#i was in the middle of making a super warm and soft winter scarf but now it wont get done until spring xd gaaaah

[crossedeyes]

i played g€nshin like 30 mins to an hour yesterday and i rly feel my hand protesting today... tenosynovitis is a demanding type. hint gotten tho. im mourning my countless crochet and knitting projects

[margaretoakgrove]

Taking care of Heisenberg

If once you decide to open an old huge dictionary and find the word ''workaholic'' within this book, i bet the name of this handsome man certainly will be its definition.

It is just incredible that each day Heisenberg finds so many hours to build his metal army of mechanical undead soldiers and, unfortunately, such a small amount of time for taking care of himself.

The lord tends to put his own self-care and state of health aside, but you, on the very contrary, put them on the first place along with yours.

Actually, it will be fair enough to say, that you enjoy taking care of your loved one, and the undeniable fact that you are able to make his life easier and better turns you into one of the happiest people in the world.

Heisenberg is definitely a man of a good appetite, but in spite of that he prefers a simple food over rare exquisite dishes. Therefore if you just cook a fried meat with boiled potatoes and a simple vegetable salad, be doubtlessly sure that your pretty hands will be covered with little kisses of his endless gratitude.

Oftentimes, the old worn clothes of the lord become dirty and damaged as he usually works with motor oil and different metal scraps with rather sharp edges, but you are always ready to remove any oil stain from his trousers and sew up every hole in his shirt.

One needs to mention that your loved one's work is not only physically hard, but it's also hazardous, and, at times, sharp tools, metal scraps or even his own creation that, all of a sudden, went totally crazy can injure him. After such unpleasant situations you carefully patch his bleeding wounds up, and Karl, seeing a concerned look on your face, every time gives you a reassuring smile and tells that you shouldn't be so worried because of just another scratch. (Well yeah, just another scratch which, in the afterwards, turns into another deep scar.)

As Heisenberg strictly forbids you to wander the lowest levels of the factory completely all alone, warning that it's super dangerous, you cannot go down there and check on him when he burns the midnight oil, creating one more addition to his army.

But when the lord sits in his workshop on the highest and safest floor of the building, designing and improving scatches or writing down important notes, you always bring him a healthy snack and a mug of aromatic strong coffee even in the middle of the night which is not a problem for you at all.

When your loved one, after working hard during all day almost in nonstop regime, tirely flops down on your shared cozy bed, you don't ever mind to provide him with a wonderfully relaxing massage. The caring hands of yours slowly and gently rub his weary neck and shoulders, and Karl doesn't even try to hold slight moans of an absolute pleasure, letting you understand like this how unbelievably good you make him feel.

By the havoc which practically daily happens in his life Heisenberg, rather often, feels very stressed