#go check out cinnamoniic

[chrisevansonly]

𝑨𝒑𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝑪𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝑫𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔 (𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒊𝒄2)

☁︎lando norris x female reader

☁︎there is one thing that lando loves more than you, and it’s your famous apple cider

☁︎fluff and very cute lando<3

☁︎fic number 2 for my fall celebration! thank you everyone for your love and support, it means the world to me<3

Pitchy singing and the occasional yell could be heard from Lando’s gaming room as you stirred your fresh apple cider gently around the steel pot. October was your favourite time because you were able to get fresh apples from the markets, and lots of cinnamon sticks fresh and locally sourced. Though if there was anyone else on this planet who loved your apple cider more than anyone: that award would go to your boyfriend.

Lando turned towards the door to the sound of knocking, a smile on his face when he saw you, and then an even bigger excitement moved in noticing the special mug you had in your hands.

“Is that what I think it is?”

You shrugged

“It could be…”

Meanwhile the chat was blowing up on twitch, questions pouring in on what had captured the brit’s attention so quickly, Lando turning back only momentarily

“One second chat, y/n’s just brought me something delicious!”

You laughed walking over

“Just finished it now, should still be hot so be careful”

“It smells so fucking good”

He was never apologetic about how honest his reviews of your apple cider were, it didn’t matter who was around, there was no stopping what came out of his mouth.

“I’m glad you think so babe”

Leaning down to kiss his cheek gently you waved at the camera, it wasn’t your first time on stream so by now most people knew who you were. You slid a chair over, placing your own mug of cider down and pulled your legs up to your chest.

“Someone is asking why you have such a hyper reaction to this lan”

“Well excuse them.”

Lando crossed his arms a look of disgust on his face, he was quite literally the definition of sassy, and you loved it.

“Not that any of you deserve to know, but y/n’s apple cider is by far THE best on the planet, it’s sweet, it’s cinnamony-”

“Cinnamony…?”

He glanced at you

“It’s my word okay? Anyway as I was saying”

You had to cover your mouth from laughing, not wanting to pause his rant again

“This tastes like fall in a cup, it’s october in a cup okay? this tastes like nothing any of you will ever know because it’s special,all for me, it is the bomb.com”

When he was finished he took a sip, closing his eyes as you shook your head at his antics, leaning forward to check the chat

“Someone said ‘y/n’s apple cider is lando’s roman empire’ why thank you, i take great pride in it”

“It’s better than the roman empire”

Scooting his chair over he smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips, the taste of cinnamon and apples on your lips

“Thank you, it’s delicious as always”

“You’re welcome baby, there’s a whole big pot of it downstairs if you want more at anytime.”

Standing up you gave him one last kiss, waving to the screen to say goodbye to all his streamers before going back downstairs to get ready to bottle the leftover batch sitting on the stove still. Lando would speak to anyone and everyone about your skill of fall drinks, from hot ones to cold ones, but nothing would ever come close to the special cider you made for him every October for him to enjoy.

You’d almost considered selling some at your local farmers market but your boyfriends look of betrayal and disgust was enough for you to hold off on that venture for a while. The cup hitting the sink had you snapping out of your daze, Lando smiling in your direction.

“All done streaming my love?”

“Yeah, kept smelling how good the kitchen smelt, couldn’t be up there any longer”

You reached your hand up to brush some of his curls away from his face

“I’m just getting ready to bottle the rest of the cider, want to help?”

He nodded, always eager to lend a hand when he could

“Bottling them for me right?”

“Honestly I was thinking about taking some to the markets”

There was a noticeable silence that fell over the room, biting back a laugh you watched as Lando narrowed his eyes at you

“Unfortunately that’s not gonna work”

“Oh it isn’t?”

He shook his head

“No because you see this is my special cider, and if you start selling it, I will die of dehydration.”

The snort that escaped you tossed you into a fit of laughter, your hand holding your chest

“You are so dramatic baby”

“This isn’t a joke to me darling”

When you calmed down you looked up at him and smiled

“No markets, got it, this is Lando’s cider only”

“That’s more like it”

You pulled away from him, sliding some bottles in his direction

“Well then get to bottling babe, we’ve got a lot to do”

Lando may be dramatic sometimes but he would die for that cider of yours, he didn’t care who he needed to beat out for fresh apples, who he’d cut off on the highway to make it to the one farm that had the best cinnamon sticks, if it meant getting his cider all to himself he would do it in a heartbeat.

Although he loves you like no other, you’re starting to think this little fall drink is now Lando’s greatest love…and you’re okay with that.

[tiofrean]

For the ask game: Cardamom

Hello darling! <333 Ah yes! I thought you may be interested [eyes intensify]

Remember that little cinnamony fic? Well... I might have started a sequel. I've been working through my ptsd and I decided to write it out. I have no idea if anything will come out of it, but it's something I wanted to explore anyway so...

Silver is dealing with his own mental state after Howell doctored on him (I'm remembering the I do not want this when his leg was cut off). He's getting worse and so is his leg, because his mental state is not letting him take care of it properly. Howell tries to help but it only makes Silver's state more miserable. Flint comes in to rescue him from himself, offering support and understanding (because if anyone can, it will be my broken boy after he had lost Miranda and Silver is the last piece of humanity keeping him together... especially after Cinnamon <3 )

I wrote some more about that in the answer to this ask.

Snippet:

Shaking his head to clear it, Flint sat down gingerly at the edge of Silver’s nest of blankets, then leaned forward so he could see his face better. John’s eyes were still shut, but they opened as soon as he heard him speak. The wildness of that gaze twisted Flint’s stomach, and the way John became completely motionless made something tickle the back of his mind. He had seen it before. 

“He’s probably right. You should have that leg checked,” James observed, trying to remain clear-minded. The fear in John’s eyes only deepened, even if he tried to cover it up with an impatient shake of his head. “It’s fine,” he muttered back, grinding his teeth together. Flint sighed. “John-” “I said it’s fine,” Silver snarled, then looked around like he was searching for something. 

The moment his gaze fell upon his crutch, propped up against the desk, he sat up straight, ready to run. He grimaced in pain, but Flint suspected it wouldn’t be enough to stop him from dashing madly towards it. On instinct, he threw one arm out, which turned out to be a good thing - as soon as John had hopped down from the sill, his whole frame wobbled, and he pitched forward unsteadily. James caught him easily, bracing him up against the seat again, forcing him to sit back down lest they both lost their footing on the swaying deck. 

“Fuck, wait,” James cursed when he felt John struggling against him. “Let me go!” He demanded, trying to break free, heedless of his missing leg and his lack of balance. Flint grabbed him more tightly. “Wait, wait.” He shifted his hold and moved forward, trapping John between him and the window sill, both hands going to Silver’s wrists as he tried to push him away. “John, wait!” “Fuck off! Let me go!” “John-” “Let me go!” Silver near-on shouted, turning his face up to glare at him. The defiance in his eyes almost hid the dark void of fear, but Flint had seen it anyway. 

[quill-pen]

I should be sleeping or at least in bed, but late-night creativity always seems to hit me hard. Probably because it's the time of day I can actually sit down and just write without being interrupted while everything and everyone else sleeps. I always regret it in the morning though. lmao--kill me!

Anyway, this wasn't supposed to be a ficlet. I was just going to do another little conversation thing like I normally do, but then my mind said, "Ya know, this would be a fun little thing to write." So... I did. I went all out and did. And it was fun! Except it kept me up until nearly 1 am. Again. Oy....

Anyway--on with the ficlet!

Slight NSFW--I'm gonna go ahead and say 18+ and "Minors get lost" just to be safe.

Summary: A quick comparison of two of my favorite ships from my Scroogeverse: Tom and Addie and Ebenezer and Bess. Which couple wins? You decide!

Warnings: Surprise, surprise--most of these are for Ebeness: brief mention of body-shaming, groping, mention of genitals, dirty talking, lusty idiots in love--I'm surprised there isn't more. As of now, not edited.

Toddie Vs. Ebeness

Addie Shaw, soon to be Jenkins, leaned heavily against the front counter of Jenkins' Toys and Games, watching as the owner of the establishment and her fiancé, Tom Jenkins, checked the inventory on the shelves. Every so often, after he'd counted up the amount of a certain item, he would call out to her a number and item name and she would dutifully record it in the ledger beside the proper entry. They'd been at it for a little over an hour now, Tom working down the shelves away from the counter. Away from Addie.

Addie drummed the fingers of her left hand against the pages of the ledger book as she heavily rested her face in her right hand. She knew it was stupid, what she was feeling, but she couldn't help it; the further Tom moved away from her, the lonelier she felt. And why on earth should that have been? He was literally right there in the room with her--he wasn't even out of sight behind shelves yet! Still, silly as it was, she did feel lonely and there was no denying it. She couldn't reach out and touch him from here, couldn't feel his warmth, couldn't smell his cinnamony cologne that she loved so much. Addie let her gaze fall down to hold on the pretty silver ring on her ring finger. Now she understood what her cousin Bess meant when she spoke of true love: You didn't need to be next to them all the time, but, ye gods, did you ever want to be!

A brilliant idea suddenly came to the young woman's mind that caused her rosy lips to curl. It was a little bit more of a Bess thing to do, but it seemed like it could be fun. And Addie knew Tom wouldn't mind taking a break.

Gently slapping her hand against the ledger, Addie leaned even more heavily on the counter and sighed extra, extra loudly, making sure to make it sound dramatically forlorn. She thought she did a decent job.

It definitely worked, for Tom immediately stopped in his counting of the checkerboards and turned to look at her. "Is everything all right, Sugarplum-bum?" he asked, looking a tad bit concerned.

Addie met his eyes, looking innocently at him. "Yes," she answered.

"Only, that sigh sounded rather sad," Tom gently pressed further, his gentle brown eyes looking her over.

Addie bit back a smile. Bess was a genius! "Well, as it happens, I am just a tad melancholy," she replied, doing her best to keep the corners of her mouth from curving up.

Tom hopped off his ladder and moved towards her, looking even more worried. "Oh, yes? Might I ask why?"

Addie put on her best pout and puppy-dog eyes, and she must have done a commendable job because she could see an entirely new level of softness well up in her beau's eyes. She internally cheered and made a mental note to discuss her triumph with Bess later. "Well, if you must know, Sugarpie, it's because it's been an hour and five minutes since you last told me you loved me."

Surprise, realization, knowing, and playfulness all flashed through Tom's eyes in a wink. It was incredibly impressive, and Addie quietly wondered if that's what Ebenezer looked like whenever Bess pulled this stunt with him. "Oh, my!" Tom gasped, one hand flying up to cover his mouth, the other his heart. "Oh, I am so sorry, Peachfuzz, so very sorry indeed! Allow me to fix my mistake!" He swept behind the counter and wrapped the plump woman up in his arms, squeezing her tight as he spun her around.

Squealing with delight, Addie wrapped her arms around the man's neck. Then she found herself being lifted up and deposited on the countertop. She blushed pink and giggled as Tom came to stand in front of her, moving between her legs. She probably parted them for him a little bit easier than a lady should have, but she didn't care. They were practically married after all.

Wrapping his arms around her again, Tom stared into his love's shining hazel-nut eyes and smiled ever so lovingly and fondly at her. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I love you," he murmured. Another kiss to her temple. "I love you." Her other temple. "I love you." He smooched her cute button nose. "I love you." He peppered her cheeks. "IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou!"

Addie laughed, trying to push him away and duck out of the onslaught. "Tom-Tom, please! That's a little too much!"

"Ah, there's never such a thing as too much love, my sweet!" He kept up the assault of butterfly kisses all over her soft, round face before finally planting his lips on hers. Immediately everything slowed, the rest of the world falling away until they were the only two people in the universe.

Addie slowly slipped her hands up to cup Tom's jaw to hold him closer, her fingers curling around his delightfully prominent ears. She delighted at how the closely cropped curls of his 'chops tickled her palms. His thin 'stache scratched against her top lip just so, sending tingles throughout her body. The woman felt as though she were in her own personal Heaven, one that was filled with nothing but Thomas Aaron Jenkins. Not that there ever had been, but there wasn't a trace of doubt in Addie's mind--this was love. True love. And it was hers. It was theirs.

When the couple finally broke apart, Tom touched his forehead to Addie's and gazed deeply into her hazy eyes. "I love you, Adelaide Kathryn Shaw" he repeated, softly, slowly, with meaning in every letter and syllable. "With every bit of my soul, I love you. You make me the happiest man on Earth, and I will dedicate the rest of my life trying to make you the happiest woman on Earth."

Addie smiled adoringly at the man, his words touching her very soul and bringing the slightest burn of tears to her shining eyes. Growing up she'd always been the silly fat girl--too plump, too loud, too attention-seeking. Boys and young men had never looked at her as something to take seriously, never mind something to love or desire. But now here she was, a grown woman in love with an absolutely wonderful grown man who loved her back with all his might, listened to everything she had to say no matter how goofy, and wanted her to be his wife and mother of his children. Addie had never felt so special. Or so happy. "You do that already, Tom," she replied to the man. "You make me so happy, I hardly know what to do with myself."

Tom smirked. "Well, apparently, you're so happy, you stoop to your delightful cousin's manipulations in order to get a little extra affection out of me."

Addie giggled. "It worked, did it not?"

The swarthy man grinned and shook his head. "You Shaw women," he muttered, booping her nose with a finger, "deviants the lot of you. I've never seen more mischievous females."

"You love us and you know it."

"Yes. Mischievous and irresistible--a dangerous combination. Good thing I'm a man that's always liked a little danger."

Addie laughed as he surged back in to kiss her again.

➽───────────────❥➽───────────────❥

Ebenezer was adding up the family balance book for the month when the door of his study practically flew open. He took a brief second to look up and catch a glimpse of his wife before turning back to his numbers. "Hello, Darling," he greeted her.

With a melodramatic sigh, Bess leaned heavily against the doorpost and pressed the back of her right hand to her head. "Have you no heart, Ebenezer Charles Scrooge?!" she exclaimed, a theatrical vibrato in her voice.

Still adding up the balance, the reformed miser smirked at the woman's dramatics. Bess always claimed she couldn't stand theater, but the woman took such delight in performing melodrama it was hard to believe her. "Well," he answered, "I have a pulse; so judging from that, I believe I have heart--but I haven't been to the doctor for a good while, so I suppose I can't say with certainty."

"No!" Bess wailed, going full Shakespearean. "No, you haven't a heart! How can you?" She pushed off the doorpost and swept into the room. "How can a man profess to have a heart when he hasn't told his adoring and devoted wife 'I love you' since..." she paused and took a deep, shuddering breath, "... since breakfast hours ago! Oh! Oh, the humanity!" The American pressed a hand to her forehead again and the other to her heart and twirled about before "swooning" and collapsing onto the deep rust, chaise lounge across from his desk. She sobbed, stretching a foot dramatically towards the ceiling: "The humanity!"

That caused Ebenezer to roll his eyes and turn away from the balance book to pivot around in his chair and face the actress that was his wife. He smirked amusedly at her. "You never fail to take it up a notch, do you?" he remarked with a snort.

Bess peeked out of the corner of her eye at the silver-haired man and winked with an impish grin, before resuming character. "Oh, the misery! The despair of being a vibrant, vivacious woman trapped in a loveless marriage!"

"Well, you are most certainly a vibrant, vivacious woman, I'll give you that."

"How can I go on? Knowing that the man I love doesn't love me in return--how can I possibly be expected to go on?! Oh, I am a piteous being! A most wretched and lowly soul cast among the broken and downtrodden of this cold, cruel, heartless world! Oh, woe! Woe is me! Woe is me!" Bess threw herself fully across the lounge, leaning far back over the curved headrest so that she was nearly hanging upside down, a hand still pressed to her brow.

The sound of chuckling reached her ears, followed by a book snapping shut. Then there were footsteps lazily crossed the hardwood floor before the door shut. The sound of the lock turning was what caused the woman to snap her eyes open and sit up to look at her husband. The distinguished gentleman stood there beside the door, watching her intently, his eyes dark. A shiver instantly ran up Bess' spine. She watched carefully as he undid his cuffs and deftly rolled up his sleeves, revealing expanses of slender-built forearms covered in attractive salt-and-pepper hair. Defined, wiry muscles flexed beautifully beneath rosy skin, reminding her of the surprising power and strength those otherwise slender arms possessed: The strength to carry her all the way home from the market when she twisted her ankle; the strength to hold her up and pin her to a wall as he rutted into her until she screamed with ecstasy. Bess gulped, looking from Ebenezer's arms up to his leering face. A thrill shot straight through her down to the special space between her thighs that only Ebenezer knew and could affect so markedly. Instinctively she parted her legs a bit.

"Well, now," Ebenezer rumbled as he slowly trod towards her, fiddling with the last few rolls of his left cuff, "it would appear as though I've been a bad husband--neglectful in my duties and leaving my poor, poor wife to suffer for it."

Bess pouted out her bottom lip. "You have been neglectful," she grumped.

"I know, Sweetness."

"Very, very neglectful."

"I know."

"How am I supposed to know that you still love me when you go hours without telling me, Ebenezer?"

"I know, I know, and I'm so sorry, Bess. So very, very sorry." He knelt on the floor before her, (which was quite gallant to do, as he did not have the youngest knees anymore) and gazed up into her face. He smirked and it held a dangerous edge that matched the blackness of his eyes. "As I have been made aware of this... greatest of transgressions," Ebenezer said, his voice soft but dark, "I would very much like to try and alleviate it." He wrapped his arms around the woman's waist and drew her forward to him. "If only you would be so gracious as to let me, Dearest Wife." He trailed a hand languidly down Bess' long leg until he came to the very hem of her skirt. Moving his hand to touch her stockinged ankle, he traced his hand just as slowly back up under her skirt. His long fingers gently pressed into her flesh.

A squeak caught in Bess's throat as a goofy grin spread across her face along with a strawberry blush. Lord, the effect this devilish man had on her--she'd never get over it. And she never wanted to. "I-" she stopped and cleared her throat, "-I believe I could find it within me to be as such." She shivered at the temperature change on her lower legs as her lover slowly pushed her skirt up higher and higher.

Ebenezer smiled wolfishly. "Thank you, my darling. I am undoubtedly married to a saint of a woman." With his free hand, he took up one of hers and kissed her fingers. "I love you." He kissed her knuckles. "I love you." He kissed the back of her hand. "I love you." All the while, his hand beneath her skirt kept on its trek.

Bess tried to steady her breathing and shifted around to allow him more access as he progressed.

Ebenezer was kissing up her arm now, trailing his lips along its length until he reached her shoulder and pressed a firmer kiss there. "I love you," he whispered into her blouse. He turned his face to hers with devilishly glittering eyes and asked, "Is this making things better, my love?"

Bess shuddered a breath and nodded her head, unable to find her voice.

"But not quite enough is it? No, you went hours without hearing an 'I love you' from my lips--a few kisses will not suffice." He moved his head to the center of her chest and pressed a kiss to her clothed sternum, then a trail of them up over her collarbone and the column of her throat.

Bess moaned as his lips gently sucked at her sensitive skin, tilting her head back just slightly. Little twinges of pleasure sparked deep in her belly; heat pooled in her pelvis. How was it possible for anyone to be so good with their mouth all the damn time? She hadn't the time to consider that question as suddenly her man's lips were upon hers, claiming them fully. She leaned into it, tilting her head for a better angle and molding her fully lips to dance with his soft, smooth, slender ones. Without thinking she brought both her hands up to skim his shoulder and clutch at the back of his neck, one hand moving higher to twine into his soft, steely hair. A large hand squeezed her left knee ticklishly, and Bess squealed, allowing Ebenezer the perfect opportunity to plunder her mouth with his tongue. She moaned at the taste of him--he'd sucked on a peppermint recently-- and allowed him to push her deeper into the lounge. Before she knew it, she was lying back with her man stretched atop her and nestled comfortably between her legs. She had no complaints.

Finally, the kiss ended as both parties desperately needed more air than they could find through their nostrils. Hearts racing, lungs heaving, they gazed into each other's lusty, half-lidded eyes. Each party thought the other a spectacular vision with their flushed cheeks and glistening lips. They could have stayed in such a way forever and been content.

"I love you, Elizabeth Felicity Scrooge," Ebenezer rasped, voice as full of adoration and devotion as desire. It warmed Bess' very soul. "I love you so much, I don't believe I could ever voice it effectively to you." The man's lips curled into a delightfully wicked sneer as his once-slate-blue-now-black eyes gleamed with devilry. "Therefore, I believe I shall have to write it out with my tongue and fingers both on and in that delectable little quim of yours."

Bess was sure she could have burned to ashes on the spot with the heat that flared throughout her body. "Ebenezer!" she squeaked incredulously.

A dark, rumbling burr of a chuckle rolled up from deep in the Englishman's chest. "Oh, I love it when you say my name, She-Wolf," he snarled, touching his nose to hers as he glowered seductively into her eyes. He trailed his hand further up her thigh to find it bare and gave it an appreciative squeeze. Its mistress squealed, and he felt his pants grow ever more constrictive. "And I can't wait to hear you scream it again."

Taglist: @rom-e-o @oldmanlusting @the-house-of-auditore-frye @crimson-phantom-designs @purgratoriat @ofvampiirisms

[fruchtfleisch-art]

For the short stories: Suburbia

This is... not under 500 words. Not even close. But I ended up really enjoying writing this one, so I hope you'll enjoy reading it!

Kirashino microfic #4/?: Suburbia

Shinobu is waiting for Kosaku when he comes out of his afternoon statistics class, even though they just saw each other yesterday. That’s not right. They only ever have dates on Tuesdays and Fridays, and sometimes the weekend, working around his courseload and her availability. Today, Monday, is uncharted territory.

“Hi, you,” she says, pulling him into a tight hug. “How was class? Did you get me anything?”

“Was I supposed to?” They’re blocking the entryway standing like this. Kosaku feels a flush creeping up his face as somebody jostles into him, but he doesn’t know how to ask her to move without being rude.

“Don’t you know what day it is?” Without waiting for a response, she adds: “It’s our six-month anniversary! Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“Oh.” Was he supposed to be keeping track of that? Shinobu always feels a step ahead of him with this relationship stuff, always herding him towards milestones he only has the foggiest awareness of. It’s hard to keep up.

“You did forget, didn’t you? It’s fine. You can make it up to me tonight, right?”

“Right. Sorry. I, uh, I have another class in twenty minutes, but after that… uh…”

“We should go somewhere,” she says, smiling. Leading him.

“Yeah,” he says weakly. “We’ll go out. Anywhere you want.”

“Great.”

Kosaku usually spends his break alone, but it’s not so bad with Shinobu hanging around. She walks with him to the vending machine as he buys a drink, snuggles into his side as he reviews his notes, asks him for advice about an essay she’s trying to write. When it’s time to go, he leaves her in the hallway with a wave. She makes a heart with her hands.

