and forehead. You tossed and turned all over your mattress, feeling frustrated and needy.

This scared you, not going to lie. It was your first time witnessing yourself in heat without the suppressants, and you didn’t know what to expect. You emitted loud whines and penurious whimpers, calling for some release. You wanted something, you wanted someone.

Jungkook groaned when he wakes up and hears the alarm from his phone. He reaches his arm out to grab the device and shuts off the annoying sound with his eyes half-open.

5:30 AM, it reads.

He gets up and switches on the light, blinding him for a couple of seconds before he rubs both of his eyes with a yawn. It was time for his Monday workout session. He prepares himself and changes his clothes to some black gym shorts and a black cut-off sleeve shirt, paired with his usual sneakers. He takes his phone and advances out to the kitchen.

Jungkook was humming softly to himself, filling his large bottle up with warm water from the dispenser.

“Oh, I forgot my headphones,” he said to himself and proceeded to turn around, but a strong scent hit his nose like a truck.

‘What?’

‘Umm…’

‘What the fuck?’

Jungkook’s eyes expanded ten times bigger when a sweet and savory scent filled up the air. He walks closer, sniffing the air until it leads him right in front of your door. Jungkook was now breathing heavily. It was his first time in a very long time to smell an omega in heat, and he doesn’t know if he can control himself any further.

“A-alpha…”

Jungkook’s irises turn red right after he hears your soft but desperate whimper. He growls when he felt his blood rush down to his cock. Jungkook wanted to burst right in, to help you through your heat. You were desiring for an alpha, and he was right there, but he didn’t know that your room was locked not before he tried to open your door.

This brought him back to his senses.

He immediately steps back before anything gets more carried away. He rushes to grab his water bottle – ditching the headphones and immediately runs out of the room with a heavy breath.

“Shit shit shit shit shit!” the half-wolf chants as he makes his way towards the elevator with heavy steps. His breathing was rapid, almost making it look like that he was about to faint. He was going mad; he has never smelled an omega that sweet and delicious. It was like a new smell for him. His hormones were going crazy, his mind in a state of lust and desire.

He sighs in relief when he sees no one inside the elevator. Once he pressed the correct floor and the door closed shut, he couldn’t help but grip his hand tightly to the metal rails, knuckles almost turning white. Jungkook usually knows how to keep his control, but something about you just makes him mad.

He growls deeply as the sound of your sweet whimper fills his mind, replaying over and over again. He imagines you, looking so needy and in need of a release below him. He wants to help you, help you release that sexual frustration out of you. He craves to dominate you; your cute, little body. Your voice sounded so cute, so delicate that turns Jungkook on to the max. The word ‘alpha’ rolled down your tongue so smoothly, and he wanted to hear it again and again.

Jungkook tries his absolute best to calm himself down, closing his eyes as he takes several breaths.

“A-alpha…” the word came out in an eager tone, desperate for something. Your body was drenched in sweat and you felt slick frantically dripping down your thighs.

Your body took over your mind. All you can ever do was to dread for a mate while your hands teased your hardened nipples through your shirt.

You wanted an alpha. You wanted Jungkook.

As messed up as it was, you were dreading for your roommate to touch you. You were dreading him to mate with you, feel his big member inside of you.

“A-aahh, puh-please,” you mewled into the darkness, bucking your hips into nothing. Your body shivered when you snuck your hands under your shirt and tweaked your hard buds. “I c-cant…” you threw your head agitatedly from side to side, your skin itching from the desperate need of contact.

“Oh, whatever,” you spoke in gritted teeth while sliding your right hand down, cupping your dripping wet core. You immediately shivered from the oh-so-delicate touch, closing your eyes tight. You carefully rubbed your clothed cunt, your fingers immediately dampening as your slick transferred to your fingers.

With your other hand massaging your boob, you hesitantly slipped your hand inside your underwear, biting your lip.

“Mmnggf, my god,” you gasped when your fingers touched your sensitive clit. Without waiting any further, you rubbed the bud hastily as waves and waves of pleasure shoots through your system. You ran your digits down your folds, teasing your pulsing hole by poking the tip of your finger in. “I… a-aaah,” multiples mewls escaped your swollen lips when you rubbed your clit even faster, applying more pressure to escort you to a release.

“I wanna cum…” you begged to no one, “I wanna cum so badly.” You almost wanted to cry with the hopelessness in your body. You arch your back in an uncomfortable way when you pinched your rock-hard nipples once again.

“Please… make me cum, Jungkook.” You whispered.

You imagine that it’s him. You imagine that it’s him doing all of the work for you. His long, slender fingers that can unambiguously do more than your own can. You imagine his big, well-built body hovering over you, controlling your body and making it his.

“Alpha…” you can feel a heavy knot forming inside of your stomach, signaling that you were close. You didn’t hold back your cries of pleasure as your hips buck into the air, your fingers moving faster on your pussy. “Please please please…”

A loud moan escaped your lips when you felt hot cum running down from your drenched cunt, and you didn’t stop to make sure everything didn’t go to waste. Your thoughts were clouded with immense pleasure, your body going into a series of quick trembles and shudders.

‘One more time.’

Jungkook kept clenching his jaw, his grip on the exercise bike tight. He should be focusing on his workout routine, yet all he could ever think about was you.

‘Were you going through your heat?’

He’d praise you for actually being considerate and locking the door; because if you didn’t, all hell would break loose.

But if he did walk in, would you accept him? Would you let him touch you, let him take over you?

He couldn’t help but ponder that maybe it was all just the pleasure that was speaking for you, and not Y/n herself. He wouldn’t like it if you’ll regret everything when you get back to your normal state.

These thoughts were circulating Jungkook’s head, not until an hour later when he’s officially calmed down. He hesitates to go back inside the room, but he has no other choice.

Jungkook.

You can smell him.

Without thinking any further, you jumped out of your bed and ran outside to the living room where your eyes set on a messy-haired Jungkook, shirt stained with sweat while he was downing his water bottle.

“Y-Y/n?” he asks carefully, eyeing you with caution.

You abruptly forgot that you weren’t wearing any underwear, and he can easily smell your arousal from a distance. He notices how your face was so flushed, hair in tangles and you breathing was uneven.

“Jungkook—” you whimpered quietly, pleading him as you walked closer to his frame. Jungkook shakes his head as he steps away from you, noticing his adam’s apple bob as he goes to the very corner of the room.

“Distance, Y/n. I-I don’t wanna do anything you don’t want.” Jungkook rasps, trying his fucking hardest not to pounce on you.

The shirt that you wore only covered a little bit of your wet pussy and your sweet scent filled the entire room in a flash. Jungkook was losing his mind, eyes threatening to roll back from your smell.

“No, please,” your eyes drooped, tugging at the hem of your shirt frustratingly, “I want it, I really, really do.” You sigh. When Jungkook didn’t respond, you took the chance to continue. “I-I ran out of heat suppressants. My heat is too strong today a-and I can’t take it any further.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw. He notices the glistening slick that was slowly creeping down your thighs, and he wanted to punch a wall. He growls lowly to himself, feeling his dick harden again.

“I’ve already cummed t-three times today, but I need more.”

The alpha raises his eyebrows from your statement, “Three?” he chuckles, crossing his muscular arms together in front of his chest, “That’s quite a lot, isn’t it, sweetheart?”

There he goes. There he decides to tease you. You’ve learned that you quite love his teasing, and it makes you even hornier.

“I know, but all this time I was thinking about you, Jungkook.” You spoke quietly as you walked closer to him.

“Y-Y/n, are you – oh fuck, are you sure about this?” he tries to say, but your smell was overflowing his mind and it was difficult for him to formulate words. “Do you know what you’re about to do? Hmm?”

“Yes, I’ve never been surer. Please,” you were now right in front of him, and you heard him growl dominantly as he towers over your height. “Please mate with me.”

Without wasting any more time, he suddenly lifts your little body and carries you to his room, shutting the door behind him. He drops you onto the soft bed and you crawl up to rest your head on his pillows. Jungkook smirks down at you while he removes his shirt, revealing his beautifully-toned abs that had just the workout earlier.

“My little, desperate omega,” he scoffs, “begging for another release, aren’t you?” he hovers over you and leans down to lick a bold stripe on your neck. You croon your head to the side, allowing him more access. You let out a moan when he starts to suck on your delicate skin.

“You just want an alpha’s cock to satisfy you, huh?”

You nod briefly, followed by a quiet mewl when he removes your shirt, revealing your breasts to him. “Hmm? Is that what you want? Want this little pussy to be filled up with some big cock?”

“Hnngf, yes, yes, please,” he starts to suck on your hard nipples, biting on it playfully which makes you arch your back. He removes his mouth with a loud pop, “Filthy little girl.”

Your nerves were firing, feeling blazing hot and excited. You were fantasizing about this for so many hours now, after all of the unsatisfying releases – you have finally got what you truly wanted. Your hands were clammy and your mind was in a blissful mess, but you didn’t care. All you wanted was him; right now, at this moment.

“Let me have a taste of you, baby girl,” he growls as he hovers down to your core. He inhales your savory scent and his dick twitches. Your pussy was so wet, dripping in juices and stained with cum from your previous orgasms. Jungkook’s arms sling around and under your thighs, parting them together to give him a better view.

“Fucking hell, you’re drenched, sweetheart. Is this all for me, hmm?” he doesn’t even give you the time to respond when he abruptly licks a heavy stripe from your clenching hole to your clit. The sudden feeling sent electrifying currents all throughout your body, “Oohhh, yes. I-It’s all for you, Jungkook.”

“You don’t know how much I’ve been thinking about this sweet little cunt, baby. I’ve been wanting to have a taste of you since you’ve first stepped inside this apartment.”

He drives his tongue back, this time alternating between licking numbers on your folds and sucking on your swollen clit. His tongue worked wonders on you, causing your hands to fly down to tug on his long and wavy hair. You try to shove his bangs away to have a better view of his mouth on your pussy.

“Ohh my god! Like that, keep doing that, please,” you breathlessly moaned, shutting your eyes from the pleasure. You felt him smirk between your pussy which made you clench onto nothing.

You whimper from the loss of contact when he leans back, wiping his lips with the back of his hands. “I’m going fucking mad on you, baby. You drive me wild.”

Your eyes fly to where his right hand is as he cups his hard length beneath his shorts. He proceeds to rub it firmly, teasing you as he makes direct eye contact. “You want this, huh?”

You nod desperately, bringing your fingers up to your lips to give them a suck.

Jungkook chuckles sinisterly and finally pulls the clothing down, and your mouth immediately waters from the sight.

He was nice and long, his girth impressive as precum dripped down the tip of his dick. He strokes his length a couple of times as he carefully examined your expression. “You like it?” he smirks, “You want it inside you, huh?”

He chucks the clothing to the floor and hovers above you, his dick now right in front of your entrance. “Are you sure you want this, Y/n?” his eyes suddenly turn soft after being invaded with lust, “Are you sure you want me to be your mate?”

You try to smile at his question, “Yes, yes I do, Jungkook. I want it to be you.” His heart swells up, but he feels like melting into a puddle after you’ve continued: “Do you?”

Jungkook laughs quietly as he strokes your hair with his hands reassuringly, his gaze looking so caring and loving. “Of course I do, Y/n. I’ve always thought that you were the most beautiful girl that ever existed, even if we only met a couple of days ago,” he chuckles. “The most precious, kind, sweet, and delicate girl I’ve ever seen. I wanted to be yours so bad. I want to protect you, wanna take care of you forever.”

He nuzzles his nose close to the crook of your neck, shaking his head which causes his hair to tickle you. You giggle and Jungkook smiles, pressing a delicate kiss on your lips. “You don’t know how much I need you.”

“You can have me, Jungkook. Claim me as yours.”

And with that statement, he was quick to growl as his cock twitches in desperate need. He tugs on in a couple of times before aligning it on your entrance. “I’ll go slow, okay little one?”

You obey his words as you nod. You felt the tip of his dick pushing inside your hole, slowly and carefully filling you with his thick cock. He was even bigger than you were expecting, filling you up in all the right places. “O-ohh my god!” you moaned out, lips open in pleasure as you felt your thighs quiver.

“Mhmm, your pussy’s squeezing my cock so good, baby.” He places his big hands on your hips as he pushes further, his eyes rolling back from how tight you are. “You feel so fucking good.”

He wasn’t even halfway in before you felt yourself close to an orgasm. You wrap your legs around his hips, pushing him deeper inside of you. “I-I…a-aaaahhh!”

Your fourth orgasm of the day hit you like a huge train, covering Jungkook’s cock with your cum. You were clenching uncontrollably around him and he couldn’t help but shove the rest of his length in without any warning. “Fuck! B-baby, you’re gonna make me lose my shit.”

He stays still inside of you, letting you calm down from your previous high. But you can’t help but notice his heavy and ragged breath, growling every now and then. “J-Jungkook, you can move now.”

“Y/n,” his voice suddenly becomes deeper and raspier, “I-I might not be able to hold myself ba—oh s-shit—back.” He closes his eyes tight, moving his hips very slightly. “Please tell me that you’re a hundred percent okay with this. I don’t want you to r-regret anything.” He said in a heavy pant, pleasure for sure taking the best of him. Jungkook was overwhelmed with all of the waves of senses being thrown at him all at once. Fuck, just the thought of your cute little tummy carrying all of his pups makes him want to fuck your brains out.

“Please, Kook,” the alpha smiles at the nickname, “I really, really want this. I don’t regret any of this. I want you too as much as you do, so please, just fuck me already. Be my mate, please.”

Jungkook chuckles, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, “If you say so, baby.”

Immediately, he starts fucking you with a deep and hard pace. Your eyes instantly roll back to your head as you start seeing stars. He was literally trying to fuck your brains out.

Your fingers claw on his back, scratching his skin which made him hiss, probably from the pain plus pleasure it brought. This only encouraged him to go even faster and even harder than before.

“Such a slut for this big cock, aren’t you? You wanna be filled with my cum, huh? Wanna carry my pups?”

You moan delightfully from his words, clenching around him from the thought of having his puppies. “Yes, yes. Give me your pups, Jungkook,” you whimpered.

“You want it, huh?” He snarls, smirking down at you. Suddenly, his right hand flies to your neck and he wraps his whole palm around it, choking you. You whimper, not expecting to be so turned on from this action. He presses firmly on your neck, his dominant and assertive side coming out.

You feel so nice and full around him, his cock hitting so deep inside of you. His balls were fervently slapping on your pussy, making wet lewd noises that resonated throughout the room. He was growling on top of you, bruising your thighs as he continues to pound on your sore, little cunt.

He finally releases your neck but only to grab your hips with both of his hands, flipping you around so that you were on fours. “Face down, ass up, baby girl.”

You mewled as you did as you were told, burying your face on his pillows. His hand spanks your ass cheek once, twice, three times, making you whimper loudly. His smacks were hard and sharp, and you were sure that your skin will turn red in no time.

Jungkook continues thrusting in and out of your sopping cunt, pulling all the way until just the tip for him to slam his whole length in you. Your body jolts forward, as he does this action again and again. “Hmm, such a nice, tight pussy you’ve got.” He teases your cunt by gliding the tip of his dick up and down your soaked folds, collecting more of your wetness. “This is all mine, right sweetheart?”

He firmly slaps his dick on your clit a couple of times to get an answer from you. “Answer me, Y/n,” he groans.

“Y-Yes, yes, it’s all yours, Kook.”

“That’s my good girl.”

Jungkook only had one goal, and that was to fuck you into another mind-blowing orgasm. His hips move faster and his cock was deeper with the new position, allowing him to hit your sweet spot. “O-oh! Right there! R-right there,” you moaned, tears brimming in your eyes from how good it all feels. Your hard nipples were rubbing on the sheets, helping you and providing more pleasure.

“Right here?” He gives one particular hard thrust on that same spot, making you moan out his name.

“Are you gonna come for me, baby? Make your body tremble, your pussy clenching on my big dick, hmm?” He keeps pounding on your g-spot, bringing you closer to the edge yet again. “That’s it, baby. C’mon, come for me.” With his last words, you instantly release around his length, squeezing him up as you shake. It was all so much for you to handle, yet Jungkook still holds your body so tenderly as you cummed.

“Y-Yeah, fuck,” Jungkook pants, “so good, m’gonna cum inside you, sweetheart. Gonna fill those walls with my cum and you’re gonna keep it there baby.”

Jungkook chases his high and before you knew it, his cum was spurting inside of you, hot and long strokes of his seed shooting on your walls. He gasps and leans down, your back pressed firmly against his chest as he holds you close.

“Take it, baby, take it.” He grunts, and he doesn’t hold back the loud moan that escapes his lips when he feels his knot getting bigger and bigger. Your eyes suddenly go wide from the feeling. It felt like someone was blowing a balloon inside of you.

“Jungkook… wh-what’s happening?” You asked quietly, trying to push yourself away but he just groans and pulls you back firmly.

“J-Just stay here, baby. You’re safe, you’re okay.” He reassures you as he tries to calm his breathing down.

“How long will this last?”

“A couple of minutes,” he laughs quietly, “can last about an hour or two. We don’t know.”

You giggled, “Now we’re closer than ever, huh?”

“Yes, baby,” he leans down to kiss your lips tenderly, full of love and affection. “Quite literally.”

#jungkook smut #alpha!jungkook #alpha jungkook #alpha omega bts #alpha jungkook x omega reader #dom jungkook #jungkook hot #werewolf jungkook #werewolf!jungkook #bts omegaverse #bts alpha #alpha au #jungkook #bts smut #bts smut oneshot #jungkook smut oneshot #alpha jungkook omega reader #jungkook smut masterlist #bts wolf au

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imaginetonyandbucky · 4 years ago

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(Give Me A) Reason to Live

A/N: By popular demand, here is a sequel to Keeping Me Alive.

Summary: After fleeing Hydra, James and Tony found a fragile peace, living together and striking at Hydra from the shadows. Until the news that Captain America has been found forces them out of hiding to face their fears head-on.

by @dracusfyre

Also on AO3

Tony winced as he straightened, suddenly feeling every hour he’d been sitting at his computer. His back ached, his neck was stiff, and his eyes burned; when he stood, his back popped like bubble wrap. He reached for his coffee cup only to find it empty, and so was his bottle of water, so he reluctantly climbed the stairs towards the kitchen.

Only to pause when he saw James asleep on the couch. He’d have to go around him to get to the kitchen but startling the Winter Soldier from sleep was always a bad idea, considering the number of weapons that were stashed around the house. He knew some people look relaxed and peaceful while sleeping, but not James; he didn’t look like he ever relaxed, not even while unconscious, mouth set in a stern line.

“Why are you watching me?” James said suddenly without opening his eyes, making Tony jump.

“I thought you were asleep,” Tony said, scowling as he went around the couch to get to the kitchen for food and something to drink.

“Heard you coming up the stairs. Find us a new target yet?”

“Some. There’s a cluster pretty close together near Kansas City, I think we could hit them all in one night,” Tony said as he studied the contents of the refrigerator, wondering if any of the sandwich meat was still good. He sniffed it and decided not.

“You know where there’s a big cluster?”

“Where?”

“DC.”

Tony growled and slammed the fridge door shut. They needed more food, but the closest real grocery store was an hour away, and if he didn’t think he could handle gas station convenience store food one more time. “We’re not going to DC.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too dangerous.” Tony grabbed a pack of crackers and a can of tuna from the pantry instead; he was so goddamn sick of eating from cans and jars and boxes, he wanted to go to a restaurant so badly he could almost cry.

“So instead we are going to keep hiding out in the woods and nibbling around the edges of Hydra? That’s your grand plan?”

“My plan is erode Hydra’s power base and critical infrastructure until it collapses under its own weight,” Tony snapped back. “It’s not like we’re the only people working on this.”

“Right. Your inside man.” James said sarcastically. “Let me know when there’s real work to do, I’m tired of this petty bullshit.”

Tony’s hand tightened on the bottle of water and the cheap plastic crinkled in his hand but he didn’t say anything. He knew they were both tired of being stuck in this house with only each other for company for months now, almost a year, with the only breaks in the boredom being the periodic excursions to break into and occasionally destroy Hydra front companies and bases. He pressed a knuckle to the spot between his eyes, trying to forestall the headache he could feel building. “I found another chair,” he said into the tense silence as he opened the bottle of water and chugged it. “And a bioweapons lab. These targets aren’t petty.” He knew he’d won that round when James was silent for a moment.

“Have you noticed that each target we hit is harder than the last?” James said eventually. “I get what you’re doing, but it’s just making them more prepared for us.”

“If we kill Pierce and the others and don’t destroy the organization, new scum will just rise to the top. We’ve-“ Tony bit off his words and sighed. He put some tuna on a cracker and shoved it in his mouth, chewing tiredly. “We’ve talked about this before,” he said when he finally swallowed. “We’re not ready to take on the entire organization yet.”

He heard a deep sigh from the direction of the couch. “Yeah. You’re right. I just…”

“I know. I want it to be over, too.” Tony steadily ate the tuna and crackers with the dutiful determination of a man doing an unpleasant task, then swept the crackers off the table and looked out the window. The sky was starting to deepen to a beautiful deep blue twilight, promising a clear night, and the weather was brisk and pleasant. “Want to go for a walk?” he offered. “We haven’t checked your traps in while.”

“Sure,” James said after a beat, recognizing the offer for the olive branch that it was. Tony set JARVIS on sentinel mode and picked up his phone, night vision glasses, and a red-light flashlight for the walk. Over the past year, while Tony had been obsessively improving his suit and putting together a high value target list, James had taken up landscaping; he’d been steadily redesigning the forest around the cabin to funnel anyone approaching onto a handful of paths, then booby-trapping the hell out of these paths with cameras and tripwires attached to landmines and sentry guns.

“Nice night,” Tony commented as James cleared out some brush and limbs that had obscured one of the traps.

“Yep,” James grunted as he checked the magazine and barrel of one of the sentry guns. Tony pulled out his phone and tested the control mechanisms for the gun, moving it left and right and up and down to make sure everything was working.

“You know, as much as I obviously don’t want us to be found, I kind of would like to see these traps in action. You’ve put so much work into them,” Tony said. He followed James through the woods, careful to only walk where he was walking. “What else do you want to do?”

Tony could feel the irritable mood lightening for both of them as James answered Tony’s question, pointing out places where he planned to dig out and deepen ravines, move fallen trees, and replant bushes to make sure the unwary would walk right into the traps. It was full night when they reached the far edge of their property line to make sure that the NO TRESPASSING signs were frequently posted and fully visible so no hikers or hunters accidentally got blown to hell. They cut through the woods to the dirt road that led to the cabin and were admiring the stars when Tony got an alert from JARVIS on his phone.

“Something big just came across the comms,” Tony said, showing the screen to James. James nodded and the stroll became a fast walk back to the cabin. The walk had been a good idea; just getting out of the house and getting fresh air had done a lot for Tony’s headache and James sounded like he was in a much better mood as they went back inside. He claimed the shower while Tony polished off the bottle of water and went downstairs to see what the alert was all about. When he pulled up the message, he read it once, then again, then stared at the wall for a moment before reading it a third time, which was when it really sank in. “James!” He shouted, then cursed when he remembered he was in the shower. He almost tripped as he ran up the stairs, then pounded on the bathroom door before barreling in.

“What the fu-”

“They found Captain America,” Tony said. “Up near Greenland or something. They found the Valkyrie and he was still inside and they think he’s still alive.”

For a long moment there was only the sound of water running, then James finally said, “Who found him?”

“Hydra. I mean SHIELD,” Tony corrected. “But you know. Hydra knows.”

“Fuck.” James turned off the water and slid the shower curtain back as he reached for the towel on the back of the toilet. Tony felt the back of his neck get hot and kept his eyes firmly on James’ face, trying and failing to not feel like a creeper for how hard it was to not appreciate the view. Finally James put the towel around his waist, which helped only a little bit because now James was raking his wet hair back and water was running down his chest and had Tony mentioned that they’d been stuck alone in this cabin for almost a year? “Wait, what do you mean they think he’s still alive?”

“Apparently he’s been frozen all this time, but they found a heartbeat. They are trying to extract him so they can thaw him out in a medical facility.” Tony met James and saw something in the man’s eyes that he’d never seen before; it was the kind of hope that made you afraid, because you wanted it so badly to be true that it might destroy you if it wasn’t. The look made Tony’s heart twist and his stomach drop but he refused to think about that because there was more important things to think about.

“So what do you think we should do?” Tony asked. He finally backed out of the bathroom which, he just now realized, he probably should have done as soon as James started to get out of the shower.

“Isn’t it obvious?” James said. “We gotta steal Steve.”

#winteriron #tony x bucky #tony stark #Bucky Barnes

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seijohsfairy · 4 years ago

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you’ve been in love with kuroo tetsuro for years, silently supporting from the sidelines. it’s where you feel comfortable, felt- comfortable. so now that kuroo finds out you’re his most loyal fan?

.wordc. 9.5k tw manipulation, degradation!, corruption, bullying, dubcon/noncon, coercion, yandere kuroo, fingering, oral, Kuroo is on the world’s biggest ego trip

.author’s note. I finally finished this monster after struggling for so long ( ɵ̥̥ ˑ̫ ɵ̥̥) inspired by fanatic by @/jackrrabbit. if you want to read an amazing bullying smut, it’s seriously perfection

An obsession. If someone asked, you’d never call it that. An appreciation of the sport maybe, or of the hard work and dedication of the players. But an obsession might’ve been more accurate, as you have been a fan for years now. At least you can admit it to yourself. Not a day goes by where you forget to think about volleyball, and more in particular, him. It’s not your fault it makes you so happy… It’s not at all, and yet—

You’re able to watch the young men through the open doors of the gym, the resounding bangs of spikes flattening against the polished floor filling the building. You huff out in the afternoon sun and hide under the sun-bleached, red parasol as best you can, before wiping a bead of sweat from your temple. Soon everyone will be pouring out of the classrooms, which brings a smile to your face. But for now, you spare another look inside the bright hall, following the red jerseys as they move swiftly around the court. The speed at which the balls connect with the floor have always impressed you, but your eyes are instead on the middle of the group, tracing the number one mindlessly.

“Senpai, are you alright?” your junior squeaks out. You flinch in surprise at her question, almost dropping the drink you’re holding in the process. Her short brown hair sticks to her face where a wide-eyed expression marks it, though a small, unsure smile stays in place. You quickly bring out a laugh though, waving off her concern.

“Oh, yeah! Sorry,” you put down the glass can and press your cool fingers to your forehead, smiling, “the heat just makes it hard to actually pay attention. Could you repeat that, please?”

“I’m just so glad you suggested this, s’all!” she beams, putting the last of the lemonade out on the table, each can in between ice packs. They’re already dripping, coming summertime close to unbearable. “My big brother always talks about the fanclub at home and that other teams don’t have a fanclub near as good as ours!” You smile at her while you pour chunks of ice into the white wine, putting it out too. The entire table is decorated with the team colors, flyers to one side, donation jar and cash register on the other, with all the drinks, ice pops and watermelon slices in the middle.

You even made all of the small, red cat charms that hang from the parasol yourself. A bit overkill perhaps, but no effort really feels big enough when you’re as dedicated to a team as you are, even if it’s embarrassing to say. But well… you’d do just about anything to support Nekoma and the man you’ve been crushing on for years now. While you peer up at the windows of the classrooms, mentally keeping track of just how much longer you’d have to wait for the rest of the fanclub to join you, you miss the proud look the younger girl sends your way. Yui, the libero’s younger sister, pulls her hair up in a tiny ponytail. “You must be so proud since you started it all by yourself.”

You look back down at her, flushing. “Of course I am proud of the fanclub, but I’m even more proud of our team. Y’know, I’ve been watching some of them since middle school and they all seem to enjoy it so much. It makes me want to support them in any way I can.” You’ve taken the requests of the team to heart to the best of your ability. Hopefully you can sell a lot, they’d really need new cleaning equipment and some of the shorts and jerseys could definitely be replaced with new ones.

“Of course Nekoma’s angel would say that,” a voice giggles, the black haired girl strolling up behind you. All the others walk close behind, right when the bell indicating the last class rings. The rest of the fanclub waves politely, many of the girls with their own healthy flush. “Make some space, Mrs. Kuroo, everyone will be getting out in a minute or so.” You give the other third-year a little poke in her side, looking down at the menu as you pick at the corner of the laminated sheet. It’s so silly, but the nickname makes you all warm inside. How nice it would be to actually be… well. You shouldn’t think so far ahead, or not ahead at all, since Kuroo Tetsuro has absolutely zero interest in you. The overflowing amount of love you have for him isn’t making up for anything.

“Don’t call me Mrs. Kuroo. It’s embarrassing,” you tell the raven-haired girl, glancing back inside the hall for just a moment to watch as said man gulps down his water, sweat drenching his hairline and dripping down his chin. “Even if I like it, he doesn’t know I exist.” Some of the girls coo at your admission, all of them at least aware that you’ve looked up to the Captain for years. Your friend sends you a knowing look, before cracking her fingers and getting to work on the cash register. She’s been trying to get you to say something for months, and with the last few weeks of high school growing closer and closer, you can’t even blame her.

But what would you even say to the guy you’ve crushed on for so long? After all, you’ve been in his class for three years now and he never once spoke to you directly either. He’d probably be creeped out by your dedication to him. Before you can think of any more, bunches of students start pouring out of the buildings, looking tired out by the day. When they see your stand, many of them light up, already taking out their wallets to get some cool lemonade. You clap your hands and look at the girls surrounding you, before nodding. “Alright, let’s do this! We’re going to sell everything out today. Yui, you get that side?” You turn to the first few customers and put on your best smile, handing them a menu. “Welcome to the Neko Outdoor Café! Would you like a drink?”

///

“Captain!” Yamamoto calls, pout more pronounced with each passing second. “Please let us take a break. Please.” He’s about to get on his knees and beg. “Come on, man. I need this.”

The raven haired man just lifts a brow in his direction, before turning his attention back to the bench so he can tie his shoelaces properly. “Shut up, you’re being noisy.” He doesn’t care to ask what the guy is on about, already more than annoyed at having to practice in this sweltering heat. Every movement feels slower than usual, it’s pissing him off.

“They’re going to sell out and leave, Captain!” the other tries again, tugging at the edge of Kuroo’s jersey like a child. In fact, he looks like he might burst into tears. The Captain ignores him.

“I’m sure they’re keeping some extras for us,” Yaku tries, smacking Lev’s hand away from his water bottle and downing the last of it.

Kenma hums. “You know they wouldn’t leave us with nothing, they’re all so thoughtful.” The setter is already trying to soothe a teary-eyed Yamamoto, while Kuroo straightens out to wipe himself down with a towel. “They probably have a whole pack of ice lollies stored away for after practice. Our cheer squad leader wouldn’t be caught dead forgetting about anyone.” At the mention of your name, the Captain frowns, the sound unfamiliar. “She even remembered to bring some mango for me last time, and I don’t even remember telling her I don’t like watermelon that much.”

“Who now?” Kuroo frowns. He pokes out his tongue to wet his lips, following his team’s gazes to outside the gym, where rows of students are lining up. He can just see the edge of a red table, curiosity peaked.

