#doing my best to not drop em into ^everything bends around them to make them the mc^ category

[beardedhandstoadshark]

Which of your OCs have a strained and difficult relationship? It’s Red isn’t it?

Depends on with what! When it comes to people it’s actually Violet with her family and (failure in) anything involving magic. Gifted child syndrome brought to the extreme via prophecies and political intrigue (…as much as the setting and lack of writing skills allow for anyways ^^)

But for concepts, sure Red‘s got it with the whole "Being the chosen hero of the countryTM“ thing, but also Deniz with himself, Mage with anything involving his missing and proclaimed dead for at least 5 years bestie, the postman formerly nicknamed Yel with his job + knowing prev is unconsciously hardcore projecting said bestie onto him, and to various extents every "element spirit“ oc with the fact they’re technically echoes of dead people who will never be the person they were supposed to be anymore. Hello lore :]

[iamthecomet]

Idk what happened but I blacked out and wrote 1.5k words about Mountain fucking Dew's tits because I don't know, I needed to. So, uhhh, I hope you like it!?!?

“I wanna fuck ‘em,” Mountain voice is a mumble, shy almost. Dew notices the way the flush drags over his cheeks, down his neck, disappearing beneath his shirt. Too many clothes. Mountain is wearing too many clothes. And Dew, pinned to the bed by the way Mountain straddles his hips, can’t do shit about it.

Mountain flicks at one of Dew’s nipple rings. Dew waits, muscles tensing as Mountain gets a little braver and takes the ring between two calloused fingers and tugs. Dew’s breath hitches, an undignified noise bubbles up in his throat, escapes through his teeth.

“They’re too small,” Dew says, a whisper as Mountain tugs again and the sensation steals the breath from his lungs. “Fuck. Careful. Sensitive.”

“I know.” Mountains eyes are still glued to Dew’s chest his tits—or lack thereof. Dew can practically see his mouth watering about it. “Been thinking about it...what they’d look like with my dick between them. Can’t get it out of my head—”

“Aeon been fucking with you again?” Dew tries at a spike of levity and succeeds in getting Mountain to actually look at him—but it doesn’t help. Mountain looks wrecked already.

“No.” Mountain doesn’t step into the joke, doesn’t even entertain it. His gaze, hungry and desperate, fixes Dew to the bed more firmly than even his weight can. Dew reaches up, puts both of his hands on Mountain’s thighs. He squeezes. Drags his thumbs up and down, feeling rough denim beneath his thumbs.

“Just,” Mountain continues, “can’t stop thinking about it. I know they’re too small. I don’t care. Let me.”

Dew tilts his head, continues the rhythmic stroke of his thumbs along the inner seam of Mountain’s jeans. He’s proud of himself for keeping his eyes on Mountain’s face and not letting them drop down to his zipper. It takes an incredible amount of focus not to. So much that when Mountain twists Dew’s nipple ring again it comes out of nowhere, a shock to Dew’s spine that has him arching off the bed,  unprepared for the sharp bite of pleasure pain. Mountain doesn’t let up—not right away and Dew hands suspended in the purgatory of that feeling until he deigns to let him go.  

“Please?” Mountain asks, and Dew can’t think. Especially not when Mountain twists a little harder and everything narrows down to just this one feeling. Dew nods, flexing his hips up to grind a little against Mountain’s ass. An illustration of just how fucked up he is too. So hard that there is nothing beyond this room. So hard he’ll do just about anything for one crumb of relief.

“Yeah, yeah ok, Mount. Whatever you want. Just—”

Mountain lets go and Dew sags back on the bed. Body tingling. Feeling little electric pulses all the way down in his fingers. He knows exactly what he’s getting himself into—isn’t sure he can take it. But he isn’t a coward, and he doesn’t back down, so if Mountain really wants to drag his cock over the bony plate of his sternum and fuck Dew’s tits—Dew is not going to deny him.

Mountain moves quickly after that, hands flying away from Dew’s chest to his belt. Dew reaches up to help and Mountain bats his hands away. Dew places them back down on Mountain’s thighs again, feeling the muscles shift as Mountain moves. He doesn’t get off of Dew. He just shifts forward, scooting up a few inches as he reaches into his pants and pulls himself out.

Dew finally allows himself to really look then. To watch the way Mountain fists a hand around himself and tugs. The way he circles the head—squeezing just enough to make himself hiss.

A bead of precum pearls at the tip and Mountain leans, bending so he can rub it across the nipple he was just abusing.

Mountain’s eyes flick between Dew’s face and his non-existent tits.

“Push them together for me, firefly.”  

Dew does, as best he can, despite there being next to nothing extra there. He is all bones and skin, but he tries anyway. Tucking his arms in, hunching his shoulders. Watching the flesh bunch and push toward center—still nowhere close to touching, but Mountain groans all the same. The hand on his cock speeding up.

“You like them?”

Mountain nods. “Pretty.”

Dew wants to chide him, remind him that there’s nothing there but it’s the look on Mountain’s face that stops him—again. He’s so into it, and therefore, Dew is too. Pulling his hands up to cup the sides of his little tits to try to push them even closer together.

Mountain scoots up, lays the head of his dick at the base of Dew’s sternum. Then, he hunches over. Spit drools from his mouth onto the tip of his cock—onto Dew’s overheated skin. Mountain smears it around with his cock. Slicking up the gap between Dew’s pecs. He slides forward, aided by his own spit and groans. The tip of his cock bumps Dew in the chin. On the next pass, it meets Dew’s tongue and Mountain swears, head tipping back, just for a second, as his cock ruts along the knobby plane of Dew’s chest.

“Fuck.” He sounds so reverent. Dew’s cock kicks hard in his boxers at the sound. He flexes them up—finds nothing to grind against but it doesn’t stop that involuntary twitch.

Mountain’s head come back to center—tips down. Watching his cock move through the spit, and the narrow—bony—channel of Dew’s chest. Watches how the head of his cock meets Dew’s lips and Dew opens for it, laps at it, sucks the head in just a little before Mountain pulls back for another thrust.

Mountain knocks Dew’s hands way, fitting one hand on each of Dew’s nipple rings, he pulls them both toward center.

Dew keens. Head rocketing back, body arching as Mountain holds his tits together just like that and his thrusts start to speed up.

“Is it good?” Mountain asks, and Dew thinks he’s going insane. Isn’t that what he’s supposed to be asking? He nods. Drowning in the sharp, overwhelming, bite of this pain—the way it fizzles into pleasure at the base of his spine. His hips hump up, to nothing, hopelessly grinding against air.

It’s so slick sounding. Between Mountain’s spit and the pre-cum drooling from his cock Dew’s chest is glistening with it. Each one of Mountain’s thrusts sounding sloppier than the last.

“Your mouth, Dew, please.”

And how is Dew supposed to say no? How is he supposed to do anything except get his shit together and tip his head down, opening his lips for Mountain to fit the head of his cock into at the end of each rough thrust.

“Will you cum on them?” Dew asks, voice pitching up. Mountain pulls on the rings a little tighter, draws those little tits just that much closer together and Dew swears he sees god.

Mountain nods hard, thrusts already faltering, rhythm shuddering. “Soon.”

“Yeah? You going to paint them?”

“Uh-huh.;”

“Get them all sloppy—fuck—make a mess.”

“I’ll clean it up after too,” Mountain promises, and Dew’s stomach turns over, swooping hard enough to make him groan. “Suck you off too, if you want.”

“Yeah—shit—do it—c’mon—cum all over my tits.”

Mountain growls. He lets go of one of Dew’s nipple rings as he finishes one last thrust. Dew watches his fist fly over his cock. Mountain’s back arches, his head drops back, neck glistening with sweat, pulse racing through the veins there. Dew can’t look away when he cums, still twisting one nipple ring in his fingers even as he shoots all over Dew’s chest.

There’s a moment of quiet. Mountain’s fingers loosen. Dew sags back into the bed and Mountain does too—just a little—as he gets his breathing under control. His hands rest at Dew’s waist, fingers tapping little rhythms on Dew’s ribs—a song—probably. Dew tries to guess which one but finds his brain empty of everything except need.

It’s Dew’s hips, still grinding toward nothing, that bring Mountain back to him. His eyes refocus, searching Dew’s face.  Then he shifts back, sliding down Dew’s body until settles over Dew’s hips, giving him something to grind against again. Dew moans with it, the sudden delicious relief. Not nearly enough but better than nothing.

Mountain bends, green eyes locked on Dew’s as his tongue darts out and he chases a rivulet of cum with it, gathering it on his tongue.

“Mount—”

“Told you I’d clean you up then suck you off. Be patient.”

Dew stares at him, watches him lap up his own cum, tongue swirling around Dew’s nipples, clever teeth tugging on the rings just to hear the noises Dew makes when he does. Dew wasn’t going to rush him—doesn’t want to. He’d watch this forever if Mountain would let him. He hopes Mountain takes his time.

He hopes it takes all night.

[crackedpumpkin]

𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝟏𝟏 |

a/n: this is shamefully not my best work but sorry for the late updates, life has been super shitty lately and I've been trying my best but being rejected from jobs and figuring out my own things has been a tough journey. i promise i'm writing as much as i can though! i still love writing my fics and all but haven't had enough spoons lately to do so. either way i still hope you guys enjoy this chapter, the next one's going to be her dad's birthday dinner 👀

taglist: @candyquokka @mikadough @em-100-blog @cursedreader @alicesmile1 @alexa24 @raegreenie4 @burdeningbitch @viannasthings @cadencannot @ml3czqo @nanasemo @certified-cole-simp @beescomet @theblindhag @mitbin24 @sweetlittlebumblebree @brooklyniswriting @cantbecreative @something-else3 @iinlovewithfictionalppl @itz-moonlight @jebesovovise @ryeheep @letthelightin2112 @classically-bored @clearlawyereaglewobbler @anajellyc @the-midnight-duck @fru1ty-bage3ls @elysiuansstuff @risagichi @mousedit

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

He’s an hour early. 

Cole checks the time on his phone before shoving it back into his pocket. He glances at the closed apartment door, pondering whether it’d be wise to just head upstairs and knock. He grins. You’d probably open the door in ratty pyjamas after having just woken up, frowning at the sight of him all dressed and ready to go. It’s not like you could simply turn him away either, you’re on too good terms with him for that. 

Well, he hopes you’re on good terms at least. Though judging from the baffling number of tiny dildos you’d planted all around his room and belongings, he’s pretty sure you’ve had your fill of revenge. 

Seriously though, the moment he saw the small glittery dildos in his shower gel, he knew he was fucked. It’d taken him ages to compile and discard an absurd amount, yet he was still finding them in jean pockets and somehow, in his computer. (He made a mental note to buy a new lock for his bedroom door.)

Still, he can’t help but look forward to today. He’d been preparing, armed with a collective of more girlfriend jokes you’d definitely scowl at. 

The thought makes him grin.

He’d wait in his car, but he brought along his public transport pass for once and he was looking forward to sitting in the bus, letting someone else drive. It made a nice change from flying on Rocky. 

Now, he’s patiently waiting at the carpark. He wasn’t avoiding the security on purpose, but it’s difficult to explain why he’s lounging around. Besides, he wasn’t in uniform either which would make everything thrice as hard.

He’s mid-performance, silently lip-synching to Rocket Man when he hears a clattering sound that echoes through the quiet. A brief, irritated exhale, then the sound of someone bending down to pick the dropped items up. 

He peeks around the corner with bated breath, praying it’s not a thief he’d have to arrest on this peaceful, quiet day. Fortunately, it’s just a random woman whose exasperation is evident on her face. Her arms are full of grocery bags, one of which had ripped at the bottom. Cans of tuna and packets of vegetables litter the ground, making it difficult for her to bend down and reach with her hands occupied, holding her wallet and keys. 

Cole makes his way over quickly, reaching down and picking up the scattered items with ease. “Here you go,” he says nonchalantly, looking around for any extra bags she might have before deciding that it’d be better to keep holding onto them.

“Thank you,” she says in relief. “My husband already went back upstairs. Could you help me carry them back to my house? It’s only a few floors up. I don’t have an extra bag and, well…” She gestures helplessly to the items in her arms. 

“It’s no problem. I’m just waiting for my girlfriend so I can spare a moment.”

With his confirmation, she smiles. “Thank you, young man. What’s your name?” She starts heading to the lift with him following faithfully. 

“It’s Cole,” he answers easily, shifting the weight of the groceries in his arms as he follows her to the lift.

“Well, thank you for helping me, Cole. You’re a very nice man. I’m sure your soulmate is just as great as you are.”

He swears his neck is just warm from the sun. He has been standing outside for a while, after all. “She sure is.”

The lady hums knowingly, stepping into the lift as the doors slide open. “She must be something special, huh? By the way, you can just call me Emily.”

“Nice to meet you, Emily.” Cole grins. “Oh, she’s a real treat,” he continues with an eye roll, voice laced with sarcasm. “Has a terrible sense of humour, by the way.”

“Oh?” Emily glances at him, intrigue written all over her face.

“Yeah, she–” Cole stops himself short. He could tell this stranger about your frequent hangouts and bets. How you somehow managed to sneak tiny glittery dildos into everything he owns. How he’s still finding them in the most inconvenient places. But that might be too much information for someone he’s just met.

“She’s… resourceful,” he settles on instead. “Gets away with a lot more than she should.”

Emily chuckles. “Sounds like your soulmate keeps you on your toes.”

“You have no idea.”

The lift dings and Cole watches as Emily shifts the groceries in her arms to press a button. His gaze flickers to the illuminated number.

Your floor.

He blinks.

Probably just a coincidence.

“So, what about you?” he asks, brushing the thought aside. “You mentioned your husband. He leaves you to carry all this by yourself?” He lifts the bags a little for emphasis.

Emily sighs, shaking her head with a small laugh. “He said he forgot something and had to run back upstairs. I told him I could handle it, but clearly, I underestimated my own planning skills.”

Cole grins. “Happens to the best of us.”

“Oh, don’t I know it.” She tilts her head. “So, you said you were waiting for your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, she–” Cole hesitates for half a second, suddenly aware of how easily he was falling into conversation. “Uh, she lives in this building.”

Emily nods. “Small world, then.”

The doors slide open, and Cole steps aside to let her exit first. He follows her out, still holding onto the bags.

“So, where am I dropping these off?” he asks, glancing down the hallway.

Emily shifts her grip on her keys, giving him a warm smile. “Oh, just a little further down. Right over here.”

But Cole barely hears her. Because at that exact moment, his eyes catch on a very familiar door.

Your door.

And Emily?

She’s sliding her key into the lock.

…Fuck me.

— — — — — 

At the tender age of four, your worst nightmare was probably getting eaten alive by a pigeon. At ten years old, your mother finally convinced you that your worst nightmare would be being bitten by a werewolf.

Most recently, it’s was being thrust into a huge party on a boat where you know absolutely no one yet all their attention is on you. Also, you would be wearing the world’s ugliest outfit known to mankind.

None of that measured up to the sight of Cole peeking out from behind the bags of groceries at your goddamn front door, pure shock written all over his face as your name fell from his lips.

You freeze.

You were already tying your shoelaces, fully prepared to head downstairs and wait for him (not that you’d ever admit it though). But now, he’s here, standing in your doorway, carrying someone else’s groceries like it’s a normal Monday morning for him.

More importantly, Emily’s groceries.

“Wait—” You shake your head, grasping at logic like it’s a slippery fish, except this fish isn’t a fish, just pure, unadulterated bafflement. “What—? Why—?”

Cole attempts a half-wave. “...Mornin’.”

Your eyes flicker over him instinctively, taking in his outfit — dark jeans, a plain black shirt that fits him unfairly well, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Focus. Forget about how good he looks right now. The real problem is that he’s here. He’s here with Emily, of all people.

Your blood boils.

Emily, on the other hand, gasps, her face lighting up with realization. “Oh! You’re Cole’s girlfriend?”

A full-body shudder rips through you. “Excuse me?”

But Emily isn’t paying attention, her eyes darting between you both with a knowing smile. “I knew you’d find your soulmate one day.”

Your mouth drops open. If you accepted the hallucination in front of your eyes as reality, then maybe the buffering in your brain would finally stop.

Cole audibly chokes. “I beg your pardon?”

“Do come in,” Emily urges, stepping aside as Cole, still visibly stunned, automatically steps into the apartment. He only realizes his mistake when he locks eyes with you again.

You narrow your eyes. Your entire stance radiates irritation. Cole, for all his bravado, tenses under the intensity of your gaze, his hand tightening around a can of tuna as if it’s a lifeline. 

Get out, you think, mentally willing him toward the exit. Turn around. Leave. Pretend none of this ever happened.

Your annoyance is palpable, enough for Emily to hesitate. Of all the people in this freaking city, why did he have to be here with her? And how the fuck were you supposed to explain this to—

“What’s all this commotion about?”

Oooooof course.

Whether by pure coincidence or the universe just decided to hurl all it’s got at you, your dad steps out of his room and into the living room, arms crossed as he surveys the scene. His eyes flick to Emily first, then to Cole, and then finally to you.

Emily brightens. “Oh! This kind young man helped me carry the groceries up. And guess what?” She gestures between you and Cole. “He’s actually her soulmate.” Her words trail off at the end when she notices the way your hands curl into fists at your side, and the way Cole is very evidently inching closer to the door by the second.

If there were ever a moment to simply cease existing, this would be it.

Your father’s brow lifts slightly, his gaze sliding to Cole, who is suddenly looking very, very invested in the nearest inanimate object. You don’t blame him.

Meanwhile, you? You are this close to spontaneously combusting.

This was not how you wanted your dad to find out. Not through Emily, not through a chance encounter, and definitely not when you had been actively avoiding the topic altogether.

You straighten your spine, clearing your throat in a poor attempt to dispel the growing tension. “Right. Well. Thanks, Cole, for your kind gesture.” You shoot him a pointed look that practically screams leave before I throw you out myself.

Emily frowns, glancing at him. “You should stay for a bit, have some tea before you leave.”

You inhale sharply through your nose.

Cole, in a rare moment of self-preservation, hesitates, eyeing you warily like he’s navigating a minefield. “I’m…I’m good. I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”

“So.” Your dad takes a few steps forward, clearly sizing him up with a quick scan. The frown on his face doesn’t leave. “You’re my daughter’s soulmate. What makes you qualified–”

You resist the urge to slam your head against the nearest surface. “Nope. We have to leave now. Gotta pick up your birthday cake and all!” You grab the remaining items from Cole’s arms and place them on the floor, grab his wrist and drag him out of the door faster than your dad can react.

After the door clicks shut, you grab the keys from your pocket and lock it quickly just in case. 

Cole exhales beside you, shaking his head like he’s just barely avoided being flattened by a boulder. “Wow. Your dad’s intense.”

You shoot him a withering glare. “You think?”

Without waiting for a response, you stomp toward the elevator, jabbing at the call button with more force than necessary. The doors slide open almost immediately, and you step inside, your hold on his wrist meaning that he was basically dragged inside.

He hesitates for a split second, probably sensing the impending storm and how bad he fucked up. The second the doors slide shut, trapping you both in the small space, you turn to him, fury simmering just beneath the surface.

“You—”

But before you can get another word out, Cole’s fingers suddenly intertwine with yours, his grip warm and steady. Your brain short-circuits as he lifts your hand and, with a quick, effortless motion, presses a light kiss to your knuckles.

You freeze (again). 

The thoughts that’d been running wild in your head buffer, mangled up somewhere between huh?, what the hell just happened?, and how’re his lips so soft?

The elevator hums quietly.

Cole, for his part, at least has the decency to look slightly sheepish when he meets your wide-eyed stare. He laughs nervously, still holding your hand. “Before you get mad at me, I just wanted to help a struggling civilian carry her groceries back to her apartment. I swear I had no idea she was your…stepmom?”

You blink. Once. Twice.

Then, with all the eloquence of a dying duck, you manage, “What the actual fuck?”

Cole lets out a low chuckle, his thumb briefly brushing over your knuckles before he finally releases your hand, stuffing both of his into his pockets. “So that is the right term?”

You sigh, running a hand (the unkissed one) down your face as you try to regain some semblance of composure. “Yeah,” you mutter, still reeling from the fact that he just. Just did that. “She married my dad last year.”

He hums, tilting his head slightly. “Huh. That’s…unexpected.”

“You’re telling me,” you grumble, pressing your back against the elevator wall. The lingering sensation of his lips on your skin refuses to dissipate, and you hate that your heart is still beating just a little too fast.

Cole leans beside you, carefully watching. “So…you’re not gonna murder me?”

Humming, you cast your gaze to the ground, observing how clean your white sneakers are in the dim light. “Not today, Brookstone.”

“Good.” He grins, capturing your hand in his once more. Before you can protest, he gently tugs you out of the lift when the doors open, subtly nodding in the direction of the apartment building hallways. “They can still see us from there.” 

Begrudgingly, you allow it, following him to the bus stop. The bus arrives just as you reach, and he lets go of your hand to grab the bus pass from his pocket. You stare at it for a moment. “Are you boarding or not?” The bus driver yells, snapping you out of it. Quickly, you grab your own bus pass and tap it against the card reader, scanning the bus for seats before spotting Cole already having grabbed some near the exit doors.

Sliding into the seat next to him, you let out a slow breath, resting your hands on your lap. The bus jerks forward, and for the first time since stepping into your apartment, you allow yourself to simply breathe. No Emily. No Dad. No soulmate stuff. Just a mostly empty bus and the guy who caused this entire mess in the first place.

Cole nudges your knee with his. “So… your stepmom, huh?”

You side-eye him. “Yes, Cole, that’s generally what you call someone who marries your dad.”

“Right, right,” he says, nodding, then hesitates. “And, uh… your mom?”

“Oh, she’s just travelling right now.” You turn to him fully, raising a brow at his suddenly cautious expression. “Why? Did you think she was dead or something?”

Cole shifts, looking mildly uncomfortable. “No.” A beat. “Okay, yeah.”

You blink. “Seriously?”

He throws his hands up, his voice defensive. “Look, in my defense, you’re super vague about your family! Like, aggressively so.”

“I am not aggressively vague.”

Cole gives you a pointed look. “One time, Kai asked if you had siblings, and you said, ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’”

You huff, crossing your arms. “That’s just being mysterious.”

“That’s being suspicious.”

You roll your eyes, leaning your head back against the seat. “Well, congratulations, detective. My mom’s alive. She’s just off being a wanderer right now. Last I checked, she was suntanning on a beach somewhere.”

Cole exhales dramatically, slumping back in his seat. “That’s a relief. For a second, I thought I had to prepare an ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ speech.”

You snort. “And how would that have gone?”

He straightens, clasping his hands together like he’s about to deliver a solemn eulogy. “My dearly beloved girlfriend, I’m so sorry for your loss. Your mother raised a truly terrifying and occasionally charming individual. I’m sure she would be–"

“Oh my God, shut the fuck up.” You punch his arm lightly, biting back a laugh as he grins triumphantly.

The bus slows to a stop, and Cole rises first, offering you a hand with an easy smile. “Come on, terrifying and occasionally charming. Let’s get that cake.”

You hesitate for half a second before taking it, letting him pull you up.

It’s just because you need to get off the bus quickly. Nothing more.

The walk to the bakery is shorter than you expect, making a quick stop by the supermarket for Cole’s protein powder. The door jingles as it opens to signal your arrival. It smells just as heavenly as the last time you stopped by, with cinnamon sugar in the air and the sight of all the luscious pastries in their respective casings making your stomach growl. 

“Calm down, we haven’t even picked up the cake yet.” You shove Cole away, his breath tickling your ear. He laughs, wandering to the counter where a different girl from last time is. He greets her cheerfully, leaning against the counter with a sense of ease. 

Bile rises in your throat. Shoving it down, you ignore the sight and turn to the tarts. The jam filling is glossy and rich, the surrounding crust the right amount of flaky. It’s difficult to not commit theft right then and there. 

Surely they wouldn’t miss just one–

“You’re here!” 

Papa’s booming voice shakes you out of your pastry theft contemplation. You barely have time to react before the older man steps out from the doors that lead to the back kitchen, his apron dusted with flour and a broad grin spreading across his face.

“It is good to see you again,” he greets warmly, eyes twinkling as he takes in the way your gaze lingers on the tarts. “Come, come, no need to stare. Here.”

Before you can even protest, he reaches into the glass casing, plucks out a strawberry tart with practiced ease, and places it into a napkin before pressing it into your hand.

Your stomach growls again. Traitor. “Oh. Well. I can’t say no now.”

Papa chuckles. “You could, but you won’t.”

He’s not wrong. You waste no time sinking your teeth into the pastry, the burst of sweet jam and buttery crust making you hum in satisfaction. Just as you’re savoring it, Cole finally catches up, stuffing his wallet back into his pocket.

“Papa, you’re gonna spoil her.”

“Bah! You say this as if you are not any worse.” Papa crosses his arms with an exaggerated huff, though the mirth in his expression betrays him. “Always giving and never asking. Eve missed her tutor, you know.”

You blink mid-chew. “Who?”

“My granddaughter,” Papa explains, gesturing towards the girl Cole was talking to earlier. She grins back and waves, her dark curls tied back with a red ribbon. You wave back awkwardly. “She was sad you stopped visiting so much, but now that she has been accepted into the school of her choice, I told her she must work hard just like you taught her.”

You glance at Cole, who scratches the back of his neck, looking almost bashful. “I just helped her with some stuff,” he says, shrugging. “Papa’s always generous with me, so I figured I’d return the favor.”