Six months. That’s a pretty long time to have a girlfriend.

He’s not sure if they’ll make it another six. Shinobu is nice, but she’s kind of a handful.

---

Shinobu is at the door when Kosaku gets home from work, three hours later than he expected. That’s strange. She doesn’t usually wait up for him when he has to stay late.

“Hi,” Kosaku says cautiously. “Where’s my-“

“The same place it always is.”

His first thought is that she might have been watching a movie, but the tv is off, and she seems in no hurry to get back to it. She’s dressed nicer than usual, too, and as she takes his jacket and moves to the closet, he gets a whiff of cinnamony perfume. That’s weird, too. Did she go out somewhere?

Shinobu follows him into the kitchen, looking like she wants to say something as he checks the microwave and punches in a cook time.

“How was work?” she finally asks.

“Fine.”

And again, as he’s scrounging around for silverware: “Did anything interesting happen?”

“I don’t know. It was work.” He doesn’t know what to say to her most of the time, and especially not now. He’s tired and he’s hungry and he’s been talking to people all day. Why is she here, anyways? What does she want from him?

Kosaku’s gaze meanders away from her face as he waits for the microwave to finish, towards the counter, then the floor, landing on a smear of dark grit streaked over a few tiles. There. That’s something they can talk about. “Honey?”

“Yes?”

“The floor’s getting pretty dirty. I think you should run the vacuum soon.”

Now she has that look on her face. That disappointed, contemptuous, slightly pissy expression that makes him want to crawl under a rock. He tries to backpedal as she storms out of the kitchen, slamming the door open hard enough to make it rattle it in its frame.

“You don’t have to-“

“No, I’ll do it now!” she shoots back. “That’s all I’m good for, right? Cleaning up your mess?”

Technically, it’s not his mess. He’s barely been home this week. But there’s no reasoning with her when she gets this way, so Kosaku takes his dinner to the table and tries to ignore the high whine of the vacuum cleaner and the thump of Shinobu banging furniture around.

What’s her problem? If he was falling behind at work, he’d want his boss to say something. She takes everything so personally.

His first bite floods his mouth with slimy, earthy bitterness, like he took a big mouthful of dirt. Kosaku winces, takes his napkin and spits, seeing for the first time the rubbery brown chop mixed into the rice and vegetables.

He’s told her so many times how much he doesn’t like mushrooms. Did she think he wouldn’t notice if she cut them up small?

She really is too much, sometimes.

---

Kira is awake, waiting for Shinobu when she finally comes to bed half an hour later than her usual. That’s suspicious. Most days she falls asleep first, forcing him to navigate the bedroom in total darkness when he’s done making his rounds.

She’s been acting off all day, quiet and withdrawn, and it’s making him nervous. He runs through every possible scenario, searching for reassurance that it isn’t something he’s done to tip her off to his identity. He hasn’t killed anyone. Their bills are being paid on time. She definitely hasn’t discovered the cat plant. He’s been watching her carefully, making sure she doesn’t have to go anywhere near the attic.

Unless she went up there while he was at work. She has so much time to poke around the house when he isn’t there to watch her. Raw, unabashed paranoia galvanizes his exhausted body into action, makes him touch her shoulder softly to gauge her reaction.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, keeping his voice low. Playing the role of a nice, normal husband.

“I think so. I’m just tired, I guess.”

She does sound tired, but it’s not enough to assuage his fears. Even when she reaches back to place her hand on top of his, it’s not enough. Kira tries to think of something to say, to distract her from whatever chain of thought she might be following that ends in his discovery.

“I saw on the calendar. It’s our anniversary tomorrow, isn’t it?”

She doesn’t respond.

“There’s a new Italian place I’ve heard good things about,” he continues, trying to sound confident. “I’ll get off work early and we can have a nice dinner out, just the two of us. How’s that sound?”

It’s the most boring, bog-standard way to celebrate an anniversary, but Kosaku was the most boring, bog-standard kind of person. Kira doesn’t know her well enough for a personal gift, and his usual way of doing things seems a tad unorthodox for the lifestyle he’s currently living. Italian food it is.

“I’d really like that,” Shinobu says. “Thank you.”

There. If she was suspicious, she wouldn’t be making dinner plans, would she? She wouldn’t sound so genuinely grateful. “I’ll make a reservation tomorrow.”

She squeezes his hand, hard, and Kira lets her, tactfully ignoring the soft sniffle that follows.

He really doesn’t get this woman.

[oneirataxiahiraeth]

Hey darling, i was wondering if i can have a request with ron weasley x reader. They start 7th year, the first morning of class she is getting ready with the girls (Hermione and ginny are her roomates) and she realized she packed her 5th year skirt and not the new one, she wears it anyways but its a little too short like to the mid thigh, the boys are always whistlering at her, looking at her legs and throwing "compliments". Ron doesn't like it, it makes him a little insecure but she reminds him she only loves him and she is only him's

I loveeee this concepttt, and I hope you like it<3

Promise?

Pairings : fem!reader x Jealous!RonWeasely

Warnings : Language, jealous Ron, catcalls, unprotected sex, oral (m.), classroom quickie, not proof read

Word count : something over 4K

You were totally going to flip out.

You spent so long making sure you had everything packed for the semester and here you were. It was frustrating to you, how could you miss this? This skirt was a size and a half too small, the most you moved the wrong way your whole asscheek would've been on the newsletters front page.

"It doesn't look that bad, it's wearable." Ginny stated, genuinely not finding a problem in you skirt as she brush through her red locks. "Besides you definitely have the legs for it." She tried to cheer you up as you stared at yourself in the body length mirror.

It's was your first day of year 7 and you were already off to a bad start. You wore this exact skirt on this exact day 2 years ago. You had grown since then, you were no longer a child, yet somehow you still managed to squeeze yourself right into this god awful skirt. It stopped down right at your mid thigh, and to say this was out of your comfort zones would be an understatement. You were on the verge of just deciding not to show up for classes today. Though you knew Hermione was never going to let that actually happen.

"You think I'd get away with it?" You pouted, and both of the girls nodded.

"You look like some of the muggle girls I see back home. They have interesting taste, personally I'd never pull it off, but you do, very well." Hermione spoke in hopes to cheer you up.

It didn't work very well.

"And if anyone asks just say you're making a fashion statement." Gin spoke, sending the idea through your head for only moment before you shook it out.

"No one makes fashion statements at Hogwarts... it's basically forbidden." You whined, stomping your foot on the ground.

"Says who?"

"It's an unspoken rule amongst like... everyone." You sighed in response.

Ginny rolled her eyes, standing from the edge of her bed. It was time to head for breakfast and meet up with the boys. You've been rambling about this since you got back to campus. You had yet to see Ronald, and you were overly ecstatic to see his beautiful face yet again. He and Harry sent you letters all summer long but you were busy doing things back in your hometown. You wanted to sneak out last night, but the two of you agreed on the morning. Besides, most of your classes were together, including your off period meaning you too got to do whatever you pleased for a whole hour. What's not exciting about that?!

"We have to get going soon, y/n. I'm hungry, and Hermione is halfway out the door already." Ginny spoke, grabbing you bag from off the floor as well. "No one is going to notice, you look fine." She reassured you. "And if anyone says anything about my sister-in-law we will be having some words." She smiled sweetly making your cheeks hot.

"Me and Ron aren't even married." You fought back you smiled as you took your bag from the girl. She was basically like the little sister you've always wanted. "And after today I might die of embarrassment, so we never will be."

"I think you look great. Now. Can we go?" Hermione stood, ready to start her day.

"Ugh, fine." You groan, both of the girls smiling widely at you. "But I'm only giving myself until 3 class before I started sobbing." You sighed as Hermione took your hand in hers. Leading you to the door.

"Please, you won't make it past snap me if he sees you in the hallway." Ginny scoffed, your eyes widening as you realized she was right.

"What if he dress codes me? Or all the teachers think I'm a whore? Oh god, I'm going to get kicked out-"

"Y/N! You're skirts not even that short, and I was talking about you holding in tears!" Ginny sighed, closing the room down behind the 3 of you.

You couldn't help it, you were on a rollercoaster of emotions up all the way to the dining hall. That's where the lot of your friends stood in the halls catching up and sending you sweet smiles and took you how good you looked. You're cheeks were burning hot, and the compliment made you want to curl up into a ball.

"Look, there they are!" Hermione spoke, pointing to the two boys, already digging into the food on their plates. You noticed the extra cup of juice and muffin on Ron's plate, he saved it just for you, knowing how uneasy your stomach is in the mornings.

A bright smile formed on your face as you began making your way towards your boyfriend. Your smile slowly faded as loud group of ravenclaw boys in the corner of the cafeteria sent loud whistle noises through the air. Your eyes went to them immediately before you noticed their sights set on you. Ron's head turned slowly too, not very interested in whatever poor girl they were harassing until his gaze was set on you.

His jaw nearly dropped to the floor. You looked beautiful, as you always did. You were walking with that smile you do when your uncomfortable, and your finger freshly manicured fingers gripping the strap of your book bag. You were dressed in your regular uniform, except when you scanned you over his eyes got stuck on the length of your legs. They were nice, they looked warm, and comfortable. He's see your legs before though, he's seen each of your boys part very close and intimately before but, now everyone was seeing what was usually reserved for his eyes only.

"People are staring." You mumbled.

"Let's just get to the table so they have nothing to stare at." Hermione spoke and you nodded.

"Nice skirt, Y/L/N!" A voice called out from somewhere in the cafeteria.

You ignored the comment, heading straight for your boyfriend who stood quickly from his seat at the table to greet you.

You're smile returned as you approached, neither of you waiting too long to wrap up in each other's arms. You threw your arms over his shoulder, his cinnamony scent taking over you nostrils almost instantly. His arms wrapped around you waist, gripping you tightly as he soaked in your presence. You felt your body release all tension it held and for a brief moment in time you forgot all about-

"Hey y/n," you're attention broke away from the warmth of Ron's body sinking into yours to the tall brunette with a bright smile on his face. "There's a party in the commons later, you should drop by." He spoke, eyes falling down your body, taking their sweet time in returning back to your face.

"Oh uhm, sure thing Cedric." You spoke, pulling away from you're red headed boyfriend.

"You guys can come too if you want." He spoke looking at the rest of your friends. "Can't wait to hear all about your summer, y/n." He spoke to you, sending a wink before waving goodbye.

You and Cedric had a few classes together, but you were never super close friends. Definitely not close enough to be inviting each other to party's.

"Since when are you Cedric best friends?" Your boyfriend asked noticing the way Cedric totally checked you out and how you didn't even notice.

"We're not. He was just being friendly." You shrugged it off, not seeing much more too it. You sent your boyfriend a sweet smile, unable to contain your happiness that you were finally reunited. "Now am I going to have to pretend that I want you to kiss me or are you going to read my mind?" You joked. Ron smiled, shaking off the weird feelings. His hands moved up to cup your face, bringing yours up to his until your lips came together. He tasted like orange juice and some type of tart berry.

"Oh young love. I love love." Lunas voices spoke breaking your kiss apart. Suddenly you pushed your boyfriend away to hug your other friend Luna. You missed her all too much this summer, seeing her again made your heart happy. "Hello." She giggled.

"It's good to see you, Luna. I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too, y/n." Your friend smiled sweetly as you finally let her go, giving her space to breathe. "Bold fashion choice, really shows off your legs. You have nice legs." She commented, making your cheeks turn hot.

"Thank you, Luna." You smiled. "It wasn't really intentional, but I have to stick it out for the next few days." You explain and she nods.

"Hey y/n!" A voice called from across the cafeteria again. "Looking good!"

  You smile a bit, not really sure how to respond to the comment. You haven't changed much over the summer. Maybe you grew a few centimeters, and changed your hair up a bit, but you were still the same old y/n. It was like you haven't know half of this dining hall for the past 6/7 years of you life.

  "You've got to be kidding me." Ron scoffed, eyeing around the room from who the sound came from.

  "Ronnie, it's whatever, let's just sit, yeah" you hummed looking the spot he had reserved to you. "Muffins, my favorite." You tried changing the subject but you could still tell how the comment made from some asshole across the way bothered him. His cheeks were glowing red and his eyes squinting a bit. His lips pressed together in a thin line as you guided him to sit back down at the breakfast table.

  The day past very slowly. Teachers making snide remarks about skin, groups of girls whisper in the halls as you passed, and the occasional whistle call from a boy who just couldn't help himself.

  You were invited to the same party about 4 different times today. Each times with your boyfriend present, as if he wasn't standing right there. Some 5th year even tried asking you out in front of Ron, you saved his life by not respond and just pretending you didn't hear. Ron would've ripped the kids ears off if you acknowledged the plain foolery.

   "Where are you going, Ronald?" You asked as class ended. The two of you were supposed to spend your first free period of the school year together in the garden with sweets you snuck here from back home. Right now he just wanted to get out of the classroom as quickly as possible. "Ron!" You spoke louder, your steps quick in order to catch up with him.

  "I heard you the first time, y/n." He turned his head to gripe. Your eyebrows furrowed together at the unnecessarily aggressive comment.

  "If you didn't want to hang out with me, you could've just said. You don't have to be a dick about it." You scoffed, shaking your head even though he couldn't see your obviously hurt visual reaction.

  His hand reached out for your wrist, before you could walk away. You didn't want to cause a scene in the hallway full of students rushing to be out of the halls in a jiffy. You allowed Ron to drag you along with him, until he opened up an empty class room door. He pulled you in, shut the door behind you and spelling it shut so no one would interrupt the two of you.

  "You're not seriously going to that party tonight are you?" He scoffed out first, setting his bag on the ground as he turned to look at you with disappointment.

  "People are expecting me there, Ron. Everyone is going!" You sighed.

  "Doesn't mean you have to!"

"Is that why you're upset? A party? Bloody hell Ronald." You cursed, annoyed with the red head.

  "I'm upset because guys have been flirting with you like crazy all day and you just bloody let them!" He growled as you set your own bag down. "Don't act as if you had all of these friends last year, when we both know you didn't. The only reason the want you to go is so they can stare at your ass some more!" He fired your eyes widening a bit. It made perfect sense... You rarely ever spoke to Cedric before, or half of the boys that approached you today. You took all of their friendly gestures as... friendly gestures. Pulling out seats for you, complimenting your appearance, everything, you thought they were just being kind.

  "Excuse me, I don't see the worst in everyone. It's a new year, we're growing up, they were just being nice! You defend."

  "To you!" He snaps.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You're arms dropped from being crossed over your chest. His mouth opened to respond before shutting again, shaking his head and muttering a quick "never mind, it's nothing". "What did you mean, Ron." You spoke seriously, honestly quite annoyed with his behavior.

  "I've had to watch every boy in this school practically drool all over you since breakfast." He spoke up. You had forgotten about breakfast. "The whistles, the compliments, I even heard some Slytherin talk about winning you over at the party tonight." He sighed, explaining his anger. Was he jealous?

  "But literally everyone knows I'm yours, Ronnie." You respond in a softer tone, taking a step towards him. "I've been your for almost a whole year now, The thought of not being with you hasn't even crossed my mind."

  "Do you think they care, y/n?" He scoffed again. "Your hot, your smart, and you have a boyfriend, your a perfect target!" He whined.

  "I'm not going to be won over by cheap pick up lines and bad booze."

  "Are you sure? Because Cedric seems to think that your already begging him to sweep you off your feet. Was whispering about it all class." He pouted and you heart dropped into your stomach. "And why wouldn't you? He's good looking, sporty, funny, charming, and apparently he's a great kisser."

   "I wouldn't because I don't love him. I love you. I'll always love you, I'll never love anyone the way I love you. Your good looking, smart, you can be sporty if you didn't doubt yourself every five seconds-" he rolled his eyes, attempting to turn away from you before you grabbing his hand pulling him closer to you. "Like your doing now... your hilarious to me, Ronnie. You're the most interesting person I know, and I'm pretty sure your the best kisser to ever grace this sad run down planet." You spoke, pulling him until your bodies touched, placing his hands on your waist as you looked up into his soft eyes. "I love you, Ronald."

  "Do you promise?" He spoke quickly and you nodded.

"I'm going to marry you one day" A smile slowly found its way to his red face, allowing the anger and sadness to flush right through him.

  "I love you, y/n. More than life itself."

"Promise?" You smiled back.

   "Would I ever lie to the mother of my future children?"

  You stood on your tiptoes, leaning your head up until your lips pressed against his. He still tasted like orange juice, the tart berry faded as the day went past. His hands on your waist squeezing as you arms went over his shoulders. Your lips moving against his gave him a good taste of your cherry flavored lip balm. It was a new one, last year your stuck to a watermelon flavored balm.

   You hadn't even noticed the two of you were moving until he helped you hop up on one of the lab tables. Your hands moving down to unbuckle his pants as quickly as possible before he pulled apart your kiss.

  "Are you sure you wanna do this here?" He asked, only because he knew you would die of embarrassment if caught by anyone. He had no problem having sex with you in here, it's not like he hadn't that about it tens of times core.

  "Take me, right here." You nodded, unbuttoning his pants as you focused on one thing. "You know, I've really really missed you this past few months." Your bottom lip caught between your teeth. "I've missed you over and over and over..." you hummed, tugging his pants down enough until they weren't in your way.

  "That's a lot of missing me." Ron swallowed, you fingers slipping past the waist band of his boxers pulling them down a bit before you pulled out his cock with precum already leaking from his tip.

  "Mmhmm." You lost count of how many times you struggled to get yourself off without Ron. It was frustrating and made you regret not spend at least a few weeks with him and his family. "I've felt Kinda... empty." You spoke spreading your legs for him as he prepped himself.

  "I could help you out with that... make you feel more... full." He offered and you nodded. His hands slipping under the skirt that was no basically showing your whole ass, pushing you black panties to the sides. You were already dripping as his fingers ran up you slit to make sure you were ready for him.

  "Please Ronnie." You moaned, as he lined himself up with your entrance.

   He looked to you for last second approval, you nod, pulling his body closer to yours by his tie, connecting your lips once more before he finally pushed into you. You both groaned at the sensation, he stretched you out until you felt the pleasurable burn spreading through your groin. Not stopping until your hips met and he was deep inside of you. Your walls clenched around him, missing the feeling of the burn he usually ensued.

   He drew his hips back only a bit before slowly rocking himself into you. Your ass on the very edge of the table. Legs wrapped around his waist and he fucked into you. Lips still connected in sloppy slow sensual kisses that you dreamt about so many nights this summer. Your muffled moans filled the dead silence in the empty classroom the two of you were occupying. The sounds only encouraging his movements as his hips sped up in pace, hands down to grip your thighs to keep your legs apart for him. This wasn't the way either of you wanted to wanted to greet each other after 3 sum months, but it'd have to do.

  "God, your so tight!" Ron moaned through the sloppily kisses. His voice made you clench around him once more making his hips stutter as he moved faster and harder.

  "You feel so good baby."you moaned, voice in a high pitch and out of breath.

   His lips moved from your to down your neck, arm wrapped around your back to keep you steady. You were trying to keep yourself quiet in case any stragglers in the halls happened to walk by. You let out tiny gasps and squeals whenever he hit a particular deep spot in your cunt that nearly drove you mad.

   "F-fuck"

His hand moved from your thigh to your clit. Rubbing harsh circle on the bundle of nerves. Your jaw fell open as you tried to focus on a single point of pleasure to celebrate, with his cock hitting your g spot with every thrust and your clit sending pleasurable shocks through the rest of your body it was hard to focus on just one thing.

   "M's-so cl-ose-" you choked out, unable to really forming words.

  "I know, babe, cum for me, Princess." Ronald murmured, brain foggy with lust. Hips still rocking into

yours as you desperately tried to hold on for just a bit longer. It became harder to control to noises slipping past your lips. Uttering his name in your whines as he brought you over the edge, hips moving a bit slower as you clenched tightly around him, legs shaking a bit as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

“Oh fuck” you moaned, breathing heavy and hips still rocking into his.

“Almost forgot how pretty you are when you do that.” He smirks, your eyebrows furrowing a bit.

“When I do what?” You hum, he opened his mouth to respond but he just shut it back again before shaking his head.

“Nothing.” He shrugged.

“N- wait, did you..?” You peered down between the two of you.

“Uhm no, it’s fine- I don’t even have condom on me-”

“I can-”

“No, you don’t have to-”

“I want to.” You stated, smiling at the way it was so easy to read each other’s minds. “Really.”

“I mean... yeah, uhm okay.” He spoke, cheeks turning a bright red color. You nodded letting out a slight moan as he pulled out of you. He helped you off the table, allowing you to fix your skirt before sinking down to your knees. You looked up to him through your lashes basically causing his insides to melt at the sight.

You wasted no time in making sure he was satisfied. Your lips arm lips warming around him, tongue collecting all of your own juices as you took him further into your mouth. You let out a soft moan, sending the vibrations through his spine earning a groan from him. His mouth fell open as he felt his tip touch the back of your throat. His eyes glued on your lips as his cock disappeared in your mouth over and over. He fought the strong urge to see just how far you could take him in your pretty mouth before you couldn’t breathe.

“Bloody hell, just like that, y/n.” He moaned, hand finding its way to the back of your head, only pushing you into him gently. You didn’t mind it, you actually very often craved the way he usually took control. That ache between your legs returned, the one that usually made your mind foggy and made bad decisions seem not so bad in the long run.

The ground cold on your knees, skirt wrapped tightly around your body, boyfriend beginning to twitch as your push your limit in how far he could go. Tears polling in the bottom of your eyes, threatening to ruin the makeup you had done perfectly for the day. You felt his cock twitching in your mouth enjoying the noises coming from his throat as he neared his high.

“Fuck I’m gonna-” he moaned before spilling his hot seed into you mouth. Without think you swallow I’m around him, milking him for whatever he was worth before he had to pull you away from him. Both of you slightly out of breath before as he helped you to your feet. Your lips glossy from a mixture of spit and his cum, which he didn’t seem to mind as he pulled you in for one final kiss.

“We should skip next period and lunch, have some fun... I haven’t seen you all summer and I really missed you.” You emphasized on the really, as you pulled away from the kiss.

“And as much as I’m not opposed to that, you’d castrate me tomorrow for letting you skip the first day just to have sex.”

“Mm, you get me.” You giggled, watching as he fixed himself so he could the two of you could return to normal civilization. “Now we should go before someone tries to get in here.” You mentioned, fixing your own skirt once again, and making sure you had no remnants of Ron on your face or clothes. You helped fix his tie until you both looked as well as two people could after fucking in a classroom. “Do you think we could sneak out tonight? Have a picnic under the Stars somewhere?” You asked, earning a light hearted chuckle from your boyfriend.