Kenma’s face blanks when he looks over at his long time friend. “The leader of the fanclub? She’s been to every one of our matches since like… eighth grade or something. How have you never noticed her?” Some of the boys turn to him in confusion too. Kuroo crosses his arms over his chest, before chewing on his answer. It’s not that he ignores anyone on purpose. But your name doesn’t ring a bell, neither does the description.

“Pretty sure she really likes you, too,” Lev suddenly says, getting up from his spot on the floor to bound closer to the door to watch past it. “She always wears clothes with the number 1 and your name on it. She’s very nice, she bought me chocolate milk after our last game.” He stares out the door for a moment longer, before perking up and waving for his older teammates’ attention. “Ooh ooh, she has ice creams for us, she’s calling. Can we please take a break, Captain?”

Everyone turns to the third year. Even Kenma is giving him an unspoken question with his expression. “Fine, whatever,” Kuroo just sighs, giving into their antics. “But after that we’re getting back to spike training and you better all jump higher than I’ve ever seen you jump.”

While waiting in line, he asks to point you out. You’re busy smiling at every single student that comes by, colored shadow falling over you because of the sun shade that is just as red as the rest of the table. Just as red as your flushed face, and as red as the shirt that you’re wearing with his name on it. You look kind, with a childlike joy on your face, innocent in the way you beam out warmth. And after staring at you for a while, you do start to look a bit familiar. Huh. So this is what his biggest fan looks like. He’s not let down, not exactly, though he does wish that you’d focus less on the lemonade and more on him as he waits in line with the rest of the team. But it’s understandable, you’re just trying your best. Even he can see that.

Suddenly, you look up from the cash register, having been shoved in the side with an elbow by your friend and in the split second he catches your eyes, he can see several emotions flash in them. The last one before you look away is definitely wide-eyed mortification though. You look away from him and turn to your friend, whispering something in her ear as your cheeks grow red-hot. You blank at her answer, before biting your lip. It’s strange, but something in the things you do are cute to him. How you nervously toy with the edge of your shirt. How you try to keep your eyes on the ground but glance back every so often anyway. How you put on a smile. You must really, truly like him. And he can’t say he doesn’t like at least that. That innocent expression on your face is to die for. Really.

After a minute or so, you seem to gather your wits and look up to walk from behind the stall. “Guys, you don’t have to wait in line. Come up here,” you wave them over, not looking at him at all. Somehow, this only makes him giddier, wanting to see you flush even harder. Maybe you’d pass out if he talked to you. Maybe you’d cry. Would you even be able to handle it if he got any closer? The smirk that clings to his lips is one of ego-filled happiness, he can’t help himself. Something about you makes him feel like he’d be able to break you with the slightest of pressure, and though he’s never quite wanted to control someone like that, he can’t say it doesn’t feel exhilarating.

Everyone moves out of the one line to skip to the front, as you busy yourself by glancing under the tables to pull out an extra cooler, opening it swiftly. That way your skirt pulls up insanely high, though you try to keep it down with one hand. Oblivious to what you’re doing, surely. His cute, little fan. He’ll have to give you a lesson on proper manners, but not now. All in due time. When everyone starts thanking you, you just rub your neck, straightening back up.

“How much are they?” Kenma asks, “I’ll pay. Is it alright if I get the money to you after practice though?”

“No, no!” you beam, “they’re free for you guys! I could hardly let our own team pay for some stupid ice pops and lemonade.” You don’t hesitate to smile at Kenma. Kuroo holds his tongue from breaking into your conversation for now, instead taking one of the watermelon slices and biting into it. You seem to sink into yourself a bit when he turns back in your direction, almost as if you’re trying to disappear into the background entirely. Would be hard though, with that bright a shirt. “We also have wine if the adults want any,” you continue, shooting Kai and Yaku a guilty glance then and trailing off. “Though that might not be a good idea if you’re still practicing.”

You still have yet to look back at him, creating a void of something in the pit of his stomach. Why don’t you want to look at him as much as he wants to look at you? “Are there any strawberry pops?” Lev asks, probably aimed at you but Kuroo’s already taking a step towards you before you can answer.

This way you’re not able to ignore him any longer. Your eyes are so big and stunned when you glance up at him, tilting your head back just so you can look him in the face. There you are, he thinks. You pull a lip into your mouth, cheeks burning with color. Your chest heaving up and down, heart clearly pounding so hard he swears he can hear it. And Kuroo is living for it, the thrill of making you so affected by his presence undeniable. He wants to be the one to make you so flustered, wants to be the one to taint it too. He does know that’s probably not normal, but it’s so tempting. He smiles down at you, watching when your lips tremble softly. Cute. He softly calls out your name, grinning wider when you seem to mellow for a moment at the sound. “Did you do all this yourself?” he asks, enjoying the starstruck expression on your face.

You have to take a moment to get yourself back on track, clearly. Understandable. “Mhm,” you manage though, looking anywhere but him again when you realize you’re staring. “W-Well, everyone helped plan it, of course. I just made everything they planned out.”

“Yeah?” His smirk has yet to leave his face, but if it could grow any wider, now would be the time. You give a shy nod, looking back up at him for a moment. “The lemonade looks good. The watermelon’s good too.”

You’re practically glowing at his compliment, taking a step back to roll yourself back and forth on the balls of your feet. He wants to place his hands on your shoulders to keep you still, but really, you might just faint if he does so he holds himself back. “T-thank you s-so much! I’m glad you like it. I hope you’ll be able to use the funds well, but if you ever need anything else, you can always ask me,” you lift your shoulder and smile at him for just a moment, blush still raging on your face. You blank then, quickly adding, “or any of the other girls! We’re all here to support you, so… p-please keep working hard and doing your best a bit longer!” You’re stuttering like crazy too. He’ll have to work that out of you.

Before he can say anything else, someone calls for your name, so you quickly bow and rush back to your spot behind the stall. The girls giggle and poke at you, some of them hardly subtle in their whispering and cooing. And Kuroo smiles, because he might have just found something new to peak his interest.

///

You couldn’t have known. Not really. You couldn’t have known the full extent of his anger and definitely not how it would turn on you. So why does it feel like you made a horrible mistake? As you are sweeping the last of the hall, you hear the familiar, resounding echo of volleyballs smacking against the smooth surface. It’s a sound that’s long grown near and dear to your heart. Still, you put the brush to the side to make your way to the gym door where it stands swung open. It’s a Friday. The Nekoma team doesn’t play volleyball after school hours on Fridays. You frown as you peek around the cold, metal door into the otherwise vacant hall. As the class representative this term, you’re basically expected to be the last one here.

The man causing the constant butterflies in your stomach is facing away from you, frustration seeming to radiate off him in angry, black swirls as he throws balls against the wall, making continuous tosses to himself. You wait for a moment longer, glancing back into the school building as you debate your options. Though you were unable to watch the end of practice, you saw the beginning. Kuroo was anything but the collected player he normally is, the sight of it making your heart ache. Very hesitantly, you knock your knuckles against the metal. You rather wouldn’t be putting yourself in his proximity by choice, last time enough to make you so flushed and flustered you were stumbling all over your words.

Still though, you just want to help him. Maybe you could make him feel just a bit better. “Kuroo-san?” you try softly when he doesn’t react. He catches the ball at your call, pausing for a second. Then he turns to you. A shadow on his face, tall shape seeming to loom over you even from afar. You dig your nails into your own palms at the sharp glare that’s sent your way, his eyes flicking over your entire body, coming to rest back on your face. He doesn’t say anything, so you try to gather your courage and clear your voice, taking a step into the gym. “I- Sorry, I heard you still practicing. Are you- I mean- I don’t want to assume or anything, b-but- you don’t normally practice on Friday.”

The brief flicker of courage you had soon sinks deep within the pit of your chest as the silence continues. He bounces the ball on the floor once before catching it again, lifting one of his brows. Still with that gleam in his eyes, the one set off by the darkness cast around him. Then he sighs, and in a second his smile is plastered back on. The smile you’ve grown so used to seeing from afar, but it doesn’t feel quite right. It certainly doesn’t reach his eyes. It looks a bit off too, lopsided like he’s trying to convince himself to keep it up. “You— Ah, you’re the… fan club girl,” he nods. He tosses the ball up a few times, seemingly thinking, before he clicks his tongue. His deep voice resonates through the empty hall. “Yeah, sorry if I’m bothering you. I wanted to get some more practice in.”

You wring your hands into the front of your shirt, mindlessly bunching it up in between your fingers. When his eyes are back on you, you have to fight yourself from taking a step back. “No, you’re not bothering me at all, I don’t expect any less from our team Captain.” You swallow. Then, barely louder than the thumping of your heartbeat against your ribs, a thought tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. “Would you like me to help you practice for a bit?” It’s a little thing, so small, and you’ve done it for Lev and Kenma plenty of times. But your hands shake when you ask.

Kuroo’s eyebrows pull tightly together, his expression looking so off-putting even when you normally think everything about him is beautiful. You think he’s perfect, even drenched entirely in sweat and with grooves dug deep under his eyes, exhausted to the bone, so why? Why does he glare at you this way, and how can you make your heart stop wavering in your chest? You briefly stand there to think about what you just said, trying to figure out exactly what you did wrong to make him feel even more shitty, but come up blank. He must have misread your tone of voice, or maybe you had a dumb expression on your face. Just some stupid mistake you made. That’s the only explanation you have why amazing, gorgeous, perfect star player Kuroo is acting the way he is.

“Do you even know anything about volleyball? You don’t look like you do.” The sharp comment feels like a slap to the face, and you take in a little breath as you attempt to rid the unsettling tension between you two. Maybe soothing him isn’t the way to go, but you know Kuroo makes himself feel better with practice and that is something you can do. For him, you could for hours.

“I— I can… serve alright,” you hesitate, looking from his face to his shoes instead. “I know a l-lot about volleyball and though I- I might not be the best, I’d still help, right?” His sharp eyes are still on you like an accusation, and no, no, no, this is all wrong but you don’t know how to fix it.

“Aah,” Kuroo coos then, chuckling to himself as he passes the ball your way, “you want to help me.” You barely catch it, clutching it close to your chest as he motions you closer with his hand. “O‘course you do.” With sheepish steps you make your way toward him because he asked, staying an arm’s length away for your own poor heart. Last time you were this close to Kuroo, all you could do was give some mindless encouragement, even though you were trying. You just couldn’t help get flustered back then. A cold shiver makes its way up your spine though, and you fight the pressing feeling to run. This is your favorite person in the world you’re looking at, and you’d do anything for him. You would, really. “Because you’re my fan, aren’t you?” he echoes your thoughts, and you bob your head in reply.

Your voice is barely above a whisper now, throat closing up when he leans in as if to inspect you more thoroughly. “Yes, of course, Kuroo-san. I’ve been a fan since I first saw you play a match back in middle school.” You wince at your honesty. Don’t tell him that, your mind screams, but it’s too late. All you can do is bite your lip to keep more from tumbling out.

“Yeah, yeah, so I heard.” He gleams, petting your hair and you try to keep your elation to a minimum, because his eyes are still just as sharp as they were when you first walked in, but butterflies flutter in your stomach. His fingers linger for a moment, the weight of his hand making your heart jump. It’s gone soon enough. “You in my class?” You nod eagerly, but while you do he’s already speaking again. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? You’re my biggest fan, huh?” He’s leaning closer again, closer, too close, almost like he’s going to kiss you and you might sink through the floor if he gets any closer.

You try not to let the faint smell of his cologne overwhelm you, his face flushed at the edges of his cheeks because of the exertion. You open your mouth to figure out a response again, but Kuroo is faster. “You come to each match, hoping I’d notice you, right? Begging for my attention like a little kid, wearing my name on your body like that. Don’t you feel embarrassed?”

It takes your brain a while to unfilter the words, playing and replaying them now that you take a step back. “Aren’t you embarrassed to be so obsessed with me? Such a cute, little fangirl, just begging for a look your way?” No. It’s not like that, you are not like that. You’re not obsessed, you just care a lot about him. About the entire team. “Pretending to be into volleyball so you can talk to me, right? Do you talk to Yaku’s sister so you can get to me? Do you talk to Kenma so you can get to me too?” You want him to stop talking, why is he still talking? Why is he acting this way at all?

“N-No, it’s not like that,” you bring out, flushing when his hand wraps around your one shoulder to keep you from backing away from him. He straightens out to his full height, towering above you and as you follow his tall body up to his expression, you hate how he is smiling. A loathing, off-centered smile that gleams on his handsome face. The feeling to run grows so strong in your mind that for a moment you can barely ignore it. There’s something wrong. But of course you remain, you just want to make him feel better. “It’s not like that at all. They are my friends. I love volleyball.”

“You love me, Y/N-chan?” he asks then, dark eyes glazing over.

“I— I’m your biggest fan,” you settle on responding. Wouldn’t it be too much to admit you love him, even if you do? He doesn’t seem to take it, looking down at you with thinly veiled irritation now. The fingers on your shoulder tighten, though you’re too distracted to notice. “I mean- Of course I… love… you, but not in an obsessed way! I just have a lot of respect for how hard you work,” you drawl out, throat closing up when the gleam on Kuroo’s face seems to drop in favor of something softer. Something like admiration. You used to love how he would wear his emotions on his face, but now it’s too much. He’s still not satisfied, you can see it. “And I’d do anything to make you feel better so-”

“Hah. Aren’t you just incredibly sweet,” he sighs, finally letting go of your shoulder. You can feel the weight of it long after it’s gone, warmth trailing down your limbs tentatively. You’re so glad you let out a trembling puff of relief. He takes a deep breath, before he smiles again. Softer, familiar, and your heart slowly comes back to life. This is how it’s meant to go, this is how you always imagined it as Kuroo leans down to brush a strand of hair away from your face back behind your ear, sweet and tender. Hair that you keep longer than you’d want because you know Kuroo likes it that way. You’re sure your stress of earlier was showing on your face, cheeks burning for attention. “You’re so pretty like this, my little fangirl. Mine.”

You don’t miss the drop in his voice, a possessive tone that seems misplaced. As he brushes a knuckle past your cheekbone, tingles pool in your belly. “I’ve had a really tough day today, you have no idea. But I’m glad you’re here now. I think I do know how to fix my shitty mood, actually!” He takes your hands in his then, enveloping them with soft traces of his fingers. He pulls you toward the side of the gym, dragging you behind him. Kuroo Tetsuro is holding your hands. It feels too quick, sprung on you so suddenly it makes your head spin, but they are just so warm around yours like you hoped they’d be. The dark-haired man looks back over his shoulder. “You said you will help me, right?”

“Mhm,” you smile, watching him, how his shoulders move under the red volley jersey and his hair waves softly with each step. And he’s still holding your hand. This must be a dream. You’re on a mindless path until he walks you past the lockers and the damp feeling of the shower air hit your face. That’s when you slow your feet and pull against him a little, blinking out of your daze to glance to the side. Kuroo turns to face you. “Hey, this is the boys’ room.” Your obvious statement makes him chuckle, one hand coming up to cup your cheeks and though it’s insanely overwhelming, you don’t have the heart to pull back. He squishes your cheeks together until your lips turn into a cute, little pout.

“You’ve never been in a boys’ locker room, sweet thing? You’re just that good, huh?” Kuroo stares you down with his pretty, golden eyes while you fail to answer. Isn’t being good supposed to be a positive thing? But he says it like it’s something dirty, like you’re not quite right and you can’t help the sinking feeling that fills you to the brim. He pushes the door to your side into lock, the loud clang making your heart race. When he turns back to you, the darkness in his face is what scares you most.

Cats don’t eat cats, do they—

He doesn’t hesitate to grab you by the shoulder and shoves you up against the lockers, your back connecting with the cold metal sharply. You wince, his hand still around your cheeks. It’s so much bigger than you, you realize, he’s so much bigger than you. That never scared you before, but now you’re painfully aware of the looming shape and the way he’s able to look down at you like this. You swallow and keep his golden gaze. But he releases his hold on your face to hold the back of your neck, long fingers splayed across the soft skin, before leaning down so far into you, you can feel the tremble of his breath on your face. “Would you like me to kiss you?”

Your eyes are wide, unbelieving. Of course you do, but… You wait for what feels like a lifetime, his warmth too close to you. You can’t say no, can you? So you nod and drop your shoulders, eyes fluttering closed. If he were to kiss you all those uncomfortable feelings swirling inside would surely vanish. Kuroo hovers his lips over yours, you can feel them so close, but no more than that. And he chuckles, tilting your head to the side with two fingers instead. “No. You don’t deserve it yet. Don’t you think you have to work a bit harder for it? I know you’re good at that.”

He walks toward you until you’re fully pinned to the cold locker in between his legs, as he connects his lips with your neck. His lips are so hot, like steaming coals on you, and you can’t help but grab onto his bicep for support. It flexes under your touch. He kisses down your throat and jaw, lips dragging trails of kisses and tongue carving paths down to your collarbones and to the edge of your shirt.

And you’re so overwhelmed that the person you’ve loved for so long is actually touching you, that you don’t notice how tight his grip is wrapped around your neck, fingertips pressing ovals into the expanse. “You just wanted this the whole time, huh,” he coos, voice sickly sweet. But when he looks up at you from under those lashes, the gold in his eyes has the sharpness of a blade, daring you to reply. You shudder when his hand drops down to drag your shirt up. “Bet you’ve had so many guys hoping that one of them would feel and taste like me.” He unceremoniously shoves it up from your body, over your shoulders. You look to the side where it drops to the floor, your school uniform a crumpled mess.

“Kuroo-san,” you bring out, self consciously wrapping your arms around yourself to cover up. You don’t like this. You don’t like him telling you that you’ve had people just to prepare for him, don’t like him eating up the sight of you like you’re a piece of meat and you definitely don’t like how he presses his thigh in between your legs to pin you up to the locker. “W-what are you doing?”

He huffs in amusement, tangling his fingers into the hair at the top of your neck to tug back your gaze towards his. “You can drop the politeness, silly girl,” he says again, letting go to brush softer circles into your skull. His lips brush over yours as you stand there, trembling, unsure what to do. How can you say no to him if he’s here, so close, with you for the first time in ever? He taps his fingers on your hands to make you release your hold on yourself, which you do with a bit more coaching. Maybe you just think this is going way too fast because it is him. The boy that offers his friends water before drinking himself, the one with the loud laugh that rings through the halls and makes your heart thump. The guy you’ve been head over heels with. That one.

This is okay, you say to yourself, calm down. His other hand traces along the bottom of your bra as soon as you drop your arms to the side, slipping a finger under just enough to lift it from your skin and you shiver. “You gonna take this off for me?” he asks, rubbing his thigh in between yours more. You can’t answer because you’re dropping your head back against the locker, overwhelmed and unsure still, with the lack of oxygen getting to you all you can do is let out a little whimper. You don’t know a lot about this, you’re sure he does. The hand around your neck drops so he can flip your skirt up, chuckling at your cute panties. You look down in embarrassment and attempt to shove the plaid fabric back down over your thighs but then he lets out a growl, holding it in place. “You wear my name on your body like my personal whore. Don’t play too shy to follow through.”

His long fingers trace over the edges of the panties, where you take deep breaths to calm down. You can’t help but push your waist down on his muscular leg for some friction, looking to the side when he chuckles. “You really are a little slut.” This time you shake your head though, pouting at him.

“I’m not, Kuroo.”

“Liar,” he breathes, pressing his nose to the crook of your neck. “You act like a well-mannered princess but we both know you want to be put in your place.” Not waiting up for a response, he lifts you by your thighs up higher, so he can bury his face into your covered chest, dragging his tongue over the one cup. You can feel the wetness of his tongue seep through the lacy fabric onto your skin. It’s warm and uncomfortable, his breath cooling your skin down instantly. “If you’re not going to take it off, I will,” he gleams, looking up to check your expression again. Ever so slowly he starts pushing the fabric up, not bothering to unhook the piece of clothing. Instead he toys with brushing over your pointed nipples, kissing up your sternum. His eyes flick to yours continuously, like he’s making a show of undressing you. He licks his lips, leaning towards you again.

“Kuroo,” you manage to mumble, resting your one hand on his shoulder to push him away from you. You stumble when you land back on your feet, looking down at the floor. Burning heat covers your entire face, from your cheeks up to your ears. It’s physically painful to be so near him, and the tight grip on your thighs isn’t helping. Your heart is pitter pattering so hard it might break through your ribcage. Despite how much you dreamed about falling in love with him, it wasn’t like this. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I have to lock up the halls and go home.” Your friend’s voice rings through your head then, something about bad guys and the way they prey on kind girls like you, creating cold goosebumps along your arms again. Kuroo Tetsuro can’t be one of those guys, you’ve looked up to him for so long. If he is, what would you even do? “I want to—”

“Don’t lie,” he interrupts, glaring up at your disapproval, “don’t ruin this for me.” Without hesitation he locks his mouth onto your exposed skin, rubbing his knee against your covered center, hard. It sends a spike of heat down your body. You breathe out at the rough laving of his tongue, only soothing after he sucked and bit the tender skin. His one hand reaches up to pull down your panties from under your skirt as soon as you’re closing your eyes, and though you open your mouth to stop him he shuts you up by pinching your thigh sharply between his long fingers. “I told you to stop lying to me. Whatever comes out of that pretty mouth next best be the truth.” He trails his digits up and down a few times, the slightest soothing to your anxiety.

“I… I just don’t—” you swallow, looking away from his eyes to focus on the shine of the lights. They make your eyes burn, but at least you don’t have to undergo his vicious glare this way. It really feels like he despises you for even breathing in his direction, though then why would he be kneeled in front of you. The conflict makes you nauseous, more insecure than you’ve ever been around him and your throat closes up a bit. When his stroking stills, you push through the words anyway. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

He laughs. A warm, bubbly sound against your thigh. “No one’s ever stuffed you with their fingers before?” He looks gleeful, nuzzling your hip in a too-intimate gesture. You’re his fan, but he barely knows anything about you. You slowly shake your head, cheeks warming. His hands start moving again as he shuffles closer between your thighs so his mouth is level with your chest. As he eyes you up and down, he giggles to himself. “Did my slutty fan get herself off on the thought of me? D’you beg for me when coming around your useless, little fingers?” You bite your lip, eyes flicking down at him when he calls your name. “I’m waiting for an answer~”

“I don’t—,” you bite out, flustered and feeling small. He must hear the edge in your voice. With a quick flick of his wrist, he brings his down on your thigh, pinching you hard for good measure. You yelp and grab hold of his head to steady yourself, before quickly pulling your hand away again. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Wanna try again?” he mumbles though, trailing two fingers up and down the crotch of your panties. It feels warm, and really good, but you’re still cold to the touch. Is this really okay? You doubt it. When he starts licking at the edge of your panties you shudder, letting your weight fall into the sturdy locker for support. “Hm, d’you get off to me?”

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth. You might have touched yourself down there once or twice, but in your imagination that was always long after he’d gotten to know you. In your imagination he was gentle, caring. Nothing like the impatient trailing of his fingers, like he can’t wait to play a game you never agreed to. At his golden gaze, you let the truth spill. “Sometimes,” you breathe, immediately hiding your face in your own shoulder from embarrassment.

“That’s what I thought, dumb girl.” He pushes your panties unceremoniously to the side to collect the slick there, grinning. You didn’t even notice you were getting wet while trying not to anger him. He doesn’t waste time taking advantage of this fact though. He spreads your bottom lips open with his fingers, looking up at you easily. His deep voice feels loud in the pressing silence of the abandoned gym, and you can’t help but wonder how much trouble you’d get in if anyone found you here. “Listen, brat,” he calls, pushing his lips to the top of your thigh to bite the plush skin. You jerk away from him with a cry, but he doesn’t let up.

“I’m gonna push my fingers inside that filthy cunny of yours, stretch out your little hole so you can actually fit something in there. ‘Cause I know you’re a good girl, so you’re probably gonna go braindead if I fuck you like this.” He chuckles at your hitched breathing. You can’t even begin to understand. The person you love more than life itself wants to fuck you? Well, his fingers are still playing down there, slowly pushing into you and they are thick, much thicker than yours. You can’t believe it. Kuroo Tetsuro wants to fuck you, in the boys locker room of the school gym while you should be long on your way out by now. No, you can’t. But you don’t find the words to speak up under his gaze, not wanting to disappoint him. If he notices your mental struggle, he doesn’t show it. “Then you’re gonna help me out like you promised by sucking my cock, right?”

You freeze up. You did say you’d help him, you said that didn’t you… But you didn’t know it would be like this, if you did you would’ve said ‘no’. You curse yourself for saying anything at all, trying to calm your heart as best as you can. You’re feeling so overwhelmed. By his touch, his presence, the situation, the stress put on your poor, frazzled brain. When two of his digits are halfway inside you, you let out a whimper. That’s at least three of your own, you already feel spread so thin. Your fingers find purchase in his soft, raven hair, needing anything to cling to. “Say, ‘Yes, Tetsuro’,” he coos, pressing a row of kisses over the front of your panties, chuckling at the little bow. But the sweet tone is taken away as soon as it comes. “Say it.”

“Y-Yes… Tetsuro.” He hums happily, shoving his fingers inside you in one swift move until his palm is against your center. Your legs almost give out at the feeling. “Ah- ah! S’too much, Kuroo.”

The raven haired man grins at that, curling his digits inside you and pulling them out just as quickly. Like striking a match. You reach up your hand to bite into it, hoping to contain your sounds. Your slick sounds ring through the empty locker room as Kuroo slides them back in and out at a punishing pace. “My dumb, pretty baby really is clueless, huh,” he sighs, long fingers sliding under your knee to place it instead on his shoulder. It only debases you even more, struggling to stay upright as he brings his face in between your legs. When you whimper in embarrassment, calling his name, he scoffs. “You should let me play this how I want to, since you clearly don’t know anything.”

The curl of his long fingers brushing up against the soft, spongy part of your walls makes your brain numb. His words hurt. You don’t want them to, you wish they didn’t. “My dumb slut,” he hisses, before the harsh lines of his mouth are buried between your thighs. His tongue sweeps out to deliver a long swipe from his pumping fingers to the top of your slit, before swirling around the nub making you tremble. Your belly tenses, coil in the pit of your stomach growing irritatingly tight as he grinds his face against your pussy, obscenely slurping at the wetness. Your fingers twitch in his fluffy hair, attempting to comb through it best you can as your eyes flutter closed.

“Kuroo, ‘m close. Really close.” You can barely raise your voice enough to make it be heard over his motions, though he looks up at the call of his name. “I want to cum,” you say, “please.” He doesn’t still his fingers, but the twitch in his brows seems to indicate disaster, and you quickly bite your lip to think. “C-Can I?”

“D’you think this is about you, Y/N-chan?” He grins at your blown out expression, relishing in the wide eyes and bobbing lip. He uses his thumb to continue putting pressure on your clit, as he tuts his lips. “I’ll decide if or when you cum, because you’re mine. And when I decide to stuff this cunt you best consider yourself lucky, baby, that my cock is breaking open your perfect, little body.”

“Y-yes, but—” you bring out, ignoring the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You can’t hold it if his fingers only speed up their devouring of your body, mouth wrapping around you to suck hard.

“Don’t cum yet,” he mumbles, going so hard it’s making your vision sway. His tongue and mouth go harder, despite his order. And with mindless pleas you come around his fingers, shutting your eyes tight at the white splotches. Legs flexing and fingers tightening in his hair. You let your head drop as he works you through the feeling, until you’re pushing him off from overstimulation. Your cheeks feel akin to a forest fire when you open your eyes to his huff, tracing the lines of the hardwood floor under your feet. When he pulls his fingers out of you, you can feel some of the slick drip down your thighs and you instantly burn brighter.

But you don’t get to think about it, because Kuroo is straightening up before you, back to his overwhelming posture above you. He stares at you for a moment, before he leans in. Out of instinct, you lean back, away from his face when he wipes it. The glint in his eyes is a scorch mark on your sanity, his face so close to yours. “Can’t you listen to what I say, or are you just that cockhungry and stupid?” Your head is shaking side to side before you can stop it, hoping that you’ll be released soon. But you said you’d help him and if you don’t, Kuroo might hate you. You don’t think you could handle that. Rejection would’ve been better, after all. “Get on your knees and make it up to me.”

You choke back a sob at the order, looking up at him with big eyes again. You don’t want to, you don’t want to sit on the cold floor of the locker room where teenage boys drag their sweaty bodies— Kuroo seems to soften slightly at your expression, lowering his palm to your crown to pat your head, gently brushing over your temple. “You’re my biggest fan, aren’t you?” The low rumble of his voice right next to your face, his warm body so close and the curl of his pretty lips, everything makes you so docile. Dreamlike. “You’re really helping me so much,” he coos, and before you know it his mouth is on yours. His mouth… is on yours. And he tastes like you, and he’s kissing you. You freeze, not stopping him as he grabs your hands and loops them around his neck, his own picking you up to melt into an embrace.

Like two lovers in a painting, he claims your mouth with his tongue and curls your feeble body into him. So strong, with hard lines of his body that make your heart swell under your ribs. His hand on your thigh, the other on your neck, he kisses you and you think the stars might be exploding around you. He pulls back for a moment enough to breathe, before peppering another few kisses on your agape lips until you could turn black and blue from the bruising weight of your adoration. Kuroo brushes your hair away as you look at him, chest heaving against his each swell of your lungs. He starts peeling his lanky body away from you. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought that you were my biggest fan, but if you don’t—”

“No, I am!” you squeak, grabbing onto his jersey to keep his warmth close.

The noirette gives a faint smile, shaking his head. You don’t stop to question him acting so different from before, since your greedy brain clings to every word. “It’s okay,” he mumbles, “I’m used to being taken advantage of by girls.” His eyes shift to the side, lips dropping into a downturn. “They tell me how much they care about me so that I’ll have them, then leave me. I know my teammates are always the favorites anyway. So I understand that you don’t want to do anything more, it’s okay.”

“No Tetsuro, I want to, I swear!” you blurt out, grabbing his large hand despite the jitters in your system. He gives you a slight raise of his eyebrow. “I want to— s-suck you off.”

He chuckles, gaining back some of the brightness to his eyes. “You can’t even say it without stuttering.” The hand on your neck slides to your shoulder, slowly pushing you toward the ground. You hesitate for another moment, before dropping to your knees when the pressure becomes too heavy. When you’re eye level with his shorts, you swallow, bringing up your hands. The fabric is pulled taunt, showing off your effect on him. Ever so slowly, you pull the elastic of the red shorts down, taking his boxers with them in the process. You push them down until his hard cock is freed, curving up towards his belly and twitching with anticipation. Kuroo just bites his lip when you look up at him. “Give it your best shot, baby.”

He’s hot and heavy in your hand, tip glistening with precum. You slowly start moving your hand down his length, but you’re clearly not going fast enough because his hand is back in your hair, yanking you closer to his dick this time. He presses the tip to your lips, and you whimper out as you open your mouth. He’s quick to grab hold of himself to push inside, too quick and stretching you painfully. He’s big and wide and you immediately know you’ll ache once this is done. But as he starts working himself deeper, your eyes fluttering at the feeling and focusing on not choking, he makes pretty grunts that you tell yourself make this worth it. He reaches the back of your throat with plenty to spare, and you bring your hand up to hold yourself on his thigh. It stings.