The unexpected sense of relief that washes over you is… odd. 

Shoving the feeling aside, you take another bite of the tart. “So, what you’re saying is, you secretly have a soft side.”

Cole scoffs. “What? No.”

Papa snorts, clapping a hand on Cole’s shoulder. “He does. A very big one.”

He groans. “Why do I come here?”

You smirk. “For the free food, obviously.”

“As if.” He rolls his eyes, lips curving into a grin. 

Shrugging, you demolish the rest of the tart in a single bite. “You’re just jealous I’m his favourite.” His hand catches you by surprise, having reached up and casually wiped off some strawberry filling that had somehow gotten onto your cheek. The act is so familiar, your body automatically responding to it by tilting your head toward him. 

When he draws his hand back and wipes it on the napkin you hand to him, your eyes meet Papa’s. You stiffen, glancing from his very entertained expression to Cole who’s about to grab the napkin. 

Mortified, you instinctively, shove the napkin into Cole’s face, the latter letting out a muffled screech. You probably poked his nostril or something. Retracting your hand and ignoring the very hostile glare he directs your way as he cleans his finger, you clear your throat. “So, the cake I’m here to pick up…?”

Papa blinks. Then, a smile spreads across his face. “Of course! This way, let me take it out for you.” He heads to the counter and reaches below, pulling out a large box that has a simple ribbon tied on top. “As you requested, dark chocolate with hazelnut and strawberry filling, with whipped cream on top.” 

He opens the side slot, revealing a beautifully decorated square cake, swirls and piped blobs lining the edges. Even after demolishing the strawberry tart, your stomach rumbles at the sight.

“It looks amazing,” you say in awe, barely resisting the urge to make up an excuse just to taste-test a slice.

“You’re sweaty.”

Cole’s grumble makes you pause mid-stare. You blink at him in bewilderment. He still looks offended from the napkin assault, but was that really the best insult he could come up with?

“At least the cake isn’t,” you shoot back, handing Papa a nod of approval. He grins and wraps the cake back up before handing it over with a proud smile.

The door shuts behind you with a soft jingle. As you juggle the cake and your bag, your phone buzzes with a notification. Reaching for it turns out to be a struggle, and after a few seconds of flailing like a fool, Cole grins and steadies your elbow, plucking the phone from your bag with his free hand.

Sighing in defeat, you readjust your grip. “I haven’t changed my password. Who is it? If it’s another spam text, I’m staging a rebellion.”

Cole doesn’t answer right away. When the silence stretches too long, you glance at him, catching the wary expression on his face.

“It’s not spam, but…” He trails off and turns the screen toward you.

Sperm Donor (real) [ 12:39 PM ]: bring your boyfriend over for dinner later

“I’m going to kill myself.” 

Cole chuckles and smoothly takes the cake box from your hands. “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch. You haven’t even told them about me?”

“Why would I?” You frown, but something about the way his smile falters makes your stomach twist. “I don’t really talk about my soulmate with them. You met my dad, didn’t you?” 

The words slip out before you can stop them, your voice coming out lighter than you feel. “Besides, anything to do with my love life is off limits. I’m not about to go shouting from the rooftops that my soulmate is the Earth Ninja, thank you very much.”

Cole’s fingers tighten around your phone for half a second before he hands it back, his usual easy-going expression dimming just a fraction. “Right. Guess that makes sense.”

You frown, tucking the phone away. “You sound weird.”

“You sound weird.”

“I know you are, but what am I?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, running a hand through his hair. “I just figured you would’ve mentioned me at some point.”

“I did.”

His gaze flicks to yours. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say lightly, shifting the cake box to one arm. “I told my dad you’re an idiot. Obviously it was more in the context of the friends I’ve made recently, not so much towards the entire–” you motion to the both of you, “this.”

Cole snorts. “Oh, great. That’s exactly what I was hoping for. Bet he’s super excited to meet me now.”

“He already met you.” You flash a grin. “And miraculously, you’re still standing. Of course it’s thanks to me, whom you should definitely buy a treat for, considering I risked my life.”

His lips twitch, but the humor doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I mean, I just thought–” He pauses, scratching at his jaw. “I dunno. You always talk about how Emily’s constantly trying to talk to you, so I figured she would’ve pried something out of you.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, she tried. But the thing is…” You hesitate, the words thick on your tongue. Then, because something in you knows he won’t drop it, you force them out. “I don’t really like talking about soulmates.”

Cole tilts his head slightly, curiosity breaking through whatever disappointment still lingers. “Why?”

You chew on your lip. “I just… never really thought about having one. Not seriously, anyway.” You vaguely remember having this brief conversation before, but never once did you really delve into the nitty gritty details with him. Not that you wanted to. 

He raises a brow. “Didn’t think about it? Or didn’t want to?”

You huff. “Does it matter?”

“Kinda.”

You glance away, watching a couple walk by, arms slung loosely around each other. “Most people find their soulmates early. Before sixteen, that’s the norm. So when I never did, I just figured–” You make a vague motion with your hand. “I dunno. That I wasn’t meant to have one. That maybe it just… wasn’t in the cards for me.”

Cole stays quiet, watching you carefully.

“It’s not a big deal,” you add quickly, feeling too exposed. “It’s just with everything that happened with dad and mum, maybe it’s easier off not having one. And she was fine. So I just assumed I’d be the same way.”

The admission settles between you. It feels odd saying it out loud, something you never meant to give shape to.

Cole, thankfully, doesn’t jump in with some I’m sorry or But I can fix you type of shenanigans which would have definitely gotten him a well-deserved punch. He simply studies you for a moment before nudging your arm. “And now?”

You sigh dramatically. “Now I have to deal with you.”

His grin returns, slow and lopsided. “Tragic.”

“The absolute worst.”

He lets the conversation breathe for a second before he speaks again, quieter this time. “So, is that why you didn’t say anything? To your dad and Emily?”

You shift, gripping the cake box a little tighter. “I just… wasn’t ready.”

Cole doesn’t say anything at first. Then, he exhales and gives you a half-smirk. “Guess I’ll have to work extra hard to make you proud to be soulmates with me.”

You snort. “That is so not the takeaway from this conversation.”

“Oh, it definitely is.”

You groan, rolling your eyes as you start walking. “I hate you.”

“Eh,” he grins, easily falling into step beside you. “I can live with that.”

[desceros]

Hellooooo I’m 20 todayyyy it’s my birthday 🥳 (12/23) and I’d like to request a birthday sex one shot with Raphael idc which era but I like his personality the best in bayverse (can’t remember if you write for them) but basically reader has a bad day at work or school and goes down to the lair to chill with Raph their boyfriend he realizes he has never asked when readers birthday is and when they say today he drops everything and immediately makes the day about them he takes them back to their apartment and draws a relaxing bath cleans and makes a simple cake (with premade mix he found in the lair kitchen) then maybe he uses the frosting as a kind of worship for reader and licks it off their body doesn’t have to fit that at all if you want to add some pizazz then go ahead but thank youuuuu ❤️❤️❤️

(Symphony is so damn good btw)

ahhhh i just got this like. an hour ago bc i've been offline all day but!!!! happy birthday!!! it isn't exactly what you asked for since i wanted to get it out today on your actual birthday, but i hope you enjoy this lil thing :D raphael/reader; gn!reader; rated m

The moment he hears you telling Leo it's your birthday, he panics.

"What are you doing?" Donnie asks, coming into the kitchen in sniffing at the air. "Are you... baking a cake?"

"I'm focusin', Don, not now," Raph grits, frantically searching through the cabinets to find the icing. Thankfully, it's inside, untouched by icing-licking brothers, so he tosses it off to the side. "Can you, uh, go distract 'em for a bit?"

Donnie rolls his eyes. "You know they're going to ask where you are?"

Raph waves him off, so off he goes.

The cake itself is done before you come sniffing around, thank goodness. However, no one ever told him about waiting until it was cool to put the icing on, and it is in the middle of his near-meltdown at how it keeps oozing down the side that you enter the kitchen, miffed to have been kept away.

"Raph, what are you—?" you ask, only to pause when you see him glaring fiercely at a very sad-looking cake, his eyes going wide when he sees you coming in. God damn it, Donnie! "...Is that for me?"

"Uh," he starts, looking at the very sad, sad cake. Straightening from where he'd hunched over to try and fix the icing, he rubs at the back of his neck. "It was supposed to be. But, uh, this one doesn't look so good, huh?"

Laughing, you come up to stand next to him, trailing a finger through the melted icing and popping it in your mouth. "It might be the ugliest thing I've ever seen. But it tastes good!" Turning to face him, you smile, getting close and tilting your mouth to his invitingly. "Plus, you made it for me. That makes it the best."

Warm, Raph bends down and kisses the sweetness from your lips. He chases after you when you go to pull away, his fingers holding your jaw to keep you close.

"Tell you what," he murmurs, pulling away only when he feels you go pliant in his hold. "How's 'bout you 'n me go back to your place. Let me give you somethin' real nice?"

"Oh, yeah? What do you have in mind?" you ask, voice warbling a little even though you try to put on a brave front. It makes him smirk to hear the weakness he can so easily put into your knees, makes him feel like he's allowed to spew all the filth he wants into your ears.

"Well first, we'll stop by someplace nice and get you a proper cake," he says, tipping your head back and placing his mouth on your throat. "Then, I'm gonna take you home and get that nice big bath of yours goin' with all those pretty smellin' things in it you like that drive me crazy."

He feels you swallow against his mouth, prompting him to sink his teeth in until you whimper. Blood rushing in anticipation, he crowds you against the counter, licking at the mark he knows he's left there now.

"Then, when you're done, I'll fish you out, and use you as a plate for us to eat a slice of that pretty cake and lick the icing off you until you come at least three times. Maybe four if you're good for me."

Trailing his hands down your front to the hem of your shirt, he lets his fingers glide along your skin as he rubs his beak down your neck to burrow his head in your shoulder, nipping along the skin the whole way before he comes to whisper in your ear. Then, with just a hint of promise, he slides his thigh between your legs, pressing up, teasing, giving you a taste of what he wants.

"That sound like a plan?"

When you nod rapidly, hands desperately clutching at the counter behind you to help keep you upright and your breath coming too-fast, he pulls away and smirks, grabbing a finger of icing and dabbing it on your cheek before he licks it off in a heady promise.

"Good. Go say goodbye to the others. 'S gonna be a day or two before you leave your apartment once I get started with ya."

[alixinwwonderland]

TMMM Fic Masterlist

I’ve been meaning to put all my fic in one place for a while now! Will do my best to keep this up to date.

Please note: as of June 2023, several of these fics are available to logged-in AO3 users only, in response to concerns over data scraping for training AI. The fics that remain unlocked are the ones that have been posted in their entirety or near-entirety here, so locking them (at the moment) felt moot.

midgelenny clickbait

a collection of interviews, listicles, tweets, and more, all revolving around all the different universes in which midge maisel and lenny bruce collide.

extra extra read all about it

Rating: T Three interviews, three years, three times Mrs. Maisel talks about Lenny Bruce in public.

20 Reactions to Midge Maisel Revealing THAT in Her New Memoir

Rating: M Midge Maisel's second memoir drops a bombshell. Buzzfeed is here to round up Twitter's thoughts.

Midge Maisel and Lenny Bruce Answer the Internet’s Most Asked Questions

Rating: M When Wired's Autocomplete interviews start going viral in 2016, a couple of comedy legends agree to take a crack at it.

Lenny Bruce and Midge Maisel Read Thirst Tweets

Rating: M What would a clickbait series be without one (or more) thirst tweet features? Featuring two universes: modern-day Midge/Lenny and comedy-elders Midge/Lenny

The Costume Institute Presents: Comedy & Couture

Rating: M The Fall 2000 exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art Costume Institute pays homage to a century of comedy icons.

add his initial to my monogram

How do you move on from Carnegie Hall? A post-S4 universe.

to my heart he carries the key

Rating: E Midge stops planning and starts working, but there's still someone she needs to see. (It's Lenny. Obviously).

the melody lingers on

Rating: T While Midge and Lenny aren't speaking, a chance encounter helps Midge figure out her own feelings.

what am i gonna do if you turn me down

Rating: T Gordon tries to be a good friend. He regrets his choices immensely.

nice work if you can get it

Rating: T (may raise to M in the future) Midge makes amends and (re)makes a friendship.

season 5 fix-its

i never heard them ringing

Rating: M What happens if Lenny calls, and everything that comes next.

no one in the place except you and me

Rating: E Midge lives half a lifetime in the blink of an eye, then vows to make it different this time around.

four minutes (and then a little more)

Rating: T What's really happening in Midge's life, just outside the frame, throughout Season 5 (aka the post-finale fix-it that can slide right into canon).

the crashes are heaven for a sinner like me

Rating: T At first, Midge doesn’t quite believe what she’s seeing — it can't be him. But, it is. (or, how history sometimes bends in different ways)

miscellaneous

Fics that don’t fit into any series (yet...)

you’ve got troubles (i’ve got ‘em too)

Rating: T Being in the spotlight is hard. Sometimes, you just need a pal.

[dancingbabya-notes]

Summer windows 2

<-•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•->

Characters: Kagome Higurashi, Kageyama Tobio, Togata Mirio, Wally West, Razor, Sawamura Daichi, Inuzuka Kiba

<-•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•->

Hmmmmm…. Just gonna say now I’ll probably do a few of my favorite characters twice.

This whole thing is supposed to challenge me to be more consistent. And I make the rules.

<-•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•->

8: Sundress

Kagome

Through big school you couldn’t remember much, one memory stuck in your head as you tend to the flowers making sure that all of them are properly watered. The girl who always had some reason to explain her extended absence, she still graduated pretty high on the list. A rather amazing feat all things considered.

“Are you open?”

Hearing the voice you jump almost dropping the hose. “Yes, just a minute.”

Was the bell loose again? Turning off the water you dry your hands on your apron before walking out to the main area. Stopping mid-step you couldn’t tell if you were experiencing the early signs of a summer cold or something else. The girl standing in the middle of your family flower shop was really cute, but what caught your attention was her sundress it looked really good on her.

“Are you okay?”

Shaking yourself from your daze you give a nervous smile as your hand flies to the back of your neck. “Uh yeah, what I can I do for you?”

“I just wanted some sunflowers if you have any.” She states.

“Sure, do you want em now or an order?” Back in work mode, you can’t gawk at every pretty customer that comes in the store.

“I’ll buy them now.” She smiles but you could feel her eyes on you as you turn around,

Bending under the counter you look for the clippers so you can cut the stems well.

“Y/n?”

Hearing your name you instinctively snap up slamming the back of your head against the wood counter. Luckily you weren’t under the work table in the back.

“Oh, my god are you okay?” She gasps.

You rub at the sore spot on your head as you right yourself. “Uh, I’m fine. Just sore pride.” Taking this moment you get a better look at this girl’s face, we’ll woman now.

A blush tints your face as you curl up in embarrassment,

“I’m terrible, it’s good to see you healthy Higurashi.” You laugh nervously.

“So I was right, it’s been a little while. I didn’t know you worked here.” She quickly says.

You nod. “Yeah my pops owns the building and we run the flower shop.”

“Do you know anything about medicinal plants?” She seemed starry-eyed.

“A little, I’m trying to get my herbalist certification,” you add. “Did you need some?”

“Well, I mean…” she seemed conflicted.

“If you wanna ask another time that’s fine. I’ll get your sunflowers.” You quickly say as you turn to grab the flowers.

The interaction after that was strictly business until you follow to the door.

“Is it okay if I come by with questions?” She asks.

“Yeah, that’s fine Higurashi.”

“Kagome, just call me Kagome.”

“Okay, Kagome.”

9: Ball

Tobio

You were often dragged into things by your best friend. They were very much enamored with their beau, which resulted in you being dragged along to watch your friend gush about their partner.

“Y/N, come on you were the manager for Volleyball before. You’re like the perfect person to help me at this camp,” Kou, your friend, urges with a pleading look.

“No.”

“Come on they need extra hands and you live closest.”

A few days later you look at her friend with a deep frown. “So what exactly is this?”

“A cross-school training camp, the alumni are teaching the kids. We get to make food or help with clean up.” They flash an innocent smile as you nod.

“You just want to watch your boyfriend get all sweaty.”

“I do not!”

You cover their mouth. “First of all, keep your voice down. Second, this was a bad idea. Inviting me of all people because my ex is one of the alumni.”

Their eyes go wide with excitement. You hardly divulged anything about your personal relationships because you were taught to keep everything separate. Though if Kou asks you’d probably marry them but things were the same in Japan as they were in America.

Picking up your friend you found something you could do that would keep you away from the gym. At the expense of your patience wearing thinner than an atom bond.

“Come on who was it?” They ask again as you chop the vegetables.

“I’m using a knife right now not exactly the time to be asking questions, Kou.”

“But y/n,” their whine was enough for you to drop the knife.

Grabbing a cooler you glare. “I’m gonna go take them more water. No, I don’t know when I’ll be back, because I am gonna run to the convenience store to find a modicum of patience to deal with you for a few more days.”

They got quiet. Was that mean? A little, but they continued to pester you despite you asking them not to. You respected their boundaries and let them drag you all across just to see volleyball games.

“Ah, Y/N. Did you grow?” Oikawa Toru, you spent as little time with him as you could and even less now that he was an international player.

Rolling your eyes you put the large cooler down. “More water. Stay hydrated. I’m doing a store run does anyone have a list?”

“Awe but you can’t go alone.” you could see the smirk as he calls out. “Oh Tobio-chan, do you think you can help this adorable little Y/N? They’re going to the store to pick up missing things.”

You hiss. “Dumbass don’t.”

Kageyama Tobio looks up from his paper and walks over silently. You snatch the list.

“I can handle it on my own.”

“No.”

“See he says he’ll help.” Oikawa smiles.

You give him the nastiest look you can muster. “Fine.”

Kageyama was silent as you walked to the store. The whole time in the sore was rather silent you were thankful for that. Until your phone started going off, Kou now knew because Oikawa did nothing but talk.

“You gonna answer it?” Tobio asks as you push the cart.

“No, I’m taking a page from your book.” You mumble.

He scoffs. “I said I was sorry. I texted you as soon as I could.”

You roll your eyes, you felt like they’d roll away at this point. “Oh pray tell how is three months as soon as possible. You know what no. I’m not having this conversation, we’re already broken up and our past relationship shouldn’t have any consequence on now.”

“All things considered you really dropped the ball, y/n.”

“Tobio don’t tempt me. You know what I’m capable of.” You manage between grit teeth.

He shrugs. “That’s what I like about you.”

This made you pause. “You’re still terrible at communication.”

“So are you.”

You attempt to counter but he was right. The entire beginning of your relationship was an awkward dance of both trying to be someone you weren’t just to please the other until settling into the feeling of normalcy.

Sighing you get in line to pay. “Sorry. I’ve been so high-strung there a situation.”

“I heard, my condolences.”

“You didn’t have to send all that stuff. So um thanks.”

He looks at you and nods. “You know my parents still think we’re dating and keep asking me if they’ll get to see you again or if I’ll pop the question.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope, we’ve been fake dating for two years now.”

“You’re the worst, your mom is so nice.”

“Will you join in the lie with me? I have a lot of gifts for you from them.”

You think about it. “Fine, only because your parents are nice.”

He nods. “Good because I don’t know if I can keep making excuses.”

“Maybe you should have just told her we’re not dating anymore. All I ask is that we keep our distance.”

“Right, distance.”

“Not right now you blockhead. Ugh, maybe if you become my scapegoat I won’t have to get dragged all over Japan.”

“Then it’s agreed?”

You give a nod. “Two years.”

“Works for me.”

10: Festival (America specific)

Mirio

“Welcome, I’m glad the others were able to come,” you smile as you pick up the fallen cup.

“Falcon, you have such a nice house,” Lemillion smiles as he fidgeted with something in his hands.

You chuckle. “It’s family property, so I just got lucky.”

“The festival sounded fun.”

You raise a brow. “First, call me Y/N, we’re out of uniform. Second, place your dish on the table.”

It was just a little gathering and you knew what the Japanese hero was talking about. Luckily you could abandon this social gathering and leave it in the capable hands of your little brother and cousin.

“Togata is fine.” He smiles placing his dish down.

You nod. “Um so if you wanna go to the festival I would love to go. I just need to find the right time to dip.”

He looked confused. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, this wasn’t my idea. I just got appointed the leader. Wait here,” you smile before disappearing into the crowd.

Awkwardly Mirio looks around being polite and saying hello. But he didn’t expect you to grab his hand and quickly hold a finger over his lips.

“Quiet, if you say anything my quirk might get disrupted.” You whisper as you pull his hand gently. “Let’s go.”

It was a bit of a walk from your family property to the main part of the beach. There was a music festival going on. With a small smile and your wallet, you drag Mirio around excitedly through the expensive food stands, then onto the sand to listen to the bands just moving with the crowd.

While getting a few fancy drinks he grabs your free hand. “Careful you might get lost because of the crowd.”

You give a lazy smile. “Come on let’s go sit on the steps. Maybe we can visit a different stage.”

“I wish my friend could have been here,” he laughs as you lead the way.

“Why don’t we do something like this again? You bring your friends and I’ll bring mine and we’ll make the weekend of it. Like a planned vacation,” you offer with a lopsided grin, you were still steady on your feet so you were just saying anything to speak.

“Y/N, you made this fun. Thanks,”

“Mmm, that’s good. I’m glad, cause I’m gonna get grilled for going into the agency tipsy,” you smile.

Mirio takes your cup from your hand and finishes it quickly. “No, we’ll both get in trouble.”

“Careful there Goldie, we still have to walk back to my house.” You squeak.

11: “Sea to shining, really? You’re going to buy the ice cream alone.”

Wally west

“Dating is so hard,” your little sister whines as you continue to unpack your apartment from the boxes.

“If you have the energy to move your lips you can start putting these dishes away unless you wanna go home to mom.” You and your little sister got along about as well as two snapping turtles, not very often when you were together.

She grabs a few glasses off the counter. “Speaking of dating, when will I get to meet your ever-elusive boyfriend?”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe when Springfield gets a proper storm.”

“Haha, come on. I wanna meet him, that way mom will stop trying to get me to set you up,” she smirks.

“Oh, my relationship status is so important,” you roll your eyes. “He’s busy with work. I am busy with my degree our free time doesn’t match.”

“Okay okay, I’ll stop pushing. But like send me a picture of you two together at least,” she smiles.

It only took a few hours to get all your things put away. Moving in the middle of the summer was probably the worst idea you’ve ever had, especially when you had so little food in your new place. Your sister had already left and you were trying to find a place to order take out from. Singing to yourself as you scroll through the ads.

Now you weren’t very patriotic, there were so many things that could be different about your country but you did have to sing as a job. Right now your small group was recording for a historical special and the song was on loop in your head like it paid rent.

“From sea to shining—

You stop as the front door opens. Standing in the doorway making all the noise in the world you frown. “Really?”

“Hey baby,” Wally walks in and pulls you into a tight hug.

“I was trying to figure out what to eat for dinner, and now I’m at the top of the page again because you came in like it’s not the middle of the night.” You huff.

“Awe but baby I missed you.”

“I missed you too, but you’re buying the ice cream, alone.” You cross your arms.

He hugs you tighter. “Wait no, you know I always buy too much. Baby please I need an adult.”

“Nope, I’m buying dinner you’re just gonna have to put on your big boy pants and go to the store by yourself.” You pout,

“I’d this because I didn’t help you unpack?”

You continue scrolling to find a nearby restaurant.

“Baby.”

“No, and this isn’t about unpacking, it’s because you got space goo in the washer before I left my last apartment,” you huff.

“I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t get my deposit back. You’re lucky I have any money left over from buying a new washer for the damn con artist,” you grumble deciding on a healthy place. “Put in your order so I can buy it.”

Wally takes your phone still pouting. You had to admit he was cute.

“Fine I’ll drive you to the store and you can ask me what to get while I stay in the car.”

12: Lizards

Razor

As an aspiring alchemist, you were no stranger to trying to gather different materials. But that was just it– you were aspiring– because your guardian wouldn’t let you lead alchemy.

“I can do it too if I have someone to learn from,” you whine throwing yourself back into the grass.

From the look of the sky, it would rain soon. But you didn’t want to get up. Wallowing would be much better. Though you did want to try gathering the lizard tails.

“Hello.”

You wanted to retest from the face super close to yours but you were already on the ground and if you went up you’d definitely hit his face. His white hair hung down around and clouded your vision of the area around you.

“Razor, you’re too close.” Gently you reach up and push his shoulders.

“Laying down, it will rain,” he states not budging.

At this, you nod. “Yes it’ll rain soon, but I need Lizards.”

“Lizard?”

“Mm, maybe if I gather the ingredients Sucrose will teach me something,” you admit. “But dad won’t let me.”

Suddenly a different voice joins in. “Because you need to learn to fight properly before you can do alchemy.”

“Bennett.”

Razor sits up and you do so as well. “You know if you weren’t so bent on being an adventurer maybe our dads wouldn’t try to make me do it too.”

Years ago around the same time Bennett was left with the knight of Favonius you were as well covered in blood with a Dendro vision clutched tightly in your small fingers. Shaking the memory away you frown.

“Maybe I should go back?” You pout the clouds were coming in faster casting a shadow.

“We can help find Lizards,” Razor says as he stands up.

Bennett smiles. “Yeah, we can help.”

Razor holds out a hand to you. Accepting it you look at your brother. “Only the tails, we can’t hurt the lizards.”