“What about your party?” He asked.

“They’ll just have to miss us.” You shrugged, taking Ron’s hand in yours as you know lace your bag on you shoulder.

He didn’t respond but you knew the answer. He just smile as pulled the both of you towards the door stopping as you heard the quick tapping of someone’s feet’s along the stone floors. You both paused in the doorway, hearts beating before watching your dark haired best friend turn the corner. He spotted the two of you quickly with a smile, out of breath and not really in the position to stop but he did so anyways.

“Woah, mate, what are you doing?” Ron asked, confusion lightly his face.

Harry’s eyes flickered from you back to Ron before rolling to the back of his head out of annoyance.

“That thing we said we were going to do earlier. You disappeared so I did it myself... and well... I got caught, so if you will excuse me-" you’re eyebrows furrowed as you looked to Ron with a sudden pale and tense figure.

“What did you do?” You groaned.

“YOU’RE DEAD POTTER!” A familiar clump of voices called, echoing through the halls before you’re eyes went wide.

“Tell you later?” He offered before you rolled your eyes gripping your boyfriend hand as you both prepared to run along side your friend.

[yamigooops]

Trail of Chocolate

genre: smut pairing: Bokuto x fem!reader words: 2.7k warnings: FOODPLAY, mommy x baby boy if you squint, oral sex, a hand job, unprotected sex (but with an established relationship)

a/n: this took me way too long because once I finished the fun stuff I didn't wanna finish it lol. but yeah this was for @prettysetterbaby's Valentine's Day collab so go check out the rest of those posts here!

this is also being posted as a celebration of me hitting 2k followers so thank you guys so much for that, i appreciate it more than you know 🥺🥰

“Can I come in now, you big dork?” you giggled, waiting a bit anxiously outside the bedroom door. Bokuto claimed he had a surprise for you and needed a moment to prepare, so you had to wait outside. All you wanted was to go in and see what he had planned.

“One second, aaaaaaand you can come in now!” he called excitedly. “Close your eyes though, we gotta count down for this one.” You obliged him his small request, placing your hand over your eyes and opening the door slowly. “Okay, one. Two. Three,” he called. Once he finished, you lowered your hand and your jaw dropped slightly.

The room was dark, candles providing a soft glow to the space and lacing the air with a warm, cinnamony scent. Laying there on the bed was your husband Bokuto in all his nude glory, and along his chest was a trail of chocolate syrup with a few strawberries along the way, from his neck down to his groin. You felt a twinge in your stomach as you looked upon him, your lips turning up in a grin.

“Happy Valentine’s day, love,” he purred as you advanced, removing your shirt and pants along the way. “You get a trail of chocolate today.” His voice was rough around the edges but contained a tone of humor at the situation. You playfully rolled your eyes as you unclasped your bra and tossed it to the floor behind you.

“All… this, for me?” you gestured to the sweet trail down his chest. “Chocolate and Bokuto, two of my favorite things all at once.” You grinned as you settled yourself onto his lap and carefully leaned down over his chest to kiss him, being sure not to disturb the trail.

“I do try my best,” he chuckled against your lips. “Which end would you like to start your journey on?” His fingers dug deliciously into your hips as he ground up into your clothed heat.

Thinking for a moment, you brought your lips to his ear and spoke softly. “I think I’ll start at the bottom and work my way back up to your pretty lips.” You thought you felt his skin raise a bit with goosebumps as you pressed a gentle kiss onto his earlobe. Raising back up onto your legs, you stood up and grabbed the bottle of lube from the nightstand. Returning to your lover, you situated yourself on the bed between his legs.

You leaned down to press your lips against the head of his cock, licking up the bead of precum resting there. You licked a stripe up the bottom of it, right along the prominent vein resting beneath the skin. As you came to the end, you wrapped your lips around the tip and bobbed your head a few times before releasing him with a pop. He groaned at the loss of contact before you put some lube onto your hand and wrapped your fingers around the base of his length. He let out a hiss as you tightened your grip just slightly, before you relaxed it again and began to move up and down.

Then, with a playful glance up at him, you bent down and your tongue made contact with the skin just above his dick. He shuddered, unused to the feeling, before relaxing, and you started moving up toward his chest. The chocolate sauce was sweet on your tongue, and you did everything you could to not leave any behind so as not to leave your boyfriend sticky.

“Mmnh, you taste so good baby,” you cooed between tongue-fulls of chocolate. You kissed the skin below his bellybutton, and he twined his fingers through your hair, keeping it back and out of your face. You were grateful for the assistance, as you didn’t particularly want chocolate in your hair, and it didn’t hurt that the feeling of his fingers on your scalp was one of your favorites in the world.

Your hand continued to pump his length, thumb occasionally reaching up to run over the slit and collect the precum leaking out. You felt his hips raise up into your hand and paused in your ministrations. Your free hand pressed gently into his hip as you looked up at him playfully. “Aw come on now, Bo, no getting ahead of yourself,” you chided. He huffed and you returned to what you were doing, this time with your fingers dug lightly into his hip as he had done to you so many times before.

You were at his abs now, the muscle firm beneath your tongue as you reached the first strawberry. You bit down on it, the sweet juice filling your mouth as you chewed. As you swallowed, you made eye contact with the man below you, taking the opportunity to run your tongue over your lips in a way you prayed was seductive. It must have worked because you got a big gulp and a shiver in return. With that, you returned to your conquest of the body before you.

“God, Y/N, f-feels so good,” Bokuto groaned, fingers tightening in your hair. You felt your core tighten in response, aching to be touched. But you resisted, keeping your one hand fixed on his wriggling hips while the other moved over his cock with increasing speed.

You were at the next strawberry now, eating it in much the same way as the last, and you were savoring the feeling of his every twitch and sigh and moan. You played with him like he was putty in your hands, and the thought was electrifying. To know that this man, one of the best volleyball players in the world, was yours alone had you so on edge you could get off to the mere thought of it. You had the power to bring him to his knees if you so desired it, so you decided to make it as fun as possible. Why not toy with him a bit while you held him captive?

“Oh god baby,” you paused, pressing your chest slowly up and down his thigh. “I’m getting so wet right now; I need you so bad.” He let out a strangled moan, unprepared for the feeling of your breasts grinding against his leg. His hips moved with renewed vigor, so you simply pressed the pads of your fingers harder into his hip, almost hoping to leave little bruises there like he did to you so often.

“Nng, baby you feel t-too good, I can’t- mmph- can’t hold out much longer.” The words that left his lips were strained with lust, barely above a whisper but full of such emotion it made your chest swell with pride. You nearly had him on those pretty knees of his.

“Aww come on baby, I’m almost done with dessert,” you sighed, swallowing the third strawberry that laid on his pectoral just above the nipple. With a grin, you ran your tongue over the little bud, earning a soft gasp from the silver-haired man. You pressed your lips against it in a gentle kiss before moving on, knowing he was nearing his edge. You wanted to be done with the chocolate before that happened.

“I know you can hold on just a little longer for me, can’t you?” Your voice took on the tone of one speaking to a child, raising at the end in a melodic tone as you returned your tongue to the trail set before you.

“Y-yes of course I c-can.” You could tell he was getting dangerously close, so you decided it was worth it to speed things up a bit. You finished off the last strawberry and then the end of the trail of chocolate ended at the hollow beneath his Adam’s apple, which bobbed as he gulped, eyes scrunched shut.

With a kiss to his jaw, you returned your mouth down to his groin, taking his length in your mouth once again. He hissed at the sensation, and you could tell he was painfully hard. You hollowed out your cheeks, moving up and down at a steady, swift pace that was sure to leave him breathless.

“Love, I-I’m gonna-” he cried before bursting in your mouth. You swallowed the thick ropes of white that he released, allowing only a small stream to escape to run down his length. You pumped him through his orgasm, waiting until he was tugging your hair and whimpering in overstimulation to release him.

You crawled back up his body to meet his lips once again, your tongue meeting his with the taste of arousal and chocolate still in your mouth. He placed one hand around the back of your hips and the other gently against your cheek as he pulled you against him. In one swift movement, he turned you over, so he was above you, arms framing your body.

“How’d you like your snack?” He grinned down at you, looking owlish as ever. You felt that familiar tightening in your core, your panties growing ever wetter. He trailed his fingers over your jaw, down the column of your neck to rest on your breast, where he kneaded the flesh for a moment. He brought his lips to yours as he continued his journey down your body, leaving goose flesh in his wake. When his fingertips reached the line of your underwear, he paused, pulling back from your mouth. “God, I love you so much,” he whispered into the space between you. “I hope you know that, Y/N.”

You nodded, bringing your hands up to run them through his hair gently. “I know love, I know,” you murmured back raising your forehead up to meet his as you closed your eyes. He sighed, pushing his fingers past the border of your panties to rest against your core. He pressed a finger against your clit, making you draw in a sharp breath as he made up for the contact you had been lacking.

“’M gonna make you feel so good baby,” he growled, pressing a bit harder before slipping his middle finger into your slit. You whimpered, tugging on his hair as you brought his mouth back down to yours. He pumped in and out for a few moments before adding another finger. You ground your hips into his hand, desperate for the much-needed contact. Watching him struggle against you had left you so needy you could barely stand it, and the feeling of his calloused fingers against the tender flesh of your walls was just too good.

“Bo…” you sighed, bringing one leg up to hitch behind his hips. He grunted, pressing his fingers as deep into you as possible and curling them mercilessly. You cried out; head thrown back at the sensation. “Need you inside me baby,” you groaned, desperate for the feeling of him.

“Alright darling, of course,” he placed a gentle kiss on your chin, sliding his hand out with one final curl of his fingers. Looking down, you saw a thin string of cream connecting your core and his fingers, stomach fluttering at the sight. He used the arousal on his digits to slicken his dick, mixing it with the fluids already there from your earlier ministrations.

He brought the head of his cock to run up your slit, collecting the juices there and pressing against your needy clit all in one fluid motion. Bringing it back down, he pressed gently against your hole. Bringing one hand to your cheek, he prompted you to open your eyes. When you did, you found him gazing down at you with a gentleness that took your breath away. “Are you ready darling?” he whispered, a small smile on his lips.

“Always.” Your lips raised into a smile to mirror his own, and with that he cut the tension with a knife and pushed past your entrance. The feeling of him inside you was so intimately gorgeous that you had to bring your forehead up to his, wincing ever so slightly at the stretch as he soon bottomed out.

His thrusts were slow and deliberate, taking care to hit every sensitive spot he could hit. Your walls embraced him as a lover would, warm and supple against his member. With every pump, your hips came up to meet his in a movement that could only be described as a dance. The two of you intertwined, your legs coming up to hook around his back and your hands coming up to card through his mussed hair.

His lips were plush against the skin of your neck as he pressed kisses down the column of your throat, pausing to nip at the skin before moving on. Your moans filled the air, and his grunts of pleasure provided punctuation. The heat building in your core burned red hot as you neared your climax.

His fingers came down to press against your clit, moving expertly against the needy little bud, and you nearly burst into flames right then and there. The moment was so intimate and sacred that you were on the verge of tears, never wanting it to end, but you felt yourself nearing your climax, nonetheless.

“Come on love,” he murmured into your ear, breath hot against your skin. “You’re so beautiful when you’re like this. Cum for me, won’t you?”

His words were all you needed to throw you over the edge, stars bursting against the backs of your eyelids as words came tumbling from your lips. “B-Bokuto!” you cried as he fucked you through your climax. His thrusts grew faster and sloppier as he grew closer to his own. “Give me e-everything you’ve got” you groaned, burying your face in his shoulder as your nails raked against his back.

“M gonna c-cum,” he grunted, just a moment before he buried himself to the hilt and burst inside you, pouring hot love into you that coated your walls in white. You moaned at the feeling, body trembling in his grasp as he sagged against you, pumping in and out lazily to draw out the pleasure as he softened inside you.

“Bo,” you whispered against the slightly sweaty skin of his chest. Your fingers splayed against his back, gently running over the slightly raised tracks where your nails had dug in the haze of your pleasure. “I love you, I love you so much.” The words were charged with passion, and his lips pressed into your forehead as he gently pulled out, arousal oozing out of your core as he did.

“You did so well sweetheart,” he breathed, lips brushing against your forehead as he spoke. “Why don’t we get you all cleaned up and we can snuggle?” You nodded as he rolled off you. You followed, meaning to walk beside him, but he slid his arms beneath your legs and back to lift you easily against his chest. Making his way to the bathroom, he placed you atop the large sink, the marble cool against the flushed skin of your bottom and thighs.

He dampened a towel in warm water before returning to stand between your legs. He leaned down to press kisses against your collarbone as he ran the towel over your thighs and core, cleaning off the arousal that seeped from inside you. “You’re so pretty with my cum dripping out of you,” he whispered playfully, a devilish grin curling the corners of his lips. “I can’t wait until we’re ready for a baby.”

“Me neither, honey,” you smiled softly, picturing him holding a little bundle of joy in his muscular arms. “You’re gonna make such a good father.”

“And you’re gonna be the best mommy in the whole world,” he smiled, looking up to kiss you on the nose. He cleaned himself up before picking you back up with a hand on your bottom and the other on your back as you locked your legs behind his back and your arms around his neck. He placed you back on the bed before going around to blow out all the candles. He then returned to the bed and crawled in behind you, situating himself to cradle you against his chest. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N,” he murmured into your hair before kissing the back of your head.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Bo, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you whispered into the dark and fell asleep in the arms of the man you loved more than anything in the world.

consider buying me a coffee for exclusive writing

[its-tortle]

Stucky and #1 for the Christmas prompts!

thank you so much for this wonderful prompt, hannah! 💗 it inadvertently turned into this whole super long and tacky post-endgame au where nat survived and steve stayed and everyone is friends and everything is happy and nothing hurts, i hope you don’t mind. sending u all the festive and loving vibes! i hope your husband is giving u all the kisses under the mistletoe! 🥰

(it is almost 2am and this fic is 2.5k words and oh boy was writing it an emotional rollercoaster of an experience)

happy 1st advent! 🎄

---

The oven beeps loudly, and Steve, elbow deep in dishwater in an attempt to unclog the sink, swears. He could have sworn he had more time before the cookies were done, but the obnoxiously shrill beep ringing through the kitchen proves otherwise.

Hastily, he abandons the clogged sink and goes to dry his hands and forearms with the already damp kitchen towel.

“You good?”, Wanda’s voice calls from the living room. The beeping must have been going on a moment too long.

Steve calls back that he’s just fine, thank you very much, and, hands dry, takes the cookies out of the oven.

Given his abysmal skills in the kitchen, Steve had almost assumed that they would be burnt or liquid or otherwise inedible, but they actually look fine. They’re a bit lumpier than Winnie’s were, but they smell delicious.

Steve puts them down on the counter, and then can’t help but close his eyes and take a deep inhale of the sweet, cinnamony warm scent.

It takes him right back.

It takes him right back to that small orange-lit apartment full of books and Christmas greenery and shrill little girls. George is sitting on that old battered armchair with little Judy on his knee, and Winnie is taking the cinnamon cookies out of the oven, ready to be decorated by all the kids -- Steve and Bucky included, even though they’re both technically adults. Bucky smiles at Steve from across the counter, cheeks red from the eggnog and his suspenders hanging loosely at his hips, his eyes twinkling with mirth. Becca is singing Jingle Bells.

Steve is torn out of the memory by Natasha’s appearance in the doorway. She shoots him a questioning look.

“It smells like ‘36,” he smiles.

She returns the smile. “I assume that means you succeeded.”

“Yeah, I think. I mean, I haven’t tasted them yet, but they should hopefully be fine.” He trails off.

And then he’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth again, wondering if Bucky will like them, if he even wants a traditional Christmas like the one in ‘36. They hadn’t been able to actually celebrate one since he shipped off in ‘41, and Steve just wants to give him a slice of the life they’re missing in their hectic whirlwind of a timeline.

So while Bucky had gone to Wakanda for the day for a routine arm check-up, Steve had assembled Nat, Sam, and Wanda to decorate their shared Brooklyn apartment and help him bake Winnie’s cookies. He wants Bucky to come home to the surprise of something pure and festive, something that reminds him of familiarity.

But then the surprise element of it may have been a bad idea, because Bucky might not want it. Maybe it will remind him of the life that was so brutally ripped from him and the number of memories he can’t get back. Maybe, Steve has just inadvertently robbed his best friend of another choice.

As if knowing exactly what he’s thinking -- which, she probably does --, Natasha reaches out to Steve. Her hand finds his bicep. 

“He’ll love it,” she assures him.

“Bucky doesn't like surprises,” Steve responds dumbly.

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “But he loves Christmas, and he loves you.”

She’s right, and Steve relaxes minutely. 

And if Bucky hates it, he’ll take it all back down and throw the cookies out and Bucky will forgive him ten times over.

Steve doesn’t think he deserves him, all of his strength and his love and that look he levels at Steve when he thinks Steve isn’t looking, but he’ll sure as hell take what he can get. And he’ll try his best to be deserving of it, to give all back to Bucky.

Sam appears in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Damn, Rogers,” he smirks. “You already stealing my girl?”

Steve knows that if those words had come out of anyone else’s mouth ever, they would have been sucker-punched to next week, but Natasha just smiles and lets her hand drop from Steve’ arm. 

“I’d like to see him try.”

Sam laughs, and takes Nat under his arm as she approaches the doorway. He drops a kiss to her temple, and Steve’ heart soars. He’s so damn happy for them.

Nat says something quiet to her boyfriend, and Steve looks away from the intimate moment to busy himself with getting a serving plate for them out of the cabinet. He chooses the big red one, for the sake of festivity.

“What I actually came in here to say,” Sam announces to Steve, “is that we’re done decorating.”

Steve smiles, and lets himself be led back into the living area. He finds it decked to a near point of ridiculousness.

There’s plastic greens with colorful lights all around the tops of the walls, and paper stars hanging in the windows. The coffee table tablecloth is red and gold, and topped with more greenery and Christmas candles. There’s a festive throw blanket over the couch, and tinsel and tacky figurines on the shelves. Michael Bublé is playing from the speaker on the table.

And there’s a seven foot tree in the corner of the room, so laden with lights and baubles and tinsel that Steve can barely see the green. Someone has drawn a beard on the brown-haired angel that sits atop it.

Among the color and sparkle, Wanda and Clint give him proud grins.

Steve laughs in gleeful surprise. “You guys really don’t pull your punches, huh?”

“We’re the Avengers, dude,” Clint quips. “We can’t afford to pull punches.”

Steve is glad for it, and tells them as much.

Sam helps him unclog the sink a minute later, while Wanda lays the cookies out on the serving plate in a delicate spiral. Clint shrilly sings along to All I Want For Christmas Is You.

By the time he’s dragging out the last high note -- horribly, if one might add -- there’s a jingle of keys outside the door.

Everything’s ready, so there’s not logically a reason to panic, but Steve feels his anxiety spike anyway. Unrealistically horrible scenarios race through his mind, and he’s thankful for Wanda reaching out to ground him.

When the door swings open, Bucky doesn’t immediately notice the irregularity. He’s taking his earbuds out of his ears and taking off his scarf, but then he suddenly looks up.

There’s a minute moment of fear in his eyes, the one inevitably present at surprise for a man who has had a life like Bucky’s, but it soon dissipates.

Bucky looks around the room with an unreadable expression, before his gaze falls on Steve in his ridiculous Scandinavian navy and red sweater.

Steve watches his best friend, the gorgeous flush on his cheeks and nose from the cold and the wisps of hair on his cheekbones that he wants to brush away, and tries to level his reaction.

And then Bucky grins, and Steve lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Happy December, Buck.” 

Bucky’s grin widens as he steps further into the room. “You did this?”

Steve motions to the others. “I had help.”

“Holy shit.”

Bucky looks around the room with an ever widening smile, making no move to take off his coat or boots. He’s trailing snow onto the carpet, but Steve has never given less of a fuck.

Because Bucky looks radiant. He looks more glowy than Steve thinks he’s seen him in months, with a Cheshire Cat grin and tinted cheeks and lights in his eyes. He spins on his axis once, twice, three, times. He laughs at the angel bearing a rough resemblance to himself.

Steve allows himself to think this whole thing was a good idea. “You like it?”

Bucky turns back to him with an incredulous joy. “You’re kidding, right? I love it. I don’t even know what to do with myself right now, I love it so much.”

Steve let’s the grin he’s been cautiously holding back materialize on his face, and the violence of it makes his cheeks hurt pretty much immediately.

“Thank you, Stevie.”

Wanda, with an adorable flourish and teasingly chivalrous comment, takes Bucky’s coat off of his shoulders, and while Bucky toes off his boots, Sam starts complaining about all the trouble he went through and the little thanks he’s getting. 

Bucky flips him off, but he’s still grinning.

“ D’you want cookies?” Steve offers.

Bucky straightens from where he was placing his boots on the rack. “I don’t know, did you make them?”

He should have expected that answer, honestly. Steve shoots Bucky a look. “I did, but I think they’re edible.”

At that, Clint emerges from the kitchen. “They’re fucking delicious,” he says through a mouthful of what Steve can only assume is Winnie’s cinnamon cookies.

They all roll their eyes at his antics, though they know there’s no way to stop him from being his chaotic self, and they also not-so reluctantly love him for it. Nat swats him over the back of his head anyway -- Steve’s sure she only uses about 1/10 of her strength.

Apparently taking Clint’s word for it, Bucky does follow Steve past the decked hall into the kitchen and to where the cookies sit, still steaming, on the counter.

Upon entering the room, Bucky suddenly freezes. He gives Steve a look somewhere between surprise and disbelief, and Steve knows exactly what he’s asking.

“Becca wrote your Ma’s recipe down,” he explains uncertainly. “I probably didn’t do it justice, but I-”

Steve is cut off by Bucky flinging himself at him with a rare ferocity. He throws his arms -- one flesh, one metal -- around Steve's shoulders and buries his face in Steve’s neck and Steve is taken aback for only a second until he hugs back with equal vehemence.

It’s one of those rare beautiful hugs where neither of them are holding anything back and Steve is so in love he thinks he might burst. His eyes go a little foggy, and though he has no logical reason to, he knows Bucky’s are too. He nuzzles into Bucky’s gradually disintegrating bun and steps impossibly closer.

“Thank you,” Bucky mumbles into the crook of his shoulder. He does indeed sound a bit choked up. 

When they pull back after what was definitely not the appropriate length of a hug for two best friends, they just share a slightly watery smile and take a cookie each.

They toast them, making tacky clinking sounds with their mouths, because that’s what George always used to make them do. Bucky takes a small, savoring bite, and outright moans.

Steve files that sounds under things he shouldn’t think about, but definitely will later because fuck, and takes a bite of his own. 