But he doesn’t stop, even when you whimper around him and push at his leg. “Take it all the way,” he grunts, cocking his head back. The noises you make only make him more vocal, but you’re fighting through the feeling of panic in your chest. Each time he pulls back more saliva messes up your face, keeping Kuroo’s attention on the pretty way you take him. “You think you deserve my attention? My dumb, useless little bitch wants my approval?” He grunts when he hits the back of your throat again. “Because if you can’t even take my cock in your mouth without drooling all over yourself, I don’t think you do deserve it.” He slows his hips when you make a throaty sound, fingers tangled tight in your hair as he pushes in until your nose is pressed to his skin, before letting you back. You gasp for air when you’re finally let up, holding a sob that threatens to crawl out of your throat.

“Kuroo, I can’t,” you bring out, wiping your fingers under your eyes to get rid of any tears, but he doesn’t let go. Your voice is already raspy, grating against your tender throat.

“Yes you can, you’re doing well.” He pushes his cock back to your lips and though you’re more prepared for it this time you’re still shocked by how big he feels. Spit seeps out along the edges of your mouth, tongue being pushed down and your lungs struggling. He moves your head up and down his cock over and over, barely leaving you enough time to take a couple deep breaths. He slowly starts fucking your face when the tears spill over your cheeks and clump your lashes, hissing when you gag on him. “That’s how you suck a cock, idiot. Can’t do anything right without my help, can you?” His words just make you cry more. He bruises your throat until you can’t take any more, pulling out of his grip despite the pain and falling back onto your butt.

“Kuroo,” you cry out, losing control over your own tears. Your voice sounds double, like it’s been split in two. “I don’t like this.” A little squeak falls from your lips, airways painful and ragged. “I want—,” this time you can’t hold back the sob, “I want you to be nice to me.” You sound so pitiful, even to your own ears. You’re crying. But the man you’ve looked up to for so long is calling you all these names, making you feel so dumb. Are you really that dumb for liking him, supporting him, being his fan? “I don’t wanna do any more.” Tears are flowing, wet and warm down your cheeks and neck. Stop, stop crying. You reach a hand up to smear them away, but in their place new ones still come. “Please, I wanna go home.”

“Shh, shhhh,” he hushes, petting the top of your head like you’re a well-behaving pup, and you hate how you lean into it. The idea of yourself makes you sick to your stomach. Why are you even letting him walk all over you like this? Is this really the amount of self respect you have? Kuroo peers down at you between his legs. “You’re doing so well for me. You’re the best fan I could ask for. I’m sure you can take a bit more.”

“No,” you squeak when he reaches for your face again, “it hurts and I don’t like it.”

Kuroo stills. Regards you with a long, drawn-out breath, before humming in what you pray is understanding. “Alright,” he helps you up from the floor, steadying you in his arms and moving you both to one of the benches instead. “I wouldn’t want to hurt my number one fan, would I?” He sits down on the bench first, pulling you to sit on his thighs facing him. You wipe the mess of tears and saliva away as best you can, watching as Kuroo slides you closer to him without a care in the world. And you want to be mad, you want to push off him and do anything other than sit here and take it, but you can’t. You can’t, because you’re weak. You can’t, because you’re an idiot fangirl, and he’s been everything you’ve wanted since you were thirteen.

“Push your legs together,” he orders, squishing your thighs and reaching down to slip his cock in between them. He fucks your legs with the last of his restraint, pace from fast to punishing, kneading the doughy expanse between his fingers and pressing his forehead to your shoulder. You can feel the warmth of his breath, the shudder down his spine and the tensing of his legs below you, but you don’t process it. Everything feels far away. And then he calls out your name, and cums on your thighs, spilling white all over your panties and skin. He kisses your neck, and your lips after that. And you just stare at the tiles of the boys room showers before he slides you off of him.

Your legs tremble. He quickly uses a towel to clean himself up before tucking himself back in, and smiles down at you. “Thank you so much, baby, that was perfect.” He leans down to press a kiss to your temple as he hands you the towel. “Clean up?” The fluffy towel with the red cat embroidered on it is stained with the cum you clean off yourself, as tears roll down your face. You loved him so much, but now you just hate him. Embarrassed, hurt, useless. Kuroo’s bright face as he talks is another slap in yours. “Lighten up, I’ll lock up the gym for you, okay?” He smiles when you lift your eyes to his figure in the doorway, your crumpled skirt bunched in your hand. “And don’t even worry about it, I’ll walk you home. It’s the least I could do for my fan.”

It is the least he could do.

You nod and put up your most convincing smile.

///

thank you so so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed. did this have to be so long? probably not. did i make it that long anyway? yes. mean kuroo will live rent free in my brain for the coming six months.

27 notes · View notes

cozywritings · 4 years ago

Text

Coffee Cake

Moving to Canada, escaping your hometown, and opening your own bakery was a dream of yours since you were a teenager. Now, at 23 years old, you’re able to do exactly that. However, what’s to happen when you open up next to a coffee shop owned by the most handsome and sweetest person you’ve ever met?

-----

“Okay guys, thank you so much for putting up the flowers. I really appreciate it.” You smiled as the men left, taking their baked goods and waving goodbye. You’d finally closed on your little shop and were starting to decorate. Deciding to go with a floral look, you went with flowers that would cascade the building but also were low maintenance. As you looked over to the coffee shop next door you chucked, the difference in design was funny. Your little shop was white and colourful while this one was black and the interior was full of dark stained wood.

Walking into the door you hummed at the smell of coffee and spices, a tall man with dark curls smiled at you. “Oh hi, how may I help you on this lovely afternoon?” His voice was like velvet as you walked up to the counter.

You smiled at him, waving. “I just wanted to come say hi, I just bought the shop next door. It’s going to be my first real bakery and I just wanted to come meet my neighbors!” Your voice light and cheery as you bounced on your toes.

The curly haired man smiled and held his hand out. “Well I’m Raul. This is my little coffee shop, I hope you’re up for a little competition. James here is quite the pastry man.” He chuckled, pointing at a shorter man that looked like a frat boy.

You waved at each other and looked back to Raul, he was staring at you with a smile that could stop traffic. “Well I mainly do cakes and cupcakes, special orders, cookies and muffins.” At the mention of muffins, his eyes lit up.

“You do muffins?” Hes asked excitedly, you nodded, a proud smile on your face. They were your best seller back home.

“Everyone loves my double chocolate ones. And then of course the classic blueberry and banana nut. I’m working on some more recipes currently.” You told him, reminding yourself to finish up the pumpkin recipe soon for the fall.

Raul was now leaning against the counter, a serious look on his face. “When can I test the muffins?” His tone making you giggle before you pointed next door to your own shop.

“I have a couple right now. I’ve been using them to thank the guys helping me get all moved in. Some of them are accepting them as payment when they are really just a thank you.” You smiled, thankful for all the help and how nice everyone was during your set up.

Raul tossed his hand towel on the counter, turning back to the crew behind him. “Guys, I’m going next door for a taste test. Be back later!” There was a collective “okay” and a few asking if they could come too and you giggled at their eagerness.

Walking into the shop, he looked around at your little lobby, glass cases and an order book on the counter. “It still needs some work but I’m hoping to be open by the end of next week. I’m doing a few private orders for now.” He smiled at you as you spoke, looking through the book of cakes and cupcakes you’ve done throughout the past few years.

Suddenly he shut the book and crossed his arms. “What about a little deal?” He asked, an eyebrow cocked as you walked back into the room, muffins in hand.

“What kind of deal?” You asked as you placed the baked goods on the counter, digging into a double chocolate muffin with a fork.

“How do you feel about coffee?” He asked, before taking a bite of his own muffin and letting out a satisfied hum. His eyes closed for a second and you realized how truly beautiful this man was.

“Well, I’m not a huge coffee person honestly I’m more of a tea and hot cocoa girl, but I love the smell of coffee. Why?” You laughed as he tried to swallow his mouthful of muffin, seeing as he shoved the whole thing in his mouth.

He blushed at his struggle. “Sorry, that was just so good. Anyways. I would honestly love one of your baked goods every morning and in return you could maybe be my taste tester for new drinks? I’m exploring new flavours and the guys aren’t really into it. They like what they like and that’s it.” You thought about it for a moment. You didn’t mind giving away treats, and you got free drinks out of the deal. Plus, having a gorgeous man hand deliver your breakfast to you every day didn’t sound too bad.

“Deal.” You smiled, sticking out your hand to close the deal. He grabbed your hand and you noticed how large he was. His hand engulfed yours as he shook it, you also noticed what looked like a whole sleeve peeking out of the sleeve of his shirt.

“Alright m’lady. What will it be today?” His sweet smile melting you. You already knew this man would be the death of you.

“Well, let’s see. It’s 5 in the evening, so let’s go with a nice iced tea. I don’t really have a preference but it has to be sweet. None of that ‘no sugar’ garbage.” He nodded, taking a mental note of your order.

“Okay, I’ll go whip something up and be right back.” He saluted you, closing the door gently behind him. As soon as Raul left, you let out a squeal. You swear you couldn’t have picked a better location. You were just down the street from your apartment, and you were right next door to a cafe run by the sweetest, most attractive guy you’d ever known, and your mind was full of him. You couldn’t help but think about how cute he looked, mouth full of muffin, trying to talk. He was obviously already comfortable with you. Or maybe that was his nature, but you couldn’t stay in your thoughts long. The bell above the door rang and in he walked, a glass of reddish tea in his massive hand.

“Here you go! I pegged you as a hibiscus tea girl, so I decided on that. There’s a little lemonade in it as well, since it’s so hot out today.” You blushed, taking the glass from him and looking at the cup. It was a thick glass jar. The shops name etched into the side.

You ran your fingers over the logo, the unique woman’s eyes with coffee steam framing her face intriguing you. “This is a fancy glass you’ve got here.” You spoke, looking at him over the rim on the glass.

“Oh, we got those done last Christmas for the employees and we’ve become pretty popular in the area so we started selling them. We also have a few shirts and around Christmas we sell hot cocoa bundles with mugs.” You smiled as you watched him talk about his business, taking sips of tea and humming.

“This is amazing by the way. And you were right about me being a hibiscus girl. So, how long have you had the cafe?” You asked, using any excuse to keep him in your presence as long as possible.

He ran his hands through those soft looking curls. “I opened it 5 years ago when I was 18. It sounds kind of stupid, but I always wanted my own cafe. My mom is British and always had tea in the house and during snow days I’d be in charge of hot cocoa and one day I just decided that I was going to have my own shop. I even designed to logo, with my brother’s help. What about you?”

You placed the now empty glass on the counter before explaining that you had always had a thing for baking and when it came time to go to college you went into to culinary. “This is my first real shop. I used to just take orders online and do local things back home in the states.” You blushed, looking at your shoes.

“You’re from the states?” You nodded. “What made you want to move up here?” You just shrugged, wiping some dust off the glass case.

“I wanted something different I guess. And where I lived it was always ungodly hot and I hated it. So I moved up here to escape the heat. And before you say anything, I know the winters are harsher, but I’m okay with that. My apartment has a fireplace and I live in fuzzy socks. Besides, being hot sometimes makes me uncomfortable and anxious.”

The two of you talked for a few more hours while Raul helped you clean up a little bit since the rest of the equipment and the decor would be in tomorrow. “Well, I should let you go. Thank you so much for your help, and the tea. It was amazing.” You smiled over at him, handing him a box of cupcakes for the guys at the cafe.

“I’ll see you tomorrow with a new drink. It was nice meeting you, and I’m glad we’re going to be work neighbors.” And that was all he said before waving goodbye and walking back to his own store to lock up and clean for tomorrow.

You stayed back a little longer, packing up the rest of the goodies before making your way home. You were now even more excited to come into the shop tomorrow to get set up. Raul had offered his help in the heavy lifting and how could you say no to those eyes, or those muscles. So you settled into bed, eagerly awaiting the morning.

-----

The next few days were full of hard work. Between setting everything up and baking for the people helping you, you were exhausted every night. You were so grateful for Raul, as he would periodically come over, that same glass filled with a different cold beverage. He even got the cup personalized with your name on it.

Tomorrow was opening day. You were extremely excited, and equally nervous, but you were confident in your little shop. You’d worked so hard for this and you’d refuse to let this go bad. “Hey there sugar!” Raul shouted, the nickname making you blush as you walked up to the counter and asked for a raspberry lemonade. “Tomorrow is the big day. Are you nervous?” You nodded, chewing on your bottom lip. “Don’t worry, the guys and I will be there to support you. We’ll even wear your shirts.” he said and you blushed.

A few days ago you’d ordered a few shirts as a joke for the guys at the cafe. Pastel pink and blue with your logo on the front. The back had the saying “Have your cake and eat it too.” The thought of 5 men standing in public in those shirts made you laugh. “Thank you for all the support Raul. It means a lot to me.”

“Of course! I remember how nervous I was when I opened RM Coffee, and you’re doing this all by yourself? It’s impressive.” He placed a hand on your shoulder before handing you your cup. He was wearing a short sleeve today, and you could see almost all of his sleeve, it made you wonder what other tattoos he had.

You slid him a $5 bill and got up. “Okay guys, I’m gonna go get some rest before tomorrow. I’ll see you all in the morning!” You waved goodbye to the boys in the shop before walking home. You were half way down the street when you heard someone behind you, and whipped back around to find Raul.

He had his hand out, holding something. “You left your notebook!” He shouted, the book stretched out to you.

“Oh, thank you! That had all my new recipes in it. I’d die if I lost it.” You sighed, taking it from him. Your hands brushed and you didn’t miss the way way his breathing picked up at the contact.

“Also, I was uhh, I was wondering if after the grand opening tomorrow, you’d let me take you out to dinner? You know, after closing. Of course.” His cheeks were red as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Your face heated up, before nodding. “I’d really like that. Maybe you can show me the places to eat here.” He smiled, hands now shoved in his pockets.

“I’ll come by around 7 and we’ll go to dinner then. I-I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight and good luck.” You hugged him gently, he was warm and you didn’t want to let go of him.

“Goodnight Raul. Thank you for all your help.” And off you went, mind racing over tomorrow. Did the hot guy next door really just ask you out?

---

Curling your hair and adding the finishing touches to your makeup, you were ready for the day. You’d chosen a simple pink cotton dress and nude heels. Seeing as this was an important day, you decided to dress nicer than your jeans and a ‘Sugar Cakes’ shirt you would usually wear. Plus, you had a date tonight. You needed to look amazing, even if your date had already seen you sweating and in sweatpants.

As you made the short walk to the shop, you noticed a crowd of people around the bakery. They were all chattering and taking photos in front of the flowers cascading over the window, and a smile graced your features, being one for the perfect photo, you were glad people were taking advantage of the beautiful backdrop you’d created.

“Good morning Sugar.” Raul greeted, a chai tea in his hands with your name on it. “You ready for this? You’ve got quite a crowd, I’m impressed.” You nodded, taking the drink and looking at him, pastel pink shirt pulled tight across his chest.

“You look good in pink.” You giggled, before turning to look at the boys. Mike, Brian, Geoff, and Ian all wearing pink and blue shirts.

“James was going to be here too but he caught his girlfriends stomach bug.” He said, answering your unasked question, you shook your head, wishing him well before walking towards the front of your shop.

Taking your spot in front of the door with that gorgeous red ribbon across it, the nerves set in. “Good morning everyone. Thank you all so much for coming to the opening for Sugar Cakes, it means a lot to me. This is my first storefront and I’m so excited to share my creations with you! In light of today, I have mini cupcake samples inside waiting for you all!” They all clapped and cheered for you. “Also, a special thank you to the boys of RM Coffee for all the late night help and personal supply of caffeine while I prepared for today. And for the support, I mean come on. Don’t those men look fabulous in those pastel shirts!” You laughed, motioning to the group of baristas.

“So, who’s ready for cupcakes?” You shouted, scissors in hand. While everyone cheered, you snipped the ribbon, smiling as you watched it fall to the floor. “Sugar Cakes is officially open!” You smiled as Raul pulled you in for a hug and kissed your cheek.

“You’re gonna be quite busy today Sugar. I understand if you wanna call a rain check on tonight.” You shook your head, taking your tea from him

“Of course not. Maybe just something casual.” You suggested, there was no way you were cancelling your night with this man.

He smiled and nodded. “I know just the thing.” There was a smirk on his face as he placed a kiss to your temple before walking into his own shop.

The day went by fast. You’d sold 15 dozen cupcakes, had an order for a birthday cake, and an office asked if you’d provide muffins for their Monday morning meeting. You were so ecstatic all day you didn’t care that you hadn’t changed the heels that were now killing your feet.

There was a ding as someone entered the store before they spoke. “Excuse me, miss, do you have a moment to spare?” You looked up to see Raul, a bag in his hand.

“For you? Always.” You grinned, motioning him to come behind the counter with you.

He was quick to get to you. “I um, I noticed you looked uncomfortable in those shoes and I felt really bad you didn’t bring anything to change into. So I went to the shop down the street and got you some sneakers. They aren’t the most fashionable but at least your feel won’t hurt.” He blushed, handing you the plastic bag with a pair of white sneakers and half a sandwhich. “Figured you be hungry and since James isn’t here we had the extra half from lunch.”

You smiled at him, hugging his waist tightly “Oh my god you’re the best.” You sighed, slipping off your heels and putting on the shoes. “Oh my god that feels so much better. Thank you so much Raul.” He nodded, exchanging a few details about tonight before letting you get back to the customers.

The afternoon was a lot calmer than this morning, but you were still constantly busy. You had another order for macaroons to make and cupcakes for a baby’s first birthday. How you were going to do all of this alone, you weren’t sure, but you knew you’d get it done.

At exactly 7:00, Raul was outside, the pastel pink shirt was replaced with a nice navy button down and he looked amazing. “You ready for your night of no customers?” That smile he flashed you making you want to melt.

“What did you have in mind?” You asked as he opened the door to his own business

“Well, since you expressed to me that you have a deep, burning passion for hot chocolate, but you only know how to make the packaged kind. I thought,” he waved towards the counter “I could teach you how to make it from scratch.” You gasped at the assortment of chocolate and flavors to add and all the mugs to chose from, all laid out on the counter.

“That actually sounds amazing.” you sighed, leaning against his side, the day finally taking it’s toll on you.

You learned that you can do milk chocolate, dark chocolate, and even a white chocolate. And that milk is so much better than water. “I can’t believe that you’re a baker, yet you struggle with a simple drink.” Raul chucked, boping your nose and smearing whipped cream on it.

“Hey, don’t judge. I watched you shove a whole muffin in your mouth like you hadn’t eaten a real meal in days.” You pointed out, referring to that first day.

He threw his hands up in defense. “That wasn’t my fault. I’ve been living off of coffee and James danishes for weeks now.” You smiled, grabbing a chocolate cookie and pushing it into your mug. “Beautiful!” He shouted, throwing his hands into the air “Ladies and Gentlemen she has done it!” You bursted into a fit of giggles, holding your stomach as you laughed. “Now you’ve gotta drink it, while we watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” You let out a louder laugh at his choice.

“Why that? It’s not Christmas babe.” He smiled at the nickname you let slip, opening his laptop and turning off all the lights in the shop, pulling out a blanket. “Christmas in July was a few days ago. I figured it was fitting.” You shrugged, his reasoning making sense as you curled up under the blanket, mug of cocoa in your hand.

As the movie came to an end, you had your head on Raul’s shoulder, your body tired from the days excitement. “Hey, do you want me to drive you home honey? It’s too late to walk and you seem kinda tired.” You nodded, thanking him before folding up the fuzzy blue blanket and setting your now empty mug on the counter. “I’ll wash the muga in the morning. Let’s just get you home.” You smiled, grabbing your purse and making your way out the door and to the black BMW he had pointed out to you.

“You know, I may steal your hot cocoa recipe and name it after you.” He said as you pulled up to your apartment.

“That’s fine. As long as I can make the double chocolate muffin with extra chocolate chips the Raul Special” you retorted, looking at the side of his face. He was handsome from every angle.

“I’d love that idea. Makes me feel special.” He smiled, walking you to your door. The pristine white door had pastel pink numbers on it and he chuckled. It was very you to have already made the place your own.

“Thank you for tonight Raul. It was amazing and exactly what I needed.” Your hands were shaking now. This was the sacred doorstep moment. Would he kiss you? Go for the cheek? Maybe just walk away.

Your question was answered when he cupped your face, plump lips grazing yours before you reached up on your tiptoes, closing the gap. His lips tasted like mint and chocolate, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan. “Do you um, do you wanna go out again tomorrow?” He whispered against your lips, smiling as you nodded. “Good. Pick you up at 7. Dress nice. I’m gonna make up for missing dinner tonight.”

You leaned in for another kiss, and he wasn’t complaining. Pushing you up against the door and hands holding your waist. “I gotta go honey. I’ll see you tomorrow, and I’ll have something special for you.”

And with that, he left, eyes droopy as he watched you blush before touching your fingertips to your swollen lips before disappearing behind your door. You’d never felt so strongly about someone so quickly, but Raul seemed like that kind of person who drew you in and didn’t make you regret it.

So you crawled into bed, all too excited for tomorrow and your second date. The only worry you had was what he planned on giving you in the morning.

---

You woke up to someone pounding on your door at 5am. “Who the fuck could that be?” You groaned, wrapping up in your silk robe and walking to the front of your apartment. You looked through the peephole to find Raul. Hands behind his back.

Slowly, you opened the door, the sun barely brightening the sky. “Fuck, did I wake you,?” His smile dropping at your robe clad body and ruffled hair.

You shook your head, opening the door further. “It’s fine. Just an hour early. Come in, what are you hiding?” He blushed, stepping into the apartment and pulling a bouquet of roses from behind his back, a thermos in his other hand.

“I told you I’d have something special for you, I made a few adjustments to your hot chocolate and I’m ready to add it to the menu, after your approval.” His cheeks bright pink as he handed you the matte black thermos. You took a sip, closing your eyes and humming at the taste.

“It’s absolutely amazing. What did you do?” Taking another sip, you hopped onto the counter and looked at him. His hair was messy and his shirt was unbuttoned more than usual. He looked amazing for it being so early in the morning.

Raul smiled, setting the roses on the counter. “Well, I added a little more of the milk chocolate and that hazelnut flavor you liked. And a dash a cinnamon.” He smiled proudly as you took another large sip, cursing yourself for burning your tongue.

“I was thinking of calling it the “Hazelnut Sugar” in honour of the fact you made it after your love of Nutella” a blush creeped up your cheeks as he tucked your bed ruined curls behind your ears. “I’ll let you get ready for work, don’t forget we have a date tonight.” He placed a kiss to your lips before walking out the front door, leaving you sitting in your kitchen with a stupid smile on your face and the coffee cup in your hand.

------

It’s been a few weeks since your redo date with Raul. Over a month actually. He took you out to a wonderful dinner and then out for ice cream before taking you home. Leaving you with another heated front porch makout session. You were hesitant to jump into anything intimate. You’d already told him about your ex and he understood why you want to take things slow. But the two of you were already so loving.

Everyone now knew you were official, you both spent your mornings in the coffee shop and lunch in the bakery. Raul would drive you home after closing and stay until well into the night. Every greeting started with a kiss, no matter where you were.

You were now seated at one of the tables in the cafe, since it opened an hour before you so you usually brought Raul his muffins and sat with him while he ate. And you always had your special drink of the day. If he didn’t have anything new for you to try, he’d give you a favorite of yours. Today you were drinking your hibiscus tea with lemonade when the bell above the door rang and you turned. Your face turning white at the figure in front of you.

Walking through the doorway was your ex himself. His black hair slicked back and his sunshades clipped to the front of his shirt. “Oh, hey there doll face. What are you doing here?” His voice low as he sat next to you. You looked around for Raul or any of the guys, but they were all in the back laughing at something. “So sweetheart. You settled in nicely?? Don’t worry, I’m not here long. Just up to visit Scott for a few days and I’m headed back to New York.”

You stared at the side of Raul’s face through the window as Nate spoke “You should stay. In New York. No one wants you here.” He slung an arm over your shoulder, letting out a fake gasp “Oh baby, you want me to stay.” As he leaned in to kiss your cheek, your face green and scrunched up, you wondered how none of the other customers weren’t concerned. Raul walked back into the front, staring at you two. You looked at him, eyes begging for him to stop this, tears brimming your eyes in fear and embarrassment.

He had your thermos of hot cocoa in his hands, “Hey babygirl, you should get to work. I made you your favorite” He smiled, setting down the cup and leaning in, hands cupping your face before placing a deep and passionate kiss to your lips.

“Thank you.” You mumbled against his lips before he pulled away to look at Nate.

If looks could kill, Nate would be six feet under already. “Good morning sir. How may I help you today?” he asked, keeping him distracted while you made your way next door.

---

At lunch, Raul came in, a soft look on his face. “Hey, what happened this morning. You looked terrified and I’m so sorry I wasn’t out there.” You were glad you didn’t have any customers or special orders to make as you walked over to him, falling into his embrace and letting out a few tears.

“That was Nate. My ex. He, he said he was here for a few days and oh god. He knows I live near by.” Raul rubbed your back slowly, pressing his lips to your head as you swayed gently in the entryway.

“Hey, you’re okay baby. It’s okay. He doesn’t know where you live. I’m only 15 feet away from you almost all day. And uh, if you’d like. I’ll stay with you late tonight if it’ll make you feel safer.” You nodded quickly. Fear of the last time Nate wanted to find you, and ended up breaking down your door and searching your apartment for you, taking over. You were now having a panic attack in your small lobby.

“Shhh baby, it’s okay. You’re going to be safe. How about you close down the shop, and I’ll put Brian in charge for the rest of the day and we go to my apartment instead. You can sleep easy in my bed and I can sleep on the couch tonight.” You sniffled, nodding and reaching into your pocket to grab the keys to the shop.

“Thank you, babe. I just really need to lay down.” He nodded, pressing a kiss to your head before he left to go inform Brian. You felt bad pulling him away from his work, but he offered, and how could you say no to cuddling with Raul.

You got the bakery closed up, placing a handmade sign in the window reading “Closed due to personal illness”. Raul was waiting for you in his car to go pack a bag and head to his place. “You’re gonna be safe. Today was the last time you’ll ever have to see him okay? I won’t let him hurt you again.” You smiled as he placed a hand on your thigh, rubbing small circles to keep you calm.

“Welcome to my cozy home.” He announced, motioning to the inside of his house, causing you to let out a giggle.

“It’s very cozy looking.” You noted. Taking in the soft couch and blankets. It was surprisingly clean and smelled amazing, like the inside of his shop.

You heard him clear his throat behind you. “My uhh. My room is down the hall, you can put your stuff in there. Do you want anything to drink?” You shook your head, walking towards the door he’d pointed at.

The room was simple, a large wooden framed bed with a grey comforter, a matching dresser and bedside table and a tv. Nothing extravagant, but it was cozy. You set your bag on the end of the bed, looking for your pajamas when Raul came up behind you, arms around your waist. “Hey, I’m gonna go get something for dinner tonight. Do you want to take a shower? Wash off the morning and then when I get back you can teach me how to make those cute little macaroons you have at the bakery?”

You leaned your head back against his shoulder, biting your lip “Macaroons take a long time to make sweetie, how about we cheat and you get some ice cream instead?” He chuckled, nodding his head. “Or maybe, you could just call in a pizza later and you join me in the shower?” You smirked and his eyes widened.

“How about I run a bath? You’ve had a stressful week and it’ll be good for you.” You nodded, sighing and turning to face him.

There was a playful grin on your face as you spoke. “Will this relaxing bath include my boyfriend?” Raul leaned down, kissing you softly.

“If that’s what you want. Of course. But I promise I won’t try anything funny.” You let out a giggle, kissing his chest gently. What a fucking gentleman.

---

The warm water felt good on your skin as you leaned back against Raul’s chest. His chest that had a sparrow tattoo that he said matches his brothers and a very beautiful floral piece on his shoulder. His hands rested on your thighs, rubbing small circles. “So, what kind of pizza do you want? Or would you rather I order you a pasta?” his voice was low as he mumbled against your heated skin.

“Are you really asking me about dinner right now? You’ve got a naked girl in your lap and you’re asking about food??” you giggled, placing your hands on his forearms.

He kissed your shoulder gently, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly. “What would you rather talk about my love?” Shrugging, you leaned your head back for a kiss and he happily obliged. You reached back and tugged a little on those soft curls, earning a groan. “You’re supposed to be relaxing.” He warned, kissing along your shoulder.

“Right, right” You smiled, relaxing back against his chest and closing your eyes. “Raul? Will you sleep with me tonight? I just don’t feel safe and I’d feel a lot better if you were there with me.” He smiled, nodding and burying his nose in your hair.

“Of course. It’s whatever you want. I’m here to keep you safe.” He emphasized his point by squeezing you tightly, pulling you closer to him.

——

Now sat on the couch in one of Raul’s shirts and the shorts you brought, you heard the doorbell ring and Raul let out a groan. “Fuck I forgot it’s Wednesday. I always have dinner with my brothers on Wednesday here.” He looked over at you with an apologetic smile. “I can tell them to go home. You have already delt with enough today, you don’t need the stress of meeting my brothers for the first time.” You just shook your head and rubbed his thigh. “No it’s okay, I’d love to meet them. I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t order dinner yet.” He smiled at you, getting up to open the door for his siblings.

You heard them walk into the house and your nerves picked up. Here you were, meeting your boyfriend’s family for the first time and you were wearing his clothes and no makeup. “Oh shit, we didn’t know you had company Raul.” you looked up prepared for younger brothers, but instead saw two men that looked exactly like Raul. To an extent.

“Oh yeah, uh remember when I told you I was seeing someone?” they nodded, staring at you on the couch, in what was obviously their brother’s shirt. “This is my girlfriend, she uh, needed to stay here for the night because of some personal stuff. Be fucking nice.” He growled at them and you giggled.

The brother that noticed you first spoke, “Hi, I’m Shawn.” he smiled, holding his hand out for you to shake. He was almost as big as Raul, but his hair was slightly shorter and he had way less tattoos, but you saw the sparrow on his hand that matched Raul’s. “I’m sorry we barged in on you two, we always have dinner on Wednesday and we never think to call first.”

You shook your head, “Oh no, it’s perfectly fine, we were actually about to order some pizza, I think. I hope that’s okay with you guys.” He smiled, sitting on the smaller couch and looking at the third triplet who was talking to Raul about some new building coming up in town.

“Hey, I’m Peter.” he finally said, noticing you and Shawn were done with introductions. “It’s really nice to meet you, Raul never has girls over.” he smirks and Raul smacks the back of Peter’s head. Opposite of Shawn, Peter’s hair was longer than Raul’s and from what you can see, other than the sparrow you can see peeking out from the cuff of his jeans, he doesn’t have any other tattoos.

All four of you sat in the living room and talked while you waited for the delivery driver to arrive, you learned that Shawn was a business owner as well. He owned a music shop and taught guitar to kids and performed at the coffee shop on occasion. Peter was an architect, hence why he was talking to Raul about a new building. You were already very comfortable with the guys and you were grateful for that.

The doorbell rang for the second time and you got up to get the food, letting the guys catch up. “Hey, I have an order for Mendes?” the guy said, looking at the receipt and you nodded when he looked over at you. “It was paid for online.” he blubbered, obviously nervous when you took the boxes and handed him some cash.