“At the same time practice,” Razor offers.

I wince. “If it rains I don’t wanna feel the after effect of your lightning Razor.”

He smiles. “I will be careful.”

13: Resort

Daichi

Usually, you’d be mad that people didn’t watch where they were going, effectively knocking you back a few steps but a hand pulls you to their side and you give a small smile to your boyfriend. With all the training you’ve been doing you were glad for the long break to spend quality time with your boyfriend, it would have been better if it was only you two but it was a group trip.

“Y/N, we’re almost there. Are you okay?” Daichi asks while looking over you.

“Yeah, I’m fine, no reason to worry.” Fixing your shirt you look around for your friends.

Daichi just takes your hand in his firmly, leading the way to the small group.

“You finally made it!” The small woman jumping up and down could barely contain her excitement. “I was so excited to meet your partner Y/N, you two are so cute.”

One of your taller friends nods. “Uiha is checking in with Kuuro.”

Adjusting your bag you smile. “Got it, and how are the rooms?”

“We have one big room,” Uiha holds up the room keys with a groan. “Apparently when I made the reservation for the resort they just processed it as one big room with our party size.”

“Well, it’s not like it would have mattered,” you sigh. “Let’s go take our things up so we can at least have a moment to relax.”

Kuuro smirks. “How about Uiha and I take the luggage to the room and you six go have fun walking around?”

Daichi rolls his eyes. “Not a chance. We all came here to relax.”

“I’m hurt did all that training together not make us friends?”

You raise a brow confused. “You guys trained together?”

“Yes, but I don’t wanna think about it.”

With a shrug, you were more than happy to follow Uiha. Making sure everyone’s things were put away.

You stood in your swimwear raising a brow. As the group walked into the pool area. Everyone was staring, maybe that was just what it was like but you wanted to relax.

“If you pretend that they’re trees it is easier to ignore.” Daichi offers.

“Y/N! Can we do a match of beach volleyball?” Your smaller friend, Kitty asks as she grips your open arm.

You frown. “I don’t know, we have like four volleyball players here and I don’t wanna deal with that kind of defeat.”

Kuuro calls back. “It seems like a better option there are fewer people on the beach.”

“Come on Y/N, beach volleyball and indoor volleyball are two different things.” Uiha urges.

You sigh. “But if you slap my back or leg during the match I’m done. You don’t know how to control your strength when you play.”

Daichi chose to watch instead. But did join for a little bit. Overall the first day was fun, and you got to lay on the beach with Daichi while the others played in the water.

14: Sunflowers

Kiba (modern au)

You groan leaning on the desk, taking on the role of a preschool teacher was a mistake. Because the only school you got accepted to hold classes in the summer. Today your group didn’t have class but the principal still wanted all teachers to come in, but… the air conditioning in the teachers' office was busted.

“Y/N, if you keep groaning like that it’ll get hotter.” Someone complains.

Frowning you tried to think. “Can’t we have a water day? I’m sure the kids would love it.”

“We can’t remember Daichi and Futaba in shooting star class are petrified of water.” Someone else says.

Suddenly the back of your head hurt as you tried to peel your face off the desk to glare at the offender you were faced with someone else. “Y/N, I have a new task for you.”

About to right yourself you frown. “Please no more. I already have to organize the parent lunch, prepare the lists for the incoming preschoolers, check the plants in the crescent moon class, and disinfect all the cubbies.”

“It’s nothing that taxing, I just need you to water the sunflowers in the morning and the middle of the day.”

A chorus of groans sounds. “Not fair Y/N, gets sunflower duty?” “If she does that I’ll take up indoor plant duty can’t have them on double plant duty.”

“Sunflowers?”

“Yes, the full moon class is growing sunflowers. They are the tall ones.” The principal sighs. “Just this one thing. That’s all I need.”

You nod. “I can do that.”

The next morning you went to grab the hose and start. But when you got to the fence you noticed someone standing on the other side. This particular part of the fence wasn’t solid because the sunflowers would be grown there. Instead of paying them much mind, you started watering.

“Y/N? You became a preschool teacher?”

You look up a bit confused and blink. Did you know this person?

As if reading the confused expression on your face the male leaning over the fence covers his cheeks to hide the red marks under his eyes.

“Inuzuka?” Blinking you stand up straight and you forgot to let go of the hose head pull.

Effectively watering the man standing there.

He just laughs. “Now you should be able to recognize me.”

“I’m so sorry, let me get you a towel.” You drop the offending gardening tool away from the flower buds and quickly run inside.

Throwing the towel over to him you must have apologized quite a few times.

“Why don’t we make it up over coffee on your next day off?” Kiba offers.

You were a flustered mess as you take the towel back. “That sounds good.”

Prev <-•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•-> Next

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

hi there, i saw your requests are open !! can i have one like that with cheating lucifer and reader ends dating satan but this one some other brother (up to you) cheats on fem!mc and she ends up with beel or luci (sorry i'm a simp for them 😩). i'm sorry if it's too complicated. anyway, love your writing, remember to drink water and get some sleep !!

Only The Best (Beel x GN!MC) ANGST

Word Count : 1.5K TW : cheating ; breakups ; angst ;

It was never the plan, he had never expected you to catch him, you were supposed to be on vacation in the human world. You had come back early, too early, and he didn’t have time. You were so excited to see him, of course you would be, you loved him, but it was clear that the feelings weren’t the same.

He was just getting out of bed just as you walked in, grabbing his shirt off the floor and turning around to face you as he was pulling it on. What could he say? Was there anything to really say? There was no way to fix it, it’s not like you didn’t see the other demon in his bed. They looked just as confused to see you, but they would never understand the hurt that you felt, the pain that shot through your heart as the scene in front of you was ingrained into your mind. “Y-Yer back early… Hey babe.” He quickly pulled on his shirt, putting on that smile that you had once fallen in love with as he walked over to you. Was he really going to just ignore the fact that you had walked in on him? Yes, he was, because this was Mammon, he was the master of deflection, but there was no way to ignore this, there was no way to come back from this. “What the hell were you doing?” You knew, you knew… But you needed some kind of answers, or maybe you just wanted to see what ridiculous excuse he’d make up for this. He moved closer, trying to wrap his arms around you, but you quickly pushed him back. You could smell the other demon on him, it was sickening. “Oh come on, babe. Ya know… jus’ modelin’ things. Ya know how it is…” He was so good at lying, he was able to look right at you, look you straight in the eyes as he said it. How many other times had he lied? When he said that he had to stay a little later to get extra photos at the shoot, or that it just took a little longer to get home because of traffic… everything could have been a lie. You couldn’t trust him, you’d never be able to trust him. You shook your head, pushing him away as you took another step back towards the door. “Modeling? With your clothes off? And no cameras? Not only did you cheat… but you also must think I’m some sort of idiot to believe that shit…? You’re pathetic.” You felt sick, you were absolutely disgusted. You couldn’t even stand to be around him, you didn’t want to see him, and you had been foolish enough to believe that you’d come back and see your boyfriend waiting for you with open arms… But all you got was a broken heart. You didn’t know what to do.

Just being in the house made you sick, knowing that he was still there. You knew that going out alone was dangerous, but you didn’t care, you just needed to get away. “Hey… What are you doing out of the house? You know Mammon doesn’t like you out alone.” You hadn’t even seen him there, it was like everything around you was a blur, you didn’t even know where you were going. When you looked up you saw the confusion on his face as he took in the tears that were still clinging to your cheeks. “Mammon doesn’t care…” You muttered, sniffling softly as you wiped away the tears. You didn’t want to bother Beel with your problems, but your response only had him more confused, his eyebrows pulling together in the middle as he looked at you and then at the house behind you. “What did he do?” He grabbed a napkin out of the bag of takeout that he had, quickly dabbing the tears that still hung on your lower lashes. “Actually… You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Do you want to share some of this with me?” He held up the bag, smiling softly. The last thing he wanted to do was upset you, and if talking about Mammon was upsetting, he wouldn’t mention his brother ever again. You nodded slowly, even if you weren’t exactly hungry, it was nice to just be around someone else, and you knew that Beel would do anything to protect you and your feelings. He didn’t like seeing you sad, and he surely would never do anything to be the cause of any of your sadness. He was perfect, anyone could see that, it just took Mammon to hurt you for you to see it.

“I’m going to the gym, honey. Do you want to come with me? I know you’re tired, so you can stay in bed if you want. I can bring you back some breakfast on my way home.” He sat on the edge of the bed, brushing his thumb along your cheek as you gave him a sleepy smile, your eyes still closed. “Can’t you stay here with me?” You asked softly, moving your hand up to grab his hand and bring it to your lips, kissing along his fingers lazily. He chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss your forehead before getting up off the bed and pulling the blankets up to your neck. “Breakfast in bed when you get back?” He hummed in agreement, bending over to kiss you one more time before turning off the light and leaving the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He already knew that he was out there waiting for him, standing in the hallway against the wall, counting down the seconds for his little brother to walk out of the room. “Good morning, Mammon.” Beel said it just as he normally would, with a soft smile directed at his older brother as he walked down the hallway, but the greeting wasn’t said back, and his smile wasn’t mirrored. It had been like this for weeks now. Mammon glared at Beel with such hatred, such animosity, no words had to be spoken for him to know how his older brother felt, and usually no words were spoken. Today was different, Mammon wanted, no, needed to be heard this morning. “So ya think yer jus’ gonna swoop in and take my human away from me?” Beel had no time for this, he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want you to hear it either, so he walked faster, knowing that Mammon would follow behind him. “Ya can’t walk away from me, Beel. I’m talkin’ ta ya!” Mammon reached out to grab his arm, pulling at it roughly to turn his brother around. “Would you stop?” Beel groaned, pulling his arm away from Mammon and shaking his head. He didn’t want a fight, he just wanted Mammon to leave the both of you alone. “Look… You messed up, and I was there. It’s nothing against you, I’m not trying to upset you… But I want Y/N to be happy. I’m sure you want the same thing.” He sighed quietly, his heart beating faster when he thought of you, but Mammon wasn’t going to let it slide, he couldn’t, and he wouldn’t. “Yer my brother! We can share things… but ya ain’t supposed’ta take ‘em and keep ‘em fer yerself!” Mammon threw his hands up in the air in agitation before dropping them back down and shoving them into his pockets. “Why ya look so mad?” Hearing Mammon talk about you like you were just some toy, some play thing that can be passed around and shared between everyone, it made Beel sick, not only that, but it made him angry. It made him angry enough to finally speak what he was feeling, no longer holding back to protect his crummy older brother's feelings anymore, feelings that shouldn’t have been protected in the first place after what he did to you. “You know what? Maybe I wasn’t supposed to take them… not at first… But if it meant protecting them from your lying, cheating self, then I’d go back and I’d do it again, and again, and again. You don’t deserve someone as good as Y/N, and you never did. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to the gym, and then I’m bringing them back breakfast. If I find out that you were anywhere near them while I’m gone, I will come home, and I will throw you down to Cerberus. Choose wisely, Mammon, because unlike you, I stick to what I say.” Mammon watched with wide eyes as Beel turned his back and walked out the door. Sadly, he knew that his brother was right. You deserved much better than him, and that’s why you had chosen Beel to go to after he had screwed up. Beel was always the best choice and Mammon was the one thing that had been keeping you from getting what you deserved.

[jusvibbbin]

One Locker Down

Kenickie Murdoch x Reader

//Grease popped up in my playlist yesterday and my childhood crush reignited itself

Senior year was going okay. Your grades were stellar, your standing in debate club was unchallenged and your personal best was improving every time you swam. But you were missing one pivotal thing to be considered the ‘complete senior.’ A relationship. You became embarrassed simply at the thought. You were cute and nice, just a bit awkward. Your social skills couldn’t hold a candle to those of Patty Simcox or the Pink Ladies. You usually preferred to keep to yourself but as senior year drew closer, you longed for more than what you had. On the first day of school you considered your options as you walked.

Are there even any options? Can you think of one person outside of your activities that even knows your name?

You were a bit discouraged walking into school as you found your way towards your locker. With your mind lost in thought, you had no time to react before bumping into none other than Kenickie Murdoch. He turned towards you directly, mouth open to begin sending a barrage of insults your way before he saw you. His mouth hung open a moment and then shut quickly. You stood there like a deer in the headlights, still waiting for the attack that was never to come. Kenickie bent down and picked up your books as you brought yourself out of your state of shock.

“I am so sorry!” You said bending down to help him, only to bonk heads with him instead. Kenickie rubbed his head and pulled off his sunglasses.

“Jesus, babe! Are you trying to send me to the hospital?”

You felt yourself blushing at what he called you and you quickly shook your head ‘no.’ Kenickie handed you your books and you went around to the locker right next to his. 

“What’s your name?” Kenickie asked suddenly. 

You stuttered out your name and he grinned at you.

“I like it,” he said smoothly. He looked like he had more to say until someone down the hall shouted for him. He gave you a wink and strolled down the hallway. You felt your heart beat wildly in your chest until you realized what had happened.

Ohhhh no. Not him. Not Kenickie. He’s a playboy, a greaser, not to mention he’s trouble incarnate. 

But it was too late. You had it bad.

--

You didn’t see Kenickie until a week later. You were at your locker packing up for the day and when you closed the door, he was leaning against his locker. You stifled a scream and put a hand to your chest. Kenickie smirked at you.

“What’s the matter? Did I scare you?” he asked, pushing himself off the wall to face you.

“Just surprised me is all,” you tried to answer confidently, but it came out very unsure. Kenickie backed you into your locker and put his left hand next to your head, blocking you in on one side. You bit your bottom lip and stared up at him.

“How is it that I never noticed you before?” Kenickie eyed you up and down. “You’re hot stuff.” You thought you might die right then and there.

Kenickie thinks I’m hot? Is he feeling alright?

“Thank you,” you said shyly, keenly aware of how close he was to you and only wanting him to get closer. 

Suddenly Kenickie moved away from the lockers and started walking away, calling back to you, “See you around gorgeous!”

You resisted the urge to dance your soul right out of your body and you headed the opposite way.

--

Kenickie’s POV:

“Kenickie who is that?” Sonny gestured to (Y/N) standing at their locker.

“Yeah, we’ve seen you talkin’ to em a whole bunch lately,” Putzie added.

Kenickie rolled his eyes and looked at the other T-Birds. 

“What are you knuckleheads doing spying on me, huh?” He started to comb his hair, slick with grease, back.

“We just wanted to know what the plan was, boss,” Doody piped up. Kenickie looked at him confused.

“Plan?”

“With the nerd! We were thinking you could leave em a note inviting them on a date, tell em to wear something real flashy, and then they show up and you ain’t there!” Doody exclaimed. At this, the T-Birds erupted into laughter, hooting and howling like animals. Kenickie shut them up with a quick smack to the back of their heads.

“Enough clownin’,” he said, putting an unlit cigarette in his mouth.

“Come on Nickie, it’ll be funny!” Sonny begged.

Kenickie thought about it for a moment or two before saying, “Gimme some paper.”

--

Your POV:

You stood at your locker, feeling flustered. You had found a note from Kenickie. You read it over again just to be sure. It said:

“Dollface, you’re lookin’ extra good today. I was thinking maybe you and me could meet up tonight. Wear something to show off your assets. See you at Frosty Palace, seven o’clock. -KM”

You didn’t know what to think. Sure Kenickie had been nice to you lately, but the T-Birds were known for pulling stunts to hurt people’s feelings. You thought about what you wanted to do the rest of the school day, through swim practice and on your walk home from school. 

Kenickie is probably just doing it to be mean. But he did say all those nice things to me… Then again it might’ve been a trick to ensure I’d come. But why go through all the effort just to stand me up? To make me look silly? 

You walked into your house, waving to your mother as you went upstairs. You laid on your bed and yelled frustrated, into your pillow. You stayed there for a few moments before you heard your door creak open. You sat up as you mother walked in and sat on your bed.

“What’s going on?” Your mother asked, running her hand through your hair.

“I like this boy, and he asked me out tonight but I don’t know if he’s just going to ditch me,” you sighed. Your mother looked thoughtfully for a moment as you waited patiently for her sage wisdom.

“I think you should go. What does it matter if he stands you up? Go because you want to. If he’s there, great and if not, you can find someone else to spend time with. You are a beautiful, smart and kind person. You can get anyone you want so show that boy that you don’t need him, but you’re willing to give him a chance.” 

You smiled and nodded at your mother and she helped you pick out a cute, but fairly modest, outfit for tonight. Then she helped you do your hair and by the time you were done, you looked great.

Kenickie, I hope you’re gonna be there. Cause I am gonna knock your socks off.

--

At six fifty your mother dropped you off just down the street from the Frosty Palace. You thanked her for everything and started walking. You hoped against hope that this wasn’t a trick. Your mother’s words had touched you, but you knew what you wanted, and you wanted him.

As you approached Frosty’s you scanned the parking lot, but saw no sign of him and your heart dropped into your stomach. You crossed the street and looked inside, but you still didn’t see him. You rounded the corner, intent on sitting on the bench so no one could see your tears, and there he was. Kenickie freaking Murdoch. He was leaning against the building, smoking a cigarette and as you walked up, he looked over at you.

“Whoa, look at you,” Kenickie smiled at you. “You look… amazing.”

You grinned at him and grabbed his hand, pulling him inside before he could even finish his cigarette. After a night of drinking milkshakes, eating burgers and playing songs on the jukebox, Kenickie drove you home. Once you got to your house, Kenickie parked and turned off the car.

“I had a lot of fun Nickie,” you said sweetly.

“Yeah, me too,” he said scooting closer towards you.

You leaned up and kissed his cheek. As you started to lean away, Kenickie caught your chin with his hand and kissed you hard on the lips. You kissed him back with intensity and wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands grabbed your waist, sliding them under your shirt and rubbing small circles into your skin. You squeaked in surprise and Kenickie took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You were enjoying the moment so much you could barely tear yourself away from him when he tried to lay you down.

“Kenickie,” you mumbled as he kissed your neck.

“Mhm?”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that yet,” you said gently as you pushed yourself back a bit. Kenickie begrudgingly pulled away, giving you one last kiss.

“Whenever you’re ready babe, I’ll be here,” he said, winking at you. You giggled and hugged him. He held you close, his hand running through a section of your hair. 

“See you next Friday?” You asked.

“You know it,” Kenickie smirked as you got out of the car. You waved goodbye to him and watched him speed down the road.

Oh yeah. I got it bad.

Part Two

[tobesolonely]

it’s not christmas ‘til you come home

a/n: hello!! please enjoy this piece from my dad!harry universe! (u dont have to read any of them for it to make sense, but it would be cool if u did! loosely based on it’s not christmas ‘til you come home by norah jones <3 hope you enjoy! thank u to @harryysstyless​ for beta reading for me!! happy holidays everyone :)

warnings: SMUT, a bit of angst <3 word count: ~5.1k 

my ko-fi! thank you :)

December 23rd, 2:00 PM

For as long as you and Harry have been in a relationship, you’ve never not spent a Christmas together. 

Before expanding your family, you and he used to hop from party to party every Christmas Eve. Both of you would be absolutely trashed by the time Harry’s driver would drop you off at his house in the early hours of the morning. You’d sleep in until approximately noon, willing your hangovers to go away before finally making it down the stairs and into the kitchen to prepare two steaming cups of coffee. The two of you would then make your way into the living room and exchange gifts (where Harry always went way over the budget you’d set). 

Once you had your first child, Allison, your yearly tradition of party hopping and getting so drunk you could hardly put one foot in front of the other was no more. Instead, you and Harry opted for calm nights in, watching Christmas movies and drinking hot cocoa until she eventually grew tired and got carried up to bed. You would wait an hour or so before springing into action, playing Santa and setting out all of the gifts she asked for and then some. Harry never forgot to take a big bite out of the cookie and carrot left out for Santa and his reindeer.

This tradition stayed the same once your second baby, Oliver, was born. Even though he was too young to know what was going on, Harry was still excited to spoil him rotten this year as it was his first Christmas. However, given the current state of the world, you were afraid Harry would not be here for the first time ever.

“Mumma, when’s daddy coming home?” your six-year-old, Ally, asked for what had to be the seventh time that afternoon. “I made him a drawing for his gift ‘nd I can’t wait for him to see it!”

“Let me see what you drew for Daddy, love bug,” you say cheerily, purposefully glossing over her question. Ally proudly holds her drawing up next to her face. She looks up at you with wide eyes, awaiting a compliment from you. 

“That’s gorgeous, bug! Daddy’s gonna love it,” you inform her. “Maybe you can stick a lil’ bow on it and set it under the tree for him, hmm?” 

“Good idea, Mumma!” Ally runs to the box where you kept all the supplies for gift wrapping, digging around for a pink bow to stick on the corner of her drawing.

While she’s preoccupied with finding the perfect bow to place on her drawing for Harry, you take a quick glance at your phone. He still hadn’t gotten back to you since last night’s quick conversation when he very briefly mentioned he didn’t know if he’d be able to make it home.

He was filming in Los Angeles. You shared your uncertainties about him going before he departed but in the end, this was an opportunity you didn’t want him to miss out on. You read the Los Angeles Times free articles on your phone daily, keeping track of the state of the pandemic in Southern California. You knew it was much worse there than it was at home in London. You feared what you were afraid of was sadly bound to happen— Harry may get stuck in LA.

You didn’t want to say anything to your curious daughter because communication with him had been so sparse. You didn’t know anything for certain yet. But what were you supposed to think? You knew flying nationally wasn’t a good idea at the moment, never mind internationally.

“Hey bug, d’ya think you can watch your brother for a moment? Mumma’s gotta go make a phone call.” 

You hear your daughter let out a slightly irritated sigh. “I suppose I can, Mumma.” Ally responds with a voice laced with exasperation. You chuckle slightly under your breath at your overly dramatic (much like her dad) six-year-old and head into the kitchen, quickly dialing your husband’s familiar number.

“Hello?” 

You let out a sigh of relief upon hearing Harry’s low, hoarse voice. 

“Hi, honey. Just checkin’ in to see how things are going…” you hear shuffling on his end. “It’s December 23rd, you know.”

“I know, love.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Six in tha’ mornin’ here.”

“I’m sorry, H. S’just Allison keeps on askin’ when you’ll be home and ‘m just so worried you won’t make it home on time and you’ll miss Oliver’s first Christmas—“

“Darling,” Harry interrupts your anxiety-fueled ramble. “‘M gonna make it home. Have I ever not been there when I said I would?” 

“No,” you say quietly. “I’m just worried, Harry. I hear traveling is going to get very strict because they’re trying to prevent people from going anywhere for Christmas…”

“Fine, then I’ll get my own plane with jus’ me and a pilot. Wear a mask the entire time and whatnot. Yanno I can make that happen if it’s necessary, pet.” 

Harry’s calm demeanor about the whole situation brings you a bit of peace. Perhaps you were catastrophizing something that wasn’t as big of a deal as you thought it was a mere two minutes ago. If he wasn’t worried about not making it home, you didn’t see any reason to stress about it— not for one second longer.

“Okay then,” you reply, still a bit wary of his travel plans. “What shall I tell your daughter? She’s drivin’ me up the walls asking where you are every twenty minutes.”

Your husband lets out a breathy laugh, causing you to giggle along with him. “Tell her not to eat up all the Christmas cookies before I get a taste of one.”

December 24th, 8:45 AM

Part of you was hoping you’d wake up on Christmas Eve and Harry would be tucked into bed next to you, plump lips parted, the sound of his snores the only noise in the room. However, you were a rational woman, if nothing else. You knew he wouldn’t be by your side when you woke up. 

You make your way down the hall and peek inside your son’s room. He was fast asleep, plump thumb in his mouth. You smile at your sleeping baby and gently close the door behind you, deciding to let him sleep in a bit longer before waking him up to feed him. 

Next, you walk to your daughter's room, gently pushing open the door in case she was still sleeping. Instead, you find her sat at her desk, deeply focused on what appeared to be another drawing. 

“Good morning, lovebug,” you greet your daughter in a sing-songy voice. “You’re up early. What are you working on?”

“Makin’ a letter for Santa,” she replies, not bothering to look up from what she was doing. 

“A letter for Santa?” You start racking your brain for anything you and Harry could’ve possibly forgotten to get for Ally, but you finished your Christmas shopping for your children way back in November.

“Yes,” she answers matter-of-factly. “‘M askin’ him to make sure my Daddy is home by tonight so we can eat cookies together and watch Toy Story, Mumma.” 

“I’m sure Santa will make that happen for you,” you reassure her. “You’ve been a very good girl this year, been so helpful with Olly and doin’ so well in school. The least Santa can do is get you whatever you want.” You see her smile as she digs around in her crayon box.

“Can we wait ‘til Daddy gets home to make Santa’s cookies, Mumma?”

“Sure we can, bug,” Ally claps her hands together excitedly, bouncing around in her tiny chair. “Gonna go make some pancakes, does that sound yummy?”

“Can we have chocolate chip pancakes please?”

“Are you askin’ me that because your dad isn’t here to throw a fit about it?” You give her a knowing smile, causing her to giggle.

“Maaaaybe…” Your daughter turns to face you, swinging her legs back and forth.

“If I make your chocolate chip pancakes, you can’t tell your dad. Deal?” You hold up your pinky. Ally gets up and runs to you and you bend down slightly so she can link her finger with yours.

“I pinky promise, Mumma!”

“Our little secret, yeah?” she nods. “Keep an ear out for your brother for me, bug. I’ll be downstairs.”