It really is delicious, and Steve thanks God that the one time he was blessed with competence in the kitchen was this occasion. 

Still with the cookie in his mouth, Bucky looks back at Steve. “Thank you, Stevie.”

Steve is overwhelmed by the love in those beautiful steel blue eyes, and tries to channel it all right back. “Of course.”

They take the plate of cookies back out of the kitchen to offer them to the others. Bucky makes Steve promise to make another batch with him before Christmas.

Sam steals the plate right out of Steve’s hands and they emerge back into the living room and helps himself before passing it on to the others.

Steve leans on side of the doorway, Bucky by his side, and watches as the others chat about trivial things and praise the baked goods. 

Looking at the decked out room and the obnoxious decorations and twinkling lights, at his living room filled with friends not currently worrying about their next fight, Steve thinks that he’s happy. 

And ain’t that something?

“Hey,” Nat says suddenly. “Is that mistletoe?”

She motions above where Steve and Bucky are standing in the doorway to the kitchen and when Steve looks up, he finds that the pair of them are indeed standing under a fresh twig of mistletoe.

He turns back to glare at Nat with something between anger and panic, but she does an amicable job of acting surprised herself. There’s an urging and knowing twinkle in her clever eyes.

And Steve? Steve is mad.

If throwing a surprise Christmas in their shared apartment without Bucky’s knowledge was toeing a line of lack of consent, this reaches a whole other level. After all the millions of choices that were so brutally ripped from Bucky, this won’t be one of them, it can’t.

Because Steve wants to kiss Bucky, of course he does -- he thinks he’s probably subconsciously wanted to since he was sixteen -- but it isn’t up to him, and it sure as hell isn’t up to a parasite of a plant. If Bucky does want to kiss him, which sometimes, in moments of vulnerability and love, Steve lets himself hope he does, it should be entirely up to him.

So, yeah. Steve won’t stand for it.

He shoots Natasha another angry frown and then turns to Bucky, softening his hard look. His best friend is looking up at him with an unscruitable expression.

“Buck,” Steve starts, “We don’t- You don’t have to do anything. It’s just a stupid plant.”

To his surprise, Bucky’s blank expression morphs to a measuring, and almost flirty one. And Steve would know that look anywhere, he’s seen it on Bucky’s face about a million and a half times growing up, but he’s never been on the receiving end of it.

At his widening eyes, Bucky smirks. “What? You don’t wanna kiss me, Stevie?”

Steve’s brain reels. “What? No, that’s- Of course I do, I just- I mean-”

Bucky cuts off his panicked rambling with a widening smile. “Then go for it.”

Steve shuts up, exes wider than ever. He doesn’t think he’s breathing.

“You’re sure?”

And then Bucky is sporting a blinding grin and Steve’s face is in his hands and he presses his mouth to his.

Steve vaguely hears voices cheering to his right, but through the haze of his mind, nothing has ever mattered less.

Bucky’s lips are soft and wet and warm and he’s smiling through the kiss and stroking Steve’s cheek with his thumb.

It’s just a prolonged peck, really, and then Bucky is pulling away, eyelashes fluttering. He looks up at Steve with an almost nervous smile, suddenly anxious, and Steve won’t stand for it.

Wrapping one arm around Bucky’s waist and threading the other in his hair, he pulls him back in. 

Bucky sighs against him, and then he’s smiling into the kiss again and threading his fingers into Steve’s hair. He opens his mouth against Steve’s and then Steve is drowning. Drowning in Bucky and the taste of cinnamon sugar cookies and love.

If he thinks he was happy before, it’s nothing compared to this. 

The kiss goes on for definitely longer than is necessary for a mistletoe kiss, but if he’s being honest, Steve has completely forgotten about the mistletoe.

He’ll thank Nat later.

--

tag list i always forget to add @stuckys-hot-dogs @honestly-dontknow @irisv-x

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ao3

[tcsauaskblog]

What's the most wholesome thing Gladstone has ever done for Donald? ps: this blog gives me life

Gladstone can't cook. Sure, he could probably whip up something and have it taste moderately ok, but that was just his luck kicking in. It’s not like he knew what he was doing. 

‘Oatmeal’s so easy it’s practically cheating,’ he remembers Della saying a forgotten amount of years ago. And if Della could cook anything even remotely edible, then surely Gladstone would have no problems. It would be fine. He totally had this in the bag.

He looked up from his table of ingredients to the home phone hanging on the wall and had the fleeting thought of calling Gran. Not because he couldn’t do it or needed any help or anything, but just to be sure for assurance's sake. 

But no, he couldn’t call her even if he wanted to. Gran had taken Del and Feth up to the mountains for an overnight Woodchuck retreat and wouldn’t be within phone service till Sunday. 

Meaning Gladstone was on his own.

Gladstone rolled up his sleeves and gave a huff of determination. Like he thought, he’d be fine. Making dumb oatmeal was totally within his capabilities. Prepare yourself world, Gladstone was about to rewrite history and make the best freaking oatmeal ever!

He turned on the stovetop under a saucepan of water and brought it to a boil before adding in a cup of oats. He doesn’t really know what else you put into oatmeal besides, well, oats, but he had a distinct memory of Don’s oatmeal always tasting sweet and cinnamony, so he adds a spoonful of cinnamon and honey and keeps stirring. 

Somewhere in the back of his head, Gladstone thinks Don usually puts more stuff into his, making it taste creamy and sweet and delicious. But asking Don about it would seem like he lost this battle and Gladstone would not give Donald that satisfaction, so he pushes the thought out of his head and keeps stirring till the oats seemed soft enough.

Turning the stovetop off and letting the oats cool down a bit, Gladstone cuts up an orange and makes some honey lemon tea before putting everything on a tray and making his way upstairs.

He knocks on his cousins’ door twice, but doesn't wait for an answer as he opens it anyway and walks into the dark room. 

“Wakey wakey, eggs and.. well... ok so I didn’t make any bacon. Or eggs. But get up anyway, I have something better,” Gladstone sing songs as he balances the tray on his hip and uses his other hand to flip the light switch on.

The lump of blankets in Donald’s bed shifted as soon as Gladstone walked in the door, but it was another few seconds of jostled movement before a head poked out of the pile of quilts and glared at Gladstone.

“Go away,” Donald practically growled, and Gladstone had to forcibly stop himself from flinching at how scratchy and gravely Don’s voice was.

“No can do patient zero, I’m your self designated nurse for the next two days whether you like it or not,” Gladstone says, grabbing Della’s desk chair as he walked over to Don’s bed.

“Since when?” Donald croaks again, and buries his head under the blankets once more just as Gladstone took a seat beside him.

“Since you collapsed in the field a couple of hours ago with a 102-degree fever and nearly gave Gus and I a heart attack,” Gladstone comments as he sets the tray down on the bedside table beside them. “Gus is fine by the way, I sent him back to Cuthbert’s a little while ago after he helped carry you in. What have you been eating lately anyway? Took us nearly five minutes to haul you up here.”

“Shut up,” Donald groaned again before poking a one-eyed glare at Gladstone from under the blanket. “They couldn’t send a prettier and nicer nurse?”

“Excuse you, I’m the prettiest and nicest nurse in this joint. You’re lucky to have me, there’s a teddy bear down the hall that’s in dire need of a stitch job and here I am tending to your dumb ass instead,” Gladstone remarks as a heated joke, but quickly regrets it when Donald just breathes haggardly and stays a little too still under the blanket for Gladstone’s taste. “Anyway, can you sit up? You need to eat something. I made you some oatmeal.”

Donald didn’t reply back for a few quiet moments, and Gladstone almost thought he had gone back to sleep. But before Gladstone could shake his shoulder to check, Donald rolled over from his side and slowly sat up, the bed creaking the entire time as Donald rubbed his eyes to adjust them to the light. “You... you made oatmeal?”

Gladstone swallowed hard at the sight of his older cousin, and didn’t think it was possible to look so pale and so flushed at the same time. His cheeks and forehead were tinted a soft red, but his hands and arms looked clammy and washed out. There were dark bags like bruises under his eyes, a combination of stress and sleep deprivation that had overworked him to the point of getting a fever and Gladstone felt absolutely sick with how tired Don looked.

His eyes were a glazed over blue, unfocused, and hazy as he lazily made eye contact with Gladstone. “I... I didn’t know you knew how to make oatmeal. I didn’t know you knew how to make anything.”

“Please, oatmeal is so easy, it’s practically cheating,” Gladstone rolled his eyes and hoped he could get away with quoting Della without Donald noticing. 

It must have been a testament to how rotten Donald was feeling because he didn’t question it a second time and just nodded sluggishly, stifling a yawn as he balanced his head against his knee and closed his eyes.

“...Don’t need it.... I’m ok,” Donald muttered halfheartedly into his knee, like he was desperately trying to convince himself instead, and the worried knot in Gladstone’s stomach tightened into something angry and frustrated.

“Still dizzy? Need any more ibuprofen?” Gladstone asked, trying not to let the worried knot that had tied itself in his gut over the past few hours tighten, but Donald just shook his head softly.

“Don’t lie to your nurse, dude. You’re obviously not ok,” and Gladstone hated this side of Donald. The stupid stubborn side that refused to let anyone in and help him when he needed it. It reminded Gladstone too much of himself, which honestly made him hate it even more. “You can barely sit up and talk to me. Can you suck up your stupid pride for like, two seconds, and just tell me what you need?”

Donald gave Gladstone another one-eyed glare, but there was hardly any fight in his words when he mumbled a, “Really... I’m ok... Just tired.” And Gladstone was seriously starting to get pissed off now.

“If you say you’re ok one more time, I don’t care if I’m your nurse or not, I swear I’m gonna smack you,” Gladstone snapped, and was surprised when Donald let out a low and wheezy chuckle. 

“Are you... really trying to pick a fight with a sick guy right now?” Donald mused and Gladstone almost rolled his eyes so hard, he would have hurt himself if he wasn’t a pro at it.

“Oh, so NOW you’re sick. But when you’re hauling irrigation pipe around in 100-degree weather while being so dizzy you can barely walk straight and with a high enough fever to boil an egg, you’re all, ‘oh, don’t worry about me gran,’ and ‘I’m totally fine Della, go have fun.’ And by the time we figure out you’re not, it’s too late and you’re already half-dead in a creek somewhere,“ Gladstone complained, throwing his arms up in the air exhaustedly.

“I was in a field, not a creek.”

“My point is,” Gladstone rubbed his brow in annoyance, and tried to remember that he was indeed trying to take care of Donald, not pick a fight with him. But Gladstone was his cousin first, caretaker later, and it was high time someone spoke up to Donald about his self-sabotaging tendencies. “You always do this. You always push yourself too hard and never let any of us help you when you need it, and I’m getting sick and tired of having to worry all the time about you lying to us about whether you’re ok or not.” 

Gladstone crossed his arms over his chest tightly and let his words hang in the air, his eyes glued to Donalds in a fierce sort of way that practically dared Don to try and argue back with him.

But to Gladstone’s surprise, Don just knitted his brows tightly and shifted his gaze. Hugging his legs to his chest and resting his forehead on top of his knees, Donald muttered a soft “...I know... Sorry,” that caught Gladstone completely off guard.

And Gladstone had never seen Donald cry in all his 13 years, and Donald wasn’t crying now, but his eyes got an intense watery that made Gladstone’s heart turn ice cold and sink all the way to his feet. 

And maybe it was just that Donald was really sick and tired and wasn’t in the right headspace to put up a fight and defend himself against Gladstone, but still, Gladstone couldn’t help but feel the guilt of his earlier accusation tear through his angry exterior like a knife through butter, and Gladstone melted into something soft and forgiving and far less intimidating and hard-pressed.

He was still frustrated with Donald, but to be fair to his cousin, it wasn’t like Donald tried to be difficult like this on purpose.

Donald’s always tried to do things by himself, ever since they were little kids. He always tried to carry the world on his shoulders and be the singular pillar holding all his family up. When they all moved into Gran’s for the first time, Gran made a comment to Donald that he was the man of the house now, and she would be needing his help to take care of everyone. Gladstone knows Gran only meant it as a way to cheer Donald up, but Don took it all too seriously, and used it as an excuse to do things on his own.

It really wasn’t like Donald was too prideful to ask for help, like Gladstone. It was just that he didn’t know how or when it was ok too. And he’d much rather burn up completely at both ends before he ‘burdened’ his family with what he considered ‘his’ responsibilities. 

And it was frustrating cause in the same light, Gladstone didn’t know how to offer help without it seeming like he was looking or picking a fight.

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s just,” Gladstone sighed, and ran a tired hand through his hair before leaning forward and resting his elbows on the edge of Don’s bed, craning his neck so that he could make eye contact with Don from where he was leaning his head against his knee. “I don’t like doing this. I’m not good at doing this.”

“What... taking care of my ‘dumb ass’?” Donald muttered sarcastically. 

“Seeing you sick and being useless to help you,” Gladstone stated flatly, staring at Don’s eyes with a heated deadpan as they got wide and electric with surprise.

“Helping you is the easy part dude. Getting you to let me is what I’m not good at. You know it’s ok to take a break, right? I know I complain about doing chores and all, but it’s not like I won’t help pick up the slack if you need it.” And Donald's eyes were large and blue and glued to Gladstones as he continued, trying with every once of his luck to get Donald to understand his wishes. “You don’t always have to do everything yourself all the time. You’re allowed to take a step back and breathe once in a while. It’s not like everything will fall apart without you there to hold it together, ya know. We’re not so fragile that we’ll fall into ruin if you don’t run yourself into an early grave to fix everything yourself. You’re allowed to ask for help.”

Gladstone leaned forward and tapped Donald’s forehead a couple of times and gave him a wry smile. “So I don’t need you to apologize. I just need you to be ok. Like, really be ok. And to not try to take on the world by yourself. You’re not alone, dude. Stop acting like it.”

Donald didn’t retort with anything witty or spitfire back, which Gladstone half expected him to, but he nodded honestly and clearly, and gave Gladstone a wry smile of his own.

“Ok,” was all he said, and that was as good as gold for Gladstone.

“Ok, good!” Gladstone straightened up in his seat and reached over for the bowl of oatmeal on the nightstand. “It should be cool enough now for you to eat. I can’t promise it’s like, the best thing ever, but you need to eat something and I’m pretty sure this won’t make you feel any worse.

Donald took the bowl slowly, and raised an eyebrow of surprise in Gladstone’s general direction.

“I still can’t believe... you made me oatmeal.”

“What, like it’s hard?” Gladstone answered back, leaning forward on his elbows once again and looking at the bowl with a nervousness he didn’t quite know what to do with other than to not show it to Donald at ALL costs. “Just eat it before it gets cold, ya skeptic.”

Donald took an unhurried bite, and chewed for what seemed like a torturous forever to Gladstone, before breaking into a gentle smile.

“It’s good,” Don commented while he chewed, and smiled even bigger when Gladstone physically beamed on the spot.

“What, really? You mean it? I knew it wouldn’t be like, horrible, but it was my first time making it so I wasn’t sure and-,”

“Try it,” Donald interrupted, still smiling as he held out a spoonful towards Gladstone, who, in his defense, took it immediately in his excitement over his first real cooked dish. And didn’t even think twice about possibly getting Donald’s sick germs, (even though he never gets sick anyway.)

As soon as the spoon entered his mouth, Gladstone started coughing and gagging, and almost downed Donald’s entire cup of tea in one swig to try and wash the oatmeal down.

It wasn’t like it was horrible, it definitely was by anyone's standards edible. But it wasn’t good by any means either. Gladstone had definitely put too much cinnamon in it, and the honey was almost nonexistent, making it all together just taste way too bitter and chalky.

“UGH! You liar! You said it tasted good!” Gladstone barked, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and staring daggers into Donald as his cousin smiled innocently back. 

“I said it was good, not that it tasted good,” Donald supplied simply, taking his spoon back from where Gladstone had thrown it back onto the bed and taking another bite. “Not that is matters. I’m pretty sure this fever made me lose my sense of taste.”

“What’s the difference then?” Gladstone demanded, and Donald just continued to smile softly into his bowl, his soft blue eyes practically illuminated against the red of his cheeks.

“It’s warm,” Donald replied back plainly, not looking at Gladstone as he took another big bite out of it. “I like it.”

And Gladstone didn’t really understand what Donald meant by that, but a pull in his stomach told him it was a compliment, and he could feel his own cheeks get hot with pride. So he stood up abruptly and said something about getting Donald a glass of water as he walked toward the door, not wanting to show Donald how pleased he was by the praise. 

Even though the oatmeal wasn’t a huge success, Donald still liked it, which meant Gladstone won the battle in the end.

Once he had gotten a glass of cold water from the kitchen and a cold wash rag for Donald’s forehead, he made his way back up the stairs towards his cousin’s bedroom.

Gladstone had left Don’s bedroom door open when he left, but before he could announce his arrival, he heard Don’s quiet snoring. Donald had fallen back asleep, with half of his body uncovered by his blanket and with the lights still on. Gladstone shook his head and smiled, but when he walked over to put the glass of water down on Donald’s nightstand, he noticed the bowl of oatmeal completely empty against Donald's side. The spoon was still hanging out of his mouth. 

“Dummy,” Gladstone said with more affection then he’d ever let Donald hear while he was awake, and took the spoon out of his mouth with the utmost care. He put the empty bowl and spoon on the tray and recovered Donald with the blanket, making sure to tuck in any stray limbs. He brushed some of Donald's wild bed hair out of the way before placing the cold washcloth on his forehead. Donald sighed quietly at the contact, but otherwise made no show of waking up anytime soon. Gladstone noticed that his fever didn’t feel nearly as hot as it did earlier, and felt a sigh of his own escape his lips in relief.

Gladstone gathered the empty bowl and spoon on the tray, leaving all but a single slice of orange that he stole for himself on Donald's nightstand, and put Della’s desk chair by where he had found it. 

“Call me when you need me,” Gladstone said, and didn’t care that Donald was fast asleep and couldn’t hear what he had said when he turned off the light and closed the door.

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

Small Time Witch (17)

Thor woke up to the sound of people laughing in the kitchen. It smelled like coffee and bacon and something sweet and cinnamony. He loved this house. It was perfectly warm here like you might need a sweater but otherwise comfortable.

How stupidly romantic of his brother, he thought. Building this house without you knowing was very Loki but only if he also intended on keeping you as his prisoner. This was not his intention though. This was a home Loki built for the two of you. He made a space big enough for his big brother to feel comfortable when he visited. Rooms that would be perfect nurseries. He never envisioned his brother wanting children.

At the center of it all was you. He watched you holding court in the kitchen like a proper queen. Loki and Steve mooning over you hanging on your every word. You weren’t a mortal. You were a siren calling men to their deaths. Before his eyes he watched his brother and good friend happily following your song crashing their ships on jagged rocks.

You noticed him staring and smiled at him. “Thor, do you want pancakes or eggs or both?” He smiled back.

“Pancakes please. Everyone seems to be in a good mood this morning.”

“Come relax, brother. Coffee?” Loki was light. Not at all brooding line his usual self. When you delivered Thor’s stack of pancakes he grabbed your arm and pulled you close so that he could talk in your ear.

“Are you doing this?”

“No. I’m just as freaked out. Everyone woke up in such a good mood. Maybe a spell?” You said gritting your teeth.

Loki leaned over to whisper to you both, “It’s not a spell. Steve and I spoke last night. Everything is fine. Enjoy breakfast.” Thor shrugged and shoved some pancakes in his mouth. He’s Steve now? Ok. That’s not strange at all.

“Thor, Loki just got finished telling us that he went grocery shopping and to a farmers market.” Thor choked on his pancakes. “That’s exactly what I said” you laughed.

“Why is it impossible for you people to imagine me buying food? Am I so incapable of caring for myself?” He was beyond offended. You patted him on the head. “Don’t patronize me, girl. I am nothing if not a survivor. I needed sustenance.”

“Don’t listen to them, Loki. It’s funny because you are a prince. I’m sure on Asgard you sit at a table and food is set in front of you. Even royals on Earth don’t grocery shop.” Wanda said to sooth him.

When Steve cleared his throat the mood became more serious. “Ok. We need to get a move on. Buck and Sam you’re with me. Loki and Wanda you stay with Y/N. Thor you get to Stephen Strange. Hopefully we can get answers without bloodshed.”

Everyone got up from the table. You followed Steve to the bedroom. “What are you going to do? I don’t like any of this.”

“Please don’t worry. I’m just going to talk to Tony. He’s a good man. I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding.”

“And if it’s not? What then?” He rubbed your shoulders trying to calm you down.

“Then we’ll get out of there and come back to you. Please don’t worry. You’re safe here. Loki and Wanda are here. I’m totally confident in all of your abilities.” You stood on your tip toes to kiss him.

“I’m worried about you. You were ready to tear the world apart last night.”

“When your life is in question nothing will stop me from protecting you. Nothing. I will be safe.” He bent to kiss you again. “I’ll call you when we’re on the way back. I love you.”

“Mmmm. Say that again.” Another kiss.

“I love you.” He smiled down at you gazing at you through his lashes. He ran a finger down your cheek and hooked it under your chin to lift your face towards his.

“I love you too.” He held your face and kissed you again. It was hard for him to pull away but he did. He took your hand and lead you down the hall to do final checks with everyone. You hugged Bucky and Sam and told Sam not to wreck your car. You hugged Thor although you were going to see him soon. You kissed Steve again by the car so Loki didn’t have to watch.

He and Wanda were sitting on the porch when you walked back into the gate. You looked a little sad with a wistful smile on your face. You sat on the step below them so you could rest your head on Loki’s lap. With your free hand you grabbed Wanda’s. You sat in silence for a while watching the car disappear into the woods. Once they were gone you sat up and patted them both, “Dishes.”

After you finished in the kitchen Wanda went out to the garden to meditate and wait for Thor. At least that’s what she said she was doing. She was really giving you and Loki some time to catch up.

He walked you around the house really letting you look at everything. You let your emotions loose and openly cried at his kindness. “I think you and Steve will be very happy here.” When he said those words the breath left your body.

“You gave up that easy?” He stepped forward to wipe your face. You wanted to hold him but he kept you at an arms length.

“No, pet, you gave up. You said as much when you essentially severed any link I had to you. Am I right to assume you’ve made your choice? I heard the two of you last night. At least I heard you. You so casually fucked him in the home I made for us! That pretty much put the final nail in the coffin that was us.”

“I don’t know what to say. I love you both. Can’t I have you both?” you sobbed.

He rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t work that way. You said to me, the day I left, you said you loved me more than Andrew. That what you felt for me was beyond what you’ve ever felt. Where does Steve fall? Has he surpassed me?”

“No...”

“Don’t lie! Don’t tell me what I want to hear because I swear...I swear I cannot take it.”

“Then what do you want?”