“I know, here. Thanks for coming out here.” you smiled at him and he blushed, he couldn’t have been older than seventeen. “Have a nice night.” you waved at him and closed the door. Turning to the kitchen you heard Raul talking to his brothers.

You couldn’t help but listen in. “I know but she was so stressed after he showed up, I couldn’t let her sit at home alone. She was scared enough in the shop. I’m taking it slow, I really like her and you guys know I’m not usually one to be affectionate, but there’s something about her.” You blushed, taking the paper plates and joining them in the living room again.

---

Crawling into bed, happy and full of takeout pasta and ice cream, you curled up next to Raul. He was wearing some fuzzy plaid pajama pants and his torso was bare. “Hey, he’ll be gone in a few days and you’ll be free of him. I’m going to take care of you sugar” You laughed and nudged his arm at the nickname.

“I know you will. Thank you, you’re the most amazing person.” You whispered against his skin before he placed a finger under your chin and brought your face to his, kissing you softly. His lips were soft and tasted like his mint toothpaste. His oversized shirt raised above your hips as you reached up to play with his hair.

He let out a hum at the feeling. “They like you, ya know. They think you’re good for me, good to me. And coming from them, that’s a compliment.” You hummed, pressing a lazy kiss to his jaw. There was something about Raul that made you feel comfortable, like you could do anything and he’d love it. You pulled your hand away to scratch your wrist and he let out a whine. “Play with my hair again?” he asked and nuzzledinto your neck.

How in the hell were you supposed to deny him when he looked so soft? So you threaded your fingers into his hair and kissed his forehead gently. Eventually he decided you needed to stop or he’d fall asleep, so you switched places, Raul playing with your hair until you finally fell asleep, curled into his side. Your head on his chest and thigh resting lazily over his hip. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he whispered a soft goodnight to you before lowering the volume on the tv and shutting off the lamp.

----

When you woke up, Raul was gone, but you could smell something from the kitchen. As you sat up to follow the smell, you felt a piece of paper on the sheets. Picking it up you read

“Stay in bed. I’ll be back soon. Don’t go anywhere!”

You laughed at the note, he was excited about something and plus, he was just so damn cute. The something was revealed to you when he walked into the bedroom, a tray covered in breakfast food in his large hands. “Good morning gorgeous. Did you sleep okay?” You mumbled a yes as he crawled into bed next to you, handing you your plate of bacon and cheese covered eggs and cup of tea.

“So I was thinking. Maybe I should call the guys and have them run the shop today, and we can have our own day? Just resting and watching movies or something. I mean. You’ve already got the sign up at the shop.” he asked, looking at you like he was praying for you to say yes. You knew he was just worried about you.

You thought about it for a moment, taking a sip of your tea. “I guess one day out of the bakery couldn’t hurt. As long as there is cuddling involved.”

Raul smiled widely as he nuzzled his face into your neck. “Good. Because I already called the boys to cover.”

You gasped, gently hitting his shoulder. “You planned this!” He just chuckled, kissing along your neck before stealing a piece of your bacon. His curls tickling your cheek as he held you. “Okay, do you want to learn how to make my new pumpkin recipe for the fall?” he nodded quickly, always eager to try something new. He had become your personal taste tester for you new recipes.

---

Looking at all the ingredients on the counter, you smiled. This was the first time you’d be sharing a recipe with someone, and it was a new one.

“You know.” Raul said, settling against the counter next to you, “I was thinking, it’s about time you made a menu item for me.” That cheesy grin on his face.

“Raul. You already do have one. The double chocolate muffins with extra chocolate chips.” He pouted, pulling up his phone.

“But I’ve already started on another one for you. I was thinking a special blend of your hibiscus tea with that lemonade you like. I never put lemonades in my tea unless it’s a special order.” He stated, looking at his phone, very obviously taking photos of you.

Your cheeks now a soft pink. He wanted to add another special to the menu just for you. “I’ll think about it.” You giggled, kissing his chest.

You were currently making the brown sugar and cinnamon frosting, a bowl of fresh cinnamon sticks waiting on the counter. “Babe? Can I help with anything?” He asked, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You shook your head, grating some cinnamon into the bowl. “Nope. You made my breakfast this morning. I’ll make your dessert tonight.”

“But I was thinking of a different treat for dessert this evening.” He smirked, watching as you took a taste of the frosting.

Your eyes widened at his statement and he bit his lip. “Hey, if you’re planning on doing that, you might wanna get to work on dinner. I usually have wine with mine.”

He raised his eyebrows. “A wine drinker?” He asked and you nodded.

“I have been since I was 18.” You informed him, placing the frosting into the fridge and checking the timer on the cupcakes.

He tilted his head at you. “Babe, the legal age in the states is 21.”

You put a finger over your lips. “Shhhhh. Mom was very easy going.” You laughed, picking up a kitchen rag and cleaning up the counters to start on the chicken you were planning on making for dinner.

“Those smell amazing by the way. I haven’t had real cooking in my kitchen in a long time. Like I said. I’ve kinda been living off of coffee and your muffins. Dinner usually consists of takeout or a sandwich.”

You smiled, finishing your cleaning and reaching for the glass of water. “Well, if you keep be around there will be real dinners.” You smirked, walking over to take the dirty utensils to the sink.

“I’ll wash the dishes. Why don’t you open that cabinet there and make a choice.” You looked at him, face twisted in confusion before opening the door to see a small room full of wine.

“Are you kidding me? I swear you’re perfect.” You sighed, searching to see if he had that sweet red you enjoyed so much. “Ah. Yes!” You squealed, pulling out the bottle and walking back into the kitchen.

Raul had already washed all the dishes, and grabbed two wine glasses and was now waiting for you in the living room. “You’ve made a good choice.” He commented as he saw the bottle in your hands.

“It’s my favorite. I always prefer a sweeter wine. Never was a fan of the dryer ones.” You shrugged, sitting next to him and popping the cork before pouring you both a good sized glass.

——

”Don’t go wasting your emotions. Lay all your love on me!” You shouted along with the song, Raul down on his knees as he serenades you from the floor, looking up at you standing on the coffee table and singing into your wine glass. You both were now 4 glasses and a whole bottle of wine in, doing impromptu karaoke in the living room. The idea of dinner was long forgotten after you ate the cupcakes. You were grateful Raul didn’t have neighbors so far out into the woods here.

As the song came to an end, Raul stood up, grabbing your waist and lifting you off the table. Ed Sheeran’s “Barcelona” blasting through the house. He began spinning you around, singing to you. You had to admit that he was an excellent singer, you assume he learned from Shawn. Maybe it ran in the family. He even got the Spanish correct. But the whole mood changed when Elvis’ “Can’t Help Falling In Love” started playing.

You were now swaying drunkenly around the living room, Raul holding tightly to your waist and your arms resting on his shoulders. “Mmm move in with me.” He mumbled, burying his face in your neck.

“Babe, we’ve been dating for a little over a month.” you giggled, finding his offer funny.

He shook his head, laughing at his own words “Oh. Haha I guess so. Just seems so natural with you.” You weren’t sure if this was drunken talk or his sober thoughts finally coming out, so you kissed his chest and smiled as the intimate song ended and a more upbeat tune started.

In your wine drunken state, you spun around, pressing yourself against his groin and started grinding your hips to the beat. His hands instantly flying to your hips and pressing his semi against you. “Fuck. Babe you can’t do that. We are taking things slow.” You laughed, turning back around and pulling him towards the couch. He took a seat on the couch, expecting you to lay next to him, not straddle him and place a kiss to his neck.

“Just wanna have a drunk make out session with my boyfriend.” You breathed, cupping his face and kissing him. It was hungry and sloppy but it was perfect. His hands instantly gripping at your hips, grinding you down into him as he tugged on your bottom lip. “You should stay here again tonight. Can’t have you home alone and we aren’t in a state to drive. Plus, I like having you in my bed.” You nodded, now suddenly tired as the alcohol runs it’s usual course.

Raul laughed at your sudden change in mood, carrying you to bed. “You know, I really do like you. I might even love you.” You admitted as you crawled up to the pillow and stripped off the shirt that was now too hot. You didn’t care. He’d seen you naked in the tub the night before.

“I might love you too. Now get some sleep. We’ve got work in the morning.” He reminded you, pulling you into his chest and running his fingers along your back to ease you to sleep.

——-

You heard Raul’s phone ring twice before he answered. “Hello? Babe are you okay? Why are you calling me if you’re right next door.”

You laughed on your side of the phone “Raul can you come over please? I have something to show you.” You were all too excited to show him the new creation you’d made. It was a mocha flavoured cupcake with a white chocolate icing. You had made a whole dozen of them and they were waiting on the counter.

“What is it honey?” He asked as he walked in the door, the teenage girls at the table eating their cupcakes blushing at the gorgeous man in front of them.

“I made that second item you’d asked for.” You smiled, motioning to the cupcakes on the counter. “They’re mocha cupcakes.” You informed him as he picked one up.

He looked over at you, eyes bright and full of adoration. “Like my favorite drink flavour. But what ever shall we call this?” He asked in a mocking tone.

“Well, I was thinking of calling it the”Mendes Mocha” a wide smile on his face told you that was a good choice. “You’re so cute, oh my god I love you.” That was the first time he’d said that. However, you knew by the way his smile never faltered, that he meant it.

You giggled as you heard the two girls gasp. “I- I love you too.” And without saying anything else, Raul leaned across the counter for a kiss.

“I love you.” He mumbled again, brushing your hair behind your ear and stealing another kiss.

“You’re coming over tonight. No questions asked. I’m ready.” He pulled back, looking at you with a questioning face. “I am. Now get back to the shop. And take these cupcakes! I made them for you and the guys.” You handed him the plate and smiled as you watched him leave the bakery. Tonight would be perfect.

———

The sun was already low when Raul knocked on your door, takeout burgers in the bag he was holding. You let him in, smiling at the tattooed man and giving him a kiss. “Thought I’d bring you some of the best burgers in the area. It’s my favourite place to go for curly fries.”

You snatched the bag from his hands “Mendes if there are no curly fries in this bag, I’m sending you home and tonight will be cancelled.”

He let out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your head. “There’s extra curly fries in the bag. Special just for you.” You hummed in satisfaction as you popped a fry into your mouth.

They were Cajun seasoned, your favorite. “You may stay.” You stated, pulling out the food and taking a seat on the couch. “Are we gonna finish ‘Nailed It’ or do we wanna watch a movie?” You asked, clicking to Netflix as Raul sat next to you, pulling your feet into his lap.

You looked over at him, waiting for an answer. “I was thinking Dirty Dancing. You seem to really like that one.” You gave him a look, raising your eyebrows as if to ask “are you really gonna watch this movie?” He nodded, taking the remote from you and pressing play on it.

“This is my favorite part!” You squealed, as it cuts to the final scene. All the talent show acts singing on stage before Johnny comes back for the final dance. “You know. I know how to do that.” Raul blurted out, taking a sip of water.

Raising your eyebrows, you turned to face him. “Do what?” You looked down at his chest, his button down unbuttoned completely and just hanging on his shoulders.

He just shrugged, “The lift they are about to do. I can do that. The hockey team lost a bet in high school with the dance team, me and my brothers were on the team, and we had to learn this. We ended up being their partners for the spring show. If we had won, they were gonna learn to play hockey.”

You just stared at him. “Show me.” He nodded, standing up and walking in front of the couch.

You got up and stood on the opposite side of the living room, staring at him skeptically. “Come on baby. I’ll catch you.” You laughed, not sure if he was referencing the movie or really calling you the nickname, but still stood up. However, you didn’t doubt he would catch you.

You bit your lip nervously, you’d always wanted to do this. When you were younger you danced and always hoped you’d get to have that perfect lift but you quit before you made it that far. “You got this babe.” He cheered as it was time for the lift and you ran towards him, your toes pointing the second he lifted you off the wood flooring and held you above his head.

You new the form pretty well so you held it for a few seconds before he was sliding you down his body. Your legs wrapping around his waist, stopping you from going any further.

He looked at you, your body flush against his, gasping as you leaned down for a hungry kiss, lips crashing into his. “You sure you’re ready baby?” You nodded, tugging the open button down off his shoulders as he walked the two of you to your bedroom.

He stumbled a little over the towels on the floor, causing you to let out a giggle. “I should pick those up.” You mumbled into his mouth before pulling away to tug your shirt off your heated body, tossing it onto the floor next to the towels.

Laying you down carefully, he hooked his fingers into the band of your leggings . “Baby are you sure you want this? We can stop if you want.” You shook your head, lifting up your hips.

“I want this Raul. Please do something.” He didn’t need any more confirmation before he slowly slid the fabric down your thighs. His eyes widening at your half naked body, you bit your lip, his eyes making you self conscious.

“No no baby, you look amazing.” He reassured you before ridding you of your panties and tugging down his boxers, joining you in your naked state. “I- uh, I have a condom in my jeans. I’ve got to go get it.” You nodded your head, watching the way he opened the package. “I love you so much. I promise I’ll be gentle.” You smiled at now nervous he suddenly sounded, and ran a hand through his curls. “Hey, you okay Raul?” He nodded, kissing your lips softly.

“Just, it’s been a while and, god I just love you so much. Wanna make you feel so good.” Letting out a chuckle you mumbled an “I love you too.”

—

“Come here baby.” He said as he leaned back on the bed, arms open for you to curl into. And that’s exactly what you did. Your head on his chest, listening to his heart rate slow down as he held you tightly to him. “I love you Raul.” You hummed out before your eyes closed and sleep took over. “I love you too.”

Raul’s lips on your shoulder woke you up. “Wake up baby, gotta get ready for work.” You let out a groan before rolling over and pressing your lips against his gently. “Just a few more minutes. Wanna be with my boyfriend.”

He chucked against your lips. “You see me all day honey.” He reminded you, hand coming up to rest on your jaw. This thumb was pressing against your pulse point gently and your jaw went slack.

“S’ not the same though” you pouted as he sat up and put on his jeans.

“I’m taking my white shirt back for the day.” He announced as he took the shirt off the hanger to wear. You’d kept it after a date that ended up at your apartment in the bath. You just laid there and watched him get dressed, muscles contracting as he moved. “You’re staring.” He stated.

You blushed, having being caught and looked down at your rings. “You’re pretty.” You mumbled, looking back up at him and letting the sheets fall off your chest and settle at your hips.

He walked back over to you, kissing your nose softly. “Be at the cafe in 30 minutes?? I’ve got something new for you to try.” You nodded, crawling out of bed to get ready for the day as Raul let himself out.

Last night was better than you’d imagined. And you hoped there’d be more. Simply because Raul was so gentle with you, but you were still sore. So you settled for wearing a sundress today, as jeans wouldn’t help the situation. “He’s gonna be the death of me.” You mumbled as you made your way to the cafe.

——-

October

Working all alone in the bakery got really stressful around holidays. Lots of people wanted cupcakes and cakes made for Halloween back home and since you were still shipping, you had at least 10 orders to make. So here you were, hair in a messy bun, running around putting cupcake tins in the large ovens and setting other tins to cool in the blast chiller, while also trying to decorate the desserts correctly and exactly the same.

“Honey! I’m here for lunch!” Raul announced, holding a bag of paninis from the shop down the street and a lemonade for you.

You poked your head out of the kitchen, frosting on your forehead and he smiled at you. “I’ll be out in just a minute baby, I’ve gotta finish these cupcakes.” You rushed the words out before returning to the baked goods on the counters, picking up the bag of orange frosting and icing the jumbo cupcakes in front of you.

They were supposed to have orange frosting and a small fondant hat. You made this kind every year for a family that lived next to you back home. Along with a few other specific orders, like the coffin cake the Briggs’ wanted and the double bunt cake that was made to be a pumpkin.

Raul nodded, taking a seat on the counter behind you and licking the batter off of a bowl. “The dark chocolate batter is really good babe.” He mumbled over the finger in his mouth as he licked the batter off of it.

“Thanks, I revamped it with some chilli powder for a family back home. It’s a special order.” Finally setting down the frosting bag, you leaned in for a kiss and tasted the batter on his tongue.

You moaned into his mouth when his hand came up to your neck. “I got you that ham and cheese panini you love. With the spinach.” He smiled at you, handing you your sandwich.

“You’re the absolute best.” You praised over a mouth full of food. Raul laughed at you, taking a large bite of his own lunch before stealing a sip of your lemonade. “That’s mine Mendes.”

He flashed you a cheesy grin, handing you the cup. “I think you need to hire some help baby. You work in here all day by yourself and I know you’re really stressed right now.” The worry evident in his voice. “Yes, but if I do, I’ll lose the excuse for nightly back rubs and stress induced sex.” He let out a chuckle, arms open in a silent plea for you to stand between his parted legs.

He spun you around and placed a kiss to the back on your neck. “How about this.” He proposed, his thumbs digging into your shoulders. “You hire some help, and then you can close up shop earlier and we can have more dates and then wine induced sex.”

The offer was reasonable. And you were in need of some extra hands around the kitchen anyways. Holiday orders would soon be approaching and you’d definitely need help. “That works, I’ll start looking for some extra help.” He smiled against your neck before placing another gentle kiss to the skin.

“The boys have things handled at the cafe. Why don’t I help for the rest of the day?” His arms wrapping around your waist as you walked to the sink to wash your hands.

You giggled at his clinginess. For someone so large and tattooed and pierced, he was the softest person you’d ever met. “Hmmmm I could use some help. As long as I get periodic kisses. I’ve been so busy lately and I’ve missed my boyfriend.”

Turning around to dry your hands, Raul grabbed your face and planted a sloppy kiss to your lips. “I missed you too baby. How about you come over after work today and I’ll set up a bath for you. It’s been two weeks since I’ve had any time with you.”

You nodded, kissing him again softly before getting back to work. “Come on lover boy. I’m going to teach you how to properly frost a cupcake.”

——

A month later.

It all happened so fast, you aren’t exactly sure how it happened. One second you were opening the oven to get the cupcakes out, and the next you were on the floor screaming. Raul heard you from next door and came sprinting through the shop. “Baby? Baby what happened!” His voice frantic as you laid on the floor, clutching your arm before you passed out from the pain.

You’d been awake for 2 days straight, and in your exhausted state, your hand slipped and landed on the oven grate. Burns raising on your skin as Raul carried you to the car, he yelled at James to cover your shop and clean up the kitchen for you. “Fuck, baby it’s okay. I’m gonna take you to the hospital.”

You were now set up in a hospital bed. Your left arm burning as you tried to remember what happened to your arm. “Raul?” You croaked, and he shot up from the chair.

“Oh good you’re up. How’s your arm?” His fingers resting on your shoulder.

“Fucking hurts.” You chuckled, looking at the bandages running from your fingertips to your elbow. They were a pale pink color and you're sure he’d asked them for that color wrapping.

“You took a bit of a fall there babe. Third degree burns on your hand and forearm.” He told you, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles.

“Here’s the cream for the burns.” The doctor announced as he walked in the room. “Your paperwork has been done and you are good to go home. You’ve got to rest and relax for a few days and keep that arm away from the heat. I’ve got some topical cooling cream for you in a bag and you should apply it twice a day. It’ll draw out the heat and heal it quicker.” You nodded at the instructions before thanking him and being discharged.

However, the ride home was anything but relaxing. “I just can’t fucking understand why you don’t have extra help yet. You fucking burned up your arm baby! And all because you were too caught up in work to even fucking sleep. That’s it. You’re staying with me now. I’m making sure that you sleep. And that your arm is healed. Then I’m calling a few of the college students who sometimes help me during the holidays and they are going to take over. Because you’re not getting hurt again!”

The yelling was anticipated, Raul was always protective of you. But you weren’t prepared for him to be this angry. “Raul I didn’t do it on purpose! I was tired and I slipped. It could’ve happened to anyone.”

At that, his face softened at the next comment. “But it didn’t happen to anyone. It happened to you, and now you’re hurt badly. Please stay with me. Let me take care of you.”

“Raul are you suggesting I move in with you?” You asked, trying to lighten the situation and change the topic.

There was a brief moment of silence, aside from the radio before he spoke “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting. Move in with me. Please?” There was another pause before he stopped at a stop light and you leaned over, gently grabbing his hand.

“I will. Of course I will.” He looked over at you wide eyed, speeding to your apartment.

The moving in started right away. Literally. Raul made that stop at your apartment where you both packed up all you possibly could. You were taking a while, only able to use one hand really, but you were able to pack an over night bag while He loaded up everything he could into the back of his car and the trunk . “You ready baby??” He asked as you made your way to him.

“I am!” You smiled, hopping into the front seat and resting your feet on the dashboard. “I’ve never lived with a boyfriend before.” You admitted as he pulled into his own driveway.

“I have never lived with a girlfriend before.” He told you, grabbing your things and letting you into the house. “I’ll unpack your stuff okay? You lay down and get some rest. I’m planning a movie date tonight.”

—-

You woke up about 11, the sun was long gone and the house was illuminated by a few lamps. “Good morning sleeping beauty.” Raul whispered as he looked at you in his lap, his fingers carding through your hair. “You sleep okay?” A small hum left your chest as you nuzzled into his side. “I’ve got some soup on the counter for you. Broccoli cheddar.”

You smiled up at him. “That’s my favourite kind.” You sighed, still groggy from sleep. Before you laid down, you took one of the sleep aids the doctor prescribed since you were sleep deprived.

He nodded, turning down the tv. “I know honey. You’ve told me. I just figured it’d be best. You sounded a little sick too. I think it’s the lack of sleep your getting. Making you sick sweetheart.”

You looked down at your left arm, frowning at the ugly bandages. “I’m going to stay with you for a few days okay? The boys have the cafe and I called a few of my holiday helpers to to cover the orders for you. They have very specific instructions, so they will make sure it’s done properly and all the orders go out.” You leaned up, pressing a lazy kiss to his chapped lips. “You’re amazing. Did you know that?” You asked, sitting up and straddling him to get a good look at his face. You noticed a small hole in the top of his ear and smiled. “You used to have an industrial?” You asked, reaching up to touch the hole.

He nodded, laughing. “Yeah, I took it out when I was seeing this one girl who said she thought it was stupid.” He looked at you, your face contorted in a weird expression. “What? You don’t like that I’ve seen other girls before you?”

You laughed and shook your head. “No, I just think it’s stupid you took it out. It would be so hot. I’ve actually been thinking of getting some modifications myself.” You stated proudly, looking at your lap. “When I was graduating college, all my friends got tattoos and nipple piercings and I was nervous but I still wanna do it.”

At the mention of nipple piercings, Raul let out a moan. “I can call Lex, of the the artists at the shop I go to if you really want to.” He suggested and you nodded.

—

The two of you watched Deadpool 2 as you ate. Raul feeding you because he claimed the bowl was too hot for you to hold. Protective Raul was always present and so was his cuddly side. The way he pulled you into his lap and nuzzled into your neck made you realize that you were head over heels in love with them man, and it had only been 4 months.

You’d never lived with someone before, and you were always convinced you’d be nervous as hell. But this felt comfortable. You practically lived with Raul anyways, so it only made sense. And if you were being honest with yourself, you could see yourself with him forever. But what you didn’t know. Is that he could see that too.

—-

December

The orders were all reds and whites and greens. Peppermint was everywhere. In the frosting, as decoration, in your hot cocoa Raul brought you during the day. There were orders for Santa hat cupcakes and cupcakes like wreaths. Red and green macaroons with white filling, and you couldn’t have been happier about it all. Eli, Conner, and Britt were all such a huge help in the kitchen.

“Sweetheart. I have your hot cocoa here. There’s also a gift for you.” You walked out of the kitchen to see Raul, his grey knit sweater hugging his biceps perfectly.

You looked down at the box on your counter “Baby Christmas isn’t for a few more days. What is this for?” He just shrugged, sliding the box towards you.

“Open it and see. I think you’ll love it.” His face now a bright red as the nerves set in.

You gently tore off the pretty blue paper, placing the bow on top of your steaming cup, before lifting off the top of the box and letting out a gasp. “Oh, Raul!” You sighed, holding up the soft red silk dress and a pair of black heels.

“I figured you could wear it to dinner tonight. You said you wanted to look nice for this evening and I wanted to get you the best.” He was beaming at your excitement.

The dress was dropped into the box as you hugged him tightly. “It’s amazing. Oh my god! I can’t wait to wear it and it’ll go amazing with the black purse I just got for my birthday!”

He smiled that cheesy grin you loved before placing a kiss to your lips. “I’ll come get you about 4 and we can go home to get ready. You’ve got this today, right guys?” He leaned back to look at the 18 year olds in the kitchen and got a collective “yeah!”

—-

“Oh fuck you look so good.” He breathed as you came out to the living room where he was waiting for you. He had already put on his black slacks, his button down was the same color as your dress and you smiled. You did a quick spin so he could see everything. “Compliments to my stylist.” You laughed, taking his hand before he led you to the car. Both of you wrapped in big coats to combat the cold air.

Finally arriving to the restaurant, Raul ran over to your door, opening it for you and helping you across the snow covered parking lot. “I’ve never seen this much snow before.” You commented, looking at the white streets glittering in the lights of the building. “It’s so beautiful I could just cry.”

He just looked at you and smiled, pressing a kiss to your head. “You’re just so perfect baby. I love you so much.” You hummed, looking up at him and asking for his that he happily gave you.

The restaurant was warm and there was a small tree in the foyer and some garland here and there. “It’s a special night for us. Why don’t you bring us a bottle of your best wine. Make sure it’s a sweet wine please. That’s my girl’s favourite.” Raul spoke to the waiter, a smile on his face the whole time.

“Ooh, what’s he special occasion?” The boy’s face lit up, glad he was involved in something special.

Raul sat up straighter, grabbing your hand and noticing you were wearing the bracelet he got you for your birthday. “Well. It’s my 6 month anniversary with this gorgeous angel. And she just recently decided to move in with me.”

The boy smiled, sending you a “congratulations” as he left to get the wine and stumbled over his feet a little. “I think someone has a little admirer.” he laughed, pressing a soft kiss to your hand. “You really do look amazing sugar. That color looks so good on you. I just knew it would.” A blush crept up your cheeks as you squeezed his hand.

“Well you don’t look too bad yourself. I’ve never seen you in a suit before.” You sat back to look at him. The black suit fitting him perfectly and that red button down making you have impure thoughts at the dinner table.

“Here you go guys, this one is on the house. Happy anniversary.” Archie, your waiter smiled as he placed a plate with a large brownie and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top in front of you. On the plate, written in chocolate sauce was “Happy Anniversary” with a little heart. You looked over at Raul and smiled, thanking Archie before grabbing and spoon and taking a bite, Raul doing the same.

Walking back to the car, you made a small snowball and threw it at Raul who was fishing for his keys in the pocket of his jacket, hitting him in the shoulder. “Oh you’re in for it now babygirl!” He laughed, throwing a snowball back at you and getting you in the back.

The two of you had a small snowball fight in the parking lot before the cold got to your fingers and you needed to go warm up.

—-

“Oh baby they’re freezing!” He scolded as he held your hands in front of the fireplace back at the house. You were both wrapped up in a blue blanket, clad in your pajamas and mugs of hot cocoa on the table

“I love you so much. And I’m so grateful that you decided to move up here and open up shop right next to me.” He mumbled against your fingers.

You noticed he was paying extra attention to your ring finger. “I am too. It’s like fate knew we’d be perfect for each other.” As you spoke, you leaned your head against his shoulder, your eyes drooping as your body went slack against Raul’s.

“Get some sleep, love. We can stay right here tonight. We don’t have work tomorrow.” He reminded you, rubbing your back gently as you grabbed a pillow from the couch and curled up in his lap.

“I love you, Raul.” Your body giving in to the sleep.

“I love you too.” He smiled, laying down next to you, his face nuzzled into your neck. His thoughts riddled of the memory of you tonight, and the ring, sitting in a black velvet box in the glove box of his car. Waiting for that soon approaching day

—-

You woke up on the floor, forgetting you’d fallen asleep in front of the fire the night before. Raul was pressed against your back, already awake. “Morning darling. You ready?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the back for your head.

“Ready for wh- oh fuck. I forgot. Yeah.” You chuckled nervously, remembering today was your appointment with Lex. For Christmas Raul decided he was gonna pay for your piercings and then if you wanted a tattoo.

“You don’t have to babe. I can always cancel it if you wanna back out.” You shook your head, determined to do this. “Alright, let's go then babe.” He swatted your butt and you got up to get dressed.

You decided on a bodysuit and a pair of jeans, just in case you decided on a tattoo as well. “Well sugar, you ready?” Raul asked as you walked into the shop. You were shaking in anticipation.

“Morning Raul!” A guy waved at you two from behind the counter. “You have an appointment?” He asked, looking at the schedule book on the counter.

“She does.” He smiled, nudging you and walking you to the guy at the counter. “She’s got a piercing and a possible tattoo with Lex.”

The man held out his hand and smiled at you. “Hey, I’m Will. You can follow me back here.” He said and waived you and Raul back to a room in the back for privacy.

“Morning gorgeous.” A lady, you assumed was Lex, smiled at you from her chair. “If you’re ready, you can pull the top down and settle into the chair.” She said, pulling on a pair of latex gloves.

You looked over at Raul, who was smiling at you, while Will put on a pair of gloves as well. He just grabbed your hand as you laid down and pulled the top below your chest. “Okay I’m ready.” You announced and dropped Raul’s hand tightly.

“Okay honey, close your eyes and take a deep breath.” Lex told you after she’d applied the clamp. You did as you were told, letting out a soft whimper as the needle pierced your flesh. “This one will hurt a little more. But you’re doing just fine. Will, you ready?” She asked looking at Will who was standing by Raul’s head. He nodded and at the same time she pierced your second side, Will pushed a needle through Raul’s closed up industrial.

You let out a scream but stayed still as Lex screwed the barbell together. “Oh baby, that looks so sexy.” Raul said, looking over at you after Will had secured the stud. “Do you wanna do a tattoo too? Christmas gifts galore?”

Lex handed you a mirror so you could look for yourself and you let out an excited squeal. “Oh these are so cute!” You smiled, handing the mirror back, pulling your top back up and looking over at Raul to see his stud. “You look sexy too babe.” He smiled, pulling out his phone to take a photo of his ear to send to Shawn and Peter.

“Well, would you like to do a tattoo as well? Raul says he’s paying, so do whatever you’d like.” You bit your lip, remembering the floral piece your friend sent you that you wanted. You wanted to get it because it had your parents and yours favorite flowers. She’d done it after your parents passed away two years ago in a car accident.

You nodded your head, pulling up the photo, but not showing Raul. “Can we do that?” You asked Lex, nervous she’d be hesitant since it’s not her own work. “My best friend did it and it’s really personal. I have the rights to the piece.”

She nodded and smiled, waving the guys out of her room. “What does it mean?” She asked as she shut the door and started disinfecting everything for the tattoo.

“When I was 21, my parents got into a car crash. They didn’t make it. The roses were my dad’s favorite, well at least for every Valentine’s Day he gave me pink roses. My mom loved tropical flowers, hence the hibiscus, then my favorite is the peony.” You smiled at the memory of your parents.

She hugged you gently, careful of the new jewellery and pulled back to trace the photo that you sent her. “Where do we wanna put this masterpiece?” She asked, motioning to your body.