December 24th, 3:00 PM

“Love? ‘M afraid I got some bad news...”

As soon as Harry’s voice comes through on the other line, you can tell whatever news he’s about to share with you won’t be what you’re wanting to hear.

“What is it?”

It’s silent for what feels like entirely too long. You get up from your position on the couch next to Ally, telling her you’ll be right back. After breakfast, she convinced you to watch Toy Story with her, which quickly turned into a whole Disney movie marathon.

“Not so sure I’ll be able to make it home.”

You’re not sure if it’s his calm tone that bothers you, the fact that you didn’t want him to go to Los Angeles in the first place, or simply the fact that you and your children missed him terribly and haven’t seen him in nearly a month–– but your mood changes from relaxed to undeniably outraged in three seconds flat.

“You’re kidding.” Your tone is sharp, venomous. Harry once again takes a moment before responding, knowing that the current tone of your voice means he’d best proceed with caution.

“‘M not, love. I woke up early and everything to try and get this sorted out, it’s 7 AM so I was gonna try and catch an early flight––”

“I told you I didn’t want you going to LA,” you cut him off, voice rising slightly. “You knew how bad the pandemic was getting there. I told you this would happen.”

“What do you suppose I do then, Y/N?” His tone is becoming equally as sharp. “Y’want me to tell ‘em, “Sorry, I don’t give a fuck about the travel restrictions. My wife wants me home so let's make it happen!” ‘S that what you want me to do?”

“Don’t be a smartass, Harry,” you spit. “I’ll give the phone to your daughter and you can tell her you won’t be home in time for Christmas, then.”

“Y/N…” his tone is calm again. Fearful. “Don’t make me do that.”

“She woke up early to write a letter to Santa to tell him she wants you home by tonight, Harry,” your tone softens as well. “Even Olly has been asking for you. Swear his new favorite word is ‘dada’.” He laughs at this as do you, and the shared tension that was present just minutes ago dissipates. 

“Just… lemme try a few more things before I tell her, yeah?”

“Harry, it’s already three here,” you gently remind him. “Even if you do make it home today, she’ll be asleep by the time you’re home. I think you just need to tell her.”

Your husband sighs, knowing you were undeniably correct. “Alright. Give Allison the phone, please.”

December 24th, 8 PM

“Almost time for you to head to bed soon, yeah Allybug?” Your daughter lets out a loud sigh in response, not shifting her gaze from the television to you. Ever since Harry told her he wouldn’t be home in time to eat cookies with her, she’s hardly said a word. She’s never experienced a Christmas Eve without her father so understandably, she was missing him tonight.

You shift Olly, who was falling asleep nursing on your lap, into a different position so you could face your daughter directly. From your new position, you can see just how tired she looks. 

“‘M not sleepy, Mumma. Gonna stay up and wait for Daddy,” she informs you of her new plans. “When Daddy is home that’s when it’s time for bed.”

“Ally, remember what Daddy told you on the phone earlier? Santa won’t come unless you go to sleep.”

“I don’t wanna sleep,” she’s quickly starting to grow upset. “Not until Daddy tucks me in!”

You purse your lips, not wanting to argue with your headstrong daughter when your son was so close to drifting off into his nightly milk coma. Turning your attention back to the movie that was quietly playing on the television, you decide to drop it for now and try again later.

December 24th, 9:05 PM

Not more than an hour later, Olly is upstairs in his crib fast asleep whilst Ally is still laying on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, fighting sleep. She was determined to stay up until her father walked through the front door, and you knew getting her to agree to go to bed was going to be a battle and a half.

“You’re not ready to go to bed yet, Ally?” Her eyes fly open once she hears you addressing her.

“Not yet, Mumma. ‘M not sleepy yet.” Her words are a little slurred due to the exhausted state she was in. You hum in response.

“Could’ve sworn your eyes just shut for a minute there,” you pause for a second to see if she’ll look your way. “Must’ve just been my old lady eyes playin’ tricks on me, y’think?”

“I wasn’t sleeping!” She immediately defends herself, frown lines indenting her forehead. “Can we drink more hot chocolate?”

You knew if you wanted your daughter to fall asleep within the hour, another sugar rush wasn’t the best idea. You instead offer her a hot cup of sleepytime tea and she excitedly agrees once you tell her it’s her father’s favorite type of tea to drink at bedtime. You place her down on the kitchen counter while you fill the kettle and wait for it to whistle.

“What are you looking forward to the most from Santa, bug?” 

Her eyes light up at your question. “Well, I really want a new bike! ‘Member Mumma? How I asked him for a pink bike? And I also want a cool swing set! Since we haven’t been able to go to the park in so long,” her smile falters and she looks down at her dangling feet. “I want Daddy to come home the mostest, though.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to break in two upon hearing your daughter admit that Harry being home would be the greatest gift of all. “So do I, lovebug. He’ll be here in the mornin’ to watch you and your brother open all the gifts Santa got you though, don’t you worry.”

For everyone’s sake, you hoped that was true.

December 24th, 11:50 PM

Sleep wasn’t coming easy. 

You finally got your daughter to bed at around ten o’clock and waited thirty minutes before laying out your children’s gifts. It took much longer than it usually did considering you had to do it all on your own. Harry was usually the one to quickly assemble the larger toys while you laid everything out around the living room. 

Despite it taking longer than desired, you were proud that you got it all done without waking your children up. Consequently, that meant you were now left all alone with your thoughts considering you had no more tasks to occupy yourself with. 

You kept contemplating calling Harry, but you weren’t sure if he was busy on set or not. Surely he was immersing himself in work to distract himself from the fact he would not be spending Christmas with his family. 

Deciding you may need a cup of the sleepytime tea you offered Allison earlier, you quietly get out of bed and open your door, sock-clad feet padding softly against the wooden floors. It’s unnervingly silent in your home–– the tea kettle coming to a boil being the only source of noise. You keep unlocking and re-locking your phone, finally deciding to call your husband to see how he’s spending his day. It goes to automatic voicemail.

You assume the reason for this must be that he’s busy filming on set and set your phone down with a sigh, standing on your tiptoes to retrieve a mug from the cabinet. You mutter a slew of curse words under your breath intended for Harry who always puts the mugs up far too high even though you tell him not to.

Right as you begin pouring the now boiling water into your teacup, the faint jingling of your front door causes you to startle so badly that you nearly drop the kettle on the ground. You try to think back to everything Harry ever told you to do in the event of an intruder but your mind goes blank from fright. Deciding to use the scalding water as your weapon, you slowly creep towards the door, your only plan being to fling the water on whoever it was as soon as they got the door open. As soon as you hear the lock click, you flick the lid open that covers the spout and draw your arm back.

“Shit––”

“Harry?”

Your husband jumps slightly, his eyes blinking rapidly in an effort to adjust to the dark living room. You reach beside him and quickly turn on the light, shakily letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. He looks exhausted, his hair is an absolute mess, and his eyes are red from sleep deprivation–– but he’s home. You set the tea kettle down on the coffee table and fling yourself into his arms, breathing in the scent of the man you haven’t seen in a month. He drops his bags at his feet so he can properly embrace you, pulling you into him.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head and stays like that for a moment saying nothing, just breathing you in. “Missed ya so fuckin’ much.

“How? I thought…” you trail off. “You said that they said…”

Harry laughs quietly. “Remember what I told ya? I said to ‘em, ‘Don’t give a fuck about your travel restrictions! M’wife wants me home.’” You laugh at him, knowing he was far too kind to talk to anyone that way. 

“Yeah, okay,” you reply sarcastically. You pull him in for another hug, placing wet kisses along his jawline. “I’m so happy you’re home. The kids are gonna be over the moon, especially Allison.” Harry hums, surveying the room.

“Looks like you did a good job in here, Mrs. Claus. See ya even assembled some toys all by yourself,” he quirks an eyebrow. “Were you jus’ pretendin’ not to know how to do it all these years so I’d be stuck with all the hard labor?”

“Maybe.”

He pulls you back into him, tickling your sides. “My sneaky girl,” he bends down so his lips are level with your neck and sucks gently, causing you to let out a quiet moan. You see his eyes land on the tea kettle that was sitting forgotten on the coffee table. “Making a cuppa? Can I have one? ‘M freezin’.”

“I can think of something else we can do to get you warmed up,” you reach for his hands, interlocking his fingers with yours. “If you know what I’m gettin’ at.”

“Hmm…” Harry releases one of his hands from your grip and taps at his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Not too sure I can say I know what you’re sayin’. Maybe you should just tell me?”

You frown. “You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

“Y’know I’d give you the entire world if you asked me for it. All you gotta do is tell me what you want from me and it’s yours–– ‘m sure you’ve known that since the first day we met, though.” Harry takes a step back, crossing his arms across his chest. Even in his thick winter coat, you can see the way his biceps flex, and it makes you even more feral for him.

“Fine,” you say quietly, feeling yourself start to grow shy under his intense gaze. “I’m kinda... in the mood.” You say it so softly that it would most likely be inaudible to Harry if he wasn’t standing mere inches away from you. Harry throws his head back in laughter and you quickly shush him, not wanting any of your children to wake up.

“In the mood? C’mon, pet,” he uncrosses his arms and reaches for one of your hands. “Tha’s not tellin’ me what you want from me. Tell me exactly what you want, lovie.”

“You know what I want, H,” you tell him with a hint of annoyance in your voice. “It’s been a month. Yanno I want you to fuck me, why are you makin’ me say it?”

Harry gives you a shit-eating grin. “You jus’ said it. I didn’t make you say anything.”

You roll your eyes at his immaturity, already in the process of lifting your nightshirt (one of his old t-shirts that’s become just a little too tight on him) over your head. “Are we gonna get to it or not? Because if not, I’ll just go back to makin’ myself some tea and call it a night––”

Harry takes half a step towards you and reaches up to cup your face, colliding his lips with yours. His lips are a little chapped and taste of his favorite rose lip balm. You feel your body relaxing into the kiss, knees going weak as he walks you back onto the couch.

“You’ve been eatin’ up all the sugar cookies, haven’t you? Can taste it on ya. Thought those were for Santa,” he’s pulled away from you to examine your face. “A bit naughty of you, wouldn’t ya say?”

“Please stop referring to yourself as Santa when we’re about to have sex, Harry.”

“You’re not bein’ very kind to the person that’s about to go down on you, are you?” He sucks harshly on the valley between your breasts, wanting to be sure a deep-colored bruise will appear on your skin later. “That’s okay. It is Christmas, after all. ‘M in a giving mood.”

“Stop talking and get to it then.”

Harry slides off the couch and onto his knees in between your legs, gently kissing your thighs. “Cute pair of undies–– s’like you knew I was comin’ home tonight.” Before you can respond Harry’s fingers are tugging at the waistband of your underwear, eager to get them off of you. He presses light kisses to your core, mumbling about how much he missed the smell of you and how sweet you tasted. 

One hand is resting across your stomach while the other one is in between your folds, spreading you open. You try squeezing your thighs around his head, overwhelmed by the feeling of your husband’s lips around your clit after being away from him for so long, but he removes his hand from your stomach and pushes your thighs back apart.

“Feels so good,” you’re breathless, tangling your fingers in Harry’s hair as his hollowed cheeks begin to suck more roughly on your clit. “Missed you so much. Missed this–– us.” 

Harry pauses momentarily to look up at you. “I know, angel. God, do I know.” He attaches his lips back on you, swirling his tongue around your clit as you  choke back your moans. The hand that is holding you open moves down to toy at your slit as he wordlessly checks to see if you’re okay with his fingers being in you. 

“Please,” you say softly, encouraging his next move. He spits on his index and pointer finger before slowly sliding both of them in you, immediately curling them up. “Oh, Harry. Fuckin’ love when you do tha’...”

“Know you do,” His response is curt, simple. He’s focused on the task at hand–– getting you off. He uses the hand that’s lying across your stomach to rub tight circles on your clit, sensing you’re nearing your orgasm from the way you’re starting to clench around him. “Such a good girl fo’ me, darlin’. Gonna make a mess on my fingers in a second, aren’t you?”

You nod as you try to control your breathing and the loudness of your moans. The last thing you wanted was for your daughter to come down to inspect the source of the noise. “Fuck, Harry.” 

“Come on, darlin’,” he gently pinches your clit, causing your body to jolt at the sensation. “Gimme a good one. A lil’ welcome back gift for me, hmm?” 

Your hips are bucking up to the rhythm of his fingers slipping in and out of you as your orgasm quickly approaches. “Har, I’m close…” it comes out sounding more like a warning than a statement. He moves the two fingers he has inside of you in a back and forth motion, coaxing your first orgasm out of you.

“Tha’s my girl,” he whispers, not stopping his movements even as your back arches as your first orgasm rolls over you like a giant wave. “Givin’ me a good one jus’ like I knew you would. Jus’ like you always do. M’ sweet girl.” As you’re starting to still, Harry pulls his fingers out of you and holds them up to your mouth, instructing you to suck them clean. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can properly lean in to steal a kiss from him and notice a rather sizable tent has formed in his pants. Harry gives you a sheepish grin as he palms himself, hissing from the feel of his palm against his cock.

“Want me to do somethin’ about that?” You scoot over on the couch and pat the spot next to you, signaling for your husband to sit beside you. He lifts himself from his seated position, stretching his legs out a bit before plopping down beside you.

“Are you offerin’ me a blowie?”

“I mean, yeah?”

“Can we skip that an’ you can jus’ ride me instead? Think I’d quite like that.”

“Oh you would, would ya?”

Harry nods and unzips his pants, taking himself out. He licks his hand and gives himself a few pumps. “Still on birth control, I’m assuming?”

You roll your eyes as you move to straddle him. “Only been gone for a month, Harry. Of course ‘m still on it, you goof.”

“Can never be too careful. I don’t think now’s a good time for another lil’ one, do you? Think we should at least celebrate Oliver’s first birthday before we try for another one.” His hands are on his hips as he lines you up over his cock, helping you slowly sink down. You missed the burn of him which was even more intense than it usually was considering it’s been a while since he’s taken you.

“I think you’re right,” you reply. You rest your head on his shoulder while you adjust to the size of him, needing to take a moment to yourself before attempting to move. After a short adjustment period you begin rolling your hips, grinding against him in a way that was also bringing pleasure to your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your last orgasm.

Harry’s eyes are fixated on the way your breasts bounce in front of him, the way your stomach slightly jiggles each time you crash back down onto him. His lips are caught in between his teeth; you’re hoping he doesn’t break any skin so you don’t have to hear him whine about how badly the bruise hurts him later.

“Ridin’ me like your life depends on it,” Harry mutters. “Fuckin’ love takin’ you like this, angel. So fuckin’ deep.”

You simply hum in agreement, brain far too foggy to form a coherent sentence. Harry notices your movements starting to become smaller, lazier, so he puts his hands on your hips and decides to take over. He’s thrusting up into you like you’ll up and run away from him if he doesn’t give it his all. He cups your face with one hand and gently guides you towards him, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your lips.

“Fuck, H,” your eyes are squeezed shut and your wrap your arms around his neck, feeling your second orgasm quickly approaching. “Rub my clit please, almost there.”

Harry’s fingers immediately come down to rub at your slick nub, not faltering his relentless pace in the slightest. “Clench around me again, lovie,” his voice is higher than usual, whiny, and you know your husband is just as close as you are. “Love when you do tha’, jus’ need you to do it one more time.”

You do as he wishes once more, knowing once he cums you’ll be directly behind him. Harry lets out a string of expletives as he releases inside of you, pulling you tightly against his chest as he rides out his orgasm. You continue riding him, not slowly down as you chase your own release next.

“Harry,” you’re in a trance-like state, chanting his name over and over as you bring yourself over the edge. “Harry, fuck!”

“That’s my good girl,” he says quietly, rubbing your back as you rest your head on his shoulder while you catch your breath. You feel him beginning to soften inside of you so you lift yourself off and lay back on the couch, legs still shaking. It’s quiet for a couple of minutes as the two of you reveal in the afterglow of your orgasms, Harry gently running his fingers along your leg.

“Round two in the shower?”

December 25th, 6:42 AM

“Mumma! Santa came and he left lots of toys–– Daddy?”

Harry lets out a dramatic “oof!” as Ally jumps onto him, pulling the covers back. Her eyes are wide and she giggles are Harry pulls her into one of his infamous bear hugs, placing kisses all over his face.

“Mornin’, love bug! What’re you doin’ up so early?”

“It’s Christmas, Daddy! Santa came!” she sits back on her feet, a confused look on her face. “Did Santa bring you on his sleigh last night after me ‘n Olly went to bed?”

“Y’know what? He told me to keep it a secret, but he did,” Allison gasps in response to his news as she processes it, placing a little hand over her mouth. Harry sits up and gets out of bed, scooping her up in the process. “How ‘bout we go make Mum a cuppa before we see what Santa got for you and Olly? Tha’ sound good? Let’s let them sleep for a while longer, hmm?”

As you hear them exit the room you take a second to reflect on how lucky you are to spend another Christmas with you beautiful family before drifting back off into a deep, albeit short, sleep.

[donutloverxo]

Sharing is caring

Note - this is part of my soft!reader universe and a sequel to on the run. You don't have to read them to understand this but I do suggest to check em out!

special thanks to sister wives @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @stargazingfangirl18 for their input!

Summary - Steve learns that good things are meant to be shared.

Warnings - smut, mfm threesome, wife sharing, daddy kink, dom Steve, dom Bucky, sub reader, rough sex, light anal stuff

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes

Word count - 2.6k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

Bucky had always been a loyal friend to Steve. Steve was someone who was more than just a friend, their relationship transcends that of a traditional male friendship. They were brothers and practically family. Bucky protected Steve back when he was just a little guy from Brooklyn, not just because he needed it but also because he loved the little troublemaker. He will forever be grateful to Steve for protecting him and believing in him when no one else did.

Which is why he felt extremely disgusted with himself to have feelings, if one can even call them that, for you, Steve’s wife. The punk actually got himself a wife. A beautiful one at that.

Bucky was excited to meet you, especially because Steve couldn’t stop talking about you. He was obviously so proud of you. ‘You have got to meet her Buck. She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.' He gushed.

And yeah he was pleased to meet you, but not in the way that would be considered proper. As soon as you shed your thick coat and put on that thin tank top, he could see your plump and curvy figure.

He had to fucking lay there and listen to your moans and whimpers as Steve fucked you just two feet away from him! Did you call him daddy? When the fuck did Steve become such a stud? He didn’t even know how to talk to women! The whole time he wanted to touch his aching cock, relieve some pressure. But that would mean he won’t hear your angelic sounds and cute but useless attempts to stay quiet. He did go to the bathroom to relieve himself. And yes he did think about you and how you must look naked. He was already going to hell.

He thought that would be the end of it. He would stay in Wakanda while you and Steve went to Europe. As much as he'd miss not being able to see you or get to know you, at least he wouldn’t have that kind of temptation.

But then a year later, unceremoniously, you came to his little house on the farm. You were staying in Wakanda for a month while Steve was on a mission.

‘I can’t stay in the palace.’ You lips jutted out slightly quivering as you looked at him hand Bucky had to do everything in his power to not hug you close to him ‘I don’t know anyone there. I miss home. I want to stay with you please.’ You begged.

And of course he said yes. How could he turn you away when you looked him with those puppy dog eyes, when he promised Steve he would look after you.

Living with you was as amazing as it was torturous. You lounged around the house in your small cotton 60s style nighties because ‘Stevie likes them and I do too!’ and of-fucking-course you hated wearing panties. He had gotten a generous view of your cunt at least three times. Sometimes he thought you did it deliberately. Just to tease him. But you seemed too innocent and sweet to play those kinds of games.

There was more to it then him getting to ogle your beautiful body everyday. You were kind, sweet, honest and funny. He could see why Steve was so crazy about you. With you around he didn’t feel so lonely. There was that night you sneaked into his room because you couldn’t stop worrying about Steve. He could see how homesick you were. He was also longing to go back home, only his home no longer exists. He cuddled you as you braided his hair and marvelled at how silky and soft it was.

The next morning you were back to your happy bubbly self. Having no idea that you had ruined him. He had a crush on his best friends wife. How do you tell someone that?

He didn’t feel jealous when you ran into Steve’s arms, kissing him all over his face when he came back. He cared for you both and you deserved each other. You deserved to be happy. Steve was just as happy to see Bucky and how you and him had become such good friends in just one month.

Bucky spent the next week catching up with Steve. There wasn’t much he could tell Steve about but he had plenty to share. Along with your wedding pictures and he was just reminded of how ethereal your beauty is.

What he never in a million years would have expected was for Steve to ask–

“Do you like her?” He asked but it was a rhetorical question. He didn’t really expect an answer.

“I do. There isn’t much not to like.” Bucky played dumb. He was dumb to think that Steve wouldn’t notice his lingering stares.

“You know what I mean.” He retorted his eyebrows furrowed.

“She’s – she’s beautiful. I’m happy for you. My feelings don’t matter.” He said honestly. No matter how much he desired you, he would never act on it.

“Turns out she might like you too” Steve said casually taking a sip of his whiskey leaving Bucky stunned.

Which is what led him here. With you completely bare, spare for your yellow panties with little red hearts on them. He was sitting on the edge of your bed, you stood in front of him, your nipples hard as you shivered. Steve knelt behind you to rolls down your panties leaving you naked as the day you were born in front of both the men.

Steve stood up on his feet, tossing your panties away. You hummed as kissed you under your ear. You relaxed as he massaged your shoulders. “Are you nervous princess?” He asked and you nodded. “What are our words?”

“Green for keep going, yellow for slow down and red for stop” You said biting your lip as Bucky’s hungry eyes took you in.

You were curvy, a lot like women back in his day. Your hips a bit larger than your bust, he couldn’t wait to see what your ass looked like. If it was as plump as he imagined. His hands were shivering, he needed to touch your round heavy breasts. Squeeze them to see if they were as soft as they looked. But he didn’t know just how far he was allowed to go. Thanks to the serum he could smell your arousal, he would die if you didn’t let him dip his fingers or his cock in your heat.

“What do you want baby?” Steve murmured in your hair and placed a soft kiss there. He drew small circles on your hips urging you to speak.

“I want – I want to suck his cock” You shivered feeling Steve’s length pressing against your ass through his sweats. You were the only one naked and you should feel completely vulnerable. But you trusted Steve with your life and you had come to trust Bucky as well. You didn’t feel ashamed, no you were proud. That you could get these amazing men to bend to your orders.

“Then do it sweetheart.” Steve pushed you down and you hissed as your knees touched the cold hard floor. You trembling hands worked to undo Bucky’s pants and pull his cock out of his boxers. You had only ever seen Steve’s cock, but you decided then and there that Bucky’s was your second most favorite. You admired it for a minute, licking a stripe up his slit before taking him in your mouth.

You felt Steve kneel behind you, with his knees on either side of you, pulling your hair over your shoulders he caressed your back “My girl does whatever I tell her” Steve said petting the back of your head “isn’t that right princess?”

You reluctantly pulled Bucky out of your mouth, because you know what happens if you don’t answer. “Yes daddy” You rasped gulping for some air as a strong of your spit connected you to Bucky’s cock. You opened wide to take him back in your mouth. But he was much girthier than Steve, it was a struggle to fit him. You whimpered around his cock as you tried to swallow as much of him as you could.

“She just needs a little guidance sometimes.” Steve hushed you pulling your hair into a pony tail and pushing on the back of your head.

Even if your lips were wrapped around his cock and you were gagging around him. Bucky felt as if he was an outsider looking into an intimate moment with you and Steve. He didn’t want that. Even if he could never have you, he wanted you to remember him. He wanted to make some sort of impact on you. He took a hold of your face lifting his hips up to thrust into it. “You call him daddy. What will you call me doll?” He asked slowly fucking into your face as you looked up at him with your big doe eyes, tearing falling down your cheeks.

“Hm. How about sir?” Steve suggested still pushing on your head. He wouldn’t take too kindly to Bucky being the only one fucking you.

Bucky pulled you off his cock as you coughed and stuttered gasping for breathe. “Yes” you heaved “Sir” you gave him a dazed smile dropping your jaw and silently begging him to continue his assault on your mouth. He groaned shoving his cock in your mouth.

“Breathe through your nose sweetheart.” Steve cooed. Always so worried about you. You took as much of Bucky as you could, breathing through your nose as Steve suggested. Closing your eyes shut to stop the tears. You wanted to do your happy dance as you felt your nose touch the little curls at the base of Bucky’s cock, his tip hitting the back of your throat. You had never been able to deep throat Steve. Even though Bucky was a bit smaller than Steve you couldn’t help but feel so accomplished.

You pulled up for air and looked over your shoulder to Steve. Wiping your cheeks and mouth “Daddy” You said proudly.

“Yes princess” He kissed your wet cheek “I’m so proud of you baby. You’re doing so good” You whimpered, his praise going straight to your core “You’re such a good girl. You deserve a reward” And you hummed looking back to Bucky’s hard cock, not wanting to keep him waiting to long you swallowed him whole again.

Steve pulled your hips and arched your ass up. You struggled to balance your weight on your hands and knees for a moment before finding a good position. You moaned around Bucky’s length as you felt Steve’s hot tongue invading your folds. “Shit” Bucky groaned pushing your head down holding it at his base “Do that again doll” He groaned as you moaned again. Extra loudly this time.

You felt ropes of his cum in your mouth as he held onto your head for dear life. You swallowed around him and felt him soften in your mouth.