“The truth! Do you want me? Today everyday for the rest of our lives?” You were silent. “Right. I’ll be outside.” He turned away from you but you grabbed his wrist.

“Stop! Look at me...” you touched his face. He leaned into you. “I want you forever. What I said was true. You more than anyone. Give me more time.”

“I don’t want to have to be the one to point out the obvious but he lied to you. He allowed for you to be poisoned and put you in unimaginable danger. Doesn’t sound like love to me, Darling. But take all the time you need.”

You could make up excuses to try to justify what happened but you couldn’t. The fact was he lied to you. And you let it go without another thought. He has you going to Alaska and you don’t know why. He always says he’s trying to protect you but he never gives you the chance to make your own decisions. He treats you like a fragile child when you know good and well you can take him out with the flick of your wrist. Loki embraces who you are and what you can do. On your new list that’s a big ole strike one for Steve.

Hours later Strange and Wong are with you waiting for Steve to call. I told you so were the first words Strange said when he walked through the portal.

“Well you didn’t exactly tell me why they wanted you to bind me.”

He cocked an eyebrow, “But I did warn you to walk away. I don’t trust any of them. Not even your boyfriend. He was with Tony the day they first asked.” That was a gut punch. You guessed only Tony made the request. Loki wanted to echo the I told you so sentiment but kept it to himself when he saw how crushed you were.

“He thought he was protecting me. He knew I’d never agree.”

“Of course not,” he scoffed “binding you would leave you defenseless. With the Kale’s still looming somewhere there was no way you could agree. There is a power they want in Alaska and you’re how they get it. It’s something big that your body would otherwise reject. Either you sit this one out or we all go.”

Everything Loki and Strange said made you feel sick. You were anxious. It was taking so long for Steve to call. You were slowly seeing this life wasn’t meant for you.

You sat in the big tufted chair and conjured yourself some tea. Wong smiled and handed you a cookie to go with it. He was the only one who noticed your success.

Finally the guys pulled up to your house. Strange and Wong stood protectively at your side. Frazzled you did not look up from your tea.

They came in quietly with no excitement. Steve spotted you in the chair and didn’t come over at first. “You ok, Princess?”

“Fine. A little nervous that’s all. What did Tony say?” Your voice was steady but you were trembling. He knelt in front of you and took your tea cup and set it down on the table.

“Honey, they are sticking with their story. We are leaving tonight. They sent us back to bring you to the compound.” He held your hands and kissed your knuckles. You kept your eyes fixed on the floor. “Y/N, will you look at me?”

“Why do they want me, Steve?” Your voice was soft but strong.

He lowered his eyes. “I don’t know for sure. We think to absorb an ability but beyond that is anyone’s guess. What are you thinking?” You thought for a moment then stood up. Steve stood up too. Everyone in the room looked at you expectantly.

“I think I need to get on the plane. Give me five minutes. I just need to change.” They thought you’d fight back. They thought you would refuse. They thought you’d be afraid. They continue to underestimate you and it started to piss you off.

“No. No. Absolutely not. No. You can’t go.” Loki was like a coiled spring. He was bounding across the room to do what he didn’t exactly know. To stop you? To shake you until you came to your senses? He wasn’t sure but he had to act fast. “I’ll go. I am a shapeshifter. I can shift into you easily. See?” You were staring at a perfect clone of yourself. “And I can hold it for months if I have to.”

You patted him on the head and smiled. “I’m going. Please just this once trust me. I’m not as stupid as I act sometimes.” He shifted back and stormed out of the door. “I’ll be out in a few.” You went back to the bedroom to change and wash your face. As you pinned up your hair you stared at your reflection in the mirror. The person you saw looking back was unrecognizable. You had gone so far into cover that you didn’t know yourself anymore. Best to focus on the task and hand and finish this so you could resume your boring life.

Everyone was waiting for you. Strange and Wong said very little except they would be waiting for your call. Everyone jumped in your car. Bucky took the bike ahead of you all to be on the look out for any trouble along the way. Loki stood pouting in the doorway watching you.

“Hey can you give me a second with Lok?” Steve’s jaw clenched. He wasn’t keen on the idea but let it go.

“This is insane. I don’t trust any of them.” Loki started to spin out. You grabbed his arms and forced him to see you. You pushed him inside to avoid prying eyes and ears.

“I need you to do something for me.” You pressed a piece of paper into his hand. “Call the number on this card and ask for Logan. Let him know where we’re headed. If they aren’t in Alaska already they can be on the X-jet and to the site faster than we can. Please just trust me.”

“Who is Logan?” he said confused.

“Back up. Lok, you know I can take care of myself. You know how strong I am. I know you can feel it.” You took his hand and placed it over your heart, “King of my life, this is yours. I promise I will come home to you safe and sound. I love you.”

“I’m begging you.” He searched your face and found that he was fighting a losing battle. “Fine. As the rightful king of your heart, I command you to keep it beating.”

“I swear I will be safe.” You kissed him hard. So hard your lips swell a little and turn a fresh shade of pink. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Y/ N.” He didn’t notice the tiny screwdriver on the leather cord in your hand. You slipped it around his neck and he felt that it was warm again. When he closed his eyes your pulse beat steady in his ears. You flashed your wrist and showed him the bracelet back in its place.

[winchester-fantasies]

Backtrack - Summer of ‘98: Chapter 4

Backtrack Masterlist

Series Summary:  What if you were the one Dean came to instead of Lisa? Rewrite of “Swan Song” and some of S6.

Word Count: 3520

Warnings: fluff, light sexual tension, some swearing

Pairing: Dean x Female!Reader

A/N: Chapter 4′s Song: Montreal Rock Band Somewhere by Happyness.

Winchester Fantasies’ Masterlist

You groaned as a loud and incessant ringing broke through your sleep. You rolled over and covered your head with your blanket, hoping someone would answer the phone and stop the intrusive noise. But after another three rings you’d had enough.

“Leah!” you shouted, your voice ringing throughout the room. 

“Shut up,” Andrea groaned in annoyance, rolling over and turning her back to you.

The phone continued to ring so you threw off the covers and jumped out of bed with a huff. You stomped downstairs, your heavy footsteps reverberating through the the stairs. “Leah!” you clipped again, only to be met with silence. “Mom? Dad?” 

You grumbled at having to get up so early in the morning to answer the damn phone as you marched into the kitchen and over to the landline, ripping the receiver from its cradle. “What?” you barked.

“(Y/N)?” Dean’s voice came through the phone.

Your eyes widened and your cheeks flushed at the realization of what you must have sounded like. “Dean?” you asked.

“Uh, hi,” he said almost timidly. “Is...is this a bad time?”

“Oh, uh, no,” you huffed out. “Um, I...I just…” you trailed off, unable to think of a plausible answer. “What do you want?”

“Maybe I should call back later…” Dean said, his voice uncertain.

“No!” you snapped, your words coming out harsher than you’d intended. You closed your eyes and berated yourself before taking a deep breath and plastering on a grin, even though he obviously couldn’t see you. “No,” you repeated, this time softer and adding a light chuckle for good measure. “Tell me what you called about.”

Dean was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. “I just…. Well, I saw there was a band playing at Smitty’s tomorrow night, and I was wondering…. You wanna go?”

You stomach flipped at the thought of seeing him again, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling. “Uh, yeah. Sure,” you said nonchalantly. 

“Okay, awesome,” Dean said, his tone significantly lighter. “It starts at 7:00, but I thought we could grab some tacos from that food truck you were telling me about first. So...5 o’clock a good time to pick you up?”

“Yeah, sounds great!” you said.

“Okay, awesome!” Dean said again. An awkward silence fell between you both as you sought to figure out what else to say. Finally Dean broke the silence, clearing his throat. “Okay, well…. See you tomorrow night.”

“Yep!” you said, holding the receiver to your ear until you’d heard the click of him hanging up on his end. 

You stood at the kitchen counter even after you’d put the phone back on the wall. Your stomach was doing somersaults at the thought of getting to see him so soon, and the fact that it was going to be your second date just added nerves to your already nervous state. 

You couldn’t help but squeal as you finally rushed out of the kitchen and sprinted up the stairs to your bedroom. You burst through the door, jumping on the bed and essentially tackling Andrea. 

“(Y/N)!” she shrieked, scurrying out from under the covers, her puffy eyes wide with alarm. “What the hell?” 

“Dean asked me out again!” you exclaimed, getting to your feet and jumping up and down on your bed, the springs of your mattress creaking under your weight. 

Andrea rubbed her eyes and yawned before she looked up at you. “Look I’m happy for you and all, and I really wanna hear every juicy detail, but not until I’m awake and have coffee coursing through my veins.”

You giggled as you dropped to the mattress, your chest heaving and cheeks flushed from excitement and exertion. “Let’s go downstairs then! I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

Andrea sighed, but she was smiling as she got out of bed and threw her hair up into a ponytail. “Okay, fine.”

You grinned as you jumped out of bed and  grabbed her hand, practically dragging her down the stairs to the kitchen. “Mom made coffee cake this morning,” you said, gesturing to the cake still sitting out on the stovetop. 

“Cool,” Andrea said, voice still coated with sleep. You tried not to laugh as Andrea went to the coffee pot, feet dragging before taking the biggest mug in the cabinet and pouring herself a cup of the dark liquid. Your best friend was not a morning person by any means and although you felt bad for waking her the way you had, your excitement and need to tell her was too great.

You took two plates from the cabinet next to the sink, cutting and scooping out two large chunks of the cinnamony goodness. You carried them over to the high top where Andrea was already seated, sipping her coffee. You sat one of the plates in front of her before going to pour yourself a mug before joining your friend.

You ate in silence for a bit until Andrea seemed a little more awake. When she glanced at you, you took that as your cue. With bubbling excitement you relayed everything that happened. By the time you were done talking, your cheeks were rosy. 

Andrea’s blue eyes were sparkling as she grinned. “That’s so exciting, (Y/N)!” she exclaimed, pulling you into a quick hug. “Any idea what band it is?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “Guess I’ll just have to find out.” 

After breakfast, you and Andrea decided to walk downtown and browse some of the shops. You had heard some of the girls around town ooing and aahing over the new clothing boutique that had just opened up and you wanted to check it out. 

Two hours later, you and Andrea were strolling down Main Street, arm in arm. You felt Andrea tense as she spied the guy she’d had her eyes set on and even dated for a few months during senior year. Tim was planning on going to Texas State, and even though Andrea had initially thought about trying to get in, too, she finally decided to stay at home and work on her associates degree at the local community college. They had split on good terms, but you knew that didn’t make seeing him any easier for her.

“Let’s go in here,” you said, tugging her inside one of the thrift stores that lined the street. She was reluctant, gazing behind her at Tim before you gently prodded her to follow after you.

You both browsed for awhile before heading out again. “You hungry?” you asked as you stepped out into the sidewalk once more.

“I know I am,” a deep voice answered. You spun around to find Dean, standing not three feet away.

Your stomach flipped and smiled shyly. “Oh, hey, Dean,” you said quietly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

Dean tore his eyes away from you long enough to look at Andrea beside you. “Don’t believe we’ve met,” Dean said. 

“Oh, sorry,” you chuckled sheepishly. “This is my best friend, Andrea. And Andrea...this is Dean.”

“Hey, good to meet you,” Dean said with a wide grin, reaching out and shaking her hand.

She smiled in return before turning to you. “Hey, uh, listen. I just remembered I had an errand my mom wanted me to run. I hate to leave, but….” She bit her lip and you almost laughed at the over-exaggerated and innocent look she sent your way. You gave her a silent look letting her know you knew exactly what she was doing before you nodded your head.

“No, it’s okay!” you reassured. “I’ll meet up with you later.”

Andrea agreed before saying goodbye to both you and Dean and walking back towards her house. You turned back to Dean, butterflies filling your stomach when you found him watching you. 

“So you still hungry?” he asked, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“I’m starving!” you said with a laugh.

Dean grinned. “Pizza okay?” 

“Heck yeah! I love pizza!” you said a little more enthusiastically than you probably should have.

“Awesome,” Dean commented with a wide grin. He jerked his head for you to follow him, surprising you when he reached out and laced his fingers with yours. 

A few minutes later you arrived at the pizza parlor down the street. Dean held the door open for you before following you and the waitress to a table by the window. 

“So what’re you in the mood for?” Dean asked, scanning the menu. “Cheese, pepperoni, meat lover’s?”

“Actually my go-to is their green olive and banana pepper pizza,” you said with a half-smile.

“What?” Dean asked, his eyes widening. “That sounds disgusting.”

“It’s not!” you laughed. “You order what you want, but when my pizza comes, I’ll prove you wrong.”

Dean sent you a skeptical look just as the waitress came back to take your orders. Once she had given your orders to the cook and brought your drinks, you leaned back in the booth and admired the way the sun filtered through the window, making Dean’s eyes almost look like two jade orbs. 

You cleared your throat when you felt your stomach clench in desire. “So,” you said. “Any more...assignments?” you asked, picking up your Pepsi and taking a sip.

“Uh, yeah, a few,” Dean said vaguely, picking up his own drink.

“Oh, that’s good. I guess?” you said with a chuckle.

Dean smiled. “Yeah….”

You could tell Dean was feeling a little uncomfortable with where the conversation was headed, so you decided to change the subject. “So have you or Sam made any friends yet?”

Dean’s shoulders physically relaxed and he grinned. “A few. Especially Sammy. Me...well, I have you.”

You blushed at his words, but found yourself smiling. “I’m glad you have me,” you said. “You know, you can always come hang out at my house if you’re bored. And if you ever wanna tag along with me to see my friends you can, too. We usually hang out at the library once or twice a week.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” Dean said with a soft smirk. “What do you usually do at the library?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Discuss books we’re currently reading, share poetry we’ve written...talk about boys,” you added with a playfully coy smile.

Dean laughed. “Boys, huh? Anyone I should be worried about?” he asked with a cock of his eyebrow.

It was your turn to laugh. But the next second you sobered as you shook your head. And before you could censor yourself, you spoke. “No, your competition left a long time ago,” you said quietly, sweeping your eyes around the parlor and hoping Dean would go on and change the subject. You should’ve known you’d have no such luck.

Dean frowned, studying you for a moment before responding. “Wh...what’s that supposed to mean?” he asked cautiously.

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head and staring at your hands folded on the tabletop.

“(Y/N),” Dean said gently, causing you to meet his gaze. “You know you can tell me anything.”

You sighed as you questioned if you really wanted to tell him or not. Finally, your shoulders slumped and you shook your head again. “I...I had this boyfriend - Caleb. We met in middle school and dated from sophomore to just the beginning of senior year. I...well, I fell in love with him,” you said, fighting back the tears that still rose up when you thought about it. “But he...he didn’t, I guess. I caught him in a...compromising position under the bleachers with the most popular girl in school - one of the cheerleaders. We broke up after that.”

Dean’s eyes were serious as he listened intently as you finished up your story. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” he said softly. He reached across the table, taking your hand in his and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “It was his loss. He was a dumbass that couldn’t see what was in front of him. He didn’t deserve you…. But that just means I get the treasure he threw away.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you stared into his sincere and tender gaze. You’d never had someone look at you or talk to you the way Dean was. And you couldn’t help but wonder what it all meant.

**********

The rest of the day flew by and before you knew it Friday evening rolled around. You fixed your oversized t-shirt, tucking the front into your mom jeans before throwing your hair up into a ponytail and adding a scrunchy to your wrist. You pulled on a pair of your Converse and then you were ready to go.

It was a quarter to 5:00; Dean would be there any minute. You hurried downstairs, finding Leah lounging on the couch, bubble gum popping in her mouth. “Hey, sis,” she greeted lazily, looking up at you, her eyes sweeping over your outfit. “Where’re you going?” she asked.

“To a concert,” you said, picking up your change purse from the coffee table. 

“Alone?” she asked incredulously.

“No…” you said. “With Dean.”

Leah’s expression grew hard at the mention of you and Dean going out, but nevertheless she sent you a tight-lipped smile. “Have fun,” she said, sounding less than happy for you.

“Oh, we will,” you said, sending her your best shit eating grin. 

Just then the doorbell rang and you hurried to the door, flinging it open to find Dean standing on the other side. His eyes lit up when he saw you and he grinned widely as he stepped inside. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said, surprising you once again by wrapping his arm around your waist and placing a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“Hey, Deano,” Leah purred, smirking and twirling a piece of her hair around her finger and popping another bubble.

“Oh, hey,” Dean said, his eyes subconsciously falling to where the tops of her breasts peeked out from the neckline of her shirt. 

Your heart sank at his reaction and you found yourself placing your hand on his shoulder possessively. Dean tore his gaze away from Leah, glancing down at you, his eyes softening and his arm around your waist tightening a bit. “Well, see ya,” Dean said to Leah with a thin-lipped smile. “Ready, sweetheart?” he asked you.

You nodded before letting him lead you out the door. You glanced behind you, seeing Leah’s gaze sweep over him, eyes stopping at his backside and biting her lip. Nausea twisted your stomach and you couldn’t help but wonder if your days as the girl who had caught Dean’s eye were numbered.

**********

“So who’s playing?” you asked as you settled back into Baby’s front seat. You and Dean had just gotten done eating at the food truck. Dean had loved the place, claiming it had the best tacos he’d ever eaten. You had just chuckled, your heart filling with contentment as you watched him devour his food with fervor.

“I’m not sure actually,” Dean said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Some garage band I think.”

“Oh, okay,” you said with a slight nod. You turned to look out the window, the events from earlier still weighing heavily on your mind.

You jumped when you felt Dean’s hand touch yours, linking your fingers together and holding your hand in his lap. “Hey, you okay, sweetheart?” he asked, taking his eyes off the road long enough to look over at you.

You sent him a thin-lipped smile and nodded. “Yeah,” you said vaguely.

“Did...did I do or say something wrong?” Dean asked sincerely.

Your heart seized up at his concern and you squeezed his hand as you shook your head. “No, no you didn’t. I promise,” you said. “It’s just me.”

Dean’s face was serious as he studied you carefully as if trying to solve the mysteries of the universe. “Okay,” he finally said, although he sounded less than convinced. “It’s really nice being able to do this - going out on dates and everything. And I’m really glad I get to do it with you…. You know that, right?”

You smiled, bringing his hand to your lips and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “I know. And I’m really happy I get to do it with you, too.” 

You and Dean pulled up in front of the small venue, Dean coming around and opening your door. You smiled your thanks before alighting. He closed the door behind you before taking your hand and led you up to the door. 

The place was already bustling with activity and the band was starting to set up. Dean led you over to a table situated in a secluded corner, pulling out your seat for you before settling down beside you. 

“I’ve never been here before,” you commented, looking around at the neon lights, old 70’s records lining the walls, and jukebox sitting on the other side of the building.

“Really?” Dean asked, surprised. 

“Nope, never,” you said with a shake of your head.

“I thought you grew up here,” Dean said.

“I did,” you said with a soft chuckle. “But that doesn’t mean I’ve been to every single place. My parents never liked this place much anyway. Always said it was ‘shady’.”

“Fair enough,” Dean said good-naturedly, glancing around. 

After awhile, Dean ordered both of you a couple of sodas and some appetizers. You had just started to dig into the nachos when the band began playing. It wasn’t exactly what you had expected from a garage band, and you found yourself actually enjoying the music.

Dean scooted in closer to you, his arm coming to rest on the back of your chair. His action surprised you, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it, and you found yourself leaning into him a little more, the inside of his shoulder pressing into yours.

“You enjoying it?” Dean asked, his warm breath fanning across your ear and sending shivers running down your spine.

You nodded, turning to look at him, startled to find his face mere inches from your own. You looked at one another carefully before his gaze broke away from yours, his eyes searching your face before darting to your lips.

Your heartbeat picked up as the tension grew thicker, the sounds of the music fading into the background. Dean leaned forward, his eyes flashing back and forth between yours and your lips. He parted his full lips slightly, his breath rushing across your mouth. You closed your eyes, waiting for the press of his lips against your own. 

Hand clapping suddenly echoed throughout the building and you and Dean both jerked away. The band had just finished their final song, but you had both been so wrapped up in one another neither of you had kept track.

Your face was hot, Dean’s own cheeks flushed as you sat back. Dean removed his arm from around your chair and cleared his throat awkwardly. After a few minutes, you and Dean got up, settling the bill and making your way back to the Impala. 

The ride back to your house was silent, the obvious sexual tension from earlier still permeating the air. You dared a glance over at Dean, his eyes focused on the road, one hand gripped tightly around the steering wheel, the other clasped in his lap.

You swallowed and looked out the window, but the next second you gasped as Dean suddenly veered to the right onto a side road, the pavement soon transitioning into dirt. 

“Where are we going?” you asked nervously, looking back to Dean. He met your gaze for a moment before looking back to the road, not answering your question.

You settled back into your seat, a mixture of curiosity and nerves filling your stomach. A few moments later Dean pulled off the road before stopping at the edge of a field.

“What are we doing here?” you asked, looking around at the thick grass blanketed in darkness.

“You’ll see,” Dean smirked, sending you a wink before climbing out and opening your door. He took your hand before leading you to the front of the vehicle, leaning back against Baby’s hood. 

You looked up at the star-speckled sky, the tiny balls of light twinkling like a million diamonds. “It’s beautiful,” you breathed.

“Yeah. It is,” Dean murmured beside you. You turned your head, finding him staring at you. Your stomach flipped and your breath hitched as he moved closer, his arm coming around you securely.

He raised his hand to your face, cupping your cheek in his rough and calloused palm. “I’m not very good with words,” he whispered. “But I’d like to show you...how I feel. If you’ll let me.”

You paused, your eyes darting between his. You nodded slightly, licking your lips nervously. Something shifted in his eyes then, a look you couldn’t quite place radiating from their mossy depths. His arm tightened around your waist and your heart skipped a beat as he slowly leaned towards you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! If you liked what you read, let me know!! ❤❤

***Please do not share my content on any other platform without my consent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[hotforharrison]

Club Utopia (Oneshot)

Masterlist

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield/Reader

Summary: Meeting Harrison during your first visit to a sex club.

Word Count: 2,001

Warnings: Language and smut, my usual go-tos.

A/N: I first posted this for Writers Wednesday on @the-sha-official0hazanon​‘s blog! I seriously recommend checking him out. He’s the best Haz anon ever.

There was nothing on the exterior of the building that would indicate it was a sex club, not that you had particularly expected there to be a glowing sign saying ‘SEX CLUB’ on it.

You nervously walked into the lobby and approached the counter.

“Welcome to Club Utopia. I’ll need you to read over these rules for the club and sign a form. I’ll also need your ID,” the girl behind the counter told you. “We accept cash or card for the cover.”

You skimmed the rules that you’d already read on their website before you’d chosen to come, signed the form, handed over your ID, and paid the cover.