“I was thinking my thigh, so that way I can see it, but it’s covered for my wedding day.” You had made the choice a long time ago that no tattoos would be visible until after your wedding.

She looked over at you, eyes wide. “I didn’t know you and rail were getting married!” You laughed and shook your head.

“No no, it’s just a rule I have. No visible tattoos until I’m married. For photos.” She nodded in understanding and apologised for the assumption. “Oh you’re fine. I can see where the confusion came from.”

—-

A little over an hour later you were ready to go. The tattoo was bandaged and finished, and you thanked Lex profusely for the beautiful work. She even added a little color to it to make it special.

“You all ready my little rebel?” Raul asked as you met him in the lobby. He also had a bandage on his opposite bicep.

“Oh finally working on the blank arm?” You asked, looking at the cling wrap. It was covered by a black piece so you couldn’t see it. “Why can’t I see?” You pouted, looking up at him.

He smiled, pulling out his wallet and making his way to the counter to pay for your new additions. “It’s a surprise babe. I’ll show you later. Here.” He handed you the keys. “Go start the car okay? I’ll be there in a minute.” So you made your way to the car, careful of the seatbelt as you got settled in and scanned the radio.

Raul got in shortly after, smiling at you. “Merry Christmas my love.” He hummed, pulling out of the parking lot and making his way to the house. “So when are you gonna show me what you got?”

You looked down at your thigh and smiled. “When we get home. When can I see yours?” You quipped, tapping his arm and smiling.

“When we get home.” He smiled, holding his hand out for you to take. “I’m proud of you for today. And you look really hot. But you also looked really hot before.” He winked at you, pulling into the driveway. “Let’s go do our reveal.” He grinned, turning off the car.

Now sat on the bed, the sheets covering the masterpiece on your leg. “Now before you say anything, this is a really special tattoo. And I don’t want you to look at me all sad, I’m okay.” You warned, tossing the sheet off your body to show the bouquet.

“That’s beautiful, darling. What’s it for?” He asked, fingers brushing against your thigh before grabbing your hand.

You squeezed it gently. “Two years ago my parents died in a car crash. They were going to a bed and breakfast and there was an accident on the slippery roads. These are mine and my parents favorite flowers.” You looked down at them, leaning against his side.

“I’m sorry baby. I’m glad you could do something to memorialize them.” He kissed the top of your head. “Would you like to see what I did?” He asked, pulling the tape off his arm.

You nodded eagerly, eyes glued to the spot on his bicep. He pulled his covering away to reveal a small peony flower in the steam coming off of a cup of coffee. “It’s uh, it’s for you.” He blushed, watching as you years up at the gesture.

“Did you know that I love you, Raul Mendes?” You asked, launching yourself over and into his lap to cup his cheeks. He nodded, pressing his his against yours feverishly.

——————

New Year’s Eve

You were back in that red dress, a glass of champagne in your hand as you talked to Peter. You were all at a party on top of a building, and there was about 10 minutes until midnight. You were on your second glass of champagne, but you were still very aware of what was going on.

Raul had been nervous all day, almost forgetting his shoes before you left for the party, taking a wrong turn and making you 20 minutes late to the party.

He was in that black suit again, this time wearing a crisp white button down and a navy blue tie. He looked like an absolute dream, and while the party was black tie, he seemed very dressed up. “Baby your macarons and champagne cupcakes are a huge hit tonight!” He smiled, placing a kiss to your cheek.

“Well, they were in high demand this season so I figured they’d be the best option and James’s wife Avery was so excited to pick them up this afternoon.” You smiled, wiping some frosting off the corner of his lip.

As the clock ticked closer to midnight, the more nervous Raul looked. His face looked flushed and his hands were shaking. You figured he was nervous about driving home after the party or maybe he wasn’t so comfortable around this many people.

Raul’s hands wrapped around your waist as you watched the tick down the seconds. “5, 4, 3, 2, 1!” And you were spun around, Raul’s lips crashing against yours as he held you close to him.

“Partner with me.” He mumbled against your lips “break down the wall between our shops. I wanna see you all day every day.” You giggled at his proposal, nodding as confetti and glitter rained down on you.

“You will?” He asked, his pink cheeks making you smile.

“Of course I will!” And he kissed you again. His plan was falling perfectly into place.

——

8 months later

“Baby should we paint the walls grey or what?” You asked, looking at the swatches from the contractor. Raul popped his head in from around the corner and you giggled. “Maybe a nice grey. That way it’s still pretty for your cupcakes and still fits my coffee shop.” You nodded, picking out a neutral grey color and sending it to Ricky.

The painting was the last thing to do before you could reopen your shop, and you were so excited you couldn’t handle it. You’d been only doing orders, making them from home and you’d been itching to get back into your kitchen at the bakery. “Hey honey, I was thinking we could use these little metal chairs, since they are white it could mesh well.”

You looked over at his laptop at the new stuff for the floor, smiling at the cute little chairs and pressing your lips to his bicep against the healed tattoo. “You know. I think we’ve done enough for today. Why don’t we go back to the house and relax.” As you spoke, you kissed along his shoulder, your fingers slipping under his shirt and running over his abs. He couldn’t have moved fast enough, tugging you along behind him to the car and speeding the already short drive to the house.

Laying there, tangled up in the sheets, Raul drew little patterns on your back with the pads on his fingers. You swore you felt him write “marry me” across your shoulders, but thought you were imagining things. “You think we can open by the end of this month?” You asked, looking up at his peaceful face.

“We just had sex, and you’re wondering when we can open?” He chucked, running his fingers through your hair.

“I guess that isn’t the best pillow talk.” You yawned, nuzzling into his neck. You could lay there with him forever, nuzzled against his warm skin and breathing in that smell that you could only describe as Raul.

You laid in silence for a few minutes. “Baby, do you ever think about our future?” He finally spoke, but you were already sleeping peacefully on his chest. Your even breathing fanning across his bare chest slowly pulling him into dreamland with you.

——-

The shop was finally ready, all the chairs and tables set up, your display case clean and ready for you to fill it in the morning before the grand opening. Raul was wiping down the cappuccino machine as you went around making sure all the artwork on the walls were hanging straight and the flowers you'd placed accordingly were still perfect.

“I think it’s all ready for tomorrow honey. You ready to go home and have dinner? I’ll make that pasta you like in exchange for a shoulder massage.” He propositioned, throwing the towel over his shoulder and running a hand through his curls.

“I think that’s a fair deal.” You smiled, looking over at him. Sweaty and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was a sight to be seen.

He nodded, tossing you the car keys. “Go start the car and I’ll lock up okay?” You smiled, tightening your ponytail and walking off to the parking lot out back to cool off the car.

Raul stayed back, making sure everything was perfect for tomorrow. It was a big day. Even bigger than you were ready for, and he’d be damned if anything went wrong.

——

When Raul came back from the gym, you were just waking up, his button down open and hanging off your body as you brushed your teeth. “Raul, darling you’re staring.” You laughed, rinsing out your mouth and starting the shower. “You gonna join me or am I gonna have to be in there all alone on this wonderful morning?” It was a wonderful morning indeed.

He was quick to strip out of his gym clothes, sliding in behind you under the stream of water. His hands instantly grabbing the shampoo bottle and squeezing it into his palm. You closed your eyes as he massaged the gel into your scalp, your arms wrapped around his waist and cheek pressed against his chest.

It was such an intimate moment and you wished it would never end, while he was praying for it to be over, so he could do what he’s been wanting to do since day one.

Now clean and dressed in a nice black dress, you were curling your hair. Raul stood behind you, watching you with so much love and adoration in his eyes you wanted to cry. “Haven’t you been told it's rude to stare, Mendes.” The way his last name slipped off your tongue so effortlessly, he almost dropped to his knees right there.

“Honey we’ve got to go, you look perfect. We are going to be late to our own opening.” He laughed, placing a large hand on your lower back as you walked out the door.

There were reporters everywhere. Photographers covering the opening of the new merged shop. And of course the boys who would now be working for the both of you. The customers, who were thrilled to see the shops open again and missed the goodies they’ve been missing since it was under renovation were all buzzing with excitement.

The two of you stood in front of the building, Raul had one hand in his pocket and you figured it was his nerves. But as the cameras started flashing and you both held a scissor handle, he let go. Dropping to his knee and pulling his hand out of his pocket finally, he spoke. Words shakey as he tried to keep himself together.

“When you opened up next to me a year ago, I never thought we’d become what we are. And now here we are, and as we join our two babies together. Why not join our lives as well. What do you say?” The tears were freely falling down your face as you nodded. Pulling him up to give him a kiss you sobbed out a “yes!” And the crowds of people cheered.

“Now that the hard part is over! Welcome to Coffee Cake cafe and bakery!” Raul cheered, slipping the ring on your finger and pulling you in for another kiss

—-

Somehow you managed to pull through the day. Many congratulations being thrown at the two of you when a familiar face walked in. It was Archie, your waiter from the night you went to dinner for your anniversary. “Hey guys! I just heard. I’m so excited for you guys!” He beamed, dropping a takeout bag on the counter before ordering a coffee and a blueberry muffin.

“This one is on us Achie.” You smiled, looking into the bag and seeing another brownie, this time with the words “congratulations” in chocolate. He waved a goodbye before leaving and you got back to work, But all day you wanted to be with Raul. Your fiancé.

You don’t know how he pulled it off, but he did it. The excitement radiated off of you in waves at the thought of spending the rest of your life with this man. And you couldn’t wait to see what else the world had in store for the two of you. “I love you sugar.” He whispered in your ear, kissing your neck now that the traffic had stopped and the shop was empty, seeing as it was almost closing time.

“I love you too Mendes.” Your smile was evident in your voice.

You felt him smile against your skin. “That’s gonna be your name soon.” His lips trailing down your neck as you gasped

“Hurry and close up baby. I wanna show you just how much I love you.” You mumbled, grabbing his hand and feeling his fingers brush your ring. And you swore you’d never seen him happier. Or move that fast.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes au #shawn peter raul mendes #raul mendes #shawn au #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn writing #raul mendes writing #coffee cake #my fic

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ohblackdiamond · 4 years ago

Text

curved air (ace/peter, nc-17)

They didn’t do it every single night on tour. Just a lot of nights. Peter wasn’t even sure when it had started—it had to have been early on, when they were still sharing rooms. But at some point, years ago, he and Ace and Paul had started showering together after the show.

Notes: For @planet-neun. Merry Christmas, and I’m sorry I’m a day late, as usual!

It had been a brilliant show.

Even now, a month into the reunion tour, Peter couldn’t quite believe how brilliant. How invigorating. How many people. The kids—kids younger than Jennilee, out there on their dads’ shoulders, wearing their makeup. The college girls, their hair and clothes so different from all those years prior, but their wants the same as ever—he wasn’t as interested in them as he used to be, but it was still a thrill just to see them there. Five or six of them had tossed bras up at the stage, and Gene and Paul had collected them like trophies, gleefully hooking them to their mic stands during the show. Like they’d never seen them before, when Peter knew they had. Gene had even brought the bra with the biggest cups backstage, half-jokingly telling a roadie to find the owner, like a demented version of Cinderella’s glass slipper.

The want was more exciting than the money. Seeing so many peoples’ faces lighting up. No one had wanted to see him in so long. He remembered the clubs and bars he’d been reduced to. Even when he’d been on tour with Ace last year, the crowds were nothing, less than nothing, in comparison. Almost no one had asked for his autograph in years, outside of the convention circuit, and now—

It was surreal. A second shot. He wouldn’t waste it. He couldn’t.

The one thing he’d been scared would hold him back wasn’t yet. The pain in his arms hadn’t been bad enough to affect his performances. He was trying, desperately, to prevent it however he could. He’d started dipping his arms in big bowls of ice immediately after getting off the stage. He had all sorts of wraps, too. None of the cortisone injections like he’d had in the seventies. The idea was, these days, to try to treat the pain and stiffness as naturally as possible, and he hoped to limit himself to over-the-counter anti-inflammatories, if he had to take anything. He’d be really careful.

His arms were still a bit pink from the ice. He rubbed at them absently, rolling up the sleeves of his bathrobe. He hadn’t stripped out of the costume and paint yet, the sweat making both stick to him like a second skin. He was waiting. Next to him, leaning against the wall and nursing a can of what Peter hoped was actually Pepsi, Ace was, too.

“Where’s Paul?” Ace asked. Peter had only seen him backstage briefly after the show. Gene was gone, too, but that was expected; he’d always head straight back to the hotel to bang groupies. He’d never been part of their post-concert routine. “Isn’t he hanging around?”

“I thought I saw him talking to Pam earlier.”

“That’s been at least fifteen minutes.” Ace hesitated, rubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand. Peter watched him blink at the black lipstick smear left on his skin, then laugh quietly, almost to himself. “She didn’t look too thrilled.”

That was an understatement. Paul’s wife had looked mildly humiliated after every concert so far.

“He’s probably cheating on her.”

“Fuck, he’s been cheating on her. But now he’s got lots better pickings than he used to.” Ace put his finger to his lips again, smudging away the lipstick at the cener. “’S different.”

“Cheating’s cheating.”

“Nah, man, I mean… he’s different, we’re different.” Ace took a swallow of his drink. Peter stepped up closer, trying to get a whiff of what was in the can without being obvious about it. Ace needed to knock it off. For Monique’s sake if not for his own. Keep his addictions more than an arm’s length away. Pete had done it more than ten years ago now. But Ace just seemed to keep on and keep on. It felt worse now than it used to, now that he saw him every day. It was like watching a man drown in an inch of water. “It’s not just the crowds. The show makes us different.”

“What do you mean?”

“You think Paulie’d be smacking his own ass onstage if he didn’t have the paint on?” Ace didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Nah. Pam’s not, y’know, used to that side of him.”

“The only side I see of him onstage is his ass. He’s not turning around like he used to.”

“Aw, Petey. Lemme make it up to you.”

Ace set the drink down on the table. Peter grabbed it, taking a sip, relieved when the only thing he tasted was Pepsi. Ace’s expression was unreadable at first, before the right side of his mouth raised up just slightly in a smile.

“I ain’t doing so bad. I promise. You wanna wait on him?”

It took a second before Peter realized what Ace meant. He hesitated, uncertain. If Paul and Pam were really having a row, Paul wouldn’t be back, ritual be damned. Part of him wanted to wait despite that. The rest of him wanted to step out of his sweaty spandex as soon as possible.

“Let’s just go. Any longer and this shit’ll be glued to my skin.”

“Wouldn’t be that bad a look,” Ace said, and clapped an arm around his shoulder. “C’mon.”

It would get pretty stupid. They’d done all sorts of comparisons on each others’ dicks, hard and flaccid. Soap-dropping. Smacking each other with washcloths. And they’d fooled around—sure, they’d all fooled around. It was if the shower was just another barrier to the real world. Like the inverse of Superman’s phone booth. Painted monsters coming in, regular guys coming out, with no one aware of the process in-between.

Peter had been surprised when the band showers resumed. Thought Paul would demure out of ego, not wanting the other two to see him stripped bare sixteen years on. But he’d been all for it. They hadn’t screwed around, just teased each other about the gut that those workout regimens hadn’t gotten rid of, but that was all right. It was fun. Reassuring. It felt good to know there was still a piece of the old times that really was just for them, a piece that had nothing to do with summoning up someone else’s nostalgia. It felt really good.

They’d usually use the showers by the dressing room, rather than the hotel. Ace would step in first, tinkering with the temperature, and then Peter, with Paul following behind. Twenty minutes easy of soaping up and shooting the shit. Which reminded Peter—

“You bring a pack of razors?”

“Said they’re in the shower.” Ace crooked another small grin. “They got everything ready for us right here whether we used ’em or not. Even the cold cream. Rider’s a mile long.”

“I can’t remember the last time I had a rider worth anything.”

“I can.” The velcro made an almost itchy sound as Ace, as blase about nudity as ever, peeled away the vest of his costume, tossing it on a chair for wardrobe to gather up later before starting on his boots, socks, and the leotard beneath. Wardrobe. They actually had wardrobe. A month in and it was still unbelievable. Peter inhaled sharply, then tugged off his shoes and socks, his bullet-belt of a vest. Stepped out of the leotard. The relief was almost instant, the cool air a balm on his sticky skin as they padded barefoot to the shower. “Last time I was with you.”

They really did have the cold cream there in a huge, personalized caddy in each shower stall. Had regular makeup removal wipes, too, and a fat stack of white towels of various sizes. Six different shampoos. Body wash. Acne cleanser. Bar soap. Loofahs. Razors. Condoms. Lube. God, and this wasn’t even the hotel. They didn’t even know whether KISS would even use the showers on-premises. He would’ve expected all this excess sixteen years ago. Now, it never failed to impress him. Never failed at all.

He picked up a washcloth and the cold cream out of habit and preference, unscrewing the jar and taking it with him back to the sink. One illusion he could take care of pretty quickly. He could hear Ace turning on the shower, and he waited, half-expecting Ace to call him in, but he didn’t. Instead, Ace headed over to the sink just as Peter dipped his fingers into the thick cream.

“Hold on, man.”

“What for?”

“Lemme give you a hand.” Ace scooped up some of the cream and started to spread it across Peter’s face. Messy dollops on his forehead, cheeks, and chin, before Ace rubbed it in properly with his fingers, the cream smearing away the paint, gradually exposing his skin. Ace smiled a little bit as he traced the tips of his fingers against Peter’s cheeks, turning the whiskers into smudged, blotchy ovals, and then nothing at all.

“Paint doesn’t hide as much as I thought it did,” Peter said dryly, after a glance in the mirror. Ace was still working on getting rid of the makeup, casually, slowly.

“You still look pretty good under there, y’know.”

“I’m fifty.”

“We can round down.” Ace took the washcloth, wet it, and wiped away the excess on his cheeks. “Close your eyes for me.”

Peter did. A second and Ace’s cream-coated fingers were carefully rubbing at the paint on his eyelids, spreading it out and up, towards his eyebrows and forehead.

“I never thought I’d be back to doing this at fifty. It’s… it’s far out, isn’t it? I still can’t believe it.” If the outdated turn of phrase bothered Ace any, he didn’t say anything, and Peter could feel the cloth against his eyelids next, just as gentle. “I can’t talk about it with Gene and Paul. They don’t get it.”

“They get it a lot better than you think.”

“Nah, nah. They…” Peter trailed, trying to come up with the right words as Ace kept wiping away his makeup. He wasn’t even mad at the other two for not getting it. He just wanted to explain. “They’ve been in that world so long. They dunno what it’s like to be down to nothing.”

“They’ve got a good idea. Maybe it was worse for them.”

“Worse? Are you serious? Come off it, Ace, they’re neck-deep in Hollywood bullshit and yes-men, they never—”

“This wasn’t just our last chance, Petey. It was theirs, too.” Ace didn’t elaborate any further. Peter opened his eyes, and saw Ace rinsing off the washcloth in the tap. The remnants of cream mixed with black greasepaint left a gray streak in the sink.

“I’ll get your makeup for you, Ace.”

“S’okay, I’ll get it.”

“No, I--”

“Don’t want you holding your arms up anymore than you gotta.”

A slight warmth started up somewhere in Peter’s stomach as he shook his head.

“It’s not so bad. Nothing like it used to be. C’mon, let me.”

Ace bit his lip, then nodded.

“Okay. But in the shower, yeah? There’s something else I wanna get up to.”

He tried to be careful, taking Ace’s makeup off. Ace was still mixing up some kind of powder for the silver starbursts, one that bothered his eyes. The cold cream almost melted between his fingers from the steam of the shower before he could even get it on Ace’s face, sliding off easily. He didn’t look so bad under the greasepaint. Not so bad at all, but there was a tiredness along with that old eerie awareness now. It was too early in the tour for Ace to be tired. Too early for Ace to be worried.

Peter kissed him as soon as the last remnants of makeup were washed away, on down to the lipstick. Ace returned the kiss almost immediately, looping an arm around him, pulling him close. They lingered like that awhile, under the spray of the shower, quiet and warm and wet. Then Ace, less lethargic and lackadaisical than usual, mouthed along his throat while his hand reached for Peter’s dick.

“Takes longer than it used to,” Peter warned, as if it’d really been that long since they’d last messed around. Maybe it’d been years since the last shower ritual had ended in handjobs and blowjobs, but it hadn’t been more than three days since the last time Ace’s body had ended up against his. Ace just winked.

“I got the time if you got the money, Cat.”

His hand was familiar. It felt the same as ever wrapped around his cock, pumping absently. Only the backdrop was different. Peter grunted, let Ace slowly ease him backwards until he felt the cool wall tile against his skin. His breath hitched as Ace worked him up to full attention. No hurry. Never any hurry. Not even in those shitty motels from ’74, the ones that ran out of hot water less than five minutes in. He and Paul would hop out, cursing and shivering, but Ace would just cackle once it turned cold. He acted like they always had all the time in the world to come.

The onslaught of water wasn’t direct now, just stray droplets amid the steam. Ace’s grip slacked off almost as abruptly as it had begun, as he sunk down to his knees in front of him, hands tracing his thighs.

He’d watched Ace take him in hundreds of times before. More times than he’d watched Ace’s knees buckle to the floor during the show. Down-down-down. It didn’t mean anything there. It meant something here, here in this in-between space, where all the magic of spandex and greasepaint faded and left them as they were, flawed and ordinary. It always would.

Peter’s hands found Ace’s soaked hair, pushing the wet strands back from his face. He closed his eyes again, and smiled.

#kiss the band #kiss fanfiction #ace frehley x peter criss #ace frehley #peter criss

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worryinglyinnocent · 4 years ago

Text

Fic: Forged Through Fire (3/13)

Summary: Amestris. Once democratic, now a military dictatorship. Prohibition is strict; personal freedoms curtailed. All alchemists must be state-licensed or face imprisonment. Foreigners are met with suspicion. It’s a grim place and a grim time, but there are some people able to bring a little light to the world. Behind an innocent-looking bookshop, speakeasy proprietor Chris Mustang has formed an unlikely alliance with unlicensed alchemist Van Hohenheim to provide alcohol to those who want it and medical care to those who need it. When Riza’s newly complete tattoo becomes infected, Roy brings her into this underworld, little knowing the way it will change their lives in the future – uncovering the secrets of the mythical Philosopher’s Stone and the schemes of a Fuhrer hell-bent on achieving immortality, all whilst navigating what they mean to each other.

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Rated: T

[One] [Two] [AO3]

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Content warning for this chapter: Self-harm.

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Forged Through Fire

Three

Riza didn’t think she’d ever been in so much pain. Not even when her father had first put the tattoo on her back. Not even when it had got infected and she’d first trusted Roy with her secret. This was pure and utter agony, and she knew what Roy had meant when he’d said that burning away her tattoo completely would kill her. She felt like she was about to pass out; the cold water was the only thing keeping her in the moment, and even that wasn’t doing its job as much as she would like.

She rested her forehead on her knees in the tub, letting the shower continue to trickle down over her back. She didn’t even know if it was the right thing to do anymore, or if she was making the damage even worse. She grew up surrounded by fire and flame alchemy, but she was being eaten alive by pain and all her knowledge on how to treat burns had completely gone from her brain. It was miraculous that she’d even had the presence of mind to call Roy and ask him to help. Well, it wasn’t as if anyone else could really help; the emergency services wouldn’t be much use in this scenario.

She had known that she was making a mistake even as she’d started bringing together all the tools that she would need. She had known that she was going to regret it, and yet she hadn’t really been able to stop herself doing it, the roiling anger in her veins that she’d been feeling ever since her father had died reaching boiling point and taking over.

Even though she couldn’t see it, she wanted that tattoo gone so badly she was willing to do anything to get rid of it, and if Roy wouldn’t do it – and she could completely see why he didn’t want to do it, she wasn’t blaming him for refusing – then she would simply have to do it herself. It wouldn’t be as easy, but she could do it.

Riza had no skill in flame alchemy. For all he thought her worthy to be the canvas of his masterpiece, her father had never given any thought to actually teaching her about the array he’d inked on her. But she didn’t need flame alchemy. As long as she had a flame. The alchemy was useless without a spark to get it going, so sources of ignition were always plentiful in the Hawkeye household. Find a spark, find some fuel, and she was away.

She was never going to try setting fire to her own back again, that was for sure. The pain was blinding and yet it put everything into sharp focus at the same time. If this was the price that needed to be paid to get the tattoo off her skin then she’d live with it and find a way.

Riza wasn’t sure how long it had been since she’d called Roy and then settled down in the tub to try and perform damage limitation until he arrived, but she knew it couldn’t have been very long before she heard a car pull up outside, running footsteps and doors slamming, before a fist pounded on the front door.

“Riza! Riza!”

She couldn’t move, let alone get all the way downstairs to let him in, and she groaned, closing her eyes. Please let him remember where the spare key was hidden under the long-dead pot plant outside. Actually, she wouldn’t even mind if he just busted the front door down at this point, although it might make trying to sell the house harder.

“Riza!”

The front door was obviously open somehow because Roy’s voice was now inside, and she could hear his footsteps racing around the house.

“Riza, where are you?”

“Bathroom.”

The bathroom door opened and Riza looked up, surprised to find Hohenheim standing there.

“All right, let’s take a look.”

He reached across and turned off the water, leaving Riza shivering in the tub. She hadn’t felt the cold until now.

“How bad is it?” Trisha had followed him in carrying a holdall; Riza could hear the clinking of glass jars inside and she wondered how much of the dispensary she’d brought with her.

“Well, it’s not good, but I’ve seen worse.”

“Riza?” Roy finally appeared, and Riza realised that she couldn’t even bring herself to be embarrassed. She’d been so self-conscious when she’d first shown him her back, but now she was in too much pain to care that she was naked and there were three people in the bathroom with her, two of whom were men.

“Roy, I’ll need you to get some things for me, I assume you know your way around the house.” Trisha was already sorting through bottles. “I’ll need some dishcloths, and some vinegar, and a large mixing bowl, and some salt, and some rubbing alcohol.”

Roy stayed transfixed in the doorway for a few moments; Riza knew that he could see the extent of the damage on her back as Hohenheim’s fingers gently probed her burned skin, every touch feeling like fresh fire.

“Roy.” Trisha’s voice was gentle but persistent, and he left the room with a nod.

“That should keep him occupied.” She turned to Riza. “OK, let’s get you better.”

“You only sent him to get that stuff to get him out of the way.”

Trisha nodded. “He’s frantic, bless him, but he’s not going to be any help in that state. What’s the verdict, Van?”

“I can heal it, but it’ll scar badly; it’s not going to be my prettiest work.”

“I honestly don’t care.” Riza closed her eyes. “I just want it gone. Can you do that?”

“Get rid of the tattoo completely?”

Riza nodded, and Hohenheim shook his head.

“No. The alchemy involved would be too traumatic for your body to handle, even if you weren’t already injured. The burn scarring will obscure it, that’s all I can do. My main concern is stopping it hurting.”

Riza nodded. Stopping the pain sounded like a good first step.

“Can you stand up? It’ll be easier if we get you lying down flat.”

She got to her feet shakily, leaning on Hohenheim, and Trisha came over with a towel to protect her modesty, holding it loosely at the back so that it didn’t touch her damaged skin. Once she was sitting on the edge of the bathtub and he was convinced she wasn’t going to keel over, Hohenheim started rifling through the holdall until he’d evidently moved enough jars to dislodge a sheet.

“Where’s your bed, Riza? I’ll go and get the array ready.”

“Second on the right.”

He left the room and Trisha gave her a small bottle, settling on the edge of the tub beside her.

“Drink that. It doesn’t taste great, but it’ll take the edge off the pain. Enough to get you down the corridor, at least.”

“I couldn’t find any vinegar.” Roy returned with the items Trisha had requested and he set them down in the sink for want of a better place.

“That’s all right. I think we’re all going to need a cup of tea after this, though, so maybe you could put the kettle on.”

“Right.” Once again, Roy hovered in the doorway, and now that the pain from her back wasn’t consuming every fibre of her being, Riza could see just how scared he was. Calling him up in the middle of the day and telling him what she’d told him must have thrown him for a loop, but he’d dropped everything and had not only come to her aid, but also realised that there wasn’t anything he could do to help her on his own and had brought along the people who could help as well.

Something in the back of her mind felt guilty. She wanted to tell him that she’d be ok. She had no idea whether she’d be ok or not, but she trusted Trisha and Hohenheim to know what they were doing. It did make her wonder what Hohenheim had seen and treated that was worse, though.

The pain flared again, bright spots dancing in front of her eyes, and all other thoughts were chased out of her head.

“She’ll be all right, Roy, I promise,” Trisha said.

Roy didn’t look convinced, but he gave a little nod nonetheless and went to make the tea as Trisha helped Riza down the corridor towards her room. Hohenheim was putting the finishing touches on the array as they got there; it was far more complex than the one he’d drawn for her infection.

“I have to warn you that this is going to hurt, but leaving it like this will hurt even more,” he said as Riza lay down. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

His hands suddenly felt like ice on her back, the alchemy so cold it burned in an entirely different way to the flame, and the crackle of the alchemic lightning raced around the edges of the array and over her skin, flashing bright even through closed eyes. Riza couldn’t help crying out with the sensation, and she felt Trisha squeeze her hand. It seemed to be taking forever, but then again, she’d managed to do a lot of damage in a comparatively short space of time.

“There, it’s done.”

There was still pain, but it was a lingering soreness rather than the blinding burn of before. As she sat up, Riza could feel the healed skin stretching awkwardly; the scarring would take a while to get used to.

“I’ll give you some more antiseptic.” Trisha had retrieved her bag from the bathroom and was lining up pots on the nightstand. “And this one is a lotion that will help the scars fade and keep the damaged skin soft.”

“Where do you get all these herbs?” She’d rather focus on that than on her own state at that moment.

“I grow them. It’s interesting doing it in an apartment in the middle of a city instead of a greenhouse at home, but it works.” Trisha packed everything else away. “I think that the tea is ready. If you need a hand with anything, just give me a shout.”

The other three were all in the kitchen by the time she got back downstairs, Hohenheim and Trisha sitting at the table and Roy failing to pretend that he wasn’t pacing up and down in a panic. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

He wasn’t just talking about her back. Riza noticed that the kitchen window was open and the smell of the alcohol she’d used as fuel for her fire was fading.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Can we talk?”

“Of course.” He seemed almost relieved as he grabbed her cup of tea and handed it to her, following her out of the kitchen. Her first instinct was to go into her father’s study for privacy, but she paused with her hand on the doorknob, not wanting this to be the first time she went in there since he died and not wanting the reminders of him whilst she was talking about what she had done to try so hard to forget him in the most permanent sense. In the end, Roy steered her into the barely-used living room, ignoring the thick coating of dust over all the furniture.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” she said. “It feels like you end up doing this a lot. I’m sorry, I end up dumping you in these situations and you have to claw your way out. First it was the infection, then I made you come to the funeral, now I get you dragged into this.”

“It’s fine, Riza, honestly. I would have gone to the funeral even if you hadn’t asked me. And as for this, and the first time… If you hadn’t come to me then who would you have gone to? This isn’t the kind of thing that you can go through on your own, and if I’m the only person you trust with your back then that’s fine. I’d rather it was like that than something even worse happened.”

Neither of them needed to voice what would be worse.