You yelped when Steve’s finger prodded at your pluckered hole. “Keep Bucky’s cock warm while I get you ready. Will you do that for me princess?” Steve asked pushing two fingers into your pussy and fucking your ass and your heat at with his fingers at the same time.

You only hummed laying your head on Bucky’s thigh and suckling on his cock. It was all too much and too little at the same time. You needed his or Bucky’s cock inside you. You perked up when you heard Steve undress behind you. You cried out around Bucky’s cock as Steve sheathed himself in you in one single stroke. He squeezed your hips, rolling his against them. He thrusted into you jerking you forward again and again. You moaned as you felt the sting and the smack of his slap on your ass. “You having fun?” He asked thrusting deep inside you, his tip brushing that spot that drives you crazy “This what you wanted?” He snapped his hips harshly again and again. All you could do was take it and occasionally swallow your spit around Bucky’s cock.

Bucky was too entranced by the sight to do anything. He could feel his cock hardening again. It was strangely voyeuristic and arousing to see Steve rutting into you. His face contorted in pleasure, his torso and neck flushed red. He was happy for you seeing that the serum had enhanced everything. “That’s enough” He took you off his cock and consoled you as you whine at the loss. “I’m gonna fuck her.” Bucky declared. He wasn’t gonna be shy or ask for permission anymore. You both had roped him into whatever the hell this is.

“She’s all yours” You whimpered again as Steve pulled out of you. Leaving you all empty. “Do your knees hurt baby?” Steve cooed and you nodded. You had forgotten about how the cold floor was pinching you. Steve never let you spend any time on your knees cause you were a princess and he didn’t want you being in pain. Well the bad kind of pain. He had no qualms about spending hours on his knees worshiping you.

Steve picked you up in his arms, you were basically putty, unable to move or to speak. He gently laid you on the soft mattress, your head hitting the pillow. He sat down next to you running his hands through your hair wordlessly checking in on you.

“I’m sorry doll” Bucky murmured kissing your bruised knees. He shrugged of his clothes and settled himself between your legs.

“It’s ok sir” You hummed kissing Steve’s hand.

“I don’t think I like you calling me that” he lifted your hips up to elevate them up a bit “It’s too formal” he teased your entrance with his tip before sinking into you. You threw your head back, moaning at the delicious burn as he snapped his hips fucking you with vigor. He leaned down hovering above you and captured your lips with his moaning at your sweet taste mixed with his own musky scent. He stood back again so he could look at your bouncing breasts as he fucked into you.

You moaned as Steve latched his lips onto your nipple, pinching and pulling on the other one between his fingers. “Oh god. You’re so tight. I’m not gonna last” Bucky grunted his thrusts losing their rhythm and becoming erratic. Steve snaked a hand down rolling your clit before stroking it “You gonna cum around Bucky’s cock baby?” Steve teased drawing patterns on your clit and going back to suck on your hard bud.

You could only let out a whined barely there ‘Yes'. You felt as if you were seeing stars as you came hard around Bucky’s cock and gushing over Steve’s fingers. You blacked out as you felt Bucky empty his warm cum inside you. He collapsed on top you before moving to the side. His chest rising and falling out of the corner of your eye.

You looked towards Steve as you heard him quietly groan. He was pumping his angry red cock with his fist, his other hand fondling your breast. “Daddy” You mused “I want to –“

“Shh” He groaned cutting you off “Your throat must be sore baby. It’s ok-ay” He laid his hand flat on the bed to balance himself cumming all over your stomach. He laid down next you and pulled you into him.

You felt Bucky stirring beside You and getting up. You pulled at his bicep to stop him. Pleading him to cuddle with you. “Just a minute doll” He cooed kissing your forehead and disappearing into the bathroom. Returning with a warm and wet cloth he cleaned up your sore pussy and wiped your torso. He tossed the cloth aside and draped an arm across you and cuddled with you just as you demanded.

Cocooned between them both you feel it’s the warmest and the safest place for you.

Tags will be in the reblog! If you want in on the taglist lemme know or click the link in the bio.

Please note that my work is NOT to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account. Reblogs are most welcome though.

[fallingforunrealisticromance]

Just So I Could Call You Mine - Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader part 3

A/N: It's finally here!! I'm sorry the wait was so long but I'm hoping it'll be worth it. I'd just like to thank @ya-boi-is-dead for the inspiration for this fic. Please enjoy:)

Warnings: Swearing

*** = time skip

Word Count: 2744

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

Things with Aaron had been going great. After the incident at Rossi’s, we decided to take things slow but, us being who we were, fell right back into the pattern of things. Most weekends were spent with each other whether it was going for coffee, a stroll in the park, or (more often than not) we just stayed home enjoying each other’s company once again. We tried to hold off from telling the team to start with as we didn’t want the pressure of them knowing to somehow hinder things but trying to hide a relationship from a group of profilers is like trying to hide from an unsub behind a glass door. Impossible. When they all inevitably found out, Aaron got an earful from the lot of them considering how things went last time, but I can honestly say, he’s not going to hurt me. The one person we’ve decided it’s absolutely essential not to tell is the mega bitch herself – Haley. I can’t risk Aaron losing Jack for being in a relationship with me, I’d never forgive myself. So, while Haley knows me and Aaron are back on good terms, everything else is hidden from her.

I jolted upright as an alarm sounded right next to my head. I fumbled around beside me trying to find my phone to shut it off. As I pulled my phone towards me, JJ’s name flashed in my face.

“Oh my god finally, where the hell are you? Is Hotch with you?” She said sounding frustrated.

“What do you mean?” I replied, my voice heavy with sleep. As I was talking, I felt an arm snake around my waist pulling me backwards. Aaron buried his head in the crook of my neck, sighing happily. In that moment I wanted nothing more than to hang up the phone, cuddle up to him and just stay there forever. However, this being my life – that was not going to happen.

“You were meant to be here half an hour ago. Hotch has a meeting this morning that starts in 20 minutes and neither of you are anywhere to be seen.” JJ explained. That woke me up. I looked at the clock. 10:00. Shit.

“Aaron.” I jabbed him with my elbow causing him to groan while pulling me closer to him. “Aaron, seriously wake up. We’re so late. You have a meeting today.” I hissed. He shot up right.

“What?” He looked at the clock. “Fuck. What happened to the alarm?” He asked, rushing to get out of bed.

“I don’t know, we must have forgotten to set it.” I replied. “Okay Jayje we’re on our way, we’ll be there asap. See you soon.” I said hanging up the phone. Aaron tumbled into the bathroom, pulling his trousers on before grabbing his toothbrush. I pulled my shirt over my head whilst frantically trying to find my hairbrush.

“I can’t believe we let this happen.” I called out, trying not to laugh.

“I know, I could’ve sworn I set the alarm.” He replied.

“I mean we were a bit, well – preoccupied – last night.” I joked. He shot me a smirk before his face dropped.

“Fuck.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“I was meant to take jack to school today. He has a late start and Haley said she couldn’t make it. But I’ve got to the get to this meeting.” He dropped his head in his hands.

“Where is he now?” I questioned.

“He should still be at Jess’s, he stayed over last night.” He replied, doing his tie up.

“Well, I can grab him if you want. I can afford to be a few more minutes late to the office.” I offered. He shot me an uncertain look.

“Won’t that look a bit strange? If you turn up they might think somethings going on” he said. I stepped closer to him.

“I can just say I’m doing a favour for a friend. I’ll even throw in there that the rest of the team were busy, so I was a last resort if you want.” I suggested. He chuckled at my words but still looked hesitant.

“What’s on your mind Aaron?” I placed my arms round his neck as his gravitated towards my waist. He sighed.

“I just don’t want to risk things going wrong again. I don’t think I could handle losing you again.” He confessed. My heart melted. It gave me comfort to know he was serious about us this time.

“I get it. But I can promise you this. You are not going to lose me again, okay? I’m in this for the long haul. Not even the queen of manipulation herself can take me away from you.” I said, cupping his face in my hands. A smile graced his lips, one that I only ever saw at home. One that made me feel safe.

“But if you want me to call Emily and ask her to pick him up, I will.” I continued.

“No. I want you to go. Jack loves you anyway.” He replied before pulling me into a kiss. It was a whirlwind, one that I never wanted to break from. But considering neither of us had left the house yet – I was forced to.

“Okay, come on we need to leave.” I said grabbing my coat and heading outside. I gave him a quick kiss before jumping in my car and heading to Jess’ place.

*****************************************************************

The ride there was relatively quick considering I’d stayed at Aarons, and she only lived about 15 minuets away. I knew Jess quite well, and we got along. She’d never had an issue with me unlike her sister. But I couldn’t help from feeling slightly anxious as I knocked on the door. However, the last thing I expected was to see was the person I’d been trying my best to avoid.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Haley questioned, raising her brow at me. I swallowed nervously. Don’t get me wrong, she didn’t intimidate me. I mean she’s the human equivalent to a chihuahua – mouthy as fuck but tiny. I just didn’t want to say anything that might jeopardise Aaron.

“Hey Haley, I’m here to take Jack to school. Hotch was running late for a meeting and didn’t think you were available. The rest of the team were busy, so he called me.” I said calmly. She looked me up and down, judging me heavily.

“A likely story. You’re not his mum you know, just because your suddenly all friendly with Aaron.” She said applying as much emphasis as she could onto his name. “It means nothing outside of work.” I could tell she was trying to provoke some type of reaction out of me, but me being the stubborn bitch I am, wasn’t about to give her what she wanted. Instead, I opted for a more entertaining route.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry.” I gushed. “If you ever thought I was overstepping I’m apologise, that was never my intent.” I said my voice oozing with as much fake soppiness I could handle. She rolled her eyes before walking away.

“I can’t believe he still tolerates you” She muttered. I’m assuming she was referring to Hotch. Before I could think on it any longer, Jack can bounding towards me.

“Y/N” He called happily.

“Hey little man” I replied bending down to wrap my arms around him. The happiness this kid brought me was insane.

“You ready for school?” I asked standing back up.

“Yep. We’re making decorations for the class today. We’re having a party on Friday” He replied, beaming up at me.

“That’s amazing buddy. Let’s get you there right away then shall we?” I replied.

“Okay. Bye mum.” He called before grabbing my hand and tugging me towards the car. I didn’t get a chance to see Haley’s face as we left but I could feel her eyes burning into the back of my head. Well, that was fun.

***********************************************************************

The rest of the day went fine, despite the rushed start. Luckily Hotch had made it in time for his meeting. We didn’t have a case today, so it was a pretty lazy day. I spent most of it either pestering Emily or gossiping with Garcia. I guess, technically, there was some paperwork I could’ve been doing but my ideas were so much more fun.

“I’m telling you now Garcia, I swore we’d set an alarm.” I said between laughter.

“Well, it’s nice to know he’s satisfying you this time round.” She quipped.

“Hey, satisfaction was never an issue” I replied. Her eyes widened mischievously.

“So” She begun. “He’s good in bed then?” She asked, twirling her fluffy pen in between her fingers as she leant back in her chair.

“Pen, I love you, but I’m not discussing this with you right now. We’re in a professional workspace.” I said, a fake authoritative tone laced in my voice. She shot me a look of pretend annoyance but before she could say anything Emily burst through the door.

“You alright there Em?” I asked turning to face her.

“You guys might wanna come and see this” she said before turning and walking back out the way she came. I swapped a confused look with Garcia before getting up and following Emily. The team was stood in the bullpen, not-so-subtly starring into Hotch’s office.

“What’s going on?” I asked Spencer. He just gestured at the window. I looked up and saw a very pissed off looking Haley standing in front of an equally pissed off Aaron. They were having a rather heated debated (argument) by the looks of things.

“Why is she here?” Garcia piped up. “We don’t know. She just showed up and barged in.” Derek replied. I felt my face flush red as my heart sunk.

“Hey.” Spencer nudged me with his elbow. “What’s wrong?” He questioned.

“I think it’s my fault.” I muttered. This caught the team’s attention, but before anyone could ask me about it, Haley stormed out of his office.

“No, I’m not having this Aaron. This isn’t fair” She yelled.

“You’re being unreasonable. I was running late, and you said you were busy. What did you expect me to do?” He replied, aggravated. Fuck, this was about me.

“You could have called anyone else. Not the woman who’s been trying to squeeze her way into my son’s life. She’s trying to replace me god dam it.” I felt the team’s eyes on me, but I refused to look at them. Aaron glanced at me before replying to Haley.

“You need to quit the bullshit Haley. Y/N knows full well that you are Jack’s mother, and she would never do anything to undermine or replace you. Stop trying to pin this all on her when she’s been nothing but nice to you.” He’d finally had enough of her and I’m not ashamed to admit that I was glad. It made my heart swell with pride to hear how he was defending me. That feeling didn’t last long as Haley’s shrill voice pulled me from my thoughts.

“Nice to me?? Aaron have you lost your mind?” She stepped towards him, placing her hands on his chest. This pissed me off. I went to go forward but JJ grabbed my arm.

“Do you not remember what she did? The phone call? She told everyone about you Aaron. I wouldn’t do that to you.” She blinked up at him, clearly trying to win him over. That was enough.

“No, you’d just shag some other guys behind his back wouldn’t you Haley” I called, shaking JJ’s hand from me. I walked up the stairs and stood next to Aaron, who’d pushed her hands away at this point.

“I would never do that. Aaron, listen to her spinning these lies about me.” She protested.

“Seriously Haley? Come off it. You’re making yourself look like a right twat. We all know you cheated, and we all know your just trying to ruin everything good in Aaron’s life because your bitter that he has a life outside of you. So just accept that he’s moved on and leave.” I said, trying my hardest not to yell at her.

“Honestly.” She scoffed. “At least I didn’t expose his secrets to the whole team. You might want to work on keeping your mouth shut. As well as your legs, it’s not attractive to sleep around the office you know honey.” She shot. It took everything inside of me not to smack the bitch right there.

“First of all, stop with the fucking lies okay. I told Aaron what really happened with that phone call. The fact that you tried to turn my own boyfriend against me purely to satisfy your own crazy, possessive fantasies is the most delusional fucked up thing you could have possibly done. He doesn’t love you anymore. When will you get that into your thick skull” I yelled. Safe to say I’d lost it. Haley just starred back at me, unable to talk. “Nobody wants you here. Grab your shit and get out.” I spat. This seemed to snap her back into reality. She shifted her eyes from me to Aaron.

“You are never going to see Jack again.” She hissed. She turned to walk away but I stepped in front of her.

“What was that?”

“I said he’s never going see jack again. I’m taking him to court and making sure I get full custody. If he’s choosing to side with you, there’s no way in hell I’m letting my son be in his life.” She explained, her tone was viscous.

“On what grounds are you going to take him to court for?” I pressed. This caught her off guard. “No please do tell me. Because as far as I’m aware, you don’t have a leg to stand on. Aaron has done nothing to prove he’s a bad father or should be denied custody. He has a house, a clean background, a stable career – I mean hell, he probably earns more than you. So, think about it, do you really want to kick up a big fuss for something you probably wont even win?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to string a sentence together but her words fell short. “Exactly. Now, Aaron will be picking Jack up later and we will bring him home tomorrow. Now, leave.” I concluded, a satisfied smile on my face. Haley glanced from me to Aaron, dumbfounded, before grabbing her bag and storming out. As soon as she left, I heard clapping coming from down below. I looked down and saw Derek grinning proudly as he applauded me.

“WHOOOH!” He called.

“Look at you go girl” Penelope jeered joining in. Soon enough the whole team were clapping and cheering up at me. I laughed at them, suddenly becoming shy. All Of a Sudden, I felt an arm snake around my waist, turning me around. Before I could process anything, Aaron had cupped my face in his hands and crashed his lips to mine passionately. My head was spinning. As cliché as it sounds, the rest of the world melted away as I allowed myself to get lost in the heat of the kiss. It was laced with nothing but love. Eventually, we pulled away from each other, but he pressed his forehead to mine. He wore a boyish, heart-warming smile on his lips.

“I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you.” He whispered. The sincerity in his voice shocked me.

“I-I love you too. I’m sorry to have caused a scene I just couldn’t stand to see her all over you like that and she was-“ I rambled but he cut me off by placing a finger to my lips.

“Shh. You did nothing wrong. Thank you. For everything.” He replied. I pulled away slightly and grinned up at him.

“Anytime love, anytime.” We starred into each other’s eyes for a moment longer. His arms round my waist, mine around his neck – just basking in our love for each other for a brief moment.

“Um guys, this is cute and all, but could you just get a room or something?” Rossi called, causing us all to laugh.

“Come on.” Aaron said, lacing his fingers in mine. “Let’s go home.” I’d never felt happier than I did it that moment. The moment I knew I’d be with him forever.

[kataraslove]

katara: “do you hear that?”

aang: “sounds like it’s coming from over there...”

for kataang week day 3: post canon @kataang-week​

newly wedded aang and katara (now sporting a cute little bob) were travelling across the world for their honeymoon. on their way to the kingdom of omashu, the two decided to stop and revisit the cave of two lovers. as aang and katara leaned in for a quick kiss by the entrance of the cave, they heard a blood-curling scream come from inside. immediately pulling away, the couple shared a suspicious look with each other before deciding to investigate.

katara cautiously grabbed her pouch as aang drew out a small flame to lead the way. however, the waterbender stopped her husband to remind him that the tunnels were filled with fluorescent crystals that glowed in the dark. 

“oh yeah,” aang recalled. he looked down at the flame dwindling in his palm. “i’ll put it out when we get further in there. if we hear screaming again, we’ll be able to find out where it came from.” 

“you can also use your earth bending this time around.” 

aang nodded. “that i can.” the gentle lines of his face - reserved especially for his wife - quickly switched up to the avatar look, the signature look that he bore whenever there was danger and people in need of his help. 

“let’s go.”

(continued under the cut, 2.4k words)

the broad sunlight of the summer day was reduced to a small crevice against their backs, as the two lovers made their way into the shadows of the labyrinth. their primary light source came from aang’s flame, which had grown brighter the farther they travelled. the avatar could not help but become a little bit mesmerized with the vivid red and orange hues that danced in his left palm, the warmth that occupied his hand having stretched out to his entire body. the flame synchronized so perfectly well with his heartbeat. fire is life, he recalled the words of the sun warrior chief. not just destruction. 

aang nearly chuckled out loud. firebending came so naturally to him now - almost as natural as his airbending. to think that there was ever a time that he had outright hated the element and vowed to never learn it, even if it had meant jeopardizing his avatarhood.

however, a small voice crept to the back of his mind, uncomfortably reminding of the exact reason as to why he initially refused to learn the element at the age of twelve. it was the same reason that brought shame and guilt inside his gut - even eight years later - whenever the memory unexpectedly crossed his mind. what he had done to katara on that day, how he had refused to listen to jeong jeong’s advice and lost control of his fire, the image of her fresh burns - it was all there, forever smeared across his brain and heart as a painful reminder. no matter how many times katara had insisted that good had come from that day through the discovery of her healing abilities, aang could never wash away the trauma associated with that event.

he inhaled sharply. it won’t happen again. he wasn’t twelve anymore, and he had full control over all the elements now. fire was energy, he had learned, and life.

sparing a glance at katara, who had been awfully quiet since they got into the cave, he noticed that his wife was chewing anxiously on her lower lip. the trouble in her beautiful features was easily detectable by the bright flames within his hand. he moved closer to her, his shoulder gently bumping hers in an attempt to comfort her. “you okay?”

she met his eyes, and he could see the hint of fear reflected in them. “aang, i’m worried.”

“you have nothing to be worried about,” aang reassured her with a small smile. “whatever it is, or whoever it is, we can take ‘em.”

katara shook her head. “i’m not worried about the who. we’ve probably dealt with far worse than whatever is lingering in this cave. but i - aang, what if it’s bad?”

he frowned, confused. “what if what’s bad, then?”

she studied her hands carefully. her hands were the hands of a fighter, of a healer. the same hands who had resurrected an avatar back to life and saved a firelord from near death, while dismantling another firelord from the throne. he felt the sudden urge to draw her hands in his own, to hold her tight enough to ease away her fears.

“what if there’s a bunch of dead bodies stashed away in this tunnel, rotting away for days or even weeks?” she answered in alarm, eyes widening at the dark path ahead of them. “or, what if there’s a bunch of people lying around in pain, on the brink of death, and I don’t have enough water to save them all?”

his eyes turned to the road ahead. he saw nothing, except for earth and more earth. but he knew better than to dismiss those kind of fears. 

“that wouldn’t be your fault.” he responded gently. “we’ll do our best to help, to make sure that whoever is out there is safe and unharmed. but if they do happen to be harmed - or worse, dead - and we’ve tried everything that we could,” he shuttered out a breath at the imagery. “i don’t want you to blame yourself for whoever you can’t save, katara.”

“and i don’t want you to blame yourself, aang.” she placed a hand on his shoulder as they walked on. he tried to ignore the immediate sweep of panic churning in his stomach at her proximity to the fire. if he envisioned a future with both katara and firebending, he would have to get used to accepting that she would be around the times when he required the element. 

“i know you feel a sense of responsibility, as the avatar, to ensure that the world is kept safe,” she continued on. her voice softened, a sad tone. “i know it upsets you when it isn’t.”

“wasn’t i the one consoling you just a second ago?” aang joked, deflecting. 

“we’re consoling each other.” katara insisted with a small smile. the corners of her mouth dropped at her next statement: “i know you don’t like to talk about it, aang, the stress and pressure that you feel. but i also know how it keeps you up at night. why you choose to sometimes spend long periods of time meditating.”

just like that, she had flipped the switch on him in the way that only she knew how. katara was undoubtedly right. of course he had seen and experienced his fair amount of injustice and morbidity; they all had. but the guilt of not being able to do anything about it - to know that people all over the world were counting on him to end their suffering and plight and despair, while there were many days when all he could do was sit in lavish cushions arguing endlessly with politicians who could not relate to the earth kingdom boy who had nothing to eat, or to the water tribe girl who had lost her parents, or to the air nomad who was the sole survivor of an entire culture - ate away at his heart and mind at every minute of every hour. even now, when he was supposed to be enjoying his blissful vacation with his wife.

“aang.” he felt katara lightly pull his chin towards her, forcing him to look at her before his mind could wander down the same dangerous road that it had so many days and nights before. she stopped the two in their tracks, the light from his palm illuminating their darkened features.

the fire reflected back in the indigo of her eyes, embodying the energy and intensity and life that was katara, his best friend, his saviour. suddenly, he was transported back to a time during the war, when he had just been a fidgety twelve year-old boy staring up at his fourteen year-old best friend. his heart thumped furiously against his chest the closer he inched to her face. when their lips met, he felt electricity course through his veins and wondered if the warmth that pooled in his stomach was what love felt like. 

as he caught her lips in his own again, this time at the age of twenty, he could confirm - a memoir to his twelve year old self - that the warmth was indeed love. but love was also so much more, he came to realize over the years. love was the cautious hands of a fourteen year-old girl spending weeks at his side, healing him from his coma, sobbing in despair and frustration when he would not wake up. love was the way that he had thrown his arms around her waist, and she around his neck, relief flooding each other’s veins at the knowledge that they were both alive and safe and together after his defeat of ozai and her defeat of azula. love was the way her hand fit so perfectly in his, palm pressed to palm and fingers intertwined, as the two watched the early formations of republic city from their home, vowing to leave a lasting legacy on a world where benders and non-benders of all types could live together in safety and harmony.

love was also the brief kiss in an abandoned cave that said a million more things than he could ever say in words. 

when the two pulled back, he noted the way that her eyes twinkled up at him under the fluorescent light. the crystals shone overhead, leading them down a familiar path, just as how it had done when he was twelve. aang checked his left palm and realized that he had extinguished his flame during the kiss. 

katara’s smile reached her eyes when she grabbed for his hand, pulling him along. “funny,” she said, bemused. “that thing you said when we were kids. guess it held up all these years, didn’t it?”

“what thing?”

“oh, you know,” she replied with a casual shrug, a mischievous glint forming in her eye. “you choosing to kiss me over dying - ”

he groaned. she was never going to let him live that one, was she?

“did i say that?” aang feigned innocence. “i can’t quite recall. maybe what my awkward twelve-year old self had meant to say, instead, was that the thought of not being able to kiss you is just so unbearable that i would rather have chosen death.”

“mmhmmm. sure you had.” a blush slowly crept up her cheeks, betraying her sarcastic tone. success.

“good thing that hasn’t happened yet, though. the not being able to kiss you anymore part.” he paused, adding as an afterthought: “the death part, too, if we’re being honest.”

“don’t speak so soon. what if there’s a serial killer in here?” she hushed him, looking around conspiratorially. 

“you’d rather a serial killer kiss you instead of your own husband? ouch.” 

she smacked his arm. “aang! i’m serious. with the recent bender supremacy uprisings going on in major cities of the earth kingdom, it’s not out of the realm of possibility. what’s stopping a bender supremacist from kidnapping a bunch of non-benders in omashu and dumping their bodies in this cave right now?”