“You’re set now. Enjoy!” The girl returned her attention to her phone as you walked toward the entrance to the club itself.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but this wasn’t quite it.

The inside of the club was dimly lit with blue lighting, and the only other patrons you could see were two women sitting close together. They looked up at you for a moment and then returned to their conversation.

The televisions mounted to the wall were showing low quality porn, an orgy set at a frat party. Since no one was around yet that piqued your interest, you chose to ignore the porn in favor of paying attention to your phone for the moment.

Hopefully, you hadn’t just wasted your Friday night.

You got distracted on your social media and were quite startled when someone tapped you on the shoulder.

“Hey, is this seat taken, love?” a smooth male British accent asked from beside you.

The accent was an immediate turn-on, not something you encountered often living an entire ocean away from England. 

You glanced up at him. The first thing you noticed was his pale blue eyes, striking even in the dim light. Although you couldn’t see him perfectly with the lights as low as they were, he was still definitely the hottest guy who had ever paid attention to you.

At that moment, you decided to go for it. You came to the sex club for a reason, after all.

“It’s not,” you told him with a smile.

“I’m Harrison,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Harrison. You’re far away from home,” you commented.

“I travel a lot for work,” he explained.

You wanted to ask more about him, but you weren’t sure what was appropriate to ask a sex club patron, eventually blurting out, “so, what brings you here?”

“You mean what brings me to a sex club?” he asked with a chuckle, raising his eyebrows.

“Sorry, I’ve never been to one of these before, and I’m a little nervous,” you said, sheepishly.

“Honestly, I haven’t either,” he confessed. “This isn’t like meeting girls in a pub. I guess I’ll just outright ask. Would you like to go to one of the private rooms with me?”

“I can’t think of anything I’d like more,” you answered, so excited at the prospect of what was about to happen that you almost knocked over your chair as you got up.

He laughed softly to himself at your eagerness.

You followed him across the main floor into one of the private rooms, shutting the door behind you.

The room was small. There was a padded bed with no bedding and a small table containing a bowl with packets of lube and condoms in it, with a wastebasket on the floor next to it. A TV mounted on the wall was showing the same low quality porn from the main floor.

You stood in front of him silently, started to fidget.

“So, uh…” you trailed off awkwardly.

Harrison opened and closed his mouth, looking a bit lost. He leaned down to kiss you, but immediately pulled away. “Shit, one second.”

You were momentarily worried that he’d changed his mind, but you were relieved when you saw he just went to the wastebasket to spit his gum out.

“Sorry about that. I’m usually smoother than this,” he apologized.

“I’m not, if we’re being perfectly honest here,” you admitted.

He chuckled. “Now, where were we?”

“Right about here,” you responded, leaning up to kiss him as he leaned down.

You met his soft and warm lips with your own. The kiss was never really chaste, his tongue quick to dart out and slip between your already parted lips. He tasted slightly cinnamony as he brushed his tongue unhurriedly against yours.

He moaned quietly into your mouth when you stopped being a passive partner, your tongue making its way into his mouth. You traced his perfect teeth, then explored his mouth slowly and thoroughly.

You lost track of time, completely engrossed in the kiss, only returning to awareness when his hands slid down your mostly bare back to squeeze and massage your ass through the thin material of your tight dress. He tugged you completely flush against him.

One of his hands slipped up underneath the hem of your dress, finding its way in-between your thighs from behind.

He broke the kiss, breathing a bit heavily, eyebrows raised. “You’re not wearing panties, darling?”

You grinned. “Where are we right now?”

He smiled back. “Point taken.”

You spread your legs as much as you could in the confines of your dress, to give him more room to work with, but it wasn’t enough for your liking.

“Fuck it,” you mumbled, tugging the offending garment over your head.

He chuckled. “No bra either, I see. Not that I have a problem with that. Less in the way.”

His head dipped to take one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it. His fingers now easily found their way between your folds, going for your clit immediately and rubbing slickly around the sensitive nub.

“Oh my god.” Your knees started to buckle, but he fortunately stabilized you with his arm from behind.

“Christ, you’re wet,” he mumbled against the skin of your breast, two long fingers pressing into you while his thumb took over on your clit.

“Talk to me?” you requested breathily.

“Like dirty talk?” he clarified.

“Yeah,” you responded, nodding.

“Love how wet you are for me. Tight, too. Gonna have to loosen you up some first before I can get my cock into you, though.” A third finger pushed in, next to the other two, scissoring slightly as he continued to pump them in and out of you and rub your clit. “Your pussy will feel so fucking amazing around my cock, I can’t wait. I promise I’ll fill you up better than anyone else ever has.”

The combination of what he was doing with his hand and the dirty talk in his delicious accent had you close. “Want to cum, please, Harrison.”

“Well, since you asked me so nicely.” His thumb worked your clit faster, and he fingered you a bit rougher, aiming more directly for your g-spot.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you moaned as your climax hit you harder than a brick wall, burying your fingers in the fabric of Harrison’s shirt while the sparks of pleasure coursed through you.

As you came down from your high, his motions gentled, until he finally stopped. He let you slump against him bonelessly.

He lifted you like a limp ragdoll and carried you over to the bed, gently depositing you on it, before he stepped back to strip off his own clothes.

“Hey, what if I wanted to undress you?” you complained, watching as he kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt.

“You’re in no state to do that right now, and I’ve been dressed plenty long enough. I’m in town for another four weeks anyway, if you’re interested in a repeat performance,” he offered.

“We’ll see. You might have a disappointing dick,” you teased.

“I seriously doubt it, but I’ll let you be the judge of that.” He undid his pants and shucked them and his boxers at the same time.

You looked him over, from head to toe. He was leanly muscled, with endless planes of smooth skin waiting to be touched. It left you eager to get your hands on him. You saved what you hoped to be the best for last, and you definitely weren’t disappointed.

His cock rested against his stomach, looking achingly hard, precum glistening at the tip. It wasn’t huge by any stretch, but it would be more than enough to fill you up. Maybe not the most you’d ever been filled up, or enough to ruin you for other men for the rest of your life, but you knew you were going to leave the club a very satisfied woman.

“Like what you see?” he eventually asked.

“I do,” you replied, simply. “You should come over here now.”

He smiled. “It would be my pleasure.”

You watched as he made a quick stop at the bowl of condoms and lube.

He grabbed a condom of the bowl, fumbling a bit because of how quickly he tried to remove it from the wrapper and roll it down his length. It was obvious that he was just as desperate for you as you were for him.

You spread your legs and waited impatiently for him to join you on the bed.

“Look so pretty like this,” he commented, hands brushing lightly against your knees as he slotted himself between your thighs.

“Thank you. If you want me to move some other way, I can. I mean I’m not sure what your favorite position is,” you said. “I’m happy with whatever you want.”

“This is perfect. Missionary is sort of underrated in my opinion,” he told you, lining himself up and pushing into you in one long thrust. After he was all the way in, he lowered himself on top of you and pressed a brief kiss to your lips. “Need me to stay still for a minute?”

“Thank you for offering, but I think I’m good,” you replied. “I really want you to move right now.”

“Your wish is my command.” He rocked his hips against yours slowly, increasing the length and speed of his thrusts gradually, until he was finally fucking you at a just about perfect pace and depth.

You rolled your hips back into his thrusts until you found a rhythm you both liked, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him tighter against you.

His mouth met yours in wet and sloppy kisses, sometimes barely more than moaning and breathing heavily into each other’s mouths.

You snaked a hand between your bodies to get yourself off again before he came, but he pushed it aside.

“Let me,” he breathed. His hand replaced yours, fingers collecting some of your wetness near your entrance. Then, he started rubbing slick circles around your clit.

“Getting close,” you told him as your second orgasm of the night approached. It came much quicker than you’d anticipated, and even harder than the first one.

Your body clenched and pulsed around his cock, milking him, and bringing him over the edge with you.

He came with a loud groan, thrusts growing rougher and more erratic as he spilled into the condom. When his climax finally ebbed, he collapsed on top of you.

A comfortable silence stretched between you as you both recovered, heart rates gradually slowing and breathing evening out.

“How do you feel about pancakes?” he eventually asked.

“Um, they’re fine, I guess?” you responded, confused. “What do pancakes have to do with anything?”

“That was me asking you if you want to join me at IHOP. I’m hungry, and I saw one around the corner. They’re open 24 hours,” he explained.

You laughed. “Sure, why not? Going to IHOP in the middle of the night with a guy I met at a sex club wearing a skimpy dress with nothing on underneath it probably wouldn’t be the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

He smiled at you. “Sounds like you’ve got stories to tell me, pretty girl.”

“Sounds like I do,” you agreed, smiling back.

@adayasgeorgia​ @moorehollandplz​ @thollandss​ @dasexydevitt13​ @imagine-lovebug​ @robbinholland​ @strang-ersclub​ @hollandisapuppy​ @goldenpeaxh​ @legendsofwholock​ @superheroesaremytea​ @tomblrholland @niiight-dreamerrrr​ @spidermanffh3000​ @devildisguiseasangel @theyy-lovemo​ @eeyore101247​ @angelhaz11​ @i-love-scott-mccall​ @farfromhaz​ @cherry-holland​ @jinx4karma​ @definitely-not-black-cat​ @lizzyosterfield​

[daminettes]

made with love

hello thank you miss @fsketchart for this amazing idea ilu

It's warm inside the manor, It smells like, cinnamon, and brown sugar. The early morning light slants through the windows.

You see, Damian has been having a very rough week. Jason,Tim, Dick and him having been dealing with the Joker for the past few days, this has led him to many sleepless nights. On top of that he had to work his tail off everyday as an intern at Wayne Enterprises. Every morning he would be sitting on the couch facing the cozy fireplace that was in the middle of the living room with a blank expression on his face, and it made Marinette’s heart break. This morning it was even worse. He would not respond to anything she was saying due to sleep deprivation. She couldn't stand seeing her Damian like this. So she was determined to fix him right up.

Marinette thought it would be a great idea to make Damian some of her father's world famous cinnamon rolls!

-

Marinette tossed sugar, salt, milk, eggs, and milk into the bowl, and started to kneading the dough together. The room was quickly filled with an overly sweet sense that lead Jason and Alfred into the room.

Jason’s faces lit up like a Christmas tree, He quickly ran over to the counter and tried to take a quick lick of the spatula that was smothered in cinnamony goodness, but was quickly pushed away by Marinette’s hand.

“Aw come on rosy cheeks! Let me have a taste!”

“No Jason, These are for Damian, He has been having a rough couple of days so I decided to make him some of my dads famous cinnamon rolls for him! I’m going to drop them off later!” She said while trying to push him out of the room.

“That is very nice of you Miss Marinette.”

“Why, Thank you Alfred, Since you are being so sweet and patient would you like to try some of the frosting?”

“HEY THAT'S NOT FAIR I WAS BEING NICE,” Jason screamed at the top of his lungs. But was clearly ignored by Marinette and Alfred.

Marinette quickly grabbed a spoon and scooped up a big portion of the heavenly cream.

Alfred slowly accepted the spoon and he was amazed.

“Wow Miss Marinette this is amazing, Your father is very talented. I could practically taste all the love you put into it!”

“Thank you Alfred, I poured my heart and soul into this” Marinette quickly smiled.

“THIS IS NO FAIR I WANT SOME!!!”

-

By the time Marinette was done with the cinnamon rolls it was already noon.

“Hey Jason, Do you think its ok if you dropped me off at Wayne Enterprises? I know Damian has been tired and I think it would be a good idea to drop these off for him now.”

“Only if you let me try one of your cinnamon rolls.”

“Ugh fine”

Jason quickly ran up to Marinette bouncing up and down on the tip of his toes. He practically snatched the warm cinnamon roll out of Marinette’s hand.

As soon as he took his first bite, His face lit up. The cinnamon roll practically melted in his mouth, It was quite dense but still so soft and airy at the same time. How is that even possible?

“Wow pixie-pop! These are amazing! Damian is going to love these!”

“I sure hope so”

-

They both quickly made their way to Wayne Enterprises. Marinette was a nervous mess. Sure she has been dating Damian for about a year but still? She just wanted to see him happy. She missed his sweet smile he used to flash at her whenever she walked into the room.

“Hey Don’t worry Marinette! I'm sure these are going to make him feel ten times better!”

“I'm just scared, He hasn’t been himself lately, And I hate seeing him like this.”

“Trust me it will be fine”

They both made it up to the floor Damian was working on. Jason quickly knocked down the door causing Damian to jump.

“Hey whats up Demon Spawn!”

“What do you want. I'm not in the mood for your bullshit.”

“Hey no need to get your panties in a twist! I have a little surprise for you!”

He quickly pushed Marinette in front of him as if he was showing off an award.

Damian quickly got up to his feet and made his way towards his angel.

“Angel, What are you doing here? Is something wrong?” He questioned while scanning her for injuries.

“Im fine Dami, I just came here to check up on you, I know you haven't been feeling the best so I decided to make you some sweets! I hope you like them!” She smiled while handing him the book full of sweets.

The little box was wrapped around with light pink fabric with little hearts on it. It was tied up with a white silk ribbon. 

How adorable, Damian thought to himself.

He quickly undid the ribbon and was hit with a sweet fragrance that made his body feel warm and loved.

“Angel, You shouldn't of have.” He said while pulling her into a bear hug.

“I just wanted to make you feel better, I hate seeing you like this.” She said into his chest.

“What would I ever do without you,” He said while placing a lil kiss onto Marinette’s hair.

“Come on already take a bite! Tell me what you think about it!” Marinette said while bouncing around.

“Oh alright.”

Damian quickly picked up one of the cinnamon rolls and took a big bite.

This is incredible! How can someone be so talented? He thought to himself.

“Angel, These are amazing, Thank you so much,” Damian gushed while placing a light kiss onto her lips.

“Did they make you feel better?” Marinette questioned.

“Ten times better.”

-

I hope you guys enjoyed this!!! I love you all <3

tag list : @xxmadamjinxx @luciferge @mystery-5-5 @fsketchart @heldtogetherbysafetypins @shizukiryuu @imfreakingmagical @sunkenshipsanddreams @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @casual-darkness @littleredrobinhoodlum @sassy-spocko @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @slytherin-heartthrob @a-complete-fool < idk if i spelt your user wrong soz! @sassdowflame

[hailing-stars]

relax, just breathe 

Read on Ao3

Trope: Poisoning

Summary 

“Tony,” said Peter, lifting his head from the glass, his stubbornness spent. “I don’t feel so- “

“Do not,” said Tony, through gritted teeth, and meeting Peter’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He had just one hand on the steering wheel as he drove them into the night. “Finish that sentence.”

Morgan leaned over, hung out of her booster seat, and whispered, “It gives dad attacks.”

OR

The Starks go on a road trip and everything goes wrong when Peter gets food poisoning and suffers an allergic reaction. 

*

relax, just breathe 

Peter used to wonder when it happened, exactly.

Days like this, for one reason or another, he wanted to find the precise second he got abducted into the Stark family.

It’d be easy to say it was on the battlefield, after he snapped back into existence, when Tony saw him for the first time in five years, when he hugged him and pressed a kiss on his cheek to welcome him back, but the more Peter thought back, the more he realized it was some undefinable time before that.

Maybe it was during late nights in the workshop, or all those nights Peter had to call for backup when he was in trouble, and Tony would have to come, stitch him up and ice his bruises.

Or maybe he became a Stark during the few seconds before he died in Tony’s arms, like Tony decided if he ever somehow, by some miracle, got him back, he wouldn’t ever let him go.

Peter wished Tony would let him go.

Maybe then he’d be back at his apartment, free to do whatever he wanted while May and Happy were on their honeymoon, instead of being at a small, roadside carnival Morgan conned Tony into stopping at during their drive through the country. Peter hadn’t wanted to come along for the drive, but he was forced into the road trip, anyway.

A trip, Peter was convinced, didn’t actually have a destination. They were just driving around just to drive around, and besides being at a carnival, Peter wasn’t sure where they were, what state they had wandered into, or when they would get to go home.

“It’ll be great,” Tony had told him. “It’ll be fun.”

Peter had yet to have any fun.

Not when he was busy thinking about the week that could have been, that he could be doing what he’d planned to be doing before Tony interrupted those plans by sitting him down, giving him a weird talk about underage drinking, and announcing that they would be going on a road trip.

A breeze caused Peter to zip up his jacket, and leaves crunched under his Converse as he looked around. The carnival was pretty unimpressive. It was small and cramped and the rides were so rusted over Tony banned Morgan from riding them. Peter didn’t have to be banned. He had no interest in doing anything that might make Tony believe he was enjoying himself.

“Hey Pete!”

He turned, and saw Tony waving him over to where he stood in front the lane of skee ball games at the edge of the carnival’s boarder. It was too late to pretend he hadn’t heard him, so Peter ducked his head down and marched over.

“Let’s play,” said Tony, and before Peter could give an answer, which would’ve been a hard no, he handed the employee a few tickets to cover both of them. The carnie, who looked like he wanted to be there just as much as Peter, slammed down a button and the skee balls released from the rack.

Peter looked down at the lane hopelessly, and with a sigh, reached down and grabbed a skee ball. He eyed the 10,000 slot. If Tony wanted a game, Peter was going to give him a game. He aimed, swung his arm backward, brought it forward, then released and watched, like his life depended on it, as the ball rolled down the lane, jumped up, hit the rim of the 10,000, bounced off, and dropped down to roll into the 1,000.

“Almost,” said Tony. Peter wanted to shove him, or at least sabotage his roll, and when it leapt up and sunk down and scored 10,000 points, he wished he had. “Oh, look at that.”

Peter swiped another, sent it rolling down the lane and cringed when it was an exact repeat of his first roll. He didn’t look over at Tony. Just looking at his scoreboard light up 20,000 was enough to clench his fists, to get him riled up and even more determined to win.

He didn’t know why it mattered so much, or why he was getting so frustrated each time he rolled the ball and it missed his target. On any other day, he’d laugh it off. He was never really any good at these sorts of games, but that day was different.

Beating Tony at skee ball was all he had, and then, after rolling his last ball, and of course, missing, he didn’t even have that.

“Damnit,” he muttered, under his breath, as he kicked the front of the machine.

“Kid, relax,” said Tony. He must’ve sensed his frustrations, because he’d stopped gloating after his first hit. “It’s just a game.”

Easy for Tony to say. He finished his game with a perfect score.

“Congratulations, sir,” said the carnie, in a monotone voice. He ripped a golden ticket off a roll and handed it to Tony. “You won a free elephant ear.”

They walked away from skee ball, and Peter glared at the golden ticket in Tony’s hand. It was stupid to be angry about losing at a carnival game. Petty, even, he knew that, but he still felt it, still wanted to rip coupon out from Tony’s hand and stomp it on the ground.

“You cheated,” said Peter. “You used your prosthetic arm. It’s unfair advantage.”

The words sounded like a joke, even to Peter, but his tone made it clear it wasn’t. Tony laughed anyway.

“It’s still attached to my genius brain,” said Tony. “That knows how to aim, unlike yours.”

They walked past a trash can, and Tony tried to toss the golden ticket, but Peter snatched it in midair, before it went in.

“You can’t throw this away, it’s free food.”

Tony looked down at him and stared. “You always forget I’m a billionaire.”

“That’s not the point,” said Peter. He didn’t want an elephant ear. It was the principle. He looked around until the spotted the concession stand, then took off in that direction, Tony following along at his heels as he went.

Tony was always following him.

The cashier greeted them by coughing into her hands and sniffing her nose, and Peter choose to ignore that, along with the offended look that flashed across Tony’s face. He put the crumpled coupon on the wood counter and pushed it forward.

“One elephant ear, please.”

She turned her head and screamed his order to the back, causing her voice to break off as she went into a coughing fit. When she finally stopped, she straightened out, and looked at Peter and Tony with watery eyes. “Sorry, I’m just getting over Strep.”

Peter took a couple of steps backwards, and Tony distanced himself even further. Behind the cashier the kitchen looked dirty and rusted just like the rides, but Peter tried not to pay attention to that, just like he tried not to pay attention to the way the cashier handled his food when it was passed off by the cook.

He took it from her, with a smile that faltered, and stepped away from the stand with Tony, both of them eying the elephant ear wearily.

“Don’t eat that,” said Tony.

And he probably wouldn’t have had Tony not said anything. He didn’t particular want it. He didn’t want to tempt his body into getting sick, but Tony just had to open his mouth, and Peter couldn’t take another lose after the skee ball disaster.

He looked up at Tony. He maintained eye contact and took a bite into the sugary, cinnamony, probably germ-infested treat.

Tony sucked in a deep breath, then released. “I’m not feeling sorry for you when you get sick.”

Peter shrugged, took another bite. He was already committed to finishing and it was actually pretty good, once he divorced it from the dirty kitchen and sick cashier.

“Dad!” Morgan ran towards them, holding a cone filled with blue candy cotton that was bigger than her head, and with Pepper chasing after her. “Look what I got!”

“Where did you get that?” asked Tony. Peter rolled his eyes at the dramatics while he chopped on the elephant ear. “The concession stand?”

“No,” said Morgan. “Mommy and I found a cotton candy machine.”

Tony sighed in relief, just in time for Pepper to catch up with them. He checked his watch and tapped it.

“Time to get back on the road, before we all die from swine flu.”

*

It took only thirty minutes for Peter’s stomach to start hurting.

It felt like longer, though. Tony had confiscated his cellphone so they could bond as a family over road games, which just meant instead of listening to his music or watching YouTube videos, he was listening to Tony and Pepper bicker about directions from the front seat, while Morgan’s kid songs blasted from the speakers.

Peter tried to tune them out, both the music and the arguing, as he hugged his stomach and let his head rest against the cool window.

First he tried denial. He wasn’t getting sick. It was all in his head. Tony had planted it there, but then his stomach cramps twisted and twisted until denial was impossible and all he had left was stubbornness.

But that hadn’t lasted long, either.

He regretted all his recent life decisions, mostly scarfing down that entire elephant ear in four bites when Tony wouldn’t allow it into his car, and he resented Tony, and his spontaneous road trip and perfect skee ball game but mostly, he resented having to admit he was right.  

“Tony,” said Peter, lifting his head from the glass, his stubbornness spent. “I don’t feel so- “

“Do not,” said Tony, through gritted teeth, and meeting Peter’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He had just one hand on the steering wheel as he drove them into the night. “Finish that sentence.”

Morgan leaned over, hung out of her booster seat, and whispered, “It gives dad attacks.”

“I, um, feel the opposite of good.” His voice was raspy and small and begging for relief from the fire in his belly.

“Tony watch out!”