“Still, it puts a hell of a burden on you.”

“It’s not a burden when it’s someone…” Roy trailed off, and when Riza looked up from her teacup she could see the colour rising in his cheeks. He coughed. “It’s not a burden. Riza, you’ve just been horribly injured; worrying about being a burden really shouldn’t be your first thought right now.”

“I don’t want to think about it. I’d rather think about you. Or literally anything else.”

“Seriously, though, are you going to be ok?”

“I’m never going to be doing that again, you don’t need to worry about that. But the thoughts and feelings that led me to do it are still there in the back of my mind, being ominous. I’m not going to harm myself again, I promise. But I just don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t know what I was thinking when I decided to do it.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m here when you figure it out.”

“Thank you.”

“Any time.”

How many times had he said that to her now? How many times had he picked up the pieces? It was getting to the stage where Riza didn’t think that she’d ever be able to repay him, but at the same time, she got the impression that repayment hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“Riza?”

Damn, now she was crying, and she couldn’t even tell him why.

“I’m ok. I’m ok. It’s just…”

“Yeah. It’s been a day.” Roy pulled the dust sheet off one of the sofas and they sat down on it. Even though it was still only the middle of the afternoon, Riza could feel exhaustion settling into her brain and limbs.

“I just feel like such an idiot.” Riza dried her eyes and sighed. “I don’t know why I did it. I can’t even claim ‘it seemed like a good idea at the time’ because it didn’t even seem like a good idea at the time. It’s like I had some kind of out-of-body experience and even though I knew it was a terrible idea, it was the only thing I could do.”

Roy didn’t reply. Riza wasn’t sure what he would have said even if there was an easy reply, but she didn’t mind his silence. It was his presence that she needed right now, reassuring her that despite everything going on in her brain, she wasn’t as alone as she had felt a few hours ago. She had people she trusted to help her. She had people who wanted to help her.

When she woke up later, it was dark, and she was stiff from sleeping in an awkward position. Peering through the gloom, she could see Roy sprawled on the other sofa opposite, and she fought her way free of the blanket that had not been draped over her earlier. There was a note on the living room door, and she padded over to read it.

Riza (& Roy since you’re still there)

We’ve had to leave as we have appointments at the clinic tonight. I’ve left some painkillers in the kitchen for you and if your back starts to bleed, weep or itch, call us at Madam Christmas’s. If we’re not there call us on the below number at home.

Trisha

(PS: Van alchemy-ed the front door open earlier. He’ll fix it on the way out but if it looks different to normal that’s why.)

Riza tiptoed into the kitchen – the teacups had been washed up and everything set to rights – and grabbed the pills next to the sink and the note in Trisha’s same neat handwriting with dosage instructions before returning to the living room. Roy had woken up too and was squinting at her.

“What time is it?”

“Just before ten.”

“Huh.” He eased himself up and stretched the cricks out of his neck. “Want to talk about it?”

Riza sighed, settling herself back on her sofa.

“I don’t know. I probably should. Most normal, well-adjusted people don’t go around intentionally burning themselves, but the more I think about it, the more I realise that there hasn’t really been all that much in my life that’s been normal and well-adjusted, and now I have the opportunity to try and make something normal, and I don’t know how.”

She looked around at the dingy living room. “Getting out of this mausoleum would probably be a good start. I can’t afford to keep it going anyway and it’s a complete dump, but really, it’s been like a prison for so long and I don’t want to stay in it willingly now that I have the chance to go somewhere else. I just don’t know where I would go.”

She thought back to her conversation with Roy in the bar after the funeral, when he had asked her about her plans. Her idea of joining him would never come to fruition, but the need that she felt to protect him and look out for him in the same way as he looked out for her still remained, maybe even stronger now after this latest happening. And with a secret like hers, trust didn’t come easily. Going out into the world and beginning to forge a new life among strangers was something that gave her a great deal of trepidation no matter how much she wanted to get away from her old life.

A thought struck her. It might sound like a desperate thought, but it was still a thought, and the only positive one she’d had for a while.

“Is there anything I can do to help at the bar?”

“Erm…” Roy scratched his head. “Well, Aunt Chris always needs people who are willing to work the front and act as security for us. That would be a good job for you, actually, we need people who are unassuming. Sorry, that came out wrong. What I mean is, we need people who aren’t suspicious. People who look like they could really be working in a bookshop rather than providing a front for a speakeasy. I mean, it would be great if we got someone like Alex Armstrong in front of house; we’d never have a problem with law enforcement, but it would be screamingly obvious that the shop wasn’t just a shop. And you know, it’s always handy for the person on the front to be well-skilled with firearms just in case any unwanted situations do arise.”

Riza nodded. “Yeah. That sounds good.” She’d still be helping out Roy, in a way, and she’d be keeping Trisha and Hohenheim and their work safe as well.

“You know, I think there’s an apartment over the shop. It’s empty and it’ll need a good clean before you put any furniture in it, but I’m sure Aunt Chris would be happy to let you have it. If she’s using it, then it’s only to store the good Drachman vodka in it.”

“I like how that implies there’s bad Drachman vodka.”

“Drachman vodka comes in varying qualities, especially when we’re importing it under the table and we only get it when one of the Briggs’ Fortress crew comes home on leave, but when we get the good stuff, we have to keep it safe.”

Riza gave a snort of laughter. She thought about Roy’s offer of a new home, how he was once again coming to her rescue, but she pushed it aside. She hadn’t asked him to help her in that sense, he had simply offered because he wanted to. At least, that was how she was going to choose to interpret it. He had the ability to help her, so he had offered his help, like any compassionate person would.

Compassion was not something Riza had a lot of experience with.

“That would be good, thanks. At least until I’ve got the house sold and I’ve got back on my feet properly.”

“Hey, even after then if you want, it doesn’t just have to be a stopgap. You’ll always have steady access to booze and gossip if you stay in the shop.”

“That’s true. Will your aunt be ok with it?”

“Yes. She knows you. She likes you.”

“Really? Because I find her terrifying, no offence.”

Roy burst out laughing. “Oh, I’ll have to tell her that.”

“Please don’t.”

“No, don’t worry. Everyone finds her terrifying. Apart from Trisha, because she’s so sweet that no-one can bring themselves to terrify her and she’s the kind of person who sees the good in everyone. Seriously though, Aunt Chris won’t have a problem with it. She’ll be happy to help, I know it.”

Riza smiled. It felt good to be smiling again. “Well, in that case, thank you. Again. How many times have I had to say that this week? I’m starting to feel like a damsel in distress.”

“You’re no damsel. I’ve seen you shoot. And you’re allowed to be in distress, all things considered. Your abusive father just died and you’re having trouble processing everything. You can’t be calm and stoic throughout that. It’s ok to need help.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Things weren’t going to be plain sailing, Riza knew that. There was so much left to go through and they had barely scratched the surface of everything that was going on in her mind, but at least there was a small flicker of hope now, a light at the end of this murky tunnel of grief and confusion.

#FMA Brotherhood #FMA Fanfiction #Royai #Riza Hawkeye #Roy Mustang #Fic: Forged Through Fire

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welllpthisishappening · 5 years ago

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Feeling As Good As Love

Emma is excited about this weekend.

It's always good — this thing they do, with the house and the ocean and the friendship that seems to stand the test of time. But now, there's an added bonus. Because this year she and Killian aren't just coming to the house on the beach with that friendship moniker hanging over them. They're coming as a couple.

A real couple. That kisses. Regularly. And Emma's excited about that too.

She just didn't expect her friends not to believe her.

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Rating: Teen, with kissing and some friendship-type swearing Word Count: 5.8 K AN: Listen, this is absolutely the fault of @shireness-says who I realize I keep blaming for things, but she keeps sending me prompts and like...it’s her fault. So basically the prompt was “Okay but like what about a reverse fake dating trope? Like, two people who are together and go home to their families at Christmas but can’t convince anyone that they’re really a couple & everyone thinks it’s a joke.” It’s not Christmas, because it is May right now, but no one believes Emma and Killian want to kiss each other right on the mouth. At all times. I’m me, so naturally they set out to prove otherwise.

And I think this puts Panic! At the Disco in the lead for lyrics as titles.

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll

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“You know, you don’t actually have to do this.”

Emma doesn’t let go of the plate in her hand, but her eyebrows furrow slightly and Mary Margaret actually has the gall to blush. There are soap suds on her elbow. “Wash the dishes?” Emma quips. “Nuh uh, I’m totally doing this, then I won’t have to do it the rest of the weekend.”

It’s a thing, this annual thing they do — renting a house out East, after Memorial Day, but a few weeks before the tourists descend on the Hamptons and the beaches and the vineyards on the North Fork. And it’s fun, it’s always been fun, college friends and an almost ridiculous amount of alcohol, although none of it ever comes from those vineyards on the North Fork because they’re not actually made of money.

It’s also the first time Emma has brought someone with her.

Kind of.

Killian always comes with them, has been part of the group for as long as she can remember, because he’s been friends with David for as long as she can remember, but this not-so-annual thing the two of them are doing, is pretty new and even more exciting and she might actually be in—

They’ll get there, she’s sure. Presumably after she finishes washing the dishes.

And once Mary Margaret stops staring at her like that.

“Ok,” Emma sighs, shaking her hair off her shoulder for fear of her own issues with soap suds. “What’s your damage?” “Are you quoting things at me?” “Yes, because I don’t understand what’s happening and when I am confused I fall back on tried and true movie quotes. So, c’mon Winona Ryder, what’s your damage?” “Her name wasn’t actually Winona Ryder in the movie,” Mary Margaret points out.

Emma rolls her eyes. With her whole head. “I know you’re not drunk yet,” she says, “because Scarlet and Phillip aren’t back from the liquor store yet—” “—Them having to go to the liquor store at all seems to suggest that we’ve already blasted through our liquor supply. Which, you know, that’s kind of troubling. For us, as people.” “Did you say blasted?” Emma asks, and whatever sound she makes is less a laugh and more like general misunderstanding. Maybe Mary Margaret has been body-snatched. “Like that’s a genuine word you used in this real-life conversation. That the two of us are having.” “Yeah, speaking of two of us…” “Were we?” Mary Margaret grabs a glass. With maybe a bit more force than absolutely necessary, all but yanking the towel off her shoulder, and Emma’s not moving so it’s almost impressive when it feels like her mind trips over itself a bit. While trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

There are footsteps coming towards them.

“Ah,” Ruby says, leaning against the kitchen door frame. “Are we doing this then?”

Emma’s jaw cracks when it drops open.

Mary Margaret grits her teeth.

She’s totally going to break that glass.

And that will inevitably piss off Regina. She’s the one who booked this house. AirBnB, whatever. All Emma knows is that she made sure both her and Killian’s payments were Venmo’ed to Regina almost on time and that her nearly-serious boyfriend who she might genuinely be in—whatever with has a habit of over packing socks.

Killian brought no less than twenty-four pairs of socks with him. For one weekend. Four days, three nights. With her. In one room.

It’s the first time they’ve ever been away together. And now this is happening. Whatever this is.

“That’s not an answer,” Ruby continues, five steps and one jump until she’s perched on the edge of what may actually be a marble counter. “He’s playing some stupid video game with David, anyway, so it’s not like we’re going to be interrupted.” “What video game?” Mary Margaret asks. Neither she nor Ruby flinch when Emma throws her hands in the air.

Soap suds land on several different cabinet doors.

There are an obscene number of cabinets in his house.

“They’re really serious about Mario Party,” Emma says, like it’s obvious. It kind of is. She knows for a fact that David had texted Killian about bringing his DS with him that weekend, mostly because she was lying next to him when he got the text. “And seriously—what is going on with you guys? Was this conversation preordained?” Ruby clicks her teeth. “More like a discussion was had in passing, but—” She cuts herself off when Mary Margaret’s cheeks flames. “Look at you,” Ruby accuses, “you’re not helping at all. Emma is going to think we were gossiping.” “Weren’t we?” Mary Margaret counters.

“I mean—well, gossip is such a dirty word and this...Em, you don’t have to fake on our behalf.”

Emma blinks. Once. Then does it again. She flutters her fingers, which only leaves a bit of moisture clinging to her pants, and that’s a little annoying. Not as annoying as the prospect of her two best friends gossiping about something she still doesn’t understand, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Say words,” she demands. “In something vaguely resembling a sentence.”

Ruby squeezes one eye shut. “It’s just—ok, we know that there are couples up here and Regina and Locksley are in the middle of full-on wedding plans, which is—you know, it’s annoying and opulent. Is that a good word?” Emma lifts her eyebrows.

Mary Margaret’s cheeks look like they’re half a second from combusting, they’re that red.

And Ruby isn’t done.

“Plus, y’know me and Dor are obviously pretty fucking cute and M’s and David stare longingly at each other every moment of every day.” “That’s not true,” Mary Margaret objects, but both Ruby and Emma make near-identical sounds of disagreement and she suddenly seems very preoccupied with her feet.

“All we’re saying,” Ruby adds, “is that we get it if you felt like you had to show up with—you know, someone special. But...this is—” “—Silly,” Mary Margaret finishes.

Emma can’t move her eyebrows any more. If she does her actual eyes are liable to fall out, and then Regina won’t get her deposit back and that will only end badly.

Eyeballs on the kitchen floor presumably aren’t covered in incidentals.

“What” Emma breathes, “are you talking about?”

Ruby scrunches her nose that time. “It’s just—you and Jones? Really? Like, c’mon, if you were going to pick someone to play boyfriend, there had to be someone better.” Emma is going to have to write Regina a check for damages done to this house. Whatever rushes down her spine is a mix of sudden and rather jarring anger and complete disbelief at what she’s just heard, the words bouncing around her brain like they’ll be able to find a more legitimate order that way.

Head on a swivel, Emma gapes at the two other people in the kitchen, dimly aware of what sounds like an exceptionally competitive round of Mario Party.

“You can’t be serious,” Emma says, voice low and, she hopes, as threatening as possible.

Ruby shrugs. She’s running the gamut of bodily-movement reactions, it seems. “You guys have known each other forever and now you’re going to date? You hated each other when you first met. When’s the last time you and Jones spent time together alone?” “When I spend the night at his apartment. Like last night.”

“Nah, c’mon, who do you think we are, Em? Idiots?” “Apparently,” she shouts, and there goes any sense of threat. Now she just sounds a little unhinged, the word practically snapping out of her and Mary Margaret visibly recoils. Emma pinches the bridge of her nose. “So, wait, wait, wait, let me get this straight. The two of you,” she waves an aggressive hand between them, “legitimately believe that Killian and I are faking our relationship because I feel bad that Robin and Regina are disgustingly in love?”

Mary Margaret lets out a breath, even as her eyes flit towards Ruby. “Not just them,” she reasons. “Everyone’s always kind of paired off here and you’re…” “Oh my God.” “We’re not trying to be insulting.” “And yet,” Emma grumbles, tugging her hands down either one of her cheeks and no doubt leaving angry red streaks in her wake. That’s good. She’s angry. And confused. And angry. And she’d kind of like to make out with her boyfriend.

This was supposed to be the weekend she got to make out with her boyfriend. And tell her friends that she and Killian had been dating for months.

There’d been a plan.

They'd talked about it.

Nowhere in that plan did either one of them expect their friends to think they were lying.

That’s a confusing sentence. Emma is very confused.

Maybe she’d been onto something with the body-snatching idea before.

“This is insane,” she mutters, mostly to herself and at some point she’s started pacing. “This is—you know Killian and I have been dating for like..a really long time. It’s not like we’ve tried to hide it. You guys are just unobservant.” Ruby doesn’t look convinced. “Name one date you have been on.” “Excuse me?” “One date. Name one date that you have been on with Killian.” “I don’t have to prove myself to you! Or my relationship.” “And yet,” Ruby echoes, expression turning particularly pleased. Emma resists the very real urge to knock her off the counter.

Emma screws her mouth shut, mind racing to find something really good, but she hadn’t been entirely prepared for show-and-tell and the noises in the living room are actually starting to get very loud.

Ruby makes a pitying noise in the back of her throat.

“No, no, no,” Emma stammers, gaping at her and a still-flushed Mary Margaret. “I just—ok, ok, I had that police officer’s dinner. Two weekends ago. Fancy dress and ties were required and all that? Killian came with me.” “As a date?” Mary Margaret asks. “What else would he come as?” “Your friend,” she suggests. “Like he’s done for the last three years.” “Yeah, but there was no ripping off of each other’s clothes those other years! It was—passionate! Heated, even. No, God—Ruby stop laughing, this isn’t funny.”

Ruby holds up a hand in what Emma can only assume is surrender, but then she notices just how much her shoulders are shaking and she’s definitely trying not to laugh so, like, game on or whatever. “No, no, definitely not funny,” Ruby agrees. The words wobble out of her. “But like—heated, honestly. You and Jones?” “We can be heated! We can be hot! For each other, specifically.” “Em, this is almost getting embarrassing.”

“I will kick you,” Emma warns. “Like, really hard.” Mary Margaret rests a hand on Emma’s shoulder before she can take another step forward, an expression that’s in the realm of motherly and comforting and it might be the worst thing in the world. At least on Long Island. Possibly the Tri-State area.

“This is not embarrassing,” Mary Margaret promises. “That’s not a word we agreed on.” Emma growls. “So it was preordained?” “We just want to make sure you’re happy. And that you and Killian don’t feel like you need to—” Another shrug. One of them is going to dislocate a shoulder sooner or later. “Put on airs for us. It’s just us. No judging.” “Say that again,” Emma challenges.

Mary Margaret exhales. “We’re not judging. We only have your best interests at heart, both of you. And it’s not as if you two have ever really showed you were interested.” Of all the things that could possibly be the last straw in this conversation, Emma is almost pleasantly surprised to realize it’s that particular sentence.

She rolls Mary Margaret’s hand off her.

“We are constantly touching each other,” she hisses, a little concerned by the red that’s started to cloud the edge of her vision. “He is always putting his arm around me. I sat on his leg when we were drinking before!” “But that’s just normal,” Ruby argues, and Emma genuinely has no idea what she does at that. It hurts, at least, the sound that races out of her and the burst of heat in her chest, which can’t be healthy and presumably is what, finally, draws Killian to the kitchen.

His eyes sweep the scene as soon as he steps on the linoleum floor, one side of his mouth ticking up when he meets Emma’s gaze.

“You ok, love?” “No,” she sneers. “Can you tell these idiots that we’re into each other?” “Wait, what?” Emma waves both her hands again, snarling at her friends. Ruby barely blinks. “We were only telling Emma that we, uh—” “—They don’t think we’re dating,” Emma finishes. Killian freezes. From the top of his head to his obviously sock-covered feet.

He stops and stares and stares some more and then—

He laughs. Loudly. Uproariously. Head thrown back and shoulders heaving, desperately trying to catch his breath while the laughter bounces off the kitchen walls and settles into Emma’s soul, which is admittedly a little melodramatic, but this has been the strangest fifteen minutes of her life and she still really wants to kiss her boyfriend.

It’s nice to know she still has her priorities straight, at least.

“What is happening right now?” Mary Margaret murmurs, as Killian wipes away the tears that have fallen on his cheeks.

“Sucks not to know, doesn’t it?” Emma snaps. “Wait, wait,” Ruby says quickly, “is this laughter at our question or at the prospect of dating Emma, because if it's the second one, that kind of seems like a dick move, Jones.” Killian scoffs, and it only takes three more steps for him to be in Emma’s space with his arm around her shoulder and his lips ghosting over the top of her hair. She widens her eyes at Ruby. “It is not laughter at the prospect of dating my girlfriend, no,” Killian drawls. “Are you double checking on us, Lucas?” “You guys can’t be dating.” “Says who?” “Us,” Ruby cries, nearly falling off the counter when her limbs flail several different directions. “That’s—M’s you’ve got to back me up on this! It’s weird.” “Weird,” Killian echoes. “That I’m dating the person I like?” “When did you start liking Emma?” “I don’t think I have to tell you that.” Ruby lets out a triumphant sound, like she’s won something and Emma can’t imagine what the prize is in this situation, but it might be the genuinely ridiculous amount of alcohol Will and Phillip have seemingly just gotten back with.

“Where is everyone?” Will yells, what looks like an actual crate propped up on his hip. He narrows his eyes when he takes in the kitchen and the half-finished dishes, gaze darting Ruby’s direction.

She curses. Loudly.

“Not exactly subtle, is he?” Killian mutters, mostly to Emma. She turns into his side, curling both arms around his middle, so he’ll kiss the top of her hair again, but maybe to prove a point and Mary Margaret may never stop looking at her feet.

“You guys going to be weird about this?” Will asks. “Now that we know you’re faking?” “No one is faking anything,” Emma objects. “Sure you’re not. Did you come up with a relationship backstory on your way up her? That’s kind of rom-com, don’t you think, Em?” “We didn’t have to come up with anything! We are living the rom-com.” “You and Jones?” “Me and Killian.” “You know you guys only have one bed in your room,” Ruby chips in, apparently missing some form of self-preservation. “Is that going to be a problem?” Killian shakes his head. “We’re definitely going to use that one bed. Thoroughly.” “My brother is here,” Emma mumbles. He smirks at her. “But,” she adds, “we’re definitely going to use that bed. With the condoms that we brought.” Mary Margaret makes a strangled noise, Will chuckling while Ruby continues to curse and David demands to know why isn’t anyone giving me something to drink so I can fuck up Wario right now?

“He brings up a very good point, Swan,” Killian grins, and Mary Margaret sounds like she’s choking now. Serves her right.

Emma hums. “Is that even how the game works?” “Only one way to find out, right?” “Something like that, for sure.” He flashes another smile, eyes bright enough that for half a second Emma forgets everything that’s happened in that kitchen and she still has dishes to watch, pressing up on her toes as soon as Killian ducks his head.

Their friends boo.

She flips them all off.

And it’s honestly not bad for the rest of the night — there are more discussions of how to properly play Mario Party and an almost alarming amount of alcohol, most of it horribly mixed by Aurora and Ruby, but no one mentions fake dating again, and Emma’s grateful for that. Until they all traipse upstairs to go to bed and there’s really only one bed and both Regina and Mary Margaret stare just a little too long before Emma closes the door behind her.

It takes her about fourteen seconds to get mad again. “Go ahead,” Killian chuckles, dropping onto the edge of that one bed so he can tug off his socks. She seriously cannot cope with his socks.

“I’m sorry, what?” “I know you’ve been waiting to curse them up one side and down the other, so let’s have your worst.” “It’s stupid that you know that.”

He nods, lips pursed as he crooks a finger at her. Emma huffs, but moves into the space between his legs almost immediately, Killian’s hands on her hips and hers on his shoulders and she takes far too much joy in how quickly his eyelashes start to flutter. His head falls to her stomach. Top-tier, peak relationship status.

“I know everything,” Killian mumbles, mostly into her shirt. “And I know that it’s ridiculous they think we aren’t in—” She doesn’t dare breathe when he cuts himself off, both of them dancing around something big and important and it’s almost an appropriate amount of time, but Emma is Emma and she doesn’t want to fuck this up and maybe that was why she’d been so nervous to admit that Killian Jones is ridiculously good looking.

Like almost painfully good looking.

She cards her fingers through his hair.

“I have an idea,” he says.

“Yeah?” “I think we should go all in. All those romantic comedy tropes Scarlet was talking about. Lean in to every single one of them.” “How many tropes could there possibly be?” Killian makes a noncommittal noise, glancing up which is really unfair because his eyelashes are almost offensively long. “We’ll make a list.” “Just like that?” “Just like that,” he repeats. “Why? You have other things to do tonight?” “Oh, you’re a menace.” He nips at her hip, Emma jumping and possibly giggling. Killian’s eyes are definitely getting bluer. Maybe it’s the lighting in that room. Their room. Together.

She can’t believe he brought so many socks.

“That will be thing number one, I think,” Killian said. “Blatant and obvious flirting.” “You don’t think we flirt enough?” “Not constantly because we’re not animals, but—you know, could probably do with a bit more. Tell you that I think you’re stunning? Regularly?” Emma gags. Killian keeps going. “Bewitching? That I’m fairly certain your hair has magical properties? Regarding its ability to reflect light?” “Oh, yeah, use that one,” she laughs, and it’s not very hard to get him to lay next to her on the bed. Which may actually be made of feathers, if its overall level of comfort is any indication. “What else, then?” “Endearments, naturally.” “Naturally.” “And, uh—” He clicks his tongue, eyebrows shifting in a way that undoubtedly defies the laws of gravity. “PDA.”

“Say PDA again,” Emma challenges. Killian blushes better than Mary Margaret, she thinks. Presumably because she wants to kiss Killian more than she wants to kiss Mary Margaret.

There’s been a disappointing lack of kissing so far.

“Public displays of affection,” Killian says, pausing between every word until Emma’s whole body shakes with the force of her laughter. “I’m going to constantly touch you.” “Could be worse.” “Oh yeah?” “I mean—” Emma drags her fingers up his side, shifting his shirt until she reaches skin and the plane of his stomach and— “Shit, stop that,” Killian grumbles. “It tickles.” Emma’s eyes widen. In perfect tandem with what feels like a rather large expansion of her heart, another burst of heat that isn’t quite as jarring as it was in the kitchen. And Killian shifts half an inch backwards. “Don’t,” he warns, but Emma swipes her tongue across her teeth. “Swan, c’mon, that’s—” Pouncing is a very ugly word, but Emma is way too busy discovering other areas of her boyfriend's body and Killian stops talking rather quickly. As soon as her tongue is in his mouth.

And they do make a list. An actual physical list, with bullet points and a plan, that Killian keeps in his pocket because Emma doesn’t have pockets in her dresses and it’s easier for his hand to squeeze her knee if she wears dresses.

That’s bullet point number six.

There are seventeen.

It becomes something of a game for them — Killian making sure to call Emma love at the end of what seems like every sentence, while she alternates between babe and sweetheart, but that second one kind of sets her teeth on edge and, one time, on Saturday afternoon while they’re picking badminton teams because that’s something they do on this weekend, he calls her—

“C’mon, darling,” Killian says, slinging an arm around Emma’s shoulders. “We’re going to absolutely destroy Nolan and Nolan.”

Every one of their friends groan.

Emma very nearly passes out.

The word ricochets off her soul, or something less ridiculous. Even after Killian and David finish debating the proper terminology for the shuttle-thing. She’s never been a darling before. Darling is for committed relationships and longevity and happily ever after and her racquet nearly flies out of her hand when she tries to return Mary Margaret’s serve.

“You ok, Swan?” Killian asks, and good that’s good. A much-needed return to normal.

Emma nods. She can’t seem to do much else.

Somehow they win the match. David decrees it’s called a match.

And Killian seems to take the public displays of affection fairly seriously — pulling Emma onto his legs when they sit around the fire on Saturday night, nosing at the back of her neck or that one spot just above her shoulder blade that makes her shiver. She almost constantly has her fingers in his hair, tracing idle patterns with her nails. There are absent-minded kisses and kisses that make her toes curl, standing on sand or in the hallway or...well, anywhere really.

It’s something almost close to wonderful, which isn’t really a change of pace for Emma and Killian as a couple, but this level of couple’dom is—

“You’re laughing,” he accuses, but the words get lost between their mouths and there's not much space between their mouths.

Emma shakes her head. “I’m having fun.” “That was the point of this weekend. It always is.”

“Yeah, but I mean—” She grits her teeth, neves creeping up her spine and taking root in the back of her skull, and she hates that it happens. Emma is the worst kind of pessimist. Or, rather the best kind, depending on how you look at it.

“I like you too,” Killian says.

“Presumptuous.” “Tell me that’s now how the sentence was going to end, then.” “Well, ok yeah, but—this is just...being full-on relationship, it’s been good, right?” “Are you double checking?” “A little,” Emma admits. “I—this was the plan, and I know it was the plan. That we were going to stop trying to hide and—”

“—I really don’t think we were ever good at hiding it.” “Tell that to the rest of our friends. Mary Margaret and Ruby staged an intervention. It’s...I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m glad you were willing to prove how stupid into me you are.”

Killian barks out a laugh, tongue finding the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, that’s totally what I am.” “I knew it.”

Those same friends, however, don’t seem to get the memo.

Maybe they need new friends.

“I don’t know,” Will says, halfway through a Sunday afternoon BBQ that could feed a small army. “I’m still calling shenanigans.” “Shenanigans,” Emma echoes.

“You heard me the first time. It seems like you’re trying too hard.” “To be in a relationship?” “Yuh huh,” Will nods, flipping more than one burgers at the same time. “You see that? That was impressive as fuck.” “You’re a poet,” Killian mutters. He must have some kind of Emma-focused sixth sense too, because she feels an arm curl around her middle before she can get into any sort of pacing groove, grunting when he pulls her back against his chest.

And kisses behind her ear.

Regina quirks an eyebrow. “I don’t know, actually. There has been a pretty good amount of eye making, even before we got here.”

“I don’t make eyes,” Emma argues. “No, but he does.” Killian’s cheek brushes the side of Emma’s head when he nods. “That’s true, I’ve been making eyes for quite some time.”

“See,” Regina says, “This is—if this is fake, it’s a serious commitment to the cause.” “The cause of kissing my boyfriend?” Emma challenges.

“Yeah, that one. Ok, pop quiz. Killian, when was your first kiss with Emma?” He doesn’t tense. He doesn’t flinch. His hand might tighten a little, but Emma chooses to believe that’s actually a positive and she’s very glad for it. If only because that’s the main reason she stays upright.

“Junior year of college,” Killian replies.

Will drops the tongs. It’s patently absurd.

“Hold on, when?” David demands. He’s already half standing when Mary Margaret levels him with a look, flopping back into the plastic chair with enough force it nearly breaks. “Junior year of college. I thought you started dating a few months ago.” “Yeah, we did.” “And?”

“And,” Killian repeats. “We’d gone out, you and Mary Margaret left early. So I walked Emma back to her apartment, it was raining. We hit all of those rom-com tropes. She even had my jacket on.” Emma can’t catch her breath. Which is really ridiculous since she’s not moving, but she was always fairly positive she was the only one counting this as their first kiss and—

“You were drunk,” she cries. “You can’t possibly remember this!” Mary Margaret audibly gasps. That’s more ridiculous than Emma’s breathing issues.

She twists against Killian’s chest, meeting his steady gaze with something that can only be described as ever-increasing and seemingly inevitable insanity. He smirks.

The bastard.

“Trust me,” he says, “I’ve spent way longer than I’d be willing to admit remembering just that. You took your shoes off as soon as we got into the lobby.” “Because they hurt my feet.” “Mmhm.” “What happened after that?” Aurora asks sharply, elbows on her knees and chin on her hands and no one has noticed that some of the hot dogs are starting to burn.

“She’s a very good kisser,” Killian replies. Easy as that. Emma’s back to not breathing. “Told me it was nice that I walked her home, I said I probably deserved some kind of reward, she glared at me, I waited very patiently and she—” Emma remembers the rest. She doesn't need to hear it. She reenacts it, instead. Her hands fly to his shirt, fingers curling into fabric that’s different than it was when they were twenty and buzzed on alcohol that was only marginally worse than what they’ve spent all weekend drinking and Killian is absolutely smiling when she kisses him.

The bastard.

Part two.