“well, for starters, we would’ve heard by now if that were the case, wouldn’t we have? there’d be rumours, like with what happened with hama. so far, there hasn’t been any reports of mysterious non-bender disappearances in the cities where the uprisings are taking place. definitely not any in omashu.”

a dark look settled across katara’s face at the mention of the estranged bloodbender. “an earth bender supremacist could be dragging bodies from the city and burying them in the rubble of the tunnels. no one would even think to look because the legend says that the cave is cursed.”

aang scratched his head, suddenly very wary about his surroundings. his eyes scanned everywhere around him, from the plethora of crystals that provided them light on top to the solid stone that held the cave in place, trying to spot any semblance of a decomposing body. just as before, he couldn’t detect anything unusual.

while he knew that katara’s suspicions had merit to them, his mind still hesitated over the idea of a bender supremacist trapping people in caves. he would have heard something by now, if that were the case. besides, they were drawing all of these inferences from a scream that he wasn’t even sure came from a human. the high-pitched sound could have belonged to a species of wolfbats, for all they knew. and even if it were to emerge out of a person, who was to say that it was connected to the victim of a bender supremacist murderer? it could have been from a lost and hungry traveler stuck in the cave for days, unsure of their way out. or perhaps it was from someone whose foot was trapped under rubble, screaming out in sheer pain. maybe it even belonged to a villager being chased by an angry spirit.

he walked over to one of the walls, running his hand over the sharp rocks that pricked at his skin. or perhaps, he thought bitterly, gritting his teeth, it was his own refusal to accept that he was failing the world again that led him to dismiss such possibilities. given the political climate, it was entirely possible that bender supremacists were using their bending to hide bodies within the cave. he just wasn’t aware of any of it because it was all taking place underneath his nose, while he remained in blissful ignorance with the women he loved on what was supposed to be his vacation.

aang closed his eyes. he focused on the vibrations emitting from the ground, trying to detect if there was anything that could give him a clue, like a direction to the source of the scream. he was even searching for the large footsteps of badger moles or the fluttering wings of wolfbats. while he was no toph, his earthbending had vastly improved over the years to the point where he had gotten very good at perceiving the world around and underneath him through vibrations. but this time around, he was sensing absolutely nothing. 

well, not entirely nothing. aang noted that some parts of the earth below his hand felt kind of fresh. and quite warm. it didn’t take an earth bender to realize that their texture and temperature were evidently different from the rocks comprising the rest of the cave. this new formation of rock - whatever it was - also felt very familiar to him, almost like he had dealt with this type before. 

his eyes widened in recognition. it was rock that had hardened after the eruption of a volcano. and not just any ordinary eruption; a special kind of eruption that didn’t require any volcano whatsoever.

lavabending.

“hey, katara. would you be able to come over here? i think i found something.”

aang’s words were interrupted by the sudden howl of a blood-curling scream. this time, he had felt the vibrations perfectly through the earth, and spirits did they hurt. he winced in pain, his ears ringing, reflexively removing his hand off the ground.

the screaming did not seem to stop the longer the seconds passed. multiple more emitted from the path ahead in unison, echoing off the chambers of the cave. his heart pounded. there was no denying that the cries had unmistakably belonged to humans. 

katara already had a stream of water out from her pouch. she had sprang into action, pointing in the precise direction that the noise was coming from. 

“this way,” she shouted, running ahead. 

be careful, he couldn’t help think as he trailed after her.

--

this art was adapted from the following comic panel in imbalance part 2:

[jetaime-jespere]

Under The Weather

Some pointless fluff that's been floating around my head for a few days. Also on ao3 🙂

It’s not the usual alarm clock that wakes her this time - the tauntingly peaceful melody that she now associates with being ousted from a dream every morning.

In fact, Emily is hardly awake. Her eyes are still sealed shut, she’s still nestled under the covers because the thought of moving is almost unbearable. Even in her sleep induced haze, the only thing she’s fully aware of is just how shitty she feels, like every part of her body has somehow teamed up against her in unison. What started last night as a subtle headache is now accompanied by a persistent rawness in the back of her throat. The same pain has crept in to settle behind her eyes, and now radiates around her head, like a pair of gnarled hands wrapped and clenched around her brain. But that isn’t the only thing - everything just hurts. Her limbs feel like lead, her throat is now on fire, lips cracked and chapped from the winter air. Her mouth is dry as dust as she grapples for the glass of water Aaron had left on her nightstand hours ago - something he’s done since they moved in together.

Cracking one eye open takes monumentally more effort than it should. The wind rattles against the windows, whistling through the bitterly cold February morning and Emily groans at the prospect of even moving from the safety of their warm bed. A glance at the clock tells her it’s 5:40. Aaron’s side is empty, the sheets cooled, but she can hear the steady pulse of the shower, see the steam curling out from under the door. The cloying pull of sleep is too consuming, the glass of water all but forgotten as Emily groans. The notion of having to get up in less than a half an hour is making her stomach roil in protest.

Instead, she burrows herself deeper into the blankets, wishing somehow this day would somehow restart itself. Her eyelids are too heavy to stay open, even though the looming reality of her alarm hovers over her, along with the daunting challenge of making it through the day. Emily remembers the stack of unfinished case reports left on her desk from yesterday, abandoned in the wake of remembering Ava’s ballet class just a few minutes too late to be early for once. That’s about the time the headache started, subtle enough to temporarily ignore as their daughter happily chattered away in the backseat, little legs kicking against the leather upholstered seat - a story about unicorns and fairies, one Emily could probably retell herself she’s heard it so many times. If only she knew then.

The next thing she’s aware of is Aaron bending down to kiss her awake, fresh from the shower and half dressed in an undershirt, his skin still damp as he murmurs good morning . The whiff of eucalyptus soap and his mouthwash only makes her dizzy as she all but pushes her husband away from her with an ill attempted protest against his affection. “Five more minutes,” she croaks. “S’tired.”

“Sweetheart?” Aaron questions even though he doesn’t have to. He’s no stranger to her indifference to early mornings, the way her arms wind around his neck to pull him close most days when he wakes her with the same kisses, the same sweet nothings in her ear. On the rare occasion when they have more time, he ends up back in bed with her, making the most of a few precious moments. Those mornings are his favorites - the ones where he gets to press her into the mattress, get her leg over his shoulder, seal his mouth against hers to muffle the moans he hasn’t grown tired of hearing even years after he first heard them. But this is different. He figures it out immediately, knuckles brushing against her flaming cheek, skin clammy under his touch.

“Hmmph?” Emily shrugs out from under his touch, the cool hand on her burning forehead a reminder of just how awful she feels. “Five more minutes and I’ll get up.”

Aaron laughs softly, already reaching for his phone on the dresser. “Not a chance.”

“I’ll be fine in a half hour.” It’s a futile attempt; Aaron knows her better than she knows herself by now. Emily doesn’t get sick often, maybe once every few years. But when she does, it hits hard and fast, rendering her inherently useless for a day or two, and they’re all a little thrown off kilter without her. Even though her eyes are closed she can practically see him making arrangements - school dropoff and pickup, soccer practice for Jack, ice skating lessons for Ava. It’s also a Wednesday, the one day a week he spends mostly in meetings as unit chief. It’s the day she picks up more slack around the house, handles the after school activities in addition to her own professional responsibilities. It’s a routine they’ve perfected through trial and error over time.

“You weren’t yourself last night,” he sinks down beside her, his weight dipping the mattress down as he pushes some hair from her face. “You barely touched your dinner. You fell asleep with the light on,” he adds pointedly, pressing his lips to his wife’s forehead for confirmation. “And you definitely have a fever.”

“Do not,” she argues. It’s becoming harder and harder to challenge him, a battle she knows she’ll ultimately lose. There’s no way he’ll let her out the door let alone into the BAU at this point. Despite the sweat that trickles down her back, her teeth chatter together.

Aaron wraps her into his arms, aware of how she melds against his chest as she seeks the warm comfort of his body. “Do too.” His tone is light, which only manages to frustrate her more. “And you’re staying home today. Don’t even try to argue with me.”

Emily attempts to pull away from his embrace. “I have a meeting too, you know. Jack has practice and Ava -”

“Has ice skating. I know, Sweetheart.” Aaron gently pushes her back down, tucking the blankets around her. “I know their schedule. And yours. We’ll manage.” But he’s already reaching for his phone, dialing a number he knows by heart.

“Who are you calling?” She asks weakly, succumbing to his insistence. The sky has lightened to a shade of dark blue instead of inky black, the first traces of the winter morning starting to peek through the curtains.

“I’m texting Garcia. If she can take Ava this afternoon, I can get Jack to soccer after my last meeting.”

Emily grumbles while he taps out a message as she runs through her day ahead. There are her own meetings, of course, a slew of chores around the house waiting when she gets home, all the little things that accumulate during the week without fail, over and over. Aaron can almost read her mind as he gets dressed, disappearing into the depths of their closet to pluck a suit from the rack on his side. “Things won’t implode without you, Em. We can survive one day.”

From her place in bed, Emily watches him dress, securing the sleeves of his dress shirt, the jacket stretching across his broad shoulders over the crisp fabric of his shirt. Some days, she can’t believe they’ve come this far. Seven years of marriage has brought its fair share of ups and downs, most recently an ill-timed miscarriage in the days before Christmas. She hadn’t been too far along - ten weeks - but December 23rd was spent at her doctor, Aaron’s hand wrapped around hers as the news was broken, their eyes glued to the ultrasound screen. They hadn’t been trying at all. It was a surprise neither of them expected, which only seemed to worsen the blow when it abruptly ended. Emily had been the picture of composed, smiling through her grief on Christmas Eve, distracted by Ava and Jack’s excitement, the endless mountain of gifts to smuggle from their closet under the tree, only to spend the early hours of Christmas morning crying in his arms until he rocked her to sleep. She closes her eyes, wills herself not to think of it. It’s still a little too soon.

When he’s fully dressed, traces of cologne lingering in the air, Aaron gathers a box of tissues and fills a glass of water, setting both down next to Emily. “I’ll bring you some toast before I leave. You need to eat something.”

“You need to wake -”

“I’m already -”

“Mommy?” The voice outside the door tells them at least one more Hotchner is already awake. Aaron drops a quick kiss on Emily’s head, frowning when he notes how warm she is. He makes a mental note to bring some ibuprofen with the toast and opens the door just a crack to find their daughter on the other side, fully dressed, not a hair out of place.

“Where’s Mommy?” He’s met with the round, concerned eyes that belong to Ava. Even at six, she could be Emily’s clone, with sleek dark locks and the same pale skin. Ava is precocious, sharp as a tack yet sensitive, hesitant to trust but loyal to a fault. Her arrival in the world had been dramatic, at one point downright terrifying for a few minutes, shoulder dystocia to blame. Aaron had turned ghostly pale as the doctors rattled off medical jargon he’d only ever seen dramatized on primetime television. Yet it was that same efficiency and urgency that ultimately brought their daughter safely into the world a short time later. The moment she was placed in his hands, Aaron was completely smitten, his world forever changed.

“Mommy isn’t feeling well, Ava.” Aaron explains with an abundance of patience, his tone soft and reassuring. In the days after Christmas, following the miscarriage, Ava had been confused when Aaron took Emily’s usual place at the new, massive dollhouse from Santa, doing his best to display the same enthusiasm his wife so effortlessly showed. He’d uttered the same words - Mommy isn't feeling well - when she protested, complaining about his doll handling skills and seeming inability to make their hair look half as good as Emily did. Even though his placations  held an entirely different meaning then, Ava questioned him relentlessly. Telling a version of the truth had been harder than he anticipated, for more reasons that one.

“Is Mommy okay?” Ava asks, persistent as ever.

“She’s fine, honey. Just the flu. Remember when you had it in Kindergarten? You got to stay home while Jack went to school. Mommy and I took turns staying home with you? You got to eat popsicles in bed and watch TV during the day?”

Ava nods, not fully convinced as she tries to poke her head further into their bedroom. “I guess.”

“That’s what Mommy has, honey. Grown-ups get sick too. So Daddy is going to drive you to school. Aunt Penelope is going to take you to ice skating lessons this afternoon.”

Ava squeals with delight at the mention of Garcia, clapping her tiny hands together, only to have the expression melt off her face seconds later. Then she frowns. “But Daddy,” she whispers slowly, her resemblance to Emily and similar mannerisms uncanny, as if profiling him even at the tender age of six. “You don’t know the Good Morning song.”

Aaron checks his watch and pinches the bridge of his nose as he peers into the hallway. Jack’s bedroom door is still firmly closed, indicating his son is most likely still sound asleep. Waking him is the next battle, one of his least favorite tasks as of late. “What song, Ava?” He sighs, not missing the fleeting touch of amusement that crosses Emily’s face from across the room, the softest of laughs. Even in her current state, pale and tired, clearly more than under the weather, Aaron thinks she’s stunning.

“Mommy and I always sing the Good Morning song on the way to school.” Ava folds her arms across her chest, tapping her foot against the floor. “If you don’t know the words -” Her dark eyes double in size, widening impossibly as she stubs her toe with disappointment. “How can you drive me to school?”

“Honey -”

“Mommy knows all the words.”

“Ava - “

“Daddy.” She challenges, sticking her lower lip out in a whiny pout. Aaron knows what’s ahead. Even though Ava has him completely wrapped around her tiny finger, their daughter absolutely adores her mother, never missing an opportunity to steal a few quiet moments together. He often finds Ava curled in Emily’s lap, listening to a story, or playing dress up with some of Emily’s old clothes. Aaron has caught a few misplaced tubes of lipstick hidden in her dress-up box, ones Emily thought she lost long ago. He’s seen the pictures she draws, the way Ava always draws Emily next to her in each one. It tugs on every single one of his heartstrings, every single time.

“Mommy will teach me,” he assures her, crouching down to her level, bringing her to lean on his knee. “Daddy will do his best to know all the words before I take you to school.” He ruffles Ava’s hair as she beams, seemingly appeased by his effort. “Can you be my special helper this morning and wake Jack for me?”

Her face brightens instantly, a mischievous grin spreading across her face at the thought of what she’s being asked to do - something that, most of the time, she’s actively told not to do. “Okay!”

Aaron grimaces slightly as Ava skips off down the hall. There’s a finite window of time until he’s left to deal with Jack’s morning moodiness, exacerbated by his sister’s surprise wakeup call. But it’s worth the few extra minutes he’ll get to spend with his wife. Emily is now fully awake, looking even more miserable than she had moments before.

“You’re on your own for the good morning song,” she rasps sarcastically. Her voice is hoarse, even as she tries to smile. “Couldn’t sing it for you if I tried.”

“I think I’m going to take her for donuts. Those strawberry frosted ones she loves?” He slips back in bed beside Emily, pulling her into his arms once again. “Distraction at its finest.”

“The ones I love,” Emily reminds him, swiping her thumb across his cheek. “Good luck.”

“Right. Hopefully she’ll forget all about it.” Then he remembers just who he’s talking about - a miniature version of the woman he somehow got lucky enough to call his wife, instantly realizing how wrong he is. He’s a goner; he won’t hear the end of this for days.

“I doubt it. But you can give it a try.” Emily snuggles into his chest, savoring their final few minutes of peace.

…

Winter sun streams through the windows, casting the bedroom in a mix of shadows and blinding light.

She isn’t sure how much time has passed - an hour could easily be three, maybe five. Sleep has consumed her, on and off all morning. Yet she’s uncomfortable, alternating between throwing the covers off and disappearing into them, unable to seek enough warmth as she reaches for one more blanket. Everything still hurts, and topped off by a congestion that settles deep in her lungs, rattles her chest with every cough. She almost feels worse now than she did earlier, if that’s even possible.

The house is quiet, so she hears the subtle rumbling of the garage opening, the soft creak of the door leading into the house. Emily smiles to herself - she’d recognize his footsteps anywhere as he makes his way through the living room. He’s undoubtedly picking up wayward shoes and toys along the way, most likely grumbling about the clutter. He’d never admit it (even if she knows it to be true) but it’s one of his favorite tasks. The mess is a reminder of what they’ve built over time, that sometimes things work out just as they were meant to. Even if it means their house will never be spotless.

She pries one eye open as he shoulders through the bedroom door, slipping his suit jacket off to drape over a chair. “You could have stayed at work.” Emily isn’t surprised at all. She knows him sell enough by now.

“I know.” And while Aaron is fully aware of that, there was never a chance he wasn’t going to come home to tend to her. He stayed at the BAU long enough to get things squared away, arranging plans for the kids, and delegating tasks as needed before making a hasty exit. And now, only a few hours later, he’s back. He checks her forehead, refreshes the glass of water on the nightstand and tosses some tissues into the trash. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Emily shifts to make room beside her. “Worse than before, if that’s possible.” She sighs a little when he wraps her into his embrace. Her head falls against his chest on its own accord. “Ava and Jack?”

“Garcia is taking Ava to ice skating. She’s taking her out for ice cream afterward.” He gets a hand in her hair, rocks her back and forth a little bit until she relaxes fully against him. Almost.

“What about dinner?” Emily mumbles, stifling a cough into her fist. It rattles within her chest, reverberating through her ribs. “She needs real dinner, Aaron.”

“I think she’ll live without vegetables for one night, Emily.”

She’s too tired to argue. “Jack?”

“Dave offered to take him to soccer,” Aaron says, patting her back through the last of the coughing fit and grappling for the water glass on the table. “It’s all taken care of.” His hands are soothing, gentle and strong against the sore, stiff muscles. “You sound terrible.”

Emily pointedly ignores him. “What about you?”

“I cleared my schedule for the rest of the day. Tomorrow too,” he adds with a wink, taking her hands in his own when she starts to object. “I’m making it my mission to get you better.” He shows her the package of popsicles he’d stopped for on the way home, tosses the bag away to the floor. “And I got some of these. Just for you.”

The soft laughter that comes from her is accompanied by yet another hacking cough. It’s the little things he does that are the most thoughtful - a pit stop to the grocery store in the middle of a work day is just one example. “Sounds like you have quite the job ahead of you.” But she’s eyeing the popsicles - it’s the first thing that’s sounded appealing all morning.

“You’re not an easy patient,” Aaron chides as he hands her a cherry flavored one, taking a lemon flavored for himself. “One of the worst I’ve ever dealt with, actually.” He flicks her nose lovingly.

“Is that so?” The cool chill of the frozen ice against her lips and throat is a temporary relief, a moment of reprieve. She doesn’t even notice when a little piece of it breaks off to leave a tiny red stain on the sheets. “You’re no picnic yourself, you know.”

It’s his turn to laugh, because she’s right. He’s just as stubborn, the art of rest and healing lost on them both. “I feel called out.”

“It’s because I’m right,” she quips. And she is.

Emily sleeps fitfully in his arms, only waking up once as the sun sets over the trees in the distance. When her eyes drift open, he has the television remote in one hand, the other anchoring her across his chest. “What time is it?” She mumbles, blinking furiously as her eyes adjust to the dim light.

“Close to five.” He kisses her, rocks her a little to wake her up. “You’ve been sleeping for hours.” Aaron sounds almost pleased that she finally got some solid rest. “I’m going to make you some soup. And don’t tell me I don’t have to.” He untangles himself from her, somehow without disturbing her comfort within their bed. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

His fingers brush across her cheek; she’s not as hot to the touch this time. Emily leans into his hand, curling her fingers around his wrist.

“Thank you for coming home.” She hardly sounds any better, certainly doesn’t feel it either. But having him there somehow makes it slightly more bearable, an unexpected silver lining to all of this. And the reverence in his eyes, the same one she sees every time he looks at her, confirms the fact that he’d do it without question. Another example of the unconditional love he’d promised years before when they exchanged vows in Dave’s backyard.

“There’s nowhere else I should be, Sweetheart.”

Four days later, Aaron wakes up with the same aching muscles and raw throat, barely able to keep his eyes open as a new week awaits them. Emily is only more than happy to return his favor.

[thedistrictsleepsalonetonight]

A goddamn blaze in the dark

The first time Emily sees Sue, the first thing she does is drop a cup of steaming hot coffee onto the floor, slip on it and land flat on her back behind the counter. And then she thinks — Oh. Found you.

To be fair, even without the pesky niggling at the back of her head, very helpfully pointing out that this was the girl, her soulmate, the love of her life, her forever and beyond, the sight of Sue would have knocked her down anyways. What else are you supposed to do when a pretty girl, dressed in tweed, with her hair tied up in a braid, walks into the coffee shop where you work with that smile on her face? That damned smile that doesn’t ask you so as much as inform you that you’re going to be haunted by it in your dreams tonight? With 10 am sunlight filtering in through the sides, casting half of her features in sharp, glorious light, Emily might as well have just signed away her breath for eternity.

Lavinia bends, looks her right in her eye from above her. “You’re in love, aren’t you?”

She wants to open her mouth to say something along the lines of – It's her! It’s her! What comes out, however is a garbled groan.

“Emily, buddy,” Austin rollerblades over to her, bends over her from the other side. “You gotta get up before there are complaints of unprofessionalism in the workplace.”

“Oh, because you’re the pinnacle of workplace niceties, I assume,” Lavinia shoots him a contemptuous look. “Only last week, wasn’t it? Those two young ladies in here fighting over who you were going to take to the mixer—”

“Guys,” she manages, before Austin can respond with something equally snarky, or god forbid, lascivious. “Is anyone minding the counter?”

And for exactly thirty seconds, the amount of time it takes Austin to slide over and ask for the orders of the disgruntled customers, and before she stretches out her arm and lets herself get pulled up to her feet, she hears a sweet voice enquire if everything’s quite alright back there. Emily closes her eyes, breathes it in, and wishes, not for the first time that hour, that she had her notepad near her to scribble a snippet of a poem that is now rapidly forming in her head.

*****

It is only sometimes that Sue looks at Emily and thinks that if Emily were to say the word, she would get down on her knees and hand over the entire world to her. Most of the time what she is thinking is goddamn it, Emily.

That’s what is going through her head as they’re kicked out of the lecture of the old man droning on about volcanoes. She can hear Emily giggling from behind her, and though her heart’s beating loud — the result of embarrassment and pure adrenaline — the sound makes her want to turn around and regard the idiot making it. So she does.

They’re alone in the deserted staircase; all the students, she guesses, are probably in that abysmally monotonous lecture. Emily leans against the banister, bent over at the waist from the sheer force of her mirth, and Sue takes it all in — her laugh, her gentle hands clutching at the wooden surface, and those intense, sparkling eyes looking right into hers. The next Goddamn it, Emily isn’t exasperated. It stays right there in her throat, accompanied by other, tender platitudes she’s never been brave enough to let herself say.

You’re beautiful. You make me ache inside.

(At night, Emily would talk to her about pressure, an acute force that demands to be released within her, and unable to help herself, the words — I think I know what a volcano feels like — would bubble up from her lips. And when Emily moves against her, a writhing mass of soft, bundled up wanting, Sue thinks she understands Pompeii a lot better as well; understands being frozen in time, brought to your knees by the sheer majesty of beauty and violence.)

*****

Listen, Emily has never claimed to be an expert on love.

(Austin has, on several occasions. Sauntered into the café, placed his elbow on the counter, and grinned roguishly. “Emily,” he’d started, once. “You know what the”—

“Is it that time of the month again?” Lavinia, who had been mopping up the floor, drawled. “Too much time since your last breakup but not quite enough that you can start going out with another girl and still maintain that image of the soft, sensitive manchild you’ve carefully cultivated. So you’re stuck in that weird limbo of no dates to go on, and subsequently are here to bore us.”

He’d chucked a tissue in her direction, continued smoothly. “As I was saying, do you, my dear Emily know what girls like best?”

“My sunny disposition?” she’d asked.

“No,” he replied flatly. “What girls want is someone who is cool. Indifferent. Somebody who displays absolutely zero interest in them. In fact—”

“That is horseshit,” Lavinia cut in.

Emily faux-gasped, continued leaning the espresso machine.

“Don’t you listen to him, Em. Girls like sweet, sensitive people who express an interest in wanting to get to know them.”

“I am an expert on women.”

“I am a woman!”

Emily half-listened to the sound of their bickering, and wished that she were a cat)

She considers both approaches briefly as she faces the girl, wondering why time hasn’t at least done them the decency of slowing down. It’s only polite, isn’t it, for the universe to cooperate when two eternal lovers meet. Emily has no justification as to why the universe should be so invested in the meeting of her and this woman who she’d decided was her intended, except it just makes sense.

(Intended. The word feels like it bears the weight of a hundred years. Like a woman back in the 19th century was whispering it to another woman she was in love with, as they lay in bed playing with each other’s hands.)

(It fits. She doesn’t care to find out why)

The girl opens her mouth. Emily holds her breath.

“You’ve got foam in your hair.”

The words — “It makes them bounce” — are out of her mouth before she can think. And then she wishes she’d picked up another cup of coffee in her hand so she could drop it on her head again.  

Thankfully, the girl laughs. Rests both her elbows on the counter and assesses the menu above Emily’s head. Emily doesn’t mind the reprieve from eye-contact. There’s something about looking right at this.... angel, for lack of a better word, that makes breathing cumbersome. And yet there’s another part of her that wants to raise her arms above her head and bounce like a little child, all “Hey! Look at me! It’s me!”.

(It’s a very strange day)

“What would you recommend?”

“Me?” Emily startles a little. Turns back to the menu, then back to the girl. Blinks. “That depends on your name.”

“How does my coffee order depend on my name?” the girl sounds amused.

Emily shrugs. “Eh. It’s a process. Can’t give away all my secrets.”

There’s prolonged eye contact, again, before the answer comes. “Sue.”

It rings in her head. Sue. Sue. Sue. There’s no prettier word in the English language. Saying it over and over in her head feels like a prayer. She tells Sue to wait a moment, and then turns to make her a caramel freakshow, all the while acutely aware of eyes on her. Her clothes are drenched in coffee, and she’d picked out the most faded of her t-shirts to wear today. God only knows what she looks like from behind.