Pepper grabbed the steering wheel and jerked it to the side just as Tony slammed on the brakes. The car skidded to a stop, the front half off the road and in the grass, while the backseats were still out in the road. It was a rough stop, but Peter was thankful for it. He wrestled out of his seatbelt, opened the door, stuck his head out, and puked.  

“Ewwwww, dad, Peter’s getting sick,” announced Morgan, as he continued to empty his stomach.

Three car doors opened and shut, and sometime between Peter’s last gag and wiping his mouth off on his jacket, Tony appeared above him. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but even there in the dark, Peter could see the smug, I-told-you-so expression written into every line on his face. That passed quickly, though, and it was replaced with concern, something he’d promised Peter he wouldn’t feel for him.

“Are you good?”

“Yeah, yeah, I think so, for now.”

Tony checked his watch, then sighed. “We’re gonna stop for the night. The first hotel we see.”

Peter nodded, too relieved to even try to argue. Tony had been planning on driving through the night, but they both knew they couldn’t continue. Not like this. Not when he was sure to puke again.

He kept the door to the car open but leaned back against in his seat while Tony rummaged around for something up front. When he straightened out, he handed Peter a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” said Peter. He took a sip, swirled it around in his mouth, and spit it out on the ground, careful to avoid looking at his puke.

“Dad look!” Morgan walked around the car and into view. She had a black cat cradled in her arms.

“You almost ran over her, that means we have to give her a home.”

“What?”

“It’s the rules,” said Morgan.

“Says who?”

“I dunno,” said Morgan, with a shrug. “Says me.”

Peter watched Tony look down at Morgan, who was cooing and petting the cat, who was already in love with her, and Peter knew, probably before Tony did, that they all just met the newest member of their family and the newest passenger for their road trip.

She didn’t need her own seat. She sat in Morgan’s lap as Tony maneuvered the car back on the road, and FRIDAY gave directions to the nearest hotel. Peter put his head against the window, shut his eyes, and tried to focus on something that wasn’t the cramps knotting in his stomach.

He drifted in and out, until the car finally slowed, and Peter lifted his head and opened his eyes to a large, plastic teddy bear standing tall, directly outside his window. The bear carried a sign, and it read: Huggy Bear Motel.

“Absolutely not,” said Tony. The car was stopped, but the engine was still running. “We can’t stay here. We’ll all be dead by morning.”

“We have one spider-boy, and one retired savior, I think we’ll all be fine,” said Pepper.

Peter jerked his car door open and hung his head outside. He felt it coming back again.

“Either we stay here,” Pepper continued, “or force Peter to stay in the car sick for another hundred miles.”

Peter threw up all over the ground, and felt the car switch off under him and heard a frustrated sigh from up front.

“Fine, we’ll get a room.”

Tony and Pepper disappeared inside the building, and Peter looked over at Morgan. She was fast asleep, and so was her new cat. Overhead lights flickered, bringing Peter’s attention to the motel, instead. It was the kind of place without hallways. All the rooms looked like they were accessed from the outside, and all the doors leading to those rooms had faded, chipped red paint. There was a hot tub off to the side, near some trees, and Peter could tell just by looking it wasn’t functional, or at least, shouldn’t be functional.

“That man has one hundred percent killed someone with an ax,” said Tony, when he came back, as he gently helped Peter out of the car and to his feet.

“He was just a little strange,” said Pepper. She picked up the cat off Morgan’s lap, and gently shook her daughter’s arm, trying to wake her. “Not completely unlike yourself.”

*

The motel room was small, with just two queen sized beds, and single hallway leading to a bathroom. It had a weird smell, that Peter tried to ignore, just like he tried to ignore the faded, off-white color of the comforter as he collapsed down on the bed closest to the bathroom. He was too exhausted, felt too sick and gross to care, but neither of those things kept him from appreciating Tony’s horror as he stared down at his bed.

Peter sat up, and looked around, a realization hitting him. That there were only two beds. That Pepper, Morgan and the cat were missing.

“Where’s Pepper and Morgan going to sleep?” asked Peter.

“They didn’t have a suite, shocker, right?” said Tony. He lifted up the pillows and searched underneath, as though he expected something to jump out at him. “So they’re in the adjoining room.”  

“You can go be with them. I’ll be fine in here by myself.”

“Right,” said Tony, with a small laugh. He put the pillows back, but still frowned at the bed and refused to sit down. “Then who’d be here, keeping you company, and making sure you don’t die?”

Peter opened his mouth, the answer somewhere on his tongue, but something else wanted out, instead. He felt it again, and it’d come on just as suddenly as the first two times. He jumped off the bed and darted into the bathroom, where he slammed his knees down on the floor and dunked his head into the toilet, just in time.

He finished puking, shut the toilet seat, flushed, then looked up. Tony hovered in the doorway, leaning against the frame, like always. He always hovered, always tried to help, or planed road trips just to ruin Peter’s plans for freedom and independence.

Peter draped his body against the toilet for support, then blinked at Tony. “I don’t need you here taking care of me.”

Tony frowned, opened his mouth but shut in quickly. His face crinkled with confusion.

“I can take care of myself,” said Peter, and he knew he should stop talking, even knew he didn’t really mean it. He liked the company, even when he wasn’t sick and miserable, but he couldn’t stop the words from leaving his mouth. “If you weren’t around, I could take care of myself just fine.”

The room went silent, and that left plenty of room for Peter to remember that he’d almost gotten to see a world where Tony Stark wasn’t around.

Tony crossed his arms, hooking his prosthetic and his flesh together, while he continued to stare at Peter, who couldn’t take the words back now that they were out there, no matter how badly he wished he could. He couldn’t read Tony’s expression, either.

Confusion, hurt maybe, but definitely worry.

Always worry. Tony was always waiting for Peter to be taken away from him, a second time.

“So, you’re still mad about not being able to stay home alone,” Tony told him. “That’s what this is all about? Why you’ve had an attitude this entire trip?”

Peter clamped his mouth shut, and continued to hug the toilet, ruminating about how he was about to get lectured in the bathroom of some crummy motel as he threw up bits of elephant ear. It could only happen to him. Parker luck.

“I could’ve stayed home alone,” said Peter. “I’m seventeen. I’m Spider-Man. I’m not a baby.”

“You mean, you could’ve stayed home by yourself, so you could have your party?”

“What?” asked Peter. He gripped the edges of the toilet seat tighter to keep himself sturdy as the bathroom spun. “N-no – “

“You’re not the only one good at eavesdropping, Pete,” said Tony. “I heard you on the phone, then I found your fake ID.”

He lifted his head off the toilet seat and tried to focus on Tony as his figure blurred. “You could’ve just busted me.”

Like a normal parent

He didn’t say that part out loud. Something about digging his own grave didn’t really appeal to him when he was pretty sure he was actually just going to die from a bad elephant ear right there on the floor, and besides that, he was too exhausted and frustrated and sick to try explaining to Tony that he’d gotten it all wrong.

Tony shrugged away from the wall and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Road trip sounded like more fun. Believe it or not, I don’t actually like being the bad guy.”

“Next time just ground me,” said Peter, as he laid his head back down on the seat cover. It was still gross, but at least it was cool on his burning skin.

“I look forward to throwing that back in your face.”

“Well I’ll be eighteen before you get the chance.”

Tony chuckled under his breath. “It’s so adorable how you think that matters.”

He walked furthered into the bathroom, and sunk down to the floor, opposite of where Peter rested against the toilet.

“I’m sorry,” said Peter. He didn’t know how it was possible to feel resentful and angry, and for those things to also be wrapped up in guilt. “Sometimes it just feels like, like you’re suffocating me.”

“Let’s just put this on ice, for now, okay? We can have it out when you’re not puking your guts out. It’s damn near impossible for me to be angry with you when you look so pathetic.”

Peter forced a small laugh, and nodded, and wished the pain mounting in his belly would stop so he could just sleep.

*

“Do you think someone got axed in here?” asked Peter. He was leaned against the wall, with Tony by his side, staring at a giant stain splatter.

“Maybe,” answered Tony, also eying the stain.

It was hours later, and Peter had thrown up twice more. That last time he mostly just gagged on his own stomach acid, while Tony rubbed his back. He was seventeen. He didn’t need Tony to take care of him like that, but he wasn’t exactly going to tell him to stop, either. He craved the comfort still, and he wondered if that would ever go away, if his biggest, most obvious lie would be telling Tony he didn’t need him anymore.

His stomach was starting to feel at peace, like all the poison had left him, but his throat felt tight, felt so tight, he had trouble getting a good breath. Peter inhaled deeply, trying to get a good, deep breath in, but it didn’t matter. It was useless. His lungs still weren’t satisfied.

“Tony, I can’t breathe,” said Peter. He rubbed at his throat, as if that might help.

“Yeah, yeah I get it, I’m helicoptering – “He started to scoot away from him, to finally give him space, right when he didn’t really want it.

“-No literally, I can’t breathe.”

“Okay,” said Tony. His voice was calm as he repositioned himself, back closer to Peter, and put a comforting hand on his back, rubbing circles. “Just relax. Deep breath in, deep breath out, match me.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can, we’ve done this a million times, it’s just a panic attack.” Tony kept rubbing his circles, slow and steady, and that should’ve helped, should’ve grounded him and brought him back to reality, but it didn’t.

Peter shook his head. He knew what a panic attack felt like, and this wasn’t it. He knew what it was like for the room to spin with anxiety, but he also knew what it was like for the planet to spin as death came crept near.

Before he could tell Tony, Pepper appeared outside the bathroom door. “Tony we can’t stay here.”

“Oh now you listen to me – “

“-Morgan’s cat found some… bugs,” said Pepper. “In the beds.”

“What?”

Tony’s eyes snapped back to Peter, and without warning, he grabbed him by his shirt collar and hoisted him to his feet. He dragged him out of the bathroom, through the motel room, then finally, out the door and into the night.

Cool air hit Peter’s skin, and without the odd smell of motel room, the air felt lighter and reached his lungs in a way it hadn’t when he was inside. He breathed deep and exhaled, as Tony lowered him down so he could sit on the sidewalk and up against the wall.

“Better?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Okay, just, just work on your breathing,” said Tony. He stayed standing and ran a hand through his hair, his head partially blocking out the moon behind him.

Peter sat on the concrete, and for once, did what Tony told him and worked on his breathing, that became labored for a second time as a bright light flashed in his face. He gasped, shut his eyes, and when he opened them again, Tony stood between him and the light source.

“What the fuck?” yelled Tony.

“Sorry to scare your kid there,” said a man, who caught the malice in Tony’s voice, and directed his flashlight to the ground. “Just going around, making sure everyone’s alright.”

“Why wouldn’t everything be alright?” questioned Tony.

“We’ve been having bug problems,” said the man. “Just bug bombed the place earlier on in the day.”

“We’re checking out now, right now.”  

The man, who Peter guessed must’ve been the caretaker, frowned at them, said nothing, and left, whistling as he turned a corner and disappeared.

“To answer your question,” said Tony. “Yup, someone was axed in there without a doubt.”

Just ten minutes later, Peter sat on a curb, out in the parking lot, and watched as Tony and Pepper covered all their bags in plastic and loaded them into the car. Morgan and her cat were already inside, passed out in the backseat, but Peter wasn’t ready to be locked up in a moving vehicle yet. Though he’d stopped throwing up, he was still nauseous and exhausted and dreaded having to drive a couple hours longer to get to a hotel.

Tony seemed to sense the dread, though. He threw the key fab to Pepper, who caught it easily and slid into the car behind the wheel. Tony helped Peter to his feet by gently tugging on his arm.

“Come on,” he told him. “I’ll sit in the back with you and Morgan, and you can use me as a pillow.”

Peter only offered him a shaky nod, then climbed into the car after him. The cat decided the backseat was too cramped and jumped off to the passenger’s seat to keep Pepper company, but it was just the right amount cramped for Peter. He huddled into Tony’s side, put his head on his chest, and, as Pepper drove them into the night and to a nice, normal hotel, fell asleep in his arms.  

*

The wind blew through the treetops, and ruffled through Peter’s freshly showered hair, as he sat on a wooden balcony and let his legs dangle off the ledge.

He was up early, considering the night they had, but their drive from the bug infested motel to their safe haven at the nearest Holiday Inn hadn’t been as bad as Peter had expected. He’d gotten sleep. Good sleep, and the few seconds he’d been jostled awake by the car hitting a bump, he’d at least been comforted by Tony’s hand running through his hair, or by the rock music playing softly through the speakers.

The door to the balcony slid open with a squeak, and Tony stepped out, holding a soda fresh from the fountain of whatever gas station he found. He sat next to Peter and handed him the Sprite he’d requested.

“Thanks.” He poked the straw through the plastic lid, and took a small sip, before setting it down, off to the side.

“Anytime, kid,” said Tony, as he sat down next to him, and let his legs dangle next to Peter’s.

For a while, it was nice. It was just Peter, and Tony, and the sound the trees made when the wind blew through the leaves and branches. They didn’t need to fill the air with noisy words, or apologies, though Peter knew that would be coming for both of them sooner or later. It was quiet, and that was okay. Company was enough.

Tony’s company was more than enough. It was comforting, an anchor, and Peter didn’t want to ever imagine what his life might be like without it, what his life had almost been.

“So,” said Tony, bumping his shoulder with a nudge. “Are we ever gonna talk about you being allergic to bug spray?”

Peter laughed, shrugged, and looked out on the trees.

“I swear, the longer I know you, the more I’m convinced you’re more spider than human.”

“Tony listen,” said Peter. “I’m sorry about what I – “

“-Forget it, Pete. We all say things we don’t mean when we’re angry.”

It was said with ease and confidence, and as if Tony had never really taken it to heart. He wondered if it was an act. If Tony made his voice sound that way so Peter wouldn’t have to walk around feeling guilty, like he was known to do.

“I do need you. I just – need you to let me ask for help sometimes, instead of rushing in.”

Tony nodded, to make it clear he heard him, that he was considering, and then he hit him with, “We need to talk about the party.”

“I know,” said Peter. “I know it was stupid, and I should’ve talked to May before inviting Ned and MJ to come over – “

“No wait,” Tony cut him off. “Just Ned and MJ?”

“Yeah.”

“You said on the phone that it was, I quote ‘going to be wild.’”

“It was,” said Peter. “We were going to watch all the Star Wars movies.”

Tony blinked at him.

“In zigzag order, when everyone knows the best way to watch them is in release order.”

Tony narrowed his eyes, and looked more confused than Peter had ever seen him look before. “Do I even want to know what the fake ID was for?”

“I don’t want to say.”

“Kid- “

“-They were playing this Black Dahlia documentary at the movies. And it was rated R, right? So they wouldn’t let us buy tickets, which is ridiculous by way, but anyway, we couldn’t have May come with us on a date, you know? May’s getting pretty nosey as it is, and that’s really uncalled for, I don’t go around spying on her and Happy-”

“Alright, alright, I think I get it,” said Tony. He looked at him, then laughed. It was at his expense, just like at the carnival, but it was booming, and infectious, and brought a grin to Peter’s face. “You’re Spider-Man, and you can’t sneak a girl into the movies?”

“Spider-Man is sneaky,” said Peter. He looked down at his sock covered feet, still smiling. “Peter Parker trips over his untied shoelaces.”

Tony fist bumped Peter’s shoulder, and his laughing died down. “I suppose I owe you an apology. I, uh, let my anxiety run away with me, and jumped to conclusions. The truth is, I… I worry about you becoming past me, but you’re so much better, already, than I ever was. You’re a good person, Peter. A responsible one.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Thanks to May,” corrected Tony. “In spite of me.”

“Thanks to Ben, and May, and you,” said Peter. He gave one last look at Tony’s prosthetic arm, a permanent reminder of what Tony was willing to do to keep his family and his home safe. “You taught what it means to be a hero, what it takes.”

Tony smiled, and gave his shoulder a pat, before standing up, and walking towards the door. “We’ll head back home tomorrow, once you’re feeling better, I think I tortured you with this road trip long enough.”

“Wait, Tony,” said Peter, stopping him when his hand was on the door handle. “Where were we going, anyway?”

“Galaxy’s Edge.” The answer came off Tony’s lips causally, like it was no big deal, like it wasn’t the single greatest place on earth that Peter had yet to visit.

“What? Star Wars land?”asked Peter. He stood up, to match Tony. “You couldn’t have, I don’t know, mentioned that in the first place?”

Tony shrugged. “Honestly, I wanted you to suffer.”

“Can we still go?”

“If you want to,” said Tony. Peter nodded his head up and down. “Okay. We’ll get back on the road tomorrow.”

“Sweet. I’m gonna go watch the movies, to get in the spirit,” said Peter, as he stepped past Tony, and into their suite. It wasn’t the luxury that Tony was used to, but it was homey and wasn’t advertised by a creepy plastic bear holding a sign.

Also, it didn’t have bugs, or poisonous fumes from bug bombs floating around in the air.

“Sounds like a family movie day.” Tony followed him in. “Just stick to the originals. The ones without the Kylo the dad killer. He’s Morgan’s favorite, and I’m not sure what that says about my future.”

Peter stopped, and turned, and laughed. “Morgan’s favorite is Rey. I just told her to tell you Kylo to freak you out.”

“You’re grounded,” said Tony, and wiped the grin right off Peter’s face. “See? Told you I’d get a chance to throw it back in your face.”

Tony patted his head, and walked past him, plopping himself down on the couch in the living area and snatching the remote off the coffee table. Peter paused and watched Tony flip through the pay-to-watch movies on the hotel catalogue.

They ended up breezing through four Star Wars movies that day. All five of them, including the cat, smashed together on the tiny, hotel room couch. It was a pretty good day to be an abducted member of the Starks, and it was a pretty good week for a road trip, after all.

[wolven0ne-universe]

Tilin Interview

The following is a writing exercise and isn’t quite as polished as my usual work. If that doesn’t bother you, then by all means enjoy. :)

“Here ye, here ye! I am about to ask some questions!”

“Oh god!” Feigning sheer terror, the catlike monster known as Tilin, flattened her back into her seat. To anybody looking, it would’ve liked she was trying to get as far away as possible. Fortunately for her, that is exactly what she was going for. “It’s a nerd again! Why does it always have to be a nerd again!”

“Heh, I take it you have a lot of dorks in your life then?”

“Duh, of course, I do!” Dropping the act, the feline stared at the human with irritation. Of course, she had a lot of dorky people in her life. As the writer, this guy was the one that had put them all there! This guy was the author, the creator, the being responsible for every corny joke she had ever gone through. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that he was a dork as well. “But you know what, I don’t think that’s why I’m here though.”

“Yeah, you’d be right about that!” Leaning back in his hair, the author took out a clipboard and tapped it. "As I said before, I need to ask you some questions. It's been a while since we really talked and I feel like we need to get to know each other again."

"Oh don't say it like you're concerned or anything," at that, the corner of Tilin's mouth twitched up. "You're just trying to get back to writing, I bet!"

"Is it that obvious?"

"My big chapter has been waiting for like nine months. You tell me!"

"That's fair enough!" Despite being the creator of her universe, the author looked downright embarrassed at that moment. Which was good as far as she was concerned. This was her big scene. Her big chance to show the world what he was all about! But instead, he went and kept her waiting for who knows how many months! After all that, it was only fair for him to squirm a bit! "Either way thought, I'm going to get my questions!"

"Oh boo!" Tilin stuck her tongue out at that. "Fine, go ahead!"

"Alright, first let's go for a simple one. What's your favorite breakfast?"

"Cinnamon Chip Pancakes." For a moment Tilin looked annoyed by the question. After all, the author probably already knew the answer to it. After a few moments though, that began to fade a bit. It was hard to stay mad while thinking of cinnamony goodness. Especially when it was covered in syrup. In fact, she almost began chewing her lip at the thought. But quickly enough threw the whole thing off. "Sweet things are usually what I like. I'm pretty sure you wrote that down when you first introduced me though."

“Oh right, well, it was a softball for me too!” Scratching at the back of his skull, the author broke off eye contact and looked at his clipboard to check something. "So, who would you say is the person who's supported you most?"

"My sister," Tilin was very matter of fact about it. "Nobody's been there as much as she has. It's not even close!"

"Well it's good you have a close relationship with your sister," said the author as he wrote something down. "Maybe you could elaborate on that though?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said!" Tilin actually glared when she said that. Which was awfully bold seeing as she was staring down the creator of the universe. She didn't seem to care though. From her perspective, this guy was a stranger. How dare he ask details about her personal life. Especially seeing as he had to have known already. "Ask something else already. This psychoanalytical crap makes me angry!"

"Fine fine, how about a simple one then," Leaning back in his chair, the author seemed to think for a moment before finally coming up with something. "Have you seen any movies on the surface?"

"Sure I have!" said Tilin with a shrug. "What about it?"

"Well, I'd kinda like to know your favorite."

"Oh," Tilin actually looked a little taken back by that. "Promise you aren't going to laugh?"

"Do I look like I have a sense of humor to you?"

"That's not exactly reassuring."

"Look, I'm not going to laugh. Cross my heart." The author actually made the symbol over his chest. "I know you don't like getting all personal, but this isn't anything to be ashamed of."

"Fine, if you say so!" Sighing in resignation, Tilin looked around the room one last time. Searching around for some means of escape, before concluding that there was none. "If you really have to know, it's Rocky."

"That old boxing movie?"

"Yes, the old Boxing movie!" Tilin said with a snap.  "Why, is there something wrong with that?"

"No, I'm just a little curious about why though. Most people pick films that are a little more recent, and I think that one was made before even I was born!"

"Newer doesn't necessarily mean better! You should know that better than anyone, old man!" Grinning ear to ear, Tilin's expression couldn't be mistaken for anything but jeering. Having noticed the author was no spring chicken, the feline had guessed he was a little self-conscious. And given the grimace he had on his face, it looked a lot like she might be correct.

"Look," he said changing the subject. "Just answer the question, alright? Why does Rocky appeal to you exactly?"

"Because it's about somebody going for it!"

"Going for it?"

"You know!" Visibly flustered, the feline waved her hands a little. Good as she was with messing with people, articulating her feelings was difficult for the kitten. She was more used to cutting to the chase and getting straight to practical matters. In situations where she couldn't really do that, things became awkward for her. Still, it wasn't like she was about to run away from a challenge or anything.

"Look," she said with a little lick of her lips. "You know how people go on about all the stuff they want to do with their life? Things like I want to be a doctor or learn how to paint?"

"Sure, everybody has a few things like that!"

"Yeah, but Rocky actually went for it! He had a goal and worked hard for it. While he may not have actually won at the end, at least he walked away knowing he did all he could! Some people go through their whole entire lives, without ever being able to say that."

Sitting there studying her, the author seemed to consider something before opening his mouth again. "Does, that speak to you in some way?"

“Of course it does!" Tilin laughed bitterly at that. “As I said, Rocky knew what he wanted and went for it. Let’s just say, I admire people that can do that.”