And she resolutely refuses to acknowledge any sounds from the peanut gallery, pushing up on bare feet so it’s easier to sling an arm over his shoulder and push her fingers into his hair. He tilts his head, lets his tongue sweep along her lips and she might sigh, but he might also groan and he definitely closes his eyes.

Emma’s always liked that about him. Killian closes his eyes when he kisses her — like he’s uninterested in anything else, like anything else means less than nothing when he can nose at Emma’s cheek or drop his mouth along the curve of her jaw. It also gives her half a second to stare at the overall length of his eyelashes, so it’s kind of a win-win for her.

He’s just as out of breath as she is when they pull apart, color in his cheeks and Emma’s heart threatens to burst out of her ribcage.

That’s probably not covered under incidentals either.

She’s got to stop thinking so violently. Especially about her own body.

Will whistles.

“You guys suck,” Emma announces, and that’s not the first thing she planned on saying, but nothing has really gone according to plan that weekend and she has thoughts on that.

Patent pending.

“First of all,” she says, holding up one finger. Will is trying very hard not to laugh. Ruby isn’t trying. “Killian and I have been dating for months. Genuinely months. And, ok, yeah we kissed one time in college, but we didn’t start dating for awhile, and that—”

Emma is still holding up her finger when she turns again. Killian’s smirk is going to stay permanently etched on his face. “That was kind of stupid, wasn’t it?” “Your words, not mine,” he chuckles.

“I definitely thought you were good looking in college.” “I desperately wanted to date you in college.” “No shit.” “What is happening right now?” Phillip yells. Emma doesn’t have an answer for that. It’s less disappointing than it was on Friday night.

“No shit,” Killian repeats. “You were—I don’t know, this force of nature. But you were also David’s sister and—” “—She’s still my sister,” David interrupts. Regina throws something at him. It might honestly be her sandal.

Emma doesn’t bother double checking. She’s rather busy swooning, after all.

Killian kisses the bridge of her nose before he continues. “You never take anyone’s garbage, love. Mine included and that wasn’t really why I was stupid into you, but it was a big part at the start, and then we kept hanging out and you’re—” She doesn’t mind when he shrugs. Probably because of the previously discussed swooning. Honestly, Emma is swooning so bad. “You’re the smartest person I know. And stronger than anyone else, on some existential level.” God, she hopes she doesn’t start to cry.

That’d be kind of lame.

And, somehow, there is more.

“I worry about you, you know. Every time you leave my apartment and go save someone. It’s—I count minutes from when you text me that you’re on the train until I hear the lock click. It’s insane. Might be affecting my blood pressure, really.” “She has a key,” Ruby whispers. Not very well, but something about the thought Emma assumes. “She really has a key?” “I really have a key,” Emma answers. “I wasn’t kidding about spending multiple nights a week at his apartment.” “We could probably do something about that,” Killian adds. Will whistles again.

Emma’s jaw drops. That’s kind of disappointing, really. She wishes she had some kind of sweeping something to respond with — romance on another level of romantic-type expectations, but she’s still her and she’s still a little pissed they haven’t been dating since their junior year in college.

“Em, Em,” Ruby presses, “I’m pretty sure he’s asking you to move in with him.” Killian hums. “She’s annoying, but she’s right.” Ruby sticks her tongue out. “But, but,” Emma stammers, “that wasn’t on the list.” “You guys made a list?” Regina balks. “None of you believed us! Which, honestly friendship demerits. Negative friendship standing. We are a good couple, and we like hanging out and we’d been hanging out forever, and this just kind of...happened. It should have happened before, maybe, but our first date was getting ice cream in the Village because none of you will go to the Village with me and I—Killian always will.” “That’s kind of how boyfriend’ing works,” he chuckles. “Is that a word?” “Absolutely not,” Mary Margaret says. “Should we apologize now?” “Probably,” Emma sighs. “Because it’s—none of this has been fake, and we’ve been on relationship overdrive for the last forty-eight hours and I mean...is it so shocking that we could be in a relationship?”

Silence.

None of them answer, and Killian is still staring at Emma because, she realizes rather belatedly, she hasn’t actually told him she wants to move into his apartment with a bed that’s even more comfortable than the one here or that she also counts down the minutes because she sleeps better with him than she has in years, so naturally she tilts her head up and—

“I love you,” Emma says. Killian’s eyes bug. “And I think I have for a really long time, but we were always friends and—” “—That’s not going to change, love.” “Well, yeah, that’s how good relationships work. Are you just going to gloss over the sentiment?” “Absolutely not,” Killian mumbles, gruffer than usual. And probably because half of the letters get lost in more kissing, a distinct arch to Emma’s back when he actually dips her like some goddamn romantic comedy.

Mary Margaret might take a picture.

Emma kind of hopes she does. It’d look good in a frame on the wall. Their wall.

“I’d like to move into your apartment,” Emma says, and she definitely giggles that time. There’s no way around it, not when Killian’s lips drag along the side of her neck and pepper every inch of her face.

Several people awwww out loud.

As they should, really.

“I love you too,” Killian says.

“Ok, good.” “Good.”

There’s more kissing after that. As there should be, really. Part two. “So, uh,” Will says, and he’s picked up the tongs at some point, “you guys want celebratory hamburgers or…” “If you don’t put cheese on my burger, I’ll throw your fucking tongues in the ocean,” Emma guarantees.

Killian crows. Or something. It’s nice, and that’s really all she cares about. “That’s my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ruby groans. “We’ve heard. Do we toast to the happy couple?” “Absolutely,” David says, reaching into the cooler to grab wine coolers. Like they’re juniors in college. They toast several times.

And Emma doesn’t sleep much that night, but that’s something she’s willing to concede. Especially when Killian lets her pick the music on the drive back the next morning.

Like any good relationship.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #i did this instead of working #and because it was sunny outside

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carry-on-snowbazzing · 4 years ago

Text

My 5 best of 2020 (in 2021 😂)

1. A summer day ☀

"Well, Baz! Do you want to move?" Penelope yelled, already in the car (a certain MG dated 1967).

Simon studied his own reflection in the rearview mirror, running a hand through his bronze curly tuft and resulting in even more messiness.

"A minute!" was the answer from a few floors above the apartment.

Penelope rolled her eyes and picked up her Iphone.

Shortly after, hurried footsteps were heard coming down the stairs and Baz, after closing the door, got into the car.

Simon leaned out of the back seat and kissed him on the cheek.

He smiled and, starting the engine, exclaimed:

"Destination: fun!"

Later there were four of them getting out of the car: Baz with a beach umbrella over his shoulder, Simon struggling with a giant inflatable pink flamingo, Penelope with a cooler bag, and Agatha with another bag, containing beach towels and sunscreen.

"The weather forecasts were right; today’s a perfect day for the sea," Penelope commented as she slipped off her flip-flops and dropped her bag into the sand.

"Edward shines like a fairy!" Simon yelled, putting on a pair of sunglasses and pointing to Baz.

"Stop it, Snow," he laughed, "and give me my glasses back; all this sunshine stuns me."

Trying to ignore them, Agatha took off her cover-up and began to rub off the protection angrily.

"Whoever dives himself last is a pixie!" Simon yelled, throwing his t-shirt and starting to run towards the sea with Penelope at his heels.

Several splashes and laughter later, the two returned wet, smiling and hungry.

Meanwhile, Baz and Agatha had dedicated themselves to crossword puzzles and to the horoscope.

"Agatha, there must be some butter and turkey sandwiches in the cooler," Penelope said as she wrapped herself in her towel.

"I couldn't find anything better for you than beef carpaccio," she said to Baz.

He smiled making 'OK' with both thumbs.

"And for me?" Agatha asked, offended that her friend hadn't thought of her too.

"Fruit salad" she replied. "I know you're on a vegetarian diet."

Agatha blushed feeling a little guilty and muttered something like "Oh, thank you".

Everyone literally devoured their lunch, because, as Simon ruled on his fifth butter sandwich, "The sea makes you hungry."

They gossiped a bit about their old classmates, wondering if Gareth still had his belt buckle as a wand and if Trixie had a fight with his girlfriend.

They lost track of time after falling asleep in the early afternoon sun.

It was the sound of a notification that woke Agatha, who, after seeing her mother's message ('Where are you? Coven party tonight!'), made a shrill sound that woke the others too.

"Damn, I'm in mega-delay!" she complained, sitting up and hastily gathering his things.

Seeing her so agitated, no one dared contradict her and they hurried too.

Before leaving for the return, all already in the car, Simon took out a Polaroid from the trunk (not an easy feat, given the bulky mass of the flamingo) and urged them:

"Wait! Say 'cheese'!"

Everyone posed, waiting for the flash.

Once the picture was taken, Simon reached for the film that had just come out of the instant camera, but found himself clutching a slice of Emmental in his fingers.

Baz couldn't help himself and laughed uncontrollably.

"Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch!" Simon bursted, but he couldn't bear a grudge and joined in the general laughter.

___________________________________________________

2. Shopping (Big & Little) 🥄

"They'll be emptying the mall, those two" Agatha commented, looking at the clock on the kitchen wall and adding another egg to the bowl.

"Probably" replied Penelope, who was handling the curry risotto.

"They've been away for three hours!" Agatha insisted, "and with two credit cards!".

Penelope gave her a look like 'what can we do?' and again consulted the handwritten note attached to the refrigerator with a magnet (shaped like a scone).

"Oh, I forgot the onion!" she moaned after a quick glance, "my mother would kill me if she knew!".

She went back to the stove and for a few minutes they remained silent, one intent on vigorously banging the whips, the other busy slicing the bulb.

Once Agatha had baked the chocolate cake (wiping a non-existent sweat with her glove) and Penelope had remedied her mistake, the girls dropped onto the sofa.

They were just debating which movie to watch that night when they heard the key turn in the lock and Simon exclaim from the entrance:

"We’re at home!"

The two joined them in the living room and Baz asked:

"Curry and chocolate?"

Penelope nodded.

"Sometimes I wish I was a vampire; just smell a dish to understand if the doses are right or wrong," she sighed.

"Shopping?" Agatha asked, looking at the numerous envelopes they both had in their hands and casting a reproachful look at Simon.

"There were the sales" he tried to justify himself, shrugging his shoulders.

"Hurry up; you’ll show us your spoils of war after dinner" Penelope ordered.

"What do you think?" Simon began, smugly showing a set of jeans for Baz and a giant jar of sour cherries scones.

Penelope seemed to try not to roll her eyes.

"I stayed on the intellectual side" Baz said, pulling a stack of books and a pack of pastel highlighters out of a bag.

"I need them for the college" he explained to Agatha, who was trying to get hold of the markers.

"And you haven't seen the piece of resistence!" Simon shrieked, grabbing a smiling Baz by the wrist and dragging him into the nearest room.

They came out moments later walking backwards (in what was supposed to be an imitation of Michael Jackson's moonwalk), so they could only see their backs.

"3, 2, 1 ..." Baz counted.

"Ta daaaan!" Simon exclaimed as they turned at the same time.

They wore matching gray sweatshirts; both had a black molded spoon.

'Big' was written on Baz's, while Simon's 'Little'.

"Awww" the girls screamed in unison, in the grip of a fangirl attack (which managed to make Agatha look adoring too).

"We have a pair for you too" Baz said, handing Penelope a black t-shirt with 'Brownie' on it, while Simon gave Agatha a white one with 'Blondie' on it.

"Thanks, guys" Penelope murmured moved and Agatha initiated a group hug.

photos references

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

3. Anniversary 💞

here

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4. Ops! 🧴

Simon knocked for the tenth time on the bathroom door:

"Occupied!" Baz yelled for the tenth time.

"And sorry, but I can't hold it anymore anymore ..."

Simon abruptly released the handle, abandoning his irritated tone.

He let out a cry, muffled by the hands that he immediately brought to his mouth.

Baz was shirtless in front of the mirror, glaring at his own reflection.

Everything was perfectly normal, except for his hair: it had turned from raven to red.

Fawn red.

"If you tell anyone about this, Snow, I will end you" he growled menacingly.

Simon stood there, speechless. When he had regained the use of his mouth, he barely stifled a laugh and intoned:

“Weasley is our king

he always lets the Quaffle in ... "

From Baz's look, he knew it would be wiser to stop, so he did it.

He approached cautiously and asked gently:

"What happened to you?".

"I wish I knew; I was taking a normal shampoo shower" sighed Baz.

Meanwhile Simon had reached the sink and was looking closely at the bottle of the citron and bergamot scented blend.

"It doesn't seem to have anything strange" he then ruled, placing it back on the shelf.

"Indeed; I went to get it from my home in Hampshire; Daphne can only find it in our town's herbalist's shop," Baz replied sadly.

"I really can't explain it" he went on, unable to get over it.

"My sister gave it to me ..." he stopped suddenly.

He clapped her forehead and turned on the lock screen of his smartphone.

"Today is April 1st," he murmured.

He took the vial in one hand and, with the ivory wand in the other, exclaimed:

"Show me your secrets!".

The writing on the label changed from 'Shampoo with citrus notes' to 'Permanent color intense red'.

"MORDELIAAAAA!" he screamed as Simon rolled with laughter.

"April Fool!" he managed to exclaim between a laugh and another.

That’s totally inspired by a fanart of @vkelleyart 💖 : that

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

5. Trick or treat? 👻

"Well, Baz! If you don't move, we'll only have the sub-brand candy left!" Simon railed.

With all the peace of mind he could, Baz went down the stairs and joined his screaming boyfriend, who was immediately silent at his sight.

"Morgana, Basilton; you really mean it" Penelope commented, watching him as she lit another candle to put in the Jack o 'lanterns carved by Simon and Baz (which occupied all the flat surfaces of the apartment).

"I've been doing some accurate researches over the last week" he began, making a theatrical gesture in his vampire cloak.

"You even have the same jacket as Gary Oldman" she observed excitedly.

He, in response, gave her a perfidious look, baring his fangs.

Simon was still in his silence and couldn't take his eyes off him.

"What's up Snow, the cat got your tongue?" Baz asked, amused.

He answered with a tongue sticking out and approached him with a raised eyebrow (in perfect Baz style).

"Wow" he commented after kissing him on the cheek.

"Enjoy yourselves!" Penelope exclaimed as they came out hand in hand.

"Where do we go now?" Baz asked.

Simon moved with great ease between one bell and another, meticulously illustrating the specialties offered by each house.

His phrases were: "Here you can always find top quality stuff", or "No, better to avoid an indigestion".

After scouring all the houses on the first five blocks, Simon had an epiphany.

"For a thousand snakes! Baz, we absolutely have to go to the 'Spooky night' party!" he screamed, making him jump.

"Crowley, Snow! Calm down!" he retorted irritably, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt.

"You don't understand," Simon insisted.

"Our loot is loser when compared to everything you can find there; Strawberry Blood Drip, Every Flavour Beans, Pumpkin PIE, Butterbeer and, hold on ... Oreo with Orange Cream!"

Baz, seeing him so excited ('like a child', he thought), couldn’t say no to him (although he wanted to go home more than anything else; his feet protested against Count Dracula's boots).

"And where would it be?" he asked, trying not to smile.

"A couple of blocks from here; hurry up!" Simon urged him, taking him by the hand and starting to run.

"A delusion!" Simon snapped, leaving the bag full of sweets on the doormat.

"What happened?" Penelope asked Baz, who had just closed the door behind him and limped desperately as he headed for the sofa.

"In short at that damn party they had finished everything and told us our costumes sucked" he explained.

Simon was with his arms folded, all sulking, sitting in the armchair.

"Look at their costumes! And let me have something to eat, rather!" he barked.

Penelope approached him and, looking at him tenderly, reassured him:

"We always have our repertoire of horror films."

Simon shrugged, hitting the nearby lamp.

"And I was prepared for any eventuality," she went on, snapping her fingers and popping up a pack of Oreos with orange cream.

Simon's face cleared, illuminated by a huge grin.

__________________________________________________

Ty @letraspal for tagging me 💕

That’s all; hope u like it! 💜

Happy new Year! ✨

#snowbaz #sorry cuz i'm late #my 5 best of 2020 #hope u enjoy

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 5 years ago

Text

Sick Little Games: Seventeen

"Babe, you okay?" Clint said, toweling off his hair and padding over to your makeup table where you're sitting and looking a little lost.

"Yeah," you answer. You sound dejected. And not okay. But Clint knows better than to pry. Sometimes, you have to feel on your own before you can tell him about them. And after dodging your parents all week, he isn't surprised you're reluctant to go out tonight.

He crosses the floor and sits at your vanity next to you, "So," he asks, amused, "What makeup look are we going for tonight? Emo moppet or Ethereal Fairy?"

You half shrug, "I was thinking sparkly Alien."

"Ooo," he teases, giving you a nudge and a wink, "Switching it up on me? I'm gonna be thinking I'm getting some strange when we get home."

You snort and lean against his side for a second, wanting some comfort. A little adoration. Some semblance of "okay." Clint obliges, pulling you closer. "Baby," he murmurs, "We don't have to go out tonight if you don't want to."

"But I can't hide here forever," you point out.

Clint smiles, "You can if you want to. No one would judge you... Stirling is a gross person. What kinda person tries to picket a building full of superheroes?"

"You're all unclean, dealing with me," you murmur, looking away. Your face heats and Clint won't let you pull away. There's been a lot of reflexive shame. A lot of struggling.

Clint snorted bitterly, "If they really believe that, then why are they trying to reach out?"

You shrug, "I'm recognizable now. I'm not their "missing" kid anymore... People are probably calling Stirling's ministry into question. Primarily since he built it on the back of "saving" kids because he couldn't "save" me."

"That's bullshit," he hissed.

You nod and take a deep breath, "Yeah. But now they expect me to swoop in and save the family ministry... denounce my evil ways. Whatever that means."

Clint smiles a little, "Well, I hope you don't. I kinda like them."

You laugh and kiss his jaw, "Horn dog," you scold, without any real heat.

"Well, yeah," he said unrepentantly. You roll your eyes and start fussing with your makeup. He watches for a moment. He likes the transformation. It reminds him irresistibly of you getting ready for battle. It's methodical. Crisp and precise. But tonight he doesn't stay to watch you do the whole thing. He dresses and slips out, going to look for Steve.

"Hey Cap," he called, leaning on the doorframe of the kitchen.

"Yeah?" he asked, stirring a cup of coffee.

"Is there anything we can do to keep the picketers from harassing Y/N?"

"Legally?" Steve asked.

"Sure," Clint said.

"Not a fucking thing," Steve said, his mouth screwing up in distaste. "They filed all their permits with the city and as long as no one puts hands on her? There's nothing we can do... Legally."

Steve watched the wheels turning in Clint's head and sighed, "Look," Steve said hurriedly, "I don't like it either." He rubbed the back of his neck, "Y/N is a good girl. She's not... She's not any of the things they're calling her. For god's sake. She knits and bakes cookies. She's in bed by 11 and... well. She's a good girl. A sweet kid. She doesn't deserve this, but... The harder we fight it, the worse it's going to look like we have something to hide. And that... That's just gonna whip people into a bigger frenzy. Gain more attention."

Clint frowned, "She's afraid to leave to go out, Steve," he protested.

Steve exhaled slowly, "I know," he groaned, "Nat's been up my ass about it too... Look. Legally? There's nothing I can do. Nothing I can be SEEN to do."

"So, if I do something..." Clint pressed.

"This conversation never happened," Steve said firmly.

Clint smirked, and Steve said a prayer. A small prayer that whatever the archer did, at the very least, wouldn't lead to maiming.

_________

Clint smiled when you stepped out of the elevator and whistled softly. "Sparkly Space Alien" was indeed a look. Your outfit was art. And so was your face. You were almost completely unrecognizable. At least. You would be to people that had pretended you were dead for over a decade. He steals a soft kiss and brushes and errant lock of hair out of your eyes, "You're so out of my league."

"It's fine, you make me laugh," you answer, snuggling against his chest and sliding your arms inside his jacket around his waist to be closer to him.

"Is that all?" he askes, feigning hurt.

"Sometimes you open jars," you quip, smiling up at him.

"Damn right, I do," he rumbles, "Especially after you loosen 'em up for me."

You smudge a kiss against his jaw, happy to be close to him. And in a way, glad that he isn't intimidated. That you can still tease him. That it still feels right snuggling into his arms to get warm. Or just for a cuddle because you're touch starved. You're also glad that he doesn't care if he finds you cuddled up with Thor. Or Bruce. Or both of them when he has to be away. Platonic cuddle piles had always been a thing, and Clint was okay with it. Though he liked being the first person you went to for comfort.

Bucky leans on the pool table, scowling to himself as he cleans his nails. It's grotesquely cute. The way Clint folds you into his arms and coddles you. Giving you a moment to hide against his chest. The way you look up at him. Big bright eyes and glitter-dusted cheeks. Discordant looks. Clint's grey sweatshirt jacket and jeans. Your pop/punk/glitter alien nonsense. You look like you stepped out of a magazine and Clint? That boy looks like it's laundry day. Like he just threw on the last handful of clean clothes that he had. And not for the first time, as the protesters outside the tower start singing. As they settle in to start their candlelit vigil or whatever, Bucky wonders what the fuck Clint is actually going to do about this. Bucky also wonders why any of the people out there give a fuck if you can Abracadabra your way out of a mess. But as you walk by with Clint, tucked happily into his side, giggling at whatever he'd just said, bucky itches to snatch you off his arm and remind Clint that he'd had you first. That he'd been the first one to pin you to a bed.

He'd seen the permissive way that Clint acted with you. The way he didn't bat an eye at you lying on the couch with people that weren't him. The way someone else casually kissing your cheek or picking you up to move you out of the road didn't phase him. He never so much as blinked at anyone, just swinging you off your feet. Like last week when the Hulk fucking took you and picked you up like a doll. Setting you on his shoulder while he scaled a goddamn building. All Clint had had to say was, "Aww man, why's he never do that for me? I gotta monkey fuck my own way up to a ledge."

"Hawkeye, not as cute to look at," Hulk chuckled, "No, make me cookies."

"Oh, come on!" Clint protested, "I taught you how to cha-cha slide."

"She teaches me how to Cupid Shuffle," Hulk answered, smirking.

"Damn it!" Clint said, snapping, "Outfoxed again."

Nothing phased him. Nothing bothered him. He didn't even care if you had to flirt with someone for a mission. And Bucky thought that was ridiculous. If, he thought, mentally shaking his head and correcting himself. No, When you were his girl, that kind of thing wasn't gonna happen. You were gonna behave. You were gonna keep your hands to yourself.

_________

In the bar, you lean against Bruce and sigh, "Not gonna lie, I feel a little overdressed."

"You are a bit," he says fondly, brushing glitter off his arm where you'd leaned on him. "Still dodging protestors?"

You nod and sigh, "Luckily, all the news tends to publicize is the pictures of me sweating a covered in blood or various viscera."

Bruce winced sympathetically and smiled a little, "I'm sorry, Y/N," he says, "If it helps, they can't do this forever."

"No," you agree, "But they can do it as long as Stirling's little cult keeps sending him money."

"That's gross," Bruce said.

"Tell me about it," you answer, taking a sip from your glass.

"My Lady," Thor ventured, "How did your mother find herself with this man? He doesn't seem to have any affection for you."

You shrug, "Being a single mom is hard, Thor," you answer. "Being a single mom with a checkered past is harder... so when Mama found Jesus, she found Stirling."

Thor nodded, frowning, "And then?" he pressed.

"And then... He became our new normal. He had money you know? And once they got married mama didn't have to work 16 hour days to keep food on the table. So. It didn't really matter if he said dinosaurs were the work of the devil. Or that everything we read or watched had to be "approved" to keep our minds pure. And it was... okay. Until I was 12."

Bruce made a soft, sympathetic noise and signaled for you to be given another drink. "That's when you got your powers, right?" he asked.

"Got my period and my powers at the same time... Worst fucking birthday ever," you grouse, "And I'm still shitty about it."

Thor smiles a little and sips from his glass, "That- yes, that would be bullshit."

You nod, "Not too long after that, Stirling put me and the bag my mama packed on a greyhound and shipped my ass to California... Figured no one would look for me there... Then they waited a few months, buried an empty casket, and spent over a decade cashing in all that sweet, sweet sympathy."

Bruce kissed the side of your head and sighed, "That's... That's a mess."

You nod, "Yeah. But at least I learned how to dress."

"That's true," Bruce said, laughing. You might be overdressed right now, but at least you weren't rocking unironic fanny packs messy, shapeless clothing. Your clothes actually fit you, and you looked comfortable. They all looked like lizard people who were struggling to figure out how their skin suits worked.

"Say the word, my lady," Thor declared, raising his tankard, "And I will smite them!"

"No, smiting!" Tony yelled from across the bar, "Absolutely not!"

"He's talking about the protestors!" Bruce called back.

"Oh. Shit. Yeah. I'll help!" he says, throwing back a shot.

You roll your eyes, "Easy boys," you caution, "Don't underestimate the power of zealots... Just... All we have to do is wait. Stirling's built himself a house of cards. And he's one stiff breeze away from losing it all."

Tags:

@lancsnerd, @thorfanficwriter @blameitonthecauseway @etherealwaifgoddess, @stevieang, @beautybyfire, @sunmoonandbucky @mrsfox79, @bbmommy0902, @mendes-fan, @iheartsebastianstan, @wtfcas @pinknerdpanda, @process-pending, @ladifreakingda, @leasly, @coldbookworm, @hv-chw3, @past-perfect-future-tense, @starkrobb @beardburnsupersoldiers, @petlaufeyson, @queenoftheunderdark, @potatoheadthewise, @thehyperactiveteen, @thefridgeismybestie, @boyett514, @an-awkward-human-1, @sunshine-and-riverwater

#clint barton #Clint Barton x reader #Bucky Barnes #Bucky x reader #Bruce Banner #Thor #Steve Rogers #tony stark

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partyinthemysterymachine · 5 years ago

Text

On Purpose

Harry wiped his hands on the dish towel. He leaned back on the kitchen counter and took his time rubbing his fingers dry, pushing the damp terrycloth fabric into the webbing, and rotating it over his knuckles. There was a man seated at the table that he wanted to watch fiddle with his smartphone. It’s been three years since they got home, took off their jackets, and packed them away into a box that went directly into the furthest corner of the closet. Those three years have been a hell of a bumpy hayride for the Mason family of two and the Sunderland of one. Honestly, Harry wouldn’t trade it for anything.

His hands were clean and dry. He tossed the bunched up towel back and forth, and inclined his head. “You good over there, babe?”

The wrinkle of his nostril answered that question. Harry smiled wide and warm. “What’s got you in a tizzy now?”

“I think I deleted my email,” James mumbled, distracted. “I dunno what I did.”

“You deleted your email,” the aging patriarch repeated, dumping the terrycloth on the granite top island. “From your phone or from forever?”

“Phone first, forever second,” he replied, the frown wrinkling his brow deepening. Harry strolled over and bent over the back of the chair, laying his arms around James’s neck. He tucked his dark head against the side of the one of blond and snuggled into his lover’s pale, and perpetually cold skin. James’s head was forced to tip to the side by the enthusiasm of his partner’s lion-like nuzzle, yet he had no intent to fight it. From there, Harry observed his frustrated swiping and fumbling.

He pressed a little kiss to James’s cheek and extended his arm, pointing at the phone. “Hold up, stop stop,” Harry spoke against him. “Go into setti— no, babe, go back. .. go back.. okay. Scroll down to ‘Mail.’” James felt the little frown pressed into his face. It caused his own to bear a soft smile. “Uh.. scroll back up. .. scroll down? Uh.. okay, what the hell did you do with— hang on.”

James patiently did as he was told while Harry patted his legs, then maneuvered his phone out of his pocket. All the while, he chose to tuck his face into James’s neck. Then he sighed and nuzzled up on his partner’s cheek again, wrapping his arms around him to hold the device out for both of them to see. “Okay. Let’s see here.”

He wasn’t so sure if he’d get over the strange initial discomfort he got when Harry unlocked his phone to a picture of Heather trapping James in a bear hug. She got caught mid-laugh, and he noticeably embarrassed, though his shy smile and the affectionate way he looked up over the camera at the person behind it always settled that discomfort pretty quickly. James liked that memory a lot, though getting to have it as a visual memory meant even more. He wondered, as he often did, if Harry knew what he’d captured.

It’s the little things that mean the most.

The picture was only there for a second, the settings menu being all there was to see now. Harry lifted his chin a little off his shoulder, moving the phone a little further down. “Maybe I should have my reading glasses for this.”

“Then go get them.”

“No. I don’t wanna move.”

“Put your accessibility settings at AARP member.”

Harry incredulously inclined his head, staring at his boyfriend’s profile. “Excuse me?” he inquired a younger man whose deadpan wasn’t holding up like it used to. James tried to withhold his smile, but it was no use; the only thing he could hold back was his laugh. A partial grin crept onto Harry’s face. “That voice sounds like James, but what I’m really hearing is Heather.”

It was war to keep the smile from becoming a full blown grin, but there’d be no sure victory from trying to keep it out of his words. “You might want to call an audiologist, then. Or tell your psych. You saying that worries me a little, Harry.”

James flinched and uttered an ‘ow!’ from the righteous flick at his ear. “Stop hanging out with Heather. She’s a bad influence on you.”

He leaned slightly to the side to look at handsome tyrant-in-training at his shoulder. “Why? She just says what we’re all thinking.”

“You’re a brat,” Harry told him matter-of-factly. “And she’s a brat. And he’s a brat - we’re all brats, hey!” he chanted under his breath at his ear, making James shake his head and return his attention to their little project. There were many reasons why he and Heather liked to complain about Harry, and this ranked in the top twenty of the endless list. “Okay, so,” the middle aged annoyance continued, “you should have ‘mail’ here under ‘passwords and accounts,’ and that kind of shit just doesn’t up and disappear, so.. what’d you do with it?”

“I don’t know, Harry,” James replied. “I thought it’d be a fun prank to see what I could delete from this phone and forgot to consider that I might not be able to get it back.”

“Look at you, Mister Technology Wiz,” Harry mocked. “I knew you were smarter than you let on.”

“I like to keep you guessing. It gives me a sense of superiority.”

“Wow, no shit?” He smiled at the soft chuckle from the former conduit and pecked another kiss on his cheek. “Okay. Restart your phone. If it’s still fucked up we can take it in to the Apple store and get it checked out. If you somehow unintentionally jailbreaked your phone, I’m gonna fucking die laughing.”

James held the appropriate buttons and watched the screen blacken. “Okay. Still want the cookie jar, or did you change your mind?”

“Nah, still married to the cookie jar idea,” he confirmed. “Just put it on somewhere on the counter to horrify guests when they come over.”

The phone lit up and James punched in his passcode. “We’ll keep it unsealed and put some cookies in for you to munch on in the afterlife.”

“Oh, James,” Harry sighed dramatically, smiling down at the picture he’d chosen as his wallpaper. It was a simple snapshot of Harry’s work desk. The yellow lamp light illuminated his spread of books, papers, and his open, but dark laptop, and cast dark yet peaceful shadows where they were meant to be. He’d known about that picture for a while. James has had it since he learned how to set a custom wallpaper on the same day he got the phone. Every time Harry saw it since, he nearly burst with the strain of resisting the urge to drown his boyfriend in kisses. “It’s like you know me.”

It’s the little things that mean the most.