The drink is her very best effort, though. Topped with the best slices of fresh fruit, and she’s made the swirls on the cream topping extra carefully. “Coffee for,” she pauses, pushes at the glass gently till it’s on Sue’s side, “Sue.”

“Can I ask what’s in this.... concoction?”

“My hear—” Emily knows she’s turning red, and desperately look away. “Um, coffee?”

Sue fumbles in her bag, and she wrestles with the urge to say — “Nevermind, it’s on me!” — which would not be the wisest. Emily hates the idea of taking money from Sue, that too, for something as measly as a coffee. Probably because she knows that if Sue were only to ask once, she would make her coffee every day, unprompted.

(She cannot reiterate enough – It's a very strange day)

When Sue steps away, Emily feels loss. It’s an unusual nudge to her sternum, a tingle in her hands that wants her to call Sue back. Before she has the time to dwell on it too much, Sue does.

“Do I,” she starts, frowning a little “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Yes.  

Yes.

I can’t explain it but we know each other somehow, the same way artists know their muses, and flowers know their bees, and my hands know how to write poems — and maybe a hundred years ago you and I were neighboring trees in the woods, or two seeds in the same tangerine; I’m pretty sure my knowledge of your existence was probably coded in my blood.

“Do you?”  

Sue seems to consider that for a while before shaking her head, and then walking over to take a seat by the window.

(And if she catches Emily stealing a glance every five minutes, she’s nice enough to not mention it)

*****

The day of her wedding is the happiest day of her life so far, and yet, the wedding has very little to do with it.

It’s a tiny, foolish fact that this is the first smile she sees on Emily after Ben’s tragic death, and yet, it makes her feel unreasonably pleased with herself. If her life were split into days she could see and touch Emily, and dreary days — the former were made significantly better if Emily smiled in them. Not to be dramatic, but the sun shines better, the skies glow prettier, and the ground is a little easier to run on.

Emily points out somewhere in the middle of their frolicking, for back of a better word, in the woods, that her dress is getting ruined. And then flings a flower onto her face. Goddamn it, Emily, she says, and then is struck dumb by the sound of her loud, exuberant laugh.

(And even quieter still when she holds the magnifying glass over the tiny piece of paper Emily had handed her earlier, the words washing over her like some tidal wave, drowning her in emotions too terrifying to admit. I held her hand the tighter, she reads and she smiles; Still in her Eye, the Violets lie, she reads and punctuates with a deep breath and when she reaches the end, the Sue – Forevermore, she’s aware of an awful keening in her throat, of the sob waiting to make its way out. Emily, Emily, her heart sings, and she is sure it will never shut up again)

She thinks of Emily the whole time, through the vows and the subsequent cheers, as they make their way into the house; thinks of her when Austin holds her tight and tells her that he loves her. A quiet voice, the sound of her guilt crawls up from inside her to tell him that she loves him too. She may be his in name, but her heart isn’t hers to give away anymore.

*****

Seven. That’s how many days she steals glances at Sue in the library before they talk again.

Monday, 9 am: The librarian’s just gotten started with her morning coffee, which means that Emily can sneak her own breakfast past her bleary eyes without being detected. She gets the books that she wants off the shelf, makes her way to her usual chair at the very back of the room and settles in. Her bag gets hooked to her chair by the straps, the tiny diary, her faithful companion, finds a place beside the humongous book, and the coffee sits next to her breakfast burrito. After the entire process is done, she stretches her legs, leans back, looks up and freezes.

Sue is seated on a nearby desk, staring at her.

Emily looks away, on reflex. Her heartrate’s up, and her palms suddenly feel clammy. She takes a deep breath, takes in the floor, and tells herself she’s seeing things. Surely, there’s no way the girl of her dreams also goes to her college and it absolutely isn’t possible that she’s sitting in front of her, in the flesh. She readies herself, looks again.

Sue’s still looking at her, now amused as well.

Well. There go her studies.

Tuesday, 8:50 am: Her plan is foolproof. There is no way she will be caught off guard again. She will be first to the library this time, and she will be prepared when Sue walks in, ready to impress her with her overall charm and chill-ness. There will — not — be a repeat of yesterday when she’d spent the better part of two hours hyperventilating, stealing secret looks or straight up going red every time Sue caught her eye and smiled at her.

The librarian hasn’t even started eating yet. Her head’s resting on the desk, and her eyes are tiny slits, when Emily runs in, makes her way to her own seat. Sue’s seat is empty, thankfully.

(Emily totally does not punch the air in celebration, startling a few other sleepy students)

She stretches out her arms, places them behind her head and waits.

And then jumps about a feet in the air when a hand brushes her shoulder.

There are multiple things happening all at once — the gentle hand resting on her shoulder for a moment, a hand whose warmth she instinctively recognizes as being a familiar one, despite never having felt it before (she knows it’s her. There’s no other option. Nothing else could make the skin at the back of her neck prickle in anticipation), a faint, teasing whisper of “I thought we weren’t allowed to eat in here”, and the realization that her plan has woefully failed.

(Why, then, does she feel so happy about it?)

Sue passes by, turning back once to shoot her a quick grin, and then settles into her usual chair, opening the book already present on the desk in front of her.

Emily’s jaw stays on the floor. The state of her heart stays up in the air.

Wednesday, 9:00 am: Sue opens the note Emily’s just chucked her, reads it, and smirks.

Emily waits. It had been an impetuous decision to scribble “Waffle?” onto a scrap of paper she’d torn out of her notebook, when Sue had looked at her earlier, but it’s alright. These are matters of the heart, and matters of the heart require at least 25 percent an attitude of ‘Ah, fuck it’, another 25 percent of run-of-the-mill stupidity, and 45 percent the ability to laugh at your own shenanigans.

Oh, and about 6 percent bad math.

She catches the crumpled-up note that comes sailing through the air in return and opens it up. “I was taught not to accept food from strangers”, is written in beautiful cursive, along with a smiley face.

(A smiley face. A smiley face!)

Thursday, 9:10 am: She writes — “You know, I am named after one of the best American poets, and your name coincides with the name of her ultimate love and muse. Some would say we’ve known each other a long time” — and slides it over to Sue, heart in her throat.

Twenty seconds later, the sound of Sue’s clear laughter rings out in the otherwise quiet place, and Emily is so enchanted she nearly falls off her chair.

(She hands off half of the breakfast burrito to Sue when she passes by to grab another book, and Sue’s grateful smile just about makes her day)

Friday, 9:00 am: The book she usually grabs to pore over is already sitting on the desk in front of her usual chair. After Emily’s done waving hi to Sue, and has settled down, she notices the tiny flap of paper poking out of the first page. Tucked in the corner is a tiny note.

“As an English major, this is your game, isn’t it? Using words to impress people? :P”

It doesn’t take her long to compose a reply.  

“First of all, how dare you? Second, is it working?”

Sue covers her face with her hands when she opens it. Emily counts it as a win.

Saturday, 8:50 am: The poor boy who has been sitting in the next row all week finally loses it after they’ve exchanged their fifteenth et of notes for the day.

“Can you people, like, just text like the rest of us, for fuck’s sake?”

When the rest of the people surrounding them nod in agreement, Emily sinks into her chair, catches Sue’s equally embarrassed gaze from across the room, and resists the urge to laugh like an idiot.

Sunday, 10 am: The morning’s been hell.

Austin had been panicking about some test he had on Monday, and so she’d come in to help out at the café, early morning. Between quizzing him on his flashcards and making sure every customer had a full cup in front of them, Emily completely lost track of time until Lavinia dragged her apron off her.

“What?” she’d asked, bewildered.

The clock was pointed out to her.

(No, she does not leave an outline of her body behind when she dashes out of the café. There is, however, a mad moment when she’s pretty sure her legs are scrambling with her body still at rest. It is pretty comical nonetheless)

From the entrance she sees a couple of things on her desk, and is a little miffed. Clearly, somebody else has claimed this prime spot with a vantage point from where she could stare at the most interesting woman in the world all day. And yet, she approaches it, because the chair is empty.

The book catches her eye first. It’s a copy of Hope is the thing with feathers by her namesake, and it’s got a note with a familiar handwriting peeking out of the top. She reads, delighted, a haiku about fruit and tenderness that’s been scribbled on it. And then she gets to what’s lying next to the book — what seems to be a sandwich, wrapped carefully in foil. She touches it. It’s cold, as though it’s been waiting there a while.

The smile on her face is definitely a permanent fixture now, she decides, as she walks over to where Sue is sitting and pretending to not look over. Her heart’s tripping over with delight, with gratitude with something tender that she’s absolutely sure she hasn’t felt before. Hope is the thing with feathers, indeed and it is perched in her soul. She pulls out the chair next to hers, and sits down.

“Thank you,” she says, quietly, and swears to god she can hear the entire table go Fucking finally — before Sue shoots her a small smile.

*****

“Only you would show up at a party looking like a raccoon,” she tells Emily, exasperated.

(And enamored. And besotted. Emily makes an adorable raccoon)

“I’m not here for the party — I’m here for you,” Emily shoots back, defiant. “As long as I can still see, I wanna look at you.”

And oh, there it is. There’s the Emily she knows, saying words that slide into her chest as easily as their hands go together. Words are Emily’s deadliest weapons, and she wields them to inflict sheer havoc.

Isn’t that just it, though? Emily has no idea. No idea what it does to her to have her this close — with their foreheads pressed to each other’s, their noses a whisper away, with Emily surrounding her, taking every one of her senses and carving her name on them. Sue feels a hand on her hair, then on her cheek, and knows she’s this close to losing any bit of self-control she might have had.

She steps away, composes herself, and thinks, Shakespeare was right. Parting is such sweet sorrow.

*****

“You might as well have ditched us,” Lavinia grumps.

“What?” Emily blinks, momentarily distracted from whatever text she was in the middle of shooting off to Sue. “Oh.”

“Not cool, dude,” Austin chimes in from the other side. They’re smushed into the couch together, planted in front of the screen where some 80s movie is on. It’s a weekend, which means movie nights filled with chicken wings and some dreadful drink that Austin’s invented that he calls the Faustinator, because.... reasons, apparently. And Emily’s just now realizing that she has no idea what the movie even is because she’s spent most of her time texting Sue. “You’re texting your sweetheart lameass cringy shit.”

“How do you know what I’m texti— Austin, stop reading over my shoulder!”

(She conveniently ignores the sweetheart thing. It’s easier than the alternative, which would be to dwell too much on the possibility of Sue being her sweetheart, and Emily being Sue’s and oh — she can feel herself smiling again.)

“Believe me, it isn’t easy on me,” he snarks. “Two months of talking our heads off about Sue, Sue, Sue and free drinks for Sue, Sue, Sue and pining over—”

“It has not been that long!”

“Lavinia?” he asks.

“Two months, two weeks and four days,” Lavinia tells her, flatly. “That’s how long we’ve had to hear about how you know her and that you’re convinced she is the love of your life.”

“I do.... know her,” she trails off, uncertain. It’s one matter to think it and feel it, like she’s felt the absurd familiarity in her bones every time she hears Sue’s voice, or Sue touches her skin, and sets it on fire. Another matter entirely to set about explaining it. Plus, other, unrelated things, like how reading Emily Dickinson’s poems feel like a friendly little nudge someone’s giving her, an inside joke, or why sometimes she feels so, so much that she would burst if she didn’t write that very moment.

“She walks you to class most days from the library.”

“And she’s been coming to the café every other day, and listening to you rant about random things,” Austin chimes in.

“Didn’t she write Emily a couple of poems as well?”

“Hey, that’s,” she starts, pauses, smiles. “Yeah. I, uh, told her nobody had ever written me anything before, and she — she’s really sweet.”

“Honey,” Lavinia says, gently, “the woman’s in love with you.”

“Oh-kay!” Emily jumps up from the couch and announces her intention to get more popcorn. And the pokes her head out from around the corner, and asks, in the tiniest voice.

“Really?”

Two chips come flying in her direction, and then they can’t stop laughing.

*****

There’s a kind of truth in the life she lives when she’s alone; no one to defer to, no one to explain to why she doesn’t want children or why, even after a couple of months of a blissful wedlock with Amherst’s most eligible ex-bachelor, the smile slides off her face as easily as the fruit punch in her parties off the plates. And then there’s the second kind that has to be dragged out of her — with heaving breath and shaking hands and salt dripped out of her eyes. Honesty that scalds and tears up her inside as it makes its way out of her.

(It’s a particular bit of irony in the fact that Emily is both the cause, and the only one who ever gets to witness the fallout, of the second one)

“Emily, I love you.” she says, like Emily’s put her arms down her throat and is ripping the words out of her. “I love you, and, and I felt you in the library — because you’re always with me.”

There’s a moment of complete, utter silence, when she stares at Emily and Emily stares back at her and the space between them is filled with the distance of lies and fury — and then they crash together. It’s an impossible push and pull, and Sue feels, for the first time in weeks, this complete surrender, abandon of all inhibition. Love tastes like Emily, and it feels like drowning and sounds like the tiny noise Emily makes when they part, like she can’t stand to be away even a second longer. All of what she knows about love is Emily.

If Sue could write, this is what she’d put down on paper: the feel of Emily’s neck beneath her hand, the way she melts when Sue wraps an arm around her. This yearning to be closer, the hunger to consume and the reluctance towards stopping. She wants, so badly to do Emily the same honor of immortalizing her in the form of words — she deserves it. The world deserves to know how she felt about this.... miracle, this angel in her arms. More than anything else, Emily deserves to know how Sue feels about her.

She turns to her side, kisses Emily’s hand once, twice. “I will never let go of you again.”

*****

Life is an endless sea of pain.

“Emily, she’s just a girl,” Austin tells her, then immediately flinches as Lavinia whacks him on the head.

Emily wipes away the moisture from her face with the sleeve of her favorite oversized hoodie, sniffles, and sticks her spoon in the tub of ice-cream again.

“Not to pry,” Lavinia starts, hesitantly, “but we still have no idea what happened. You came running into my room a week ago and haven’t stopped crying since. I guess — I guess we just want to know what’s up.”

Emily sighs. “It’s Sue.”

Austin blinks at her. “Yeah I — I mean, we know that.”

She thinks back to Sunday morning when she’d come upon her favorite restaurant while out on a run. The sight of Sue, sitting there with some.... dude. It was a cozy booth, and the way the guy seemed to be smiling in Sue’s direction couldn’t be construed as anything but romantic.  

“A date?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re telling us this is because you thought Sue was on a date?”

What wasn’t clicking? “Sue was on a date. There were flowers on the table and everything.”

“And that’s why you haven’t been returning her calls or texts? And have expressly forbidden us to tell her where you are when she comes into the café, like, everyday?”

Emily shifts. “Yes?”

Lavinia whacks her on the head.  

“Ow,” Emily groans. “What’s with all the violence?”

“Oh, stop it, you big baby. Now,” she took a deep breath, and Emily knew instinctively a huge lecture was incoming, “let’s examine the facts, shall we?”

“Is there any point in refus—”

“No. So, you like this girl, and it seems like she likes you too. But you refuse to do anything about it, like, you know, maybe admitting it to her. Then, you come upon her having lunch with some random dude and you assume it’s a date, and then freak out about it and cut her off.”

“But I’m pretty sure it was a date!”

“Fine! Okay! It was a date! So what? You expect her to hang around waiting for you to get your shit together, what, forever? And what if she doesn’t like you, god, Emily! I—”

“Okay, okay, wait!” she cuts in, holds up a hand to gather her thoughts. “I — I get what you’re saying, okay? I really do.”

“I know I have no right to be angry. She doesn’t owe me anything — I just. I dunno. I thought we had something. But even if that wasn’t the case,” she scrambles to add, “I guess I’m just taking pre-emptive action. To not get hurt. I can’t stick around and watch her fall in love with someone else, okay? I just. I can’t.”

Austin pats her on the back, and she sinks into his arm. This, of all things, is true. There are a multitude of things in life she has had to bear, and that she has borne, but this — watching Sue slowly fall in love with someone else, would be unbearable.  

She has another spoonful of ice cream. “I’m being an asshole, aren’t I?”

“A little bit, yeah,” Lavinia agrees. “But give yourself a break — you’re in love. It turns everyone a little bonkers.”

“It’s fucked.”

“No!” Austin and Lavinia tell her, together, before Lavinia continues, “Listen, I think you should talk to Sue.”

“Pretty sure she hates me now.”

“If she does, then go and face it. Honestly, though, I think you owe it to her, and also to yourself, to explain your side of things.”

“I’d literally rather die.”

“Then go do your dying in the fucking library. It’s almost ten, anyways.”

*****

She can still feel Emily’s teeth on her collarbone, can still wrap an arm around herself and trace the marks Emily’s fingers have left on her, when Sue announces that she’s trying to write a poem.

Emily throws off the sheets from her body, and turns so their heads are close. Sue’s sitting at the end of the bed, wrapped in sheets herself, eyes closed. She opens them when Emily’s nose nudges against her cheek.

“You are?” she asks, hand already playing with Sue’s hair, and Sue nods. “What’s it about?”

Sue cannot stop herself rolling her eyes. “Guess.”

“Is it,” Emily asks, teasingly, “about me?”

“Maybe.”

There’s a delighted gasp from her paramour, and she can feel a small kiss pressed to her temple. “I want to read it.”

“Only when it’s done.”

“And when will it be done?”

She turns to look right at Emily now. “I’m not sure it ever will.”

When Emily kisses her — every time Emily kisses her, Sue adds a line to the poem in her head. She’s running out of words to express joy, passion and beauty, at this point.

“The romance of it all,” Emily remarks, pretending to swoon. “This way I will live on through your words as well, after I die.”

Sue frowns, feels her lips automatically pull down at the corners. “No talking about death.”

“But we will die, darling,” Emily explains, patiently. “I can only hope that I die first.”

“How — how dare you?” she asks, indignant. “I’m going to try my very best to be the one to go.”

(That one spurs an argument that goes on four rounds before either of the participants admit defeat)

“How about,” Emily starts, ponderously. “Whoever dies first comes back around the next time and finds the other?”

Sue can’t stop the smile. The thought is so whimsical, it drives their previous non-argument right out of her head.

“You think we’ll come back someday, years after our deaths?”

“Try and stop me,” Emily declares, fondly. “Susan Gilbert, I will always — always find you.”

Sue closes her eyes, feels Emily’s lips ghost over her cheek and tries to imagine the thought of the two of them, years from now, sitting side by side, hand in hand. Breathes deeply to stop the sudden onslaught of tears the image evokes.

“My foolish sweetheart,” she says, after she’s composed herself. “I love you.”

This is what she’ll put in words — Emily next to her, head tilted downwards, turned towards her. In about a minute, she’ll start complaining of the blood rushing to her brain, and Sue, exasperated, will tell her to sit straight. She’ll write about the light that falls on the edge of Emily’s nose, the one crooked tooth all the way in the corner, the tiny scar on her brow. About the way their hands lock into each other’s, how there’s a space on her neck made perfectly in the mould of Emily’s head — two girls, sitting next to each other, together into an eternity, and beyond.

*****

The first time Emily sees Sue after a week-long absence, she’s just run into the library and crashed into a nearby bench, thus bringing down a student, two books, and herself. She gets up almost immediately, sees Sue staring at the sight of her, wide-eyed, and thinks — Oh. Found you.

There’s an empty seat next to Sue, and on the desk lies an apple. Emily approaches her, and touches the back of her shoulder lightly.

“Can I sit here?” she asks.

“I don’t know.” Sue answers, not looking at her. “Can you?”

Emily has to bite at her lip to keep in the wild laughter that threatens to erupt. It’s not just the quip, either. It’s Sue — seeing her after these many days of zero contact feels like a drug, and she breathes it in, greedily. She pulls the chair out, and sits down on it.

“So,” she starts, then trails off.

“So,” Sue mimics, not unkindly.

“It may have been brought to my attention that I’ve been a bit of an idiot.”

“Only a bit?” Sue raises an eyebrow, leans back where she’s sitting.

Well. “More than a bit,” she amends. “I’ve been an idiot. A dumbass. An utter fool. A rake. A rogue of the highest order.”

Sue tells her she agrees. Then — “You wanna tell me why?”

“I saw you and, um, some guy. On your date that day over at the Plantain Leaf?”

Sue stares. For the longest time. “You ghosted me for a week because you saw me out to lunch with a guy? Emily that is so—”

“I know!” she says, then gets shushed by the people sitting around them. She consciously lowers her voice when she speaks next. “I know, Sue. I was being an asshole, I just — felt complicated about.... things.”

“Things?”

“Yeah. Like — feelings. And stuff.”

She sees Sue stifle a smile, and feels a little bit of life come back into her hands.

“What about your feelings?”

“Well,” Emily says, pauses, then comes out with a masterpiece of an explanation, “I have them.”  

Then covers her face with her hands, because why? It hasn’t even been ten minutes, and she’s already started messing things up.

“I mean — I have feelings. For you.”

She chances a look up at Sue, after a minute of that incredibly earth-shattering revelation, and stays held in place by the intensity of her gaze. Sue’s eyes are soft, large, and Emily wants to do something stupid, like bury her face in her hands again.

“You do?” Sue asks her, in the tiniest voice possible. Like she can’t believe it. Like Emily has done an awful job of wearing her whole heart out on her sleeve the past couple of months.

“Yeah,” she replies, and finds her voice is equally tiny. “Good ones.” The kind that have me convinced we knew each other a couple decades ago, that I have heard your voice in my dreams all my life, that I’ve been waiting for you for turn a corner and walk into my life this whole while. And if not this time, I’ll wait a couple decades more for you to love me back. “And it’s okay if you’re dating that guy, I just — I thought you should know. That’s all.”

Sue lets out a shuddering breath. “I’m not dating Sam.”

Oh.

So turns out Emily had been holding her breath.

Ants are crawling all over her body. To combat them, Emily picks up the object nearest to her, which happens to be the apple.

“Is that for me?”

Sue nods. “You owe me the six sandwiches I got you this entire week,” she adds, teasingly.

Elation fills Emily until she imagines she’s probably floating a few inches above the ground, buoyed by this tiny admission of caring on Sue’s part. Whoever had said all those things about love had been right. It really was.... something different altogether.

“You’re telling me you sat here and read Emily Dickinson all week, waiting for a girl to show up?”

A light blush lights up Sue, and she leans forward a little bit. “Not just a girl,” she tells her, seriously. “I waited for Emily, who was named after this poet whose work I’ve really come to like. Emily, who I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with.”

Oh dear God.

They’re closer together now, their heads almost touching; Emily imagines them in a world of their own, separate from the rest of this library. She pretends to scoff.

“What? You don’t think a lot of Emily?”

“I think I can write better,” she declares.

“You think you can—” Sue starts, then lets out a laugh. “Emily, shut up.”

And then they’re suddenly kissing, and each and every cell in Emily gathers somewhere near her chest to rejoice together, every beat of her heart falls and arranges in the shape of a song, and time just kind of. Slows down. Pauses. Stops.

Emily thinks she knows what a volcano feels like, now. When she’ll go home, later, she’ll sit at her writing desk, pen down a poem about lovers and hands and two women sitting with their heads close together; maybe put in a fruit or two. And tiny pieces will come together in her head, just like the ones in her chest that crumble every time Sue looks at her.  

But right now, she closes her eyes, feels poetry on her lips, and it is good enough.

[lost-in-fanfic]

The Woman - Thomas Shelby x reader (Part 4)

A/N: Here is Part 4, I hope you enjoy. I just want to say thank you for the kind messages, comments and the likes i have received for the series so far. They mean so much. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. Not my Gif and please don’t post my work on other websites. 

Warnings: Strong Violence and swearing

A brief summary: Y/N is heading home to London and is doing her best to put Birmingham and Tommy out of her mind. Tommy on the other hand is determined to track her down.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 

Word Count:  1939

Tommy leaned against the wall of the warehouse, casually smoking, staring coldly at the two Ricci brothers sat in front of him.  The Ricci’s were small time criminals compared to the notoriety of the Peaky Blinder’s and when they had realised that Tommy would be out for revenge for trying have him killed, they had been quick to try and flee. Not quick enough though, a couple of Peaky boys had brought them to an empty warehouse where the Shelby brothers had been waiting. The two men were already bloody from the punches they had taken on the way here, but they both did their best to hold their nerve under the three pairs of dangerous eyes looking at them.

“You cowardly fuckers put out a hit on my brother.” Arthur said, his voice dripping with menace. He slowly circled the Ricci’s, like a lion evaluating its pray, waiting for Tommy to give him the order to pounce. “Don’t even have the balls to try and take us on yourselves.” John spat in the face of the younger of the two, although both men were considerably older than he was. “Maybe we should take off what balls they have got? Clearly don’t know how to use them.” Arthur moved in front of the older brother, holding his cap in his hand, bending the peak of it back to show of the razor blades sewn inside. “Bastardo!” the man shouted. In less time than it takes to blink Arthurs fist smashed into the side of his head knocking him off the chair on to the floor. He covered his head as Arthur kicked him repeatedly. “Who. Said. You. Could. Fucking. Speak!” He shouted between kicks. John had started punching the younger brother, who had tried to make a move when Arthur had thrown the first punch. Tommy dropped his cigarette, stepping on it to put it out, he slowly walked over to his brothers who were mercilessly beating the men in front of them. “That’s enough.” Tommy’s voice was deep and calm, despite the scene in front of him, instantly halting his brother’s onslaught.