"Eh, I suppose I can get that. It’s a good characteristic, and I think people are drawn to stuff like that. Especially if it’s something they’d like to see in themselves.”

"Wait, are you psychoanalyzing me again?"

"Not really," After thinking it over though, the human seemed to have another answer. "Well okay. I am, but not the way you're thinking of. I'm just trying to figure out how you work."

"Dangerous game that!" Shrugging with her eyebrows, the little feline leaned back and turned to stare into the distance. For her part, Tilin didn't really understand stuff like this Why was it exactly, that the rest the world always seemed intent on poking into each other's business? Sure, when it came to things like family she could get it. And even with friends it kinda made sense. This guy was essentially a stranger though. Why should she have to open up to a man like him? That didn't seem to matter though. Because as much as she wanted this guy to go away, he didn't seem to take the hint!

"Alright," said the author looking rather cheerful. "I think we should move on then! Would you mind telling me how you feel about Undyne?"

"Eh, I guess she's impressive," Tilin merely shrugged at that. "Why, you're planning to tell her are you?"

"Would that be so horrible?"

"No, but it would be annoying!" Once again, Tilin couldn't believe how intrusive this guy was. "Look, Undyne is fine as a person. She's still my rival though! I don't want her getting the idea that I look up to her!"

"You know, you're awfully guarded about yourself."

"Did you now just notice?"

"No, I kind of got that impression early on. I didn't want to say anything though."

Hearing that, Tilin only glared at him. "You' should've listened to your first instinct there. To be honest, I don't really want to be here!"

"I kinda got that too." Putting down his clipboard, the author leaned back in his chair and seemed to think there for a moment. "The problem is, I need to get in your head for the next scene to work. You're the main character of that chapter. The point of view character. I know you don't like to let strangers in, but I still need to know what makes you tick!"

"What do you suggest then?"

"So you mind if I get blunt with my questions?"

"You mean you're going to say what you actually mean for once!?" Tilin almost looked excited by the prospect. "Go ahead, get to the point. I wish more people would do it instead of beating around the bush all the time!"

"I will then!" Grinning, the author steepled his fingers menacingly. "Remember though, you asked for it!"

"Uh oh."

"First off, what sort of person do you like?"

"Oh gee, I don't know!" Tilin said in mock indecision "How about someone who can shut the heck up!"

"I'm being serious," said the author with a sigh. "I've had a few people ask if you were Ace or Bisexual or whatnot. I think I know already, but I want to give you a chance to weigh in on that."

"You know," Tilin said a bit slowly. "I've never really thought about it too much. I've always been more focused on my goals. So I've never really had a chance to explore that."

"Wait, you've never been on a date?"

"Shut up!" Raising a finger, the feline gave him a deadly glare. "Look. I'm not. I haven't. It's none of your business, okay!" Had it not been for her layer of fur, Tilin’s face would’ve been colored a fine shade of crimson. "Look, I'm just not what you'd call ‘romantic.’ I don't know if that makes me ace, but I'd appreciate you not teasing me about it!"

"Alright, look!" Taking in a breath, the author rose his hands in surrender. "It takes all sorts of people in this life. Besides, not being romantically inclined is perfectly normal."

"It is?"

"Of course it is!" The author nearly chuckled at that but instead settled in for a healthy smile. "Look, everyone is built a little bit differently. Sometimes that means we're not as strong, not as fast. Other times, it just means we don't have the same kind of drives as others."

"I guess that makes sense," Tilin said while looking thoughtful. "Just so you know though, I haven't quite given up on the thought of going on a date. I just haven't found anyone I want to go with yet."

"That's fine. It's not like there's any hurry?"

"Wait, really?" Tilin rose an eyebrow at that. "I thought we were getting close to the end of the story."

"No, we're only getting close to the end of book one," the author clarified. "I have a book two planned, and if I do a good enough job breaking this writer's block I might even work on it. Besides, there's always AU's."

"An AU of an AU? Isn't that kind of derivative?"

"Well, I write fanfiction so..."

"Right! Sorry! that was a stupid question!"

"No, I get what you were going for," said the author with a shrug. "I do think it's time to move on though."

"Good, does that mean we're done now?"

"Nope!" The author took on a childlike grin. "I'm going to ask, one, more, question!"

"Oh no!" The way the author said that made Tilin stiffen. Was he planning on asking her another personal question? She certainly hoped not. If it wasn't clear already, she very much hated those. Still, it wasn't like there was any point in dreading it. "Fine-fine!" her voice dripped with resignation. "Go on and get it over with!"

"Very well!" said the human as he rubbed his hands together. "Inquiring minds must know. What things do you find funny?"

"Well your face is kinda hilarious!"

Hearing that, the author snorted. "I walked right into that one, huh?"

"Kinda," Tilin grinned, feeling very much relieved about the softball question. "I'm not sure how to answer that one though."

"You don't know what's funny?" The human seemed perplexed by this. "Look, I know you have a sense of humor in there somewhere. I'm the one that wrote it!"

"Well of course I do!" Bristling, the little feline folded her arms in a huff. Maybe she was reading too much into it, but it felt like the author was teasing her at that moment. "This just isn't something I'm used to talking about. I'm a warrior for crying out loud, not a comedian. I don't exactly have a frame of reference."

"Let me see if I have this straight," the author said as he held both hands out. "You're not sure how to explain it, because you don't know the terminology?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right," hearing that explanation, the little feline perked up a bit. "I mean, as an example. What's the kind of comedy where people sit and whack each other?"

"Slapstick?"

"Yes, that!" Tilin pointed at the author excitedly. "I despise slapstick!"

"But you couldn't explain that since you didn't know what the term was? Well, I guess that makes sense. You did seem to enjoy insulting me though."

"Yeah, but that was me being clever. I like stuff like that!" Blinking, Tilin looked down at the floor a moment as if realizing something. "Does that actually answer your question?"

"I think it does actually!" The author smiled. "You like clever witty humor. Stuff with a little bit of bite to it!"

"Finally, somebody actually gets it!" At that moment, the feline looked excited at the prospect. "You know, it's a kinda a shame you're the creator of the universe. I think like you and I might actually get along a little bit!"

"Sub-creator!" Despite his protest, the human looked downright tickled as the prospect. "But yeah, we do seem to have a similar wavelength. Shame you're not going to remember this?"

"Wait, what?"

"This is non-canon, remember?"

"That's right!" Looking disappointed in herself, Tilin literally slapped herself for forgetting. Not that she’d been dreaming of becoming fast friends with this weirdo. But he still would’ve made an okay conversational partner. "Oh well!” she said with a shrug “It’s not like I'm going to regret it!"

"And you'll have your sister!" said the author trying to comfort her. "Undyne too for that matter!"

"Oh gee, thanks for that!" said Tilin dryly. "I get to spend my free time with a brutish blue bimbo!"

"You know, I could tell her that you called her that."

"Oh nooo!" Tilin drew out the last word sarcastically. With her face the very definition of deadpan. "Don't tell Undyne! Anything but telling Undyne!"

"Alright, I think I’ve got enough!" said the author with a chuckle. "Thanks for coming by the way. You've been very helpful!"

"Eh, don't mention it!" Getting out of her chair, Tilin stretched and looked around for an exit. Only to remember that she was in the middle of a featureless white landscape. "Um, so how do I get out of here again?”

"I'm going to have to write you out. Sorry about that."

"That's fine but, what does that involve exactly?"

And with that, the confused-looking cat monster vanished from reality. Disappearing with an audible ‘poit!’ And leaving the author alone with his thoughts.

[lonelypond]

Friendship Magic

NicoMaki, Love Live, 660ish words, 1/1

Summary: Nico and Maki getting ready to host a Halloween party

Friendship Magic

Nishikino Maki had her camera bag slung over her back, head full of the surf cresting over her lens, clothes damp from waves and spray. She's spent the morning on the beach, trying not to be nervous about tonight's party, but it was now time for a quick soak to warm up before the rest of Muse arrived for this year's Halloween shenanigans. Even Honoka had managed to fit it into her schedule this year.

Quick check first though to see what her wife was up to. Sounded like cooking things. Maki felt warmer already but when she rounded the corner, the smell was chocolate.

"Nico-chan..."

Nico looked over her shoulder, "Don't pout, pretty girl. Nico already made your cider." Nico pointed a spoon at a red plaid Thermos on the table. "Better dry off first."

Maki shivered dramatically, "Too cold."

"All right, but don't drip on too many of Nico's things."

"They're our things."

Nico rolled her eyes.

"How many gallons of hot chocolate are you making for Eli?" Maki poured out the warm, cinnamony cider, inhaling the warmth.

"Ha! Nozomi texted ahead to say Eli's trying to cut back so Nico doubled the recipe. Rin's been sending texts all day about s'mores dipped in hot chocolate."

"I don't believe that." Maki chuckled, "Actual Rin would be demanding chocolate ramen."

Nico's expressive face contorted, "That sounds disgusting."

Maki sighed, "And yet once upon a time, Hanayo decided to surprise Rin with it for Valentine's Day."

Nico turned, "Home cooked or restaurant."

"After I threw up Hanayo's first effort, I paid Mama's favorite chocolatier to develop a version." Maki facetabled, "Then they sold it to restaurants and it became a trend for two years. Rin was ecstatic."

"Your friends are odd."

"Says the person whose best friend went into entertainment law because her wife is a por…"

"They're art films, Maki, we say Nozomi makes art films."

"If any children are around, we say nothing."

Nico laughed. "Can you imagine us being parents in high school?"

Maki sat up, very serious, amethyst eyes narrowed, "I did."

Nico raised an eyebrow, "You were very serious about Nico."

"About Nico-chan and music. And friendship." Maki paused, eyes less bright. "I wouldn't be here without Honoka and Rin and Hanayo." Sadder tones, "They were my friends no matter what mood I was in. I didn't know that could happen."

Nico turned off the burner. She could make more chocolate. She'd already stocked the pantry for Christmas. More urgent now was her wife.

Nico slid her arms around Maki's shoulder, voice cheery. "You're amazing, Maki-chan. You've always been. We were all lucky you decided to be our friend, Nico the most. Maki is honest and silly and kind and hard working and thoughtful."

"Not cute? Or sexy? Or a gorgeous temper bomb?" Head tilted back, Maki smirked at Nico, eyes sparkling.

"Hey!" Nico kissed Maki's cheek, "Nico is being deep here. It's not just about the pretty."

"But mostly."

Nico wrestled Maki to the side, "Go hop in the bath. Your brain is frozen."

Maki stood, her hands on Nico's waist, "You know if we're in the bath together, Nozomi shows up two hours early with a camera."

Nico made a grumbling noise.

"I love you, Nico-chan." Maki pulled Nico into a crushing hug, glad to be expecting a houseful of beloved friends, but happier even to share that with the person who meant the most to her.

Maki bounded off to the bath, mood now playful, Nico watching her thoughtfully, remembering the sullen, lonely redhead who'd been impossible to ignore storming through the halls of Otonokiza. Friendship really was magic.

Nico had a couple hours. She could invent a chocolate ramen dessert.

A/N: Couldn't resist the last prompt (hot choco) in the Idol Fanfic Heaven's Promptober so here you go. Been super busy with theatre and exhausted. May you get treats (or tricks) a plenty ; )

[flaming-potato-arson]

Angel Rider Part 0ne

Altea Creek. Of course. Why had Lance expected anything else?

The tradition goes as stated below: every year on Christmas, after excessive gift giving and wrangling all of his relatives into a few cars, someone gets to pick where they go and what they do. Some years, the choosen location is closed and they go somewhere else, wether it be the Speedway down the road or the state park two hours from his house. Every year ended up wild and crazy - everything tended to end up wild and crazy with his family, Lance supposed - and a ton of fun. Even when it didn't seem like it.

Altea Creek did not seem like fun to Lance. To his horse crazed, nine year old sister who had been sprouting horses facts for the past five months, it was like Santa and God did a duel blessing/present from Heaven.

"Horses, horses, horses...." Rod chanted softly, swirling the end of a plastic horse's tail on her finger, swinging her feet. Lance held in a groan, opting to look out the frosted window of his mom's mini van, Shaikra blasting in his ears from his ear phones.  The snow was coming down more thickly the farther out they got, a decent foot on the ground as far as the eye could see. The warm, cinnamony smell of his aunt's annual gifted air freshener and artifical hot air filled the car, which Lance thought was much better than the chill outside.  Voices threatened to block out his music, with his three older siblings in the very back row, and three of his four younger siblings inbetween them, all talking and screaming and reading and just generally being themselves.

Lance sighed, shifting against the window.

"Lance, lindo, is something wrong?" Curse-not-curse his mother's innate ability to sense apathy and sadness.

"Nothing, mama. Just a little worn out." He gave a tired smile back at her. She had twisted around almost completely in the passenger's seat to look him dead in the eye, the family junk that always got left in the car piled around her. "Are you sure? You've been holed up in your room a lot lately. Singing....playing loud music...." She trailed off before finishing quickly. "It's alright if you're tired - you can nap in the car while we go on a sleigh ride, if you need to. " Her bright blue eyes (the ones he had inherited) shined back at him. Lance focused on the swaying, classic green alien head hanging from the rearview mirror.

"Nah, I'll come."

"Okay, mi hijo." She sat up as his dad took a wide turn off the freeway on to a long, winding dirt road. Lance watched the alien head against the falling snow through the windshield before exhaling and closing his eyes.

Maybe some Shakira will help.

Oh my god this was the worst idea ever -

Slamming the car door shut, Lance took in the multitude of families wandering around and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. His aunt's car pulled up behind them, and a door swung open before the car even stopped, his nephew throwing himself out of it. Yelling poured into the air as the rest of the doors opened, countless cousins, aunts, uncles, parents, grandparents, and sibling unfolding like clowns from a clown car.

Someone was yelling at his nephew, - thank god, someone had to break him of that habit- cars locked with affirmative beeps,  and dozens of tiny little hands were pulling on his jacket, leading him in the familiar wave of being lost in the crowd that was his family, voices he knew well becoming background noise.

Lance took the time to actually look at his surroundings, checking out the spots where someone might think to hide if they found it funny. Tall, thick evergreen trees made for a shadowy forest on the edges of the premises, with plenty of nooks and crannies to slip inside. A few smaller, barn-like buildings dotted the mostly open, snow covered fields, but a big, firetruck red one dominated the area with a lingering warm and welcoming aurora. A long, thin building replicated itself, leaving an open path in between what he assumed where the stables.  

Stable workers walked around in elf and Santa like clothes, directing couples and kids to sleighs and others hitching horses to lead said sleighs. Laughter and excited squealing came from just about everyone, but someone's laugh tinkled like bells to Lance.  She was bent over, talking to a kid, crystal white hair spilling in waves out of a hat topped with a bell. The classic elf get up fit her nicely, her dark skin a refreshing change from the regular green. The Santa with a prosthetic arm and tuff of bleached hair next to her smiled down at the kids, one hand resting on her back. Their smiles were bright and wide, and the pair of them looked like something of a re-imagined Hallmark card.

It was sickeningly cute and Lance turned away, following his family.

"Hello, if you'd just follow me-" A short gremlin with short, messy hair lead the majority of his family towards a sleigh, a giant, butterscotch colored gypsy horse harnessed to it. The complete feathered look gave it away and Rod had been drilling him with horse facts constantly. Silently, Lance looked at the creases in the attendant's forehead and the look in his mother's eyes and lead a few of the smaller kids away. Ella, his older cousin, joined him with a quick wave.  His mama shot him a smile, and he returned it, herding six kids into a mostly open area.

"Okay, everyone stay in sight of this area. Waiting your turn can get boring, but if we all wander off we're going to get lost, okay?" A chorus of "okay's" came back to him. His nephew - Geroniom, not the crazy, throws-himself-out-of-moving-cars one and his baby sister sat down in the snow, content to throw it at each other, Ella quickly plopping down with the two toddlers. Rod was vibrating with excitement, virtually teleporting around the edge of the clearing to look at every passing horse. The other three were attempting to make a snow fort, that was actually coming along pretty well.

Deciding that his siblings and cousins could handle themselves, Lance turned on his music and shoved his phone in his pocket. His recent Twitter feed wasn't really appealing and the cold wasn't bad enough to need a distraction from. Dropping himself on to a bench, Lance closed his eyes, letting the sounds of a Hallmark movie come to life fill his ears and time cease to exist.

What Hallmark movie involved blood curdling screaming?

Snapping up, joints popping, Lance jumped off the bench and whipped his head around. Pounding and surprised screaming came from the stables, people running away from a literal fucking blur. Lance could only see glimpses of what he thought was a horse while employees tried to capture it before it got out to the clearing. Urgent bells were ringing, adding to the chaos. It was getting closer, and definitely was a horse. An attendant with a jet black mullet made a last grab for the reins, but the horse charged out the stable doors. Snow exploded where inky blue hooves pounded down. It was like someone had ripped an ink blot through a blank canvas. The whole horse was a deep blue that almost looked black, powerful legs launching it across the ground. Frantic energy filled it's motions, fear and anxiety dictating where and how it bolted.

Bolted right towards his little sister in the middle of the clearing.

Rod was frozen with fear, facing the oncoming bullet with her hands up.

The horse didn't seem like it was going to stop.

The horse wasn't going to fucking stop.

Fucking hell.

Lance didn't really care when he started running, just that he was running towards his sister. He wasn't on the track team for damn nothing. The snow tried to cling to his feet, but each adrenaline filled stride shook it off. That horse was fucking big - Some white soccer moms were screaming - and it wasn't going to fucking stop - the chilly air burned horribly with how fast he was taking it in - Goldenrod is nine that beast could fucking kill her- everything was blurry but his little sister - fucking horses - panicked energy circulated heat through his entire body, he swore he felt like a lit fire work - aren't you supposed to approach that fucking thing sideways, fuck it - he slipped - fucking NO - he gained the ground back -oh my fucking god - and tossed himself in between Rod and the horse.

Sharp hooves slammed down inches from his face,  a startled neigh accompanying it. Sweat dripped down the horse's dark blue coat. It - no, she - reared back, rocking on her hind legs. The leathery brown reins shook in front of his face, whipping around with each movement the horse made.

Lance yanked them down.

Wide, fear blown out eyes met his, hot horse breathe almost mixing with his. Stress literally vibrated off this horse, giant frightened huffs and puffs expanding her whole chest. Sky blue eyes stared him down, terror swirling in pitch black pupils. Lance let his eyebrows raise in a stressed out manner and knew he made a mistake.  A rough jerk nearly ripped his hand off his wrist when she tried to buck back, to get away from him, but he gritted his teeth and  held on, trying to anchor her down.

Rule one of horses : Don't show fear or stress. Rule two : They like music.

His phone was off and he couldn't risk letting go. Too many people were around, dead silence dripping stress and caution from the shifty crowd.  If anyone got too close, she's freak and Lance didn't know how much longer he could fight the weight of a wild horse.

Well, he could sing.

"A steady beat goes one, two, three, four " Lance let his eyelids slide down, refusing to make eye contact with the horse. Carefully, he put a hand on her nose, and was a little relieved she didn't try to bite it off.  He let the cold seep into him, letting it encourage him to remain calm."A steady heart goes I love you more"  Her breathing stopped feeling like a punch to the gut and more like a slap to the face against his fingers. "I know, sometimes  it's confusing"

With slow, conscious steps, he started to lead her to the stables, avoiding anyone. When she flinched away, ebony tail dancing, he made eye contact.  "Pick out a moment when you couldn't make up your mind, and you think your entire life is timed" he could hear the quiet crunch of hay under his feet, but he wasn't in the stables. Where were the stables? "You said it's your choice but who's choosing?" A blurry something edged in the corner of his eye, and Lance pushed a hand out, not daring to lose eye contact and unwilling to let this stranger get closer.  (He hopes they were dragging Rod away from the horse.)

"You told me we were the perfect song, so I continued to sing along" At least he didn't sound horrible. Lance never thought three years of chorus would come in handy. Then again, he never expected to be leading a crazed horse through snow. "But now that I know what this is all about, I'll stop talking, and shout..." Warm, giant hands eased onto his shoulders suddenly and Lance had to fight to keep his voice steady. "Hey, I thought we were the greatest symphony, melody, harmony," "Hi, I'm Hunk." A warm breath whispered in his ear, faintly smelling of heat and peppermint. Lance kept singing, monitoring the horse's jostling before she settled. This horse really didn't like anybody. He put his hand back on her muzzle, relishing in the warm air she gave off.

"I'm gonna lead you to the stables okay? I need you to keep singing until we get her squared away. We haven't named her yet and she's really flighty - came from a bad place, and you're the first person to actually calm her down. We're pretty close, just follow my lead, yeah?"

Lance nodded, staring deadfast into sky blue eyes, letting the motion of giant hands on his shoulders push him where he needed to go.  He ignored everything in favor of singing for the horse is front of him, adding a soothing note to the lyrics when she almost fought against going in the stable the guy was pushing him towards - moving a horse backwards was probably a really bad idea, but Lance wasn't going to try his luck anymore today.

Eventually, she was completely inside, shifting around as he and Hunk backed out, Lance letting the words die on his tongue. The door swung close with a solid click, and she neighed softly from the pile of hay she had curled up on. "Look man, I'm really sorry about all this-" Hunk started when Lance turned to face him, hands springing up in a defesive gesture, chestnut eyes wide. There was a light pink tinge burning through the dark color of his ears, a yellow strip of fabric dangling against one.

"It's fine. Nothing really happened -" Lance cut him off, slicing a hand through to air to silence him. Despite his size, Hunk looked like a nervous mouse but the adrenaline leeched out of Lance, leaving him suddenly dead tired, and ready to get the hell out of this crazy horse ranch. "Yeah, but -" Hunk tried to match his unwavering strides through hay and mud. "Look, I'm really tired, so I'm gonna assume you're worried about legal stuff, right? I'm not gonna sue or anything - here you can have my number if you're really that worried" Pulling a pen out of his pocket, Lance bit the cap off and snatched Hunk's bulky forearm. "Yeah, okay, goodbye." Finishing the little scibble with his name, he pulled back and stalked back out.

The rest of his family must have gotten off the sleigh and were crowding around Ella and the others, loudly chattering. He slipped inside, using the fact Ella was the one telling the story and thus, the attention was all on her, to sidle up to his mom and not be noticed. "I'm going to go nap in the car." He said in her ear, not sticking around even when she tossed a surprised  glance his way, treking through the snow to the minivan. Heaving open the back hatch, he wriggled inside, slammed it shut, and flopped on to the row of seats. Sighing, he shifted around, found a blanket folded in the pouch on the back of the seat, spread it over himself, let his tired blue eyes flutter shut in the muted darkness of the near empty car, and passed out.