“Not willingly.”

“Preaching to the choir. Okay, let’s see what you’ve got now.”

James leaned his head on Harry’s for the rest of their futile tinkering. Eventually he checked out of the the whole business and nudged his forehead to Harry’s warmth. He smiled ever so softly at the gentle caress on his neck from Harry’s heavy hand, and the kiss planted on his brow that followed. His eyes slid closed when it became evident that Harry had decided to work with one hand and left the other where it’d landed, lazily brushing sweet touches over his throat and behind his ear.

There was no solution to the email problem, and they’d both lost interest in it awhile ago. Now Harry folded his left arm across James’s chest, holding the sleeping phone to his shoulder as he combed his fingers up through blond hair that no longer smelled of lake water. He nestled his nose into the plainly styled cut and closed his eyes. James, in general, was a plain young man; always had been, always will be.

He loved that about him.

The dull thunk of the smartphone being set on the table didn’t affect him. In fact, he smiled so blissfully when James’s cool hands loosely found a place clasping his arm and hand that nearly all the lines of age on his face deeply creased. James felt it in his hair how happy that smile was. He loved to see it. He loved to feel it. It made his heart do Olympic gold medalist acrobatics, as it did now knowing it was there at all.

But lately within the last year, while his heart still leapt with joy to see that genuinely adoring smile on a daily basis (truly, he couldn’t recall a day where he didn’t see Harry beam like that at some point), he’d realized how many more lines there were. February had passed a few months ago. Harry’d turned fifty-three this year. And no, it wasn’t that he thought fifty-three was anywhere near being a senior. James had trouble explaining it to himself. All he knew is that his heart had begun to hurt while it celebrated seeing that look on Harry’s face.

The hurt was different than the way it hurt because he was loved, and because James loved him, too.

He idly stroked his thumb back and forth on Harry’s hand. The pressure against his head meant another kiss. James reached up and took Harry by the back of the neck, pulling him down as he tilted his head to get a proper kiss out of him for once.

You can’t say that to me, Harry! James had angrily spat at him at the time. I don’t want to hear it! Okay?! Just don’t— even start to even fucking think it—

Why? implored the distraught, heartbroken man. Why can’t I say I love you? I’ve said it before, James, and if you really want me to I won’t say it again, but I’m just— I’m trying to— I just want to understand why—

Because I can’t fucking hear it. I can’t fucking hear it from you. It drives me fucking insane.

But.. why?

His shivering, barely beating heart had sunk like an anchor from the pure agony that dripped from that simple word. Why? Why, he’d dare to ask? Why? James had hated that question from Harry Mason since day one. Today, that goddamn question made him burn so red hot that he wished that Red Pyramid Thing would come along and skewer him right through.

Because I don’t want to fucking hear it, Harry!

James had suddenly lost all that fury in a single breath. In one swift blow, he’d murdered a tired man who he’d caught smiling at him countless times already; who liked to take his hand and kiss his fingers; who liked to talk to him even though he had no obligation to respond; who fought with him, for him, and had almost given his far more precious life for his safety; a man that held him just because he wanted to.

I just.. I can’t take how sincere you are when you say it, he’d tried to explain, as weak and deflated as Harry looked. It’s like you really mean it, and—

I do really mean it. I love you. I don’t think I can even apologize for it.

But you shouldn’t, Harry, James had protested. You really, really shouldn’t. I can’t have it. I can’t deal with it.

Why shouldn’t I? the grief-stricken author had asked. Is it because of what you are? Is it because of what you did? Because of how depressed and hopeless you are, how sometimes you’re barely functional and a drag and kind of a shitty person and you hate yourself so goddamn fucking much that you can’t imagine why anyone would even care enough about you to pick a piece of lint off your shoulder? Is that why?

The had words hit home, and from Harry, wounded and shamed him to the point that he’d pathetically hung his head and stared at the floor.

“Sorry we couldn’t figure out the case of the missing mail,” Harry slurred on James’s parted lips. “Maybe we can ask Heather to figure it out later.”

A smile and a light breath from the other man was caught between another slow kiss. “You find a new way to disappoint me every day.”

“I have to get creative.” Harry’s palm pressed firmly into the back of his lover’s head to briefly strengthen their kiss. “Because I know you like it.” His nose was often described as a beak for the way it curved, and James thought it handsome, especially when it touched his own sloped one in what was known as an Eskimo kiss. “And what sort of bullshit would that be to disappoint you for me being unable to find a new way to disappoint you?”

That’s just too fucking bad, James. I’d say sorry to disappoint you, but I’m really not fucking sorry at all.

“Mm. But wouldn’t that have been a new way to disappointment me?”

“Oh, shit.”

What do you think this is? Tell me honestly, really, I’m very interested to know what you think. Because I’m going to tell you my side of things, so listen up, okay? This is not going the first or last time I’m gonna tell you this, either. I’ll say it every goddamn hour and every fucking day for the rest of my life even if you ever start to believe me. I’ll say it until the sun goes down for the last time and even then I’ll figure out a way to keep saying it to you.

Are you listening?

“Mmhmm.”

I love you. I am choosing to love you, because loving you is something I want to experience no matter the outcome. That’s it. Full stop. I know what you are. I know what you’ve done. I know who you are, even just a little bit, and I swear to fucking god, James, I love you. I’m not brushing off all the bad shit you’ve done or what kind of monster you think you are. You’ve done some pretty terrible stuff. I’m not forgetting that.

But even knowing that, even despite that, I have seen it for myself that you want to hear me say it. I hear it when you say my name. I feel it when you do something as little and thoughtless like grabbing my sleeve, Harry’s voice then broke and thickened, trembled with the beginning sobs of a desperate, begging heart. James covered his eyes behind his hand and had tried to clench his jaw to beat back an intense, once-foreign feeling that wouldn’t allow itself to be repressed any longer.

Harry loudly hummed and encased James in a strong bear hug about his shoulders as best he could from behind him. James’s exaggerated groan that sounded a lot more irritable than he actually was, which was not at all, got somewhat stifled against the author’s hairy, meaty forearm. His older boyfriend then transformed his hum’s pitch to match his groan, and together they raised their voices, swiftly building a challenging crescendo, a duel of lung capacity and stamina.

You never have to say it aloud, James. I know. You tell me all the time. You tell me all the time and yet you still think you don’t deserve to feel that way or have anyone give a rat’s ass about you. I love you because you’re you. I’m aware of everything you are and did and all that crap, and I love you.

Do you fucking understand me, James Sunderland?

James won the battle.

Harry forfeited with grace and maturity. Of course, that meant that when James decided he’d like to get up, the Mason patriarch used his bulky weight and strength to try to keep him in the chair and make it as difficult as possible for James to escape.

“Get— ugh, Harry! Get off me. Come on, don’t be a sore loser.” That groan he emitted at Harry’s decision to tighten his arms was a mite more sincerely annoyed than the last time. “God, come on. Why are you such a pain in the fucking ass—“

“Do unto others as you would have done unto you.”

Disgust distorted his face as the fact sank in that such a well-respected piece of ancient wisdom got turned into a crude double entendre. “Oh, aw, what the fuck— that’s gross, Harry. And blasphemous. And before you say it, yeah yeah, pot calling kettle black, whatever, don’t wanna hear it, I know, now let me up, old man.”

“Mm, mean, but not yet,” Harry both scolded and vetoed with a kiss to his ear. James sighed and sank his bodyweight onto the chair, still holding his boyfriend’s arm in both hands. He dropped his head the slightest bit back onto Harry’s soft shoulder.

He was wearing that cable knit sweater he’d gotten him last Christmas. It was a handsome, rusty orange, like if autumn were a color. Heather had laughed and called it a ‘dad sweater.’ Even though Harry agreed with her, and James sheepishly acknowledged the accuracy though he hadn’t intentionally chosen it with that in mind, he had actually blushed when Harry pulled off the navy blue he wore and donned himself in knitted fall.

Do you fucking understand me?

Harry wore that sweater often.

James smiled.

He didn’t reply.

“Hey. Harry.”

Listen to me again, James:

“Mm?” he mumbled on his pretty, pale neck.

I am choosing to love you. Because loving you is something I want to experience no matter the outcome. You need to internalize that. Someday, I want you to believe it.

“I love you.”

I want you to believe that you are so goddamn worthy and deserving of my love. I’m going to love you, or die trying.

James closed his eyes to soak in the emotional, radiant smile against his skin, and tightly squeezed Harry’s forearm to try to replicate the fiercely adoring way he wrapped him up in his embrace, even though the couldn’t at the moment hold him like he wanted to.

Everything I do, James - protecting you, caring for you, loving you, I do it all, and I do it fucking all--

“On purpose?”

His eyes opened, his head turned, and lake greens met deep, earthy browns. James loved the color of Harry’s eyes; perhaps even more than Harry claimed to love the color of his, too.

It’s the little things that mean the most.

“On purpose.”

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thompsborn · 5 years ago

Note

bakery au with peter parker running the bakery and any ship?

i considered parksborn and spideyflash but for a bakery au parkner just felt the most fitting. (if the format is weird then give it a couple minutes and then try tp refresh because posting on my laptop fucks it up for some reason and i always have to go and edit it on my phone to fix it lmao)

send me an au and a ship !!

[ read this on ao3 ]

—

The first time Harley Keener steps foot into Parker’s Pastries, it’s because of the rain.

It comes out of no where, the storm that rolls in from the east, a fairly normal day starting out a bit overcast suddenly going dark with the clouds, buckets and buckets of rain pouring down with no warning whatsoever. A lot of people get caught in it, hastily pulling out umbrellas and rushing to reach their destinations or wave down a taxi to escape.

Harley is strolling down the sidewalk when it starts to pelt the pavement, and his reaction, with no umbrella, a light jacket, and his wallet not on his person, making a taxi out of the question, is to duck into the closest door.

As soon as he steps inside, he’s enveloped in warm air that’s filled with the smell of something sweet and fresh from the oven. Without even realizing it, tension that he didn’t know he was carrying bleeds from his shoulders, letting them sag in some sort of relief, his damp hair sticking to his forehead as he turns around, tugging his jacket tighter around himself, a shiver running down his spine, and what greets him is a small yet cozy little bakery, with shelves lined with little trinkets and counters loaded with sweets. It’s a simplistic yet rustic little establishment, feeling homey and lived in and comfortable, and the bell above the door behind the register jingles as it gets pushed open and a warm brown eyes belonging to a kind faced woman meet his own calculating and careful blue ones.

“Oh, honey, you look like you’re freezing,” the woman says, clicking her tongue as she sets a plate of fresh cinnamon rolls down on the countertop, her eyes wide with sympathy and worry as she rounds the register and beckons him over. “Come here, sweetie, let’s get you warmed up. C’mon, come sit, don’t worry.”

There’s something so genuinely kind and caring about the way the woman speaks, paired with how her hair is frizzy and falling out of the loose bun she’s got pulled to the top of her head, round glasses perched on her nose and a flour covered apron tied round her waist, and Harley does not know her, no, but he hugs himself tighter and steps forward and doesn’t complain in the slightest when she guides him to a seat.

“Peter, honey,” the woman calls out, over her shoulder, as she frets over how soaked through Harley’s jacket is, her lips set in a worried frown. “Can you come out here for a second?”

A moment later, the door swings open again, and the person standing in it is a boy that looks to be about Harley’s age, an apron on that’s got various colored stains on it, the black shirt he’s wearing beneath the apron covered with speckles and hand prints of white. His hair is just long enough to be tucked behind his ears in wisps of curls that fall loose when he cocks his head to the side and lets out a little hum. “Yeah, May?”

“Can you bring out a towel, please?” The woman—May, apparently—scans over Harley for a long moment, then adds, “And one of Ben’s old sweatshirts, too. There should be one in the office that I left in there last night.”

“No,” Harley tries to say. “I’m fine, really—”

The boy, Peter, frowns at Harley with a furrowed brow. “Your lips are turning blue.”

Harley shakes his head. It sends droplets of water flying to the floor and onto the table that May had him sit at. “Really, I don’t need—”

May clicks her tongue again. “We insist.”

“But...” Harley trails off, wanting to be stubborn, always ready to fight tooth and nail because he doesn’t like sympathy, hates being seen as any type of weak, burdening people with something as simple as borrowing warm clothes from complete strangers, but there’s something different about these strangers, something inviting about the way they talk, the way they look at him like they really care despite not knowing him at all. He nods, without meaning to nod, and doesn’t put up the fight that he intended to. “Alright,” he says. “Thank you.”

May shows him to the employee restroom when Peter brings them a towel in one hand and a sweatshirt in the other, giving Harley a wink as she tells him that it’s got more space for him to change, then leaves him to his business, assuring him to take his time and that it’s no problem to them when he tries to once again insist that he doesn’t need their help. When he emerges a few minutes later, his hair a bit fluffier and not as sopping wet thanks to the tower, his soaked through shirt and jacket in hand, replaced by the dark red hoodie that they gave him, he’s greeted by a pink cheeked Peter holding out a plastic bag to put his clothes into before them handing him a steaming mug. “Hot chocolate,” he says.

“Oh.” Harley takes the bag, ties it off when his clothes are shoved inside and sets it down before gingerly accepting the hot cocoa. “Um. Thanks.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Peter says, soft smile on his face. “You look like you need it.”

Harley shuffles his feet, takes a sip from the mug in his hands and gives himself a minute to look around. “I’ve never seen this place before,”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Peter muses, wiping down the counter before taking the place of cinnamon rolls to put them on display. “We’re a small place, not very well known, to be honest. Only reason we stay on our feet is because we have our loyal customers that always come in and keep us running.” He takes a smaller plate and sets a cinnamon roll on it. “You want one? On the house.”

“I’m good,” Harley tells him, shaking his head. “You already gave me cocoa.”

Peter chuckles, tearing off a piece of the cinnamon roll and popping it in his mouth. “If you say so,” he says. “I’m Peter, by the way. Peter Parker.”

“Harley. Harley Keener.”

With a little smile, Peter holds the plate out. “You sure you don’t want any?”

There’s something playful in Peter’s eyes that makes Harley smile, too.

The second time Harley goes into Parker’s Pastries is exactly a week later, and this time, there’s no rain, rather a steady stream of sunlight warming his skin as he pushes open the door and makes his way inside.

“Harley,” May greets warmly, putting a tray of cookies on display. She finishes what she’s doing and wipes her hands before rounding the counter to approach him, her smile wide and warm. “I was wondering if we’d see you again.”

It’s almost overwhelming, the fact that she means it so much, causing a dust of a blush to rise on his cheeks. “I just came to give this back,” he says, holding out the dark red hoodie towards her awkwardly, a sheepish smile on his face. “And, um—I told my—I told, uh—this guy I know, Tony, I told him about you guys, and he told me to pick him up something for him while I was here, so...”

May hums, eyes sparkling as she takes the hoodie. “Does he like cookies?”

Harley thinks, then nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Peanut butter?”

“Sometimes eats it out of the jar with a spoon,” Harley says.

May nods knowingly. “I’ve got just the thing, then. Peter!”

From behind the door, there’s a yelp, a clatter, and then an array of colorful swearing that goes on for a solid thirty seconds before coming to a sudden stop. A moment later, there’s shuffling footsteps, and then the door creaks open, revealing a very rumpled looking Peter standing on the other side.

“Honey,” May says, “I think you’ve got some—”

Peter huffs, blows his hair out of his face and glowers when it falls back in front of his eyes, clumped together with the frosting that he, somehow, got all over himself. “Yeah,” he says, “I think I got it, thanks. Where’s the—oh my god, Harley, hi, you’re—wow, okay, you’re back, and I look like—cool. Cool, cool, cool.”

Harley lifts his hand in a half-assed wave. “Hi, Peter.”

“Hi,” Peter breathes, goes to run his hand through his hair and then grimaces when he just gets the frosting all over his fingers. Without meaning to, Harley lets out a little laugh at the way that Peter crinkles his nose, and Peter looks away at the sound, cheeks tinted red. “What, uh—what’s up, May?”

May looks thoroughly amused by the situation at hand, one brow quirking a bit as her lips tug into a smile. “Are the peanut butter cookies done yet?”

Tilting his hand back and forth in a so-so manner, Peter answers, “Almost? They’re out of the oven, but they’re still cooling off. I was working on icing those cupcakes while they cooled, but then you scared the fuck out of me, and—”

“Language, young man,” May tuts.

“I’m twenty years old, Aunt May,” Peter whines. “I can say the fuck word.”

“You can also lose your job, too,” May threatens, though her smile curves in a way that shows how much she doesn’t mean it, all loving and teasing.

Peter rolls his eyes. “Please, like you could handle this place without me. You can’t make toast without burning it to shit, Aunt May. Ben would be rolling in his grave if you ever tried to bring his recipes to life without my help.”

“I resent that,” May says. “You’re right, but I still resent it. How long until the cookies are cooled off enough to pack up for Harley to take with him?”

Eyes flickering to the door leading to the back, Peter makes a high pitched humming noise, tilting his head back and forth as he thinks, before offering a little shrug and saying, “I dunno, maybe, like, ten minutes or so? If I tried to move them any sooner, they’ll probably still be too hot and just fall apart.”

Harley glances at the clock and smiles, just a bit. “Can I have another cocoa while I wait?”

“Harley,” Peter greets, the bell above the door chiming lightly. “You’re back.”

“And you still have frosting in your hair,” Harley replies.

Peter’s hand flies up to his hair instantly, only to let out a huff when he finds nothing there. “Rude,” he says. “What did your friend think about the peanut butter cookies?”

Harley hums, hands stuffed in his pockets as he rocks back and forth on his feet lightly, shoulders bunching up in a little shrug. “He loved them, but I dunno. Peanut butter isn’t my favorite, so…”

The way that Peter cocks his head to the side is nothing short of adorable. “What is your favorite, then?”

“Got any chocolate chip?” Harley asks, smiling. “Maybe something with butterscotch?”

“Lucky for you,” Peter says, “there’s a fresh batch of both in the oven. You mind waiting?”

Harley shrugs again, smile growing. “Can I have some company while I wait?”

“I dunno, I kind of have a job to do,” Peter replies, plucking a napkin off the counter and fiddling with it. Harley doesn’t respond, just tilts his head slightly to the side and widens his eyes in the signature puppy eyed look that Tony and Pepper have told him could end the world. Peter sinks his teeth into his lower lip and gnaws on it, looking away, looking back, and then laughing lightly. “Fine. Fine. I’ll sit with you. But if May finds out and tries to kick my ass for slacking on her day off, I’m blaming you for it, Keener.”

Harley beams. “I will gladly take that blame.”

There’s no such thing as discreet when you’re walking into a small bakery in Queens with Tony Stark.

Harley knows this—he knows it rather well, learned the same thing when he was adopted eight years ago and tried walking into a frickin’ Starbucks with the guy and they ended up getting mobbed by reporters trying to get the scoop on Stark’s new kid that he was keeping hidden from the world. So, he’s not surprised by the looks they get when they go strolling down the sidewalk together, and he doesn’t flinch at the flash of a camera going off, but he does jump a bit in surprise when they walk into Parker’s Pastries and there’s instantly glass shattering against the floor and someone exclaiming, “Holy shit!”

“Language,” May warns, handing over the change to someone that appears to be buying a cake, sending a half hearted glare Peter’s way before offering the customer a sweet smile. “There you go, Genie,” she says, with a sense of familiarity to her tone. “Tell Jesse happy birthday for us, okay? And try not to miss dinner this Sunday, sweetie. We miss you, even if Peter won’t admit it.”

“May,” Peter hisses from where he’s standing over the remains of a plate of cupcakes, which he clearly must have dropped. He’s got wide eyes that are flickering between Tony and Harley in blatant shock.

Apparently, this is just amusing, as May only chuckles. “Have a good day, dear.”

“Thank you, Aunt May,” the customer—Genie?—replies, all toothy smiles and sharp eyes as he spins around and shuffles out the door, not even sparing Tony or Harley a glance on his way out.

Turning her attention to the two men, May offerings a wide smile and chirpily greets, “Harley, honey, it’s wonderful to see you again. And you brought a friend!”

Harley chuckles lightly, shaking his head. “Actually, this is my dad, Tony. Dad, this is May, and that’s Peter. They run the bakery.”

Tony grins, taking off his sunglasses and tucking them into the pocket of his suit jacket, scanning over the store with warm brown eyes, approval bright and clear on his face. “Adorable,” he says, turning in his spot to examine it further. “Gosh, this place is just adorable. No wonder you love it so much, Harls.” He spins back around until he’s facing forward, flashes his grin towards May and Peter. “And this is where you got those cookies? Miss Parker, I’m absolutely in love with your recipe. How do you do it?”

“Actually, the recipe was my husbands,” May responds, bemused. “He was a stress baker, always made sweets and treats after a long day at work. After he passed away, we decided to scrounge up all the money we could and start this place in his memory. Everything we make is based on how he made it.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Tony offers.

May hums. “It was a long time ago, Stark, but thank you.”

“Peter does most of the baking,” Harley cuts in, mostly because Peter has been staring at them with wide, bugged out eyes ever since they walked in and he’s hoping it’ll snap him out of it.

It seems to do that trick, has Peter blinking owlishly and spluttering out a weak, “No, I—I don’t—”

With a chuckle, May cuts in, saying, “No, it’s true. I have bad luck with burning things. Peter’s the one that’s able to bring this all to perfection. He made the batch of cookies that Harley took home with him.”

Tony brightens at that, faces Peter fully and takes two quick strides to close the space between them. He stops a bit short, in order to avoid the smashed plate and cupcakes on the ground, but his grin doesn’t falter, only seems to grow as he says, “Kid, those cookies were the best I’ve ever had. Seriously, it’s a problem. Pepper thinks I’m going to get addicted to them if I buy more, but I decided it’s worth the addiction and begged Harley to bring me here anyway. Can I get a couple dozen? Like, six or seven?”

“Um—” Peter flounders for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Oh my god,” he breathes after a moment. “Tony Stark. Holy shit. I, uh—yes, you can—I’ll make more cookies. Wow.”

“Maybe you should—” Tony gestures to the floor, at the broken glass and smooshed cupcakes.

Peter flinches. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I’m gonna—”

May waves her hand. “You go start the cookies,” she tells him. “I’ll clean up the mess.”

“Are you sure?” Peter questions, properly breaking out of his daze just enough to frown her way, looking guilty at the idea of leaving her to clean up after him. “I can pick it up real quick, May, it’s fine.”

“You have seven dozen cookies to make for Tony Stark,” May reminds him. “You should get started.”

Peter gnaws on his lower lip, glances around the room, at May, at Tony, at Harley, and back again, before jutting his chin up and down in a stiff sort of nod and saying, “Yeah, okay, I’ll just—”

And he heads to the back without another word.

Tony looks after him for a moment, then turns to Harley with a smile. “He’s an angel. I approve.”

“Dad,” Harley warns, glaring at Tony before glancing over to make sure May didn’t hear. “Don’t embarrass me or I’m telling Dum-E to set your lab on fire when we get home.”

“It’s cute that you think you can threaten me,” Tony teases. Harley glares harder, but all it does is make Tony laugh before reaching over to ruffle his hair while May acts like she isn’t listening, hiding her smile.

The next time Harley comes in, it’s by himself, no Tony in sight.

“So,” Peter says. “You’re actually Harley Stark.”

Harley clicks his tongue. “Technically, I never changed my name. I still go by Keener most of the time.”

Peter’s lips quirk, just slightly. “I’m not giving you free food now that I know that you’re rich.”

“I’m gonna start leaving ridiculously large tips now that you know that I’m rich.”

“I don’t know why I expected anything different.”

(Before Harley leaves, Peter slides him a cup of hot chocolate, free of charge. Harley, in retaliation, leaves a two hundred dollar tip in the jar. And a sticky note with a heart drawn on it, just because.)

It’s around the thirteenth time that Harley comes to the bakery that, for the first time, Peter isn’t there.

May is still chirpy when she greets him, all smiles and a friendly tone, but when Harley scuffs the toe of his shoe against the ground and gently asks, “Is Peter in the back?” May shakes her head.

“He’s sick,” she tells him. “Came down with the flu, somehow. He wouldn’t let me close the bakery for the day to take care of him, either, and he’s the worst as taking care of himself.”

Harley gnaws on the inside of his cheek and timidly offers, “I mean, I could—I could check on him.”

There’s a knowing glint in May’s eyes as she tips her head forward and says, “If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Harley assures quickly. “I don’t—not even a little bit, do I mind. None at all.”

A smile pulls at May’s lips, small and genuine. “You’ll need the spare key to get in, then.”

When finding a place for their bakery to go, Peter and May had been lucky enough to come across a cheap space for sale that also had two apartments above it—perfect, because, while Peter had only been fifteen at the time and wasn’t planning to move out for a while, he’s now reached twenty and wants his own space. The top apartment is May’s, where her and Peter stayed for a few years, and the bottom apartment is Peter’s, which he moved into on his own when he turned eighteen. May gives Harley her key to Peter’s apartment and tells him how to push the door open, as it apparently likes to stick and can be a bit difficult at times, and Harley tries to pretend like his heart isn’t lodged in his throat as he makes his way upstairs. He tries knocking first, lightly to start, a bit louder after that, but isn’t surprised when there’s no response, May having already told him that Peter tends to sleep through the day when he’s sick. Even knowing this, though, it feels weird using the key to make his way inside, feeling like he needs express permission from Peter himself to even step foot through the door.

Still, he goes in, tiptoes quietly as if that will somehow make it better, and recalls May’s instructions on how to get to Peter’s bedroom from the front door, turns left down the hall and makes his way to the second door on the right, which he hesitates outside of before knocking again.

There’s a muffled groan, followed by a groggy, “May, seriously, I’m fine.”

“Um—” Harley’s voice cracks, just a bit. He clears his throat. “It’s not—I’m not May.”

A pause, before a quiet little, “Harley?”

Harley hesitates, unsure, before pushing the bedroom door open and peaking inside, finding Peter blinking towards him with squinted eyes that seem slightly dazed with exhaustion. “Yeah,” he murmurs, keeping his voice quiet for Peter’s sake. “It’s me. May said that you’re sick, so I’m… I dunno. I’m checking on you, I guess. Making sure you’re alright, drinking water and all that fun stuff.”

“Wow,” Peter breathes, his hair a mess on his head, grin lopsided. “Harley. Okay. Hi. Wow.”

Harley chuckles. “What’s the wow for?”

Peter’s grin grows. “You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah,” Peter says. “You. You’re wow. Like, wow, I can’t—I can’t believe you’re checking on me.”

“What’s so hard to believe about that?” Harley questions, confused, making his way further into Peter’s room and trying to resist the urge to look around, not wanting to invade his privacy any more than he has.

Peter shrugs, the action sloppy as he head flops back against his pillow. “Dunno. You’re just—really good. And I’m, just, like—I’m just Peter. You’re Harley. You know?”

Slowly, Harley says, “I don’t think I’m following, Pete.”

“Like—” Peter waves a hand through the air, squinting at the ceiling. “Like, you’re amazing. And nice. And, like, really funny, and cool, and, just all these great things, and I—I didn’t even go to college, ‘cause I decided I wanted to help run the bakery instead, which is—which is cool, and all, and I don’t regret it, but you’re the son of a genius and a billionaire and I’m just—you know? I’m just. And you’re not just. So, like, you wanting to check on me, and you caring about me, that’s—that’s very much wow.”

“Of course I care about you,” Harley murmurs, blushing, maybe, a little bit. “I care… I care a lot, actually. Like… I don’t know. Maybe more than a normal person should care. If that makes sense.”

Peter makes a soft noise, something that sounds like a grunt, but also a sigh. “Don’t say that.”

Harley frowns. “Why not?”

“’Cause you say that and it sounds like you mean that you like me,” Peter says, “but that would mean that I’m dreaming ‘cause only in my dreams would you like me back and I don’t wanna be dreaming, okay?”

“You’re not dreaming,” Harley says, slowly. “You like me?”

“A lot,” Peter sighs. “Like, a lot, a lot. It’s dumb. I’m definitely dreaming right now.”

Harley falters, chews on his lower lip thoughtfully and lets out a long, slow breath, before saying, “I think we should talk about this, when you’re not sick anymore, but… I’m just gonna get you some water, okay? And maybe make you some toast, and hopefully you’ll start to feel better, okay?”

Peter hums. “Alright.”

He falls asleep after sipping at a glass of water, with half a piece of toast hanging from his mouth. Harley thinks it’s the most endearing thing he’s ever seen and leaves a note with his number, the words call me? scribbled out, and another little heart, just because he wants to, just because he can.

Peter doesn’t call him the next day, or the day after that, or the day after that.

He doesn’t call Harley at all.

When Harley goes in, there are a few other customers being served, so he tugs his beanie down and ducks his head and waits at the end of the line, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the floor and keeping his hands stuffed in his pockets to hide how they’re slightly shaking with nerves. He can hear Peter’s voice as he gets cookies and drinks and boxes up a birthday cake and lets out a chiming laugh when one of the customers makes a joke that Harley can’t hear, and by the time that it’s Harley’s turn, there’s a slight ache in his chest that tells him he’s crushing a bit harder than he thought he was.

“What can I get for you?” Peter says, not looking up from where he’s wiping off the counter, smile in his voice and a pep in his step and his hair bouncing around when he moves.

Harley clears his throat. “Can I have a hot chocolate, please?”

Peter whips his head up at the sound of Harley’s voice, eyes going wide and smile falling into a dropped jaw look of shock. “Oh,” he breathes. “Oh my god. Harley. Oh my god. Hi.”

“Hey,” Harley murmurs, smile a bit tense. “My dad, uh—he wants some more cookies, too, if that’s—”

“Oh, god, I never called,” Peter cuts in, eyes going even wider. “Oh my god, I can’t believe—I meant to call you, I swear to god, or at least—at least send a text, but—the things I said, when you came over—”

Harley shakes his head. “You didn’t mean them. It’s fine. No biggie.”

There’s a strangled sort of noise that tears its way from Peter’s throat. “No! I meant them! I absolutely meant them! But I just—Harley, you have to understand, I don’t—I’m not—I’m just me, okay? And you’re you, and I’m not—you can’t like me. You can’t do that to yourself, y’know?”

For a long moment, Harley just stares at Peter, a furrow to his brow and a frown pulling at his lips, and then he just snorts, loud and unfiltered, and says, “Peter, you are just you. That’s why I like you.”

“But—”

“Parker, I swear to god—”

Peter makes another noise, this one more frustrated, and leans over the counter suddenly, pulling Harley in with his hands on either side of his face, pressing a bruising kiss to his lips, maybe a little too harshly, as their teeth click together a few times before they’re able to melt into it, moving in sync, breathing each other in, and it doesn’t matter that the edge of the counter the separates them is digging into their hips, likely forming bruises—nothing matters in this moment other than them.

When they part ways a few moments later, breathing a little bit heavily, they don’t go far, foreheads pressing together, noses bumping as they heave to catch their breaths. “Wow,” Peter says.

“Yeah,” Harley agrees, giggling lightly. “Wow.”

Peter clears his throat and starts to lean away. “So, a hot chocolate and some peanut butter cookies—”

Harley rolls his eyes, reaches forward, and pulls Peter back in to kiss him again, and again, and again.

#my writing #parkner

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