The older of the men simply laid on the floor moaning quietly, his brother pushed himself up and spat out a mouthful of blood which landed straight on John’s shoes. Tommy’s hand grabbed John’s arm as he moved forward, questions needed to be answered, meaning one of the Ricci’s had to still be able to speak. “Now, tell me” Tommy began, taking one of the chairs and sitting in front of the man knelt before him. “how did you contact the person you hired to kill me?” Tommy was leaning into the mans face. “Why should I tell you anything?” Ricci asked, “will you just let us go if I tell you?” Arthur let out a cold laugh, John smiled while chewing on a toothpick and Tommy leaned even closer. “You tried to have me killed Mr Ricci, if I let you go what sort of example would that set?” Tommy’s voice was so steady and relaxed he could easily have been discussing a small business deal, not the fates of the two men in front of him. “But I’ll tell you what, you tell me what I want to know, and Arthur and John here won’t go to pay your family a visit.” Leaning back in his chair Tommy took out his pocket watch and examined it, before letting his eyes lift to meet the wide eyed, panicked man before him. “They will be about halfway to the house you sent them to now wont they. You see Mr Ricci, the taxi driver is on our payroll, so I know the exact address they will be staying at.” Tommy couldn’t help but relish in the look of realisation dawning over Ricci’s face, it was the look of a man who knew he had been cornered and had no way out.

“Fine. There is an address in London, you tie a red ribbon around the metal railings there. You must write your name on it, with the address of where you are staying, then you will be contacted.” Mr Ricci’s eyes were down to the floor in defeat, his brother was still whimpering on the floor next to him, but he could feel the icy daggers of Tommy Shelby’s eyes piercing his flesh. Tommy held out a piece of paper and a pen, “Write it down.” He ordered, watching as the address was noted and the paper handed back to him. “Good.” Tommy said simply, standing up and putting the paper carefully in his pocket, he waved his hand and in a flash Arthur and John brought down their caps and took the eyes of both Ricci brothers. Turning and walking out he barely registered the dying cry’s behind him, to wrapped up in the excitement of being one step closer to Y/N.

Tommy inhaled on his cigarette, a victorious smile played across his lips, it was remarkably bright compared to the dingy warehouse.  He stood their basking in the afternoon sun and in his triumph as Arthur and John came out to join him. “Get rid of ‘em.” Arthur said to the two Blinders who had been waiting on orders. “What next Tom?” John asked, his blood pumping with adrenaline and excitement. Tommy looked at his brothers, seeing the love they had for this life dancing in their wild eyes. “I’m going to London. Alone.” He added quickly as Arthur went to speak. “I’ll drive down from here and stay with Ada and Freddie tonight, they aren’t far from this address.” Tommy patted the pocket where he had safely stored the paper. “Ring Ada for me John, let her know I’m coming, and ask her to go out and buy me a bit of red ribbon.” Tommy flicked the ash from his cigarette and began to walk away. “What about me Tom?” Arthur called after him. “Do whatever you want Arthur.” Tommy called back over his shoulder, he was too excited to stop, he hadn’t felt this exhilarated in what felt to him like a lifetime.

Y/N looked out of the train window at the passing countryside, she was now far from the dirt and smoke of Birmingham and was enjoying the bright colours and clear skies before the inevitable return to dirt and smoke that awaited her in London. She knew that each mile being put between her and Tommy should make her feel calmer, but instead she had an overwhelming desire to get off this train at the next station and go straight back to Birmingham. Being near to Tommy had been like standing at the very edge of a cliff looking out at the most beautiful view she had ever seen and even though she knew the ground could fall from beneath her feet at any second, there was still a voice in her head telling her to jump over and into the sea below. Y/N spent the rest of the journey having a fierce internal battle, half of her was committed to forgetting Thomas Shelby even existed and thinking it ridiculous that he had any effect on her at all in such a short amount of time. The other half of her was able to offer no coherent argument or firm reasoning but instead longed desperately to be back under the gaze of his eyes.

When she got off the train in London it was already nearing dinner time and hunger had overtaken all other emotions. Y/N moved quickly through the busy London streets, listening to the calls of the stallholders who were trying to sell at least one last thing before packing up for the night, and after stopping briefly to grab some bits for dinner she was finally home. She lived on the middle floor of a shared tenement house, it wasn’t much and with her savings she could certainly afford more, but this was the world she felt comfortable in. The back door was just for her use, it meant she could come and go without drawing attention and the neighbours were less likely to notice if she were away for days at a time. Y/N tried not to get to attached to people or places, but this was the house she had lived in the longest, and despite her best efforts she had grown to care for some, if not all, of her neighbours. The family upstairs consisted of a father, who was either at work or drinking his wages at the pub, a mother who gambled away what little money made it home and their four children. Most of the food on their table was thanks to the money the older children earned running errands for Y/N. She never asked anything dangerous of them, but she paid them good money to keep a look out for red ribbons tied to a gate three streets away. Downstairs, there was a nice couple with a young baby who mostly kept to themselves, Y/N wasn’t even sure of their names, but still the wife was pleasant enough speak to when their paths crossed.

After unpacking and having a quick dinner Y/N was ready for bed, it wasn’t particularly late, but the events of the past few days had taken their toll, she was just about to change for bed when someone knocked at her door. Y/N grabbed a knife and made her way downstairs, she didn’t get visitors and it was to late to be one of the children from upstairs. Slowly she opened the door revealing the face of the woman from downstairs. “Oh, good evening, everything alright?” Y/N asked, carefully keeping the knife hidden behind the door as she held it open. “Yeah, I’m sorry to bother you, it’s just I was wondering if you had a bit of ribbon going spare?” The woman was young and had thick Birmingham accent that Y/N had never taken much notice of before. “Ribbon.” It was the only word Y/N could manage, it was more of a statement then a question and she was trying hard not to panic. “Yeah,” her neighbour continued “red if you’ve got it. My bloody brother has invited himself down and wants me to get him some ribbon. God knows why he wants it and why it has to be red, but I left it to late to get the shop. Karl hasn’t been very well today, so I had to wait for my Freddie to get home and watch him. You don’t look to well yourself.” Y/N had been frozen as she listened, a cold sweat beginning to form on her brow. “No. I haven’t.” again she had to fight with herself to get words to come out “Night.” She muttered as she pushed the door shut. Y/N felt her legs begin to wobble beneath her, so she sunk to the floor, listening to the footsteps moving away on the other side of the door.

“Fuck.” Y/N whispered, holding her head in her hands. How could she have been so stupid? Why had she never bothered to remember what her neighbours name was? She had done her research in Birmingham and knew that the Shelby brothers had a sister named Ada who had moved to London, but when she learned that the sister was nowhere near, she hadn’t looked any further into her. Y/N had thought her irrelevant to her job. If she had dug a bit deeper in Birmingham, if she had gotten to know her neighbour better, she would have realised sooner than this, that Ada Shelby lived downstairs from her. “Fuck!”

@comebackjessica​ @nemesis729​ @spacenijntje​ @hinagiku0​ @fruitloopzzz​ 

[navegandoaciegas]

Cotton candy: sharing is caring

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Sugar Daddy AU)

Warnings: smut, explicit language, age gap, voyeurism, exhibitionism, Steve x Sam, double penetration, oral, anal and vaginal sex, face sitting, rimming, hair pulling, dirty talk, mentions of choking, unprotected sex with multiple partners (pls don’t do that, use protection always!!!), creampie. Reader calls Bucky “daddy” but there’s no actual daddy kink. Also fuzzy feelings and soft!Bucky. 18+

Summary: Whatever his princess desires, he always makes sure she gets it. Especially if what she wants are Sam and Steve.

A/N: english is my third language so forgive any mistakes. Also, do we like the moodboard?

Getting paid to spend time with a man wasn’t how you pictured your post grad life, yet here you are, feet dangling out of James’ yacht, the artificial lights of Monte Carlo’s skyscrapers reflecting in the waters beneath you.

Richness suits you, Wanda always tells you, and you thank her everyday for introducing you to the world of sugar babies. James is handsome, and sweet, and in the moments of clarity when you put your fears aside, you know you’d be with him even if he wasn’t paying you to. 

Your new lavish lifestyle is easy to get accustomed to: James has more money than he knows what to do with, and you’re the one he likes to spend it on. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to go back to packaged ramen and cheap mac’n’cheese, not after tasting 300 dollars steaks, anyways. The gruelling shifts at the diner you worked at to pay your students loans are a distant (and unpleasant) memory, now that he’s paid all the debts off. 

Anything for my babygirl, it’s what he always tells you, and so far he’s kept his promise.

You know he’d give you the world if you asked for it, you see it in the way he looks at you like you’ve hung the moon and stars, in the way he clings to you after a nightmare and you, only you, always you, can ground him back to reality.

The sea is too cold at night for you to dive in, so you opt for a quick dip in the warm waters of the pool in the cockpit instead. 

You hum softly, towel in hand, as you pad barefoot across the deck, content with the gentle sway of the waves and the bright lights of the pier. As you’re about to reach the pool, you stop dead in your tracks behind the corner when the sound of barely suppressed moans reaches your ears. You know you shouldn’t, but you peek your head anyways.

You swallow hard, feeling heat pool in your core at the sight of Steve and Sam, James’ friends, sharing a heated kiss. Drops of water dripping from his long blonde hair to the hard planes of his abs, Steve looks like you’d imagine Poseidon himself would. Sam’s hands roam all over his body, feet dangling in the pool, flexing the powerful muscles of his thick thighs, his skin glistening in the soft moonlight.

You should tear your eyes away from them, turn back and walk away, but you’re rooted on the spot, each of their sounds shooting straight to your cunt. 

“You can have them, if you want.” a voice startles you, “I know they want you, they’ve told me.” 

You almost jump out of your skin, so focused on the men before you haven’t heard James approach you.

His hot breath sends tingles down your spine, the soft hair of his abs rubs against your back. His presence, his smell, the crystal blue of his eyes swallowed by darkness, everything about him is intoxicating, and you can’t bring yourself to utter a single word.

“I know you too want ‘em, princess.” he murmurs, hands clutching your waist, his stubble grazing the skin of your neck,  “What do I alway tell you?”

James’ hand, his metal hand, slides in your bikini, caressing your mound, a sweet torture, his fingers so close, yet so far from where you need them.

“Whatever you want.” is your response, barely above a whisper, your breath hitching when he dips in your dripping folds, your back arching in his chest, and the grunt that escapes him when your ass rubs against his hard on is downright pornographic.

He hums, fingers circling your bud, your own toes curling, his cock straining in his swim trunks. You can’t tear your eyes away from Sam, his heaving chest, his hand in Steve’s hair, guiding his head as he bops up and down his length, wishing you were the one sucking him off. 

They don’t know you’re there, and that makes looking at them all the more exhilarating.

It’s wrong, and you should feel bad, but you don’t, not when the lewd sounds of Sam’s pleasure mix in with the waves of the sea, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard a more beautiful melody. James swirls his fingers around your entrance, dipping in your wet pussy, and when he crooks his metal fingers inside you, you can’t stop the wanton moan that escapes you, before he slaps his flesh hand on your mouth, silencing you. 

You’re panting, writhing under his touch, bucking your hips wildly while his fingers keep sliding in and out of you, the coil in your core getting tighter with each stoke. 

“Be a good girl and cum all over daddy’s fingers, and I’ll let you have ‘em.” he promises, and the prospect of Steve and Sam fucking you like you alway wanted is enough to trigger your orgasm, body shaking as white hot pleasure engulfs you whole, leaving you breathless. 

You watch in a daze as Sam cums with a groan, and Steve swallows it all, and all you can think about is how you can’t wait to have them both.

-

Alcohol flows in your veins, the right amount to help you loosen up your tense muscles, take your minds off of any worry. Your heart is beating out of its cage, anticipation and arousal mixing together.

“Remember that we can stop whenever you want us to, you don’t have to finish this if you don’t want to, okay?” James reassures you, hands caressing your shoulders, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

You inhale sharply, and nod. You want this. You want them.

“I know, and I trust you.”, you smile at him, because you do, you trust him with your life, and you take his hand in yours, kissing the back of it.

With one last soft look, he lingers a few more seconds before settling down on the far end of the couch, powerful thighs spread open. 

“Touch her.” he commands, and they obey.

Hands hesitantly stroking your body, soft brush of Steve’s lips. You shudder, your nipples stiffening under your swarovski dress, and he gains the confidence to touch you more firmly. Sam kisses your neck, pecking and nipping the skin, careful not to leave marks. He doesn’t need James throwing him off board, he reasons. 

You’re naked in a heartbeat, your shiny dress falling on the ground with one sweeping motion. You bend down to take your shoes off, your newest pair of Jimmy Choos, but a hand stops yours as you fumble with the strap. 

“Keep ‘em, please.”, Steve mumbles, delicately tracing from your ankles to the bridge of your feet, enthralled by your soft skin and pretty nail polish. He brings his face down, lips grazing the insides of your calves, tracing their way up to your inner thighs, his hot breath fanning over your skin until it reaches your hot core. He kisses between your legs, teasing you when his nose brushes against your swollen cunt, and your whole body quivers.

Warmth settles in your lower belly with Steve's shy caresses, Sam’s rough gropes on your breasts, James’ eyes on you. You’re burning up under his intense gaze, his flesh hand palming his cock through his briefs as he watches his friends touch his best girl. 

There’s fire in his eyes when he stands, tall and intimidating, and harshly grabs your jaw, slanting his mouth against yours in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans. You hiss. Teeth roughly bite down on your bottom lip, and you taste metal on your tongue. He presses down on your cheeks, and spits in your mouth, and you swallow like the good slut he always says you are.

“Please daddy.” you whine, pushing James away.

“Please what, princess?”, he taunts you, reveling in the way you squirm and pant, a light sheen of sweat coating your pretty face, glossy lips all swollen.

“I need more, please.” you beg, grinding your core on Sam’s thighs, desperate to soothe the throbbing ache inside you, his hands on your hips guiding you as you ride his leg.

He chuckles, but takes pity on you. “Do you want Steve to eat your pussy, babygirl?”, he coos you, caressing your head. 

You bob your head up and down, a wide smile spreading on your face.

“Look how eager this little slut is.” Sam chuckles, pinching your ass.

“Lay down, let her sit on your face.” he instructs, and Steve obediently complies, laying on the couch, the hard muscles of his abs flexing with each movement, your hunger for him growing with every bulge, every vein, every hair on his chest.

“C’mere, lemme taste you.” he murmurs, cheeks blushed, pupils blown wide and mouth watering at the prospect of tasting you, “I bet you taste as sweet as you look”. 

You straddle his face, hovering mere inches away from him; he grabs your thighs and pulls you down on him, leaving open mouthed kisses on your inner thigh, ascending until he delves in your glistening folds, humming appreciatevely, “Fuck, you taste better than I thought.” Flattening his tongue he licks wide stripes from your entrance to your clit, your arousal coating his beard. You grind your hips on his face, fucking yourself as you stare into James’ eyes, your moans and his grunts filling the room. 

Behind you, Sam fumbles with Steve’s belt, taking his cock out and stroking him, and after mere seconds, the pretty blonde boy underneath you moans loudly just like you do, the vibration reverberating into your channel. You feel your walls throb intensely, and you cry out when Steve closes his mouth on your clit and sucks hard, pain and pleasure weaving together. 

Teeth close down on the flesh of your ass, and you yelp in pain. Two hands knead you, spreading you wide open, before a finger pushes past your tight hole, slowly and delicately sliding in and out. 

“You have such a nice tight ass, pretty girl.” Sam grunts, dipping another in and stretching you.

You should feel shame, riding a man’s face while one fingers your ass under another’s gaze, but you don’t. You only feel the coil build up in your cunt, and all it takes for it to release is another swipe of his tongue on your clit, and you cum with a cry, your hot release gushing on Steve’s face.

Sam’s strong arms support you as you ride out your orgasm, and you hear James’ voice coo you, praising his good girl, his pretty little slut, “So good for us.”, “So perfect for me.”

Sam dips down to kiss Steve’s face, his beard and mouth sticky with your release, enjoying your taste on him as he sucks him clean.

“Can I fuck her?” Steve asks, voice husky, looking at Sam expectantly.

“I’ll go first.”, he responds, “On your hands and knees, sugar.” 

You do as told, exposing yourself to them, not an ounce of shame left in you. You’ve never felt more beautiful, more desired, more comfortable in your own skin.

Sam smacks your ass and grabs you roughly, so different from Steve’s feather like touches, “I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.” 

“Don’t brag beforehand, sweetie.” you chuckle, eyes boring in James’, the only one who can ever give you the type of pleasure that has you walk funny for days on end.

“When have you ever seen Steve walk straight, honestly?”

You and James both roll your eyes. “Just fuck me already.” 

“Alright, you needy little slut. No need to be rude.”, he says, slapping your ass again and again until you feel a bruise form, “You watch.” he orders Steve, “And you won’t touch yourself unless I tell you so.”

Steve lets out a whine, but nods anyways, although his eyes are full of tears and his cock is straining painfully, desperate for a release.

James is enjoying watching his friends fuck his girl more than he should, more than is be normal, but he can’t find it in himself to care, not when you moan in so much pleasure.

Sam lines himself up with your entrance and slams into you all at once, your walls accommodating his girth and throbbing around it. He sets a punishing pace, his thick cock hitting your cervix, and it hurts but you don’t care, because the pleasure is greater than the pain.  

“Please, fuck me harder.” you beg, moving your hips to meet his thrusts, feeling an orgasm near already, “Fuck, fuck, yes.”

“You like it when I fuck you hard, huh?” he grunts, “You like my big fuckin’ cock inside you?”

He pulls your hair, making you arch your back even deeper, and starts pounding inside you faster and harder than before. He dips a thumb inside your rim, and enjoys the sight of his cock slamming in and out of you, and the sound of your sobs.

“I want you to fuck her mouth.” he commands, and Steve doesn’t need to be told twice before he sits down before you.

“Please Steve, use my fuckin’ mouth, make me choke on that fat cock.” you urge him, hands stroking his cock.

Steve blushes at your words and gently kisses your forehead, before he snakes a hand around your neck, and you part your lips, tongue lapping at his head. He groans, tightening his hold on you when you take him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around him and swallowing him until the tip hits the back of your throat.

He’s big, even bigger than James, and you struggle with his girth, your jaw aching terribly as you bob your head up and down. Kudos to Sam for doing this on the daily, you muse.

Sam keeps on pummeling your pussy, and Steve holds you down, his cock suffocating you. You gag, air not reaching your lungs anymore, but he doesn’t relent, fucking your mouth ruthlessly.

“Fuck.” he groans, so lost in pleasure he’s not the sweet man you know anymore, “You’re such a good little slut, taking our cocks so well.”

He snaps his hips further down your throat, tears and saliva dribbling down your face, eyes bulging out of your face as you hold onto his thighs for dear life. 

A sound between a growl and a moan escapes him, and before you have time to realize it, he slants himself inside you again, and cums in your mouth, his heady taste coating your tongue, leaving you breathless.

Sam pulls you down, and purrs on your lips as Steve’s release drools out of your mouth and into his, the image of his cum on Sam’s lips so lewd you could come at the sight of it.

You feel yourself get close, your pussy aching for a release, but before you’re able to cum, Sam yanks you back and pulls out of you, and you whine in protest as he lays down.

“Don’t worry sugar, I’m not done with you yet.”

His hands guide you as you straddle him and sink on his cock again with ease, your slick dripping down your thighs and covering him too. You steady yourself on his chest and start bouncing your ass up and down his length, before you get struck by the idea to try something you’ve never done before. 

“Daddy?” you mewl, “Can you fuck me too? Can you give me that big fuckin’ cock? I want you to fuck my tight little asshole, please.”, you beg through each sob that escapes you as Sam pounds into you, pleading through lidded eyes.

James feels like he could cum just hearing your soft voice begging to be fucked, and because he can’t refuse you anything, he nods. He was done letting them fuck you alone anyways.

“I can’t believe you’re such a whore.” Sam chuckles underneath you, stilling inside you as James lowers his face between your cheeks, observing the way his friend’s cock stretches your pussy, your walls tightly gripping him. 

“You trust me?” he rasps, “I promise you’ll like what I want to do to you, babygirl.”

You can’t find the words in you, so you just nod your consent.

Sam and you both curse, eyes rolling to the back of your head when James licks a stripe from his cock to your puckered hole. He gives it all he’s got, swirling his tongue around your rim and poking inside, stretching you with his fingers. 

You almost black out when you cum again, never in your life having felt so much pleasure all at once, your pussy clenching on Sam’s cock, holding him in a vice so tight that he himself wonders how he hasn’t exploded yet. James caresses your back as you come down from your high, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, his metal fingers running soothing circles on your shoulders. 

He lines himself behind you, and you yelp when he pushes inside your rim, relishing in the way your hole stretches around his girth with every agonizingly slow thrust.

The coil inside you gets tighter with each obscene sound of their balls slapping against you, each squelch of your wetness, each time Steve pants touching himself.

“Faster, please.” you beg.

“You like when daddy fucks your asshole, huh? You like being full of cock, you little slut.”, James teases you, “Will you let Steve use you too, princess?”

“Yes, yes, please.” you moan, ass bouncing on their cocks, their hands everywhere on your body, “Please Steve, I want you to fuck my pussy.”, you beg, hands reaching for him as he switches places with Sam, a wide grin on both their faces.

Steve’s cock reaches new places inside you, and you feel yourself about to faint each time his tip hits that sweet, spongy spot inside you, the need to relieve yourself of the tight knot in your belly growing stronger with each passing minute.

Harsh thrusts, bruising grips on your tender skin, someone bites on your shoulder, someone sucks on your toes, someone pulls your hair. You’re overwhelmed, lost in pleasure, barely registering what is going on around you as they pass you around like a ragdoll, their little slut. A hand clamps down on your neck, vision going spotty around the edges, tears streaming down your face. 

They pull orgasm after orgasm out of you until you lose count, too fucked out and in pure bliss, a loud ring in your ears, no longer feeling the muscles in your lower stomach. Your pussy aches delightfully, tingling and throbbing and clenching and clamping down on their cocks, the couch soiled with your release and theirs.

You mewl at the emptiness you feel when they pull out of you and their cum streams out of your abused holes. You find yourself on your back, legs spread wide open, James’ arms around you, thick ropes of cum dribbling out of your cunt, Steve’s eyes trained on it before he digs in, eating you out with more passion than before, licking you clean of your slick and theirs, the room filled with the slurping noises he makes and the sobs that escape you, overstimulated and exhausted.

“I know you got another one in you sweetheart, you’re doing so good.” James coos you, peppering your jaw with soft kisses, “Just one more, I know you can do this.”

Steve sucks hard on your clit, and you cry out as one more wave of pleasure engulfs you, jolts of electricity jerking your body, your eyes rolling to the back of your neck, your release hitting him straight in the face.

You’re all spent and satisfied, lying on the couch in each other’s embrace, Sam spooning Steve, Steve clinging to your leg while you scratch his scalp, your head resting on James’ chest. 

-

He tries to commit this moment of bliss to memory, your blissed out face and the warmth you exude antidotes to the darkness that swallows him whole sometimes.

After years of barely staying afloat, being dragged beneath the surface, never enough to drown completely, just enough to claw at his throat and gasp for air, he feels himself coming back to life, slowly but surely, whenever he is with you. 

There’s forces that smother him, pull him under anytime he resurfaces again. It’s waking up in a pool of blood on the cold concrete every night, it’s the freight car derailing each time, the twisted metal panels of his car, the bright lights of ambulances and fire trucks, the sterile smells of gauzes and the bitter taste of blood. It’s the spoils of his marriage, the looks of indifference to his pain, the horror in her eyes upon seeing his bandaged stump, the touch starved shell of a man he’d become. It’s the haunting memory of walking in on his bestfriend fucking her in his own bed, the relieved look on her face that he’d finally caught them, it’s finding out that everyone knew. Everyone except for him.

But you, you’re the first breath of fresh air after drowning for so long, the spark that lights his fire again. You are the beacon of hope that it might be worth living to see another day.

And so, he obeys to your every whim, and he spoils you rotten. His babygirl gets what she wants, whenever she wants it.

Sometimes you ask for pretty dresses, shiny heels and designer bags; occasionally, you wish for the white sand of the Maldives to tickle your feet, or the warm springs of Iceland to soothe your sore muscles.

Other times, you don’t say it, and some things are better left unspoken, but he sees it in your eyes, the burning desire you try to hide behind downcast gazes and polite smiles, the way your breath hitches and you clench your thighs. He’s bothered by it, to some extent, because he wishes to be the only one you look that way, but he knows you don’t belong to him. Not in the way that matters, anyway. 

And maybe it’s better like that, considering how things ended with the last one.

Sometimes you want other lovers, and he let’s you have them.

It’s not love, he chants like a mantra, it’s companionship for him, and convenience for you. A pretty, smart, young woman like you wouldn’t even spare him a second glance if he didn’t shower you in money. 

It’s not love, but it sure feels like it. At least on his part it does.

“Daddy?” you whisper, Sam and Steve’s soft snores resonating in his ears.

He hums, a content bliss settling on his face whenever you’re in his arms.

“Thank you.”

The smile he gives you is the most precious gift you’ll ever receive. 

“Anything for you, princess.”

And he means it.

---

this is PART ONE to sugar, spice, and everything nice 

taglist: @msincognito67 @sambucky8 @buckmecaptain @bigbootychrisevans @im-squished @mela-noche @everything-is-awesomesauce e @mrsbarneswillseeyounow w @docharleythegeekqueen @lets—be-honest

If you want to be added or take out of the taglist, just send an ask or comment on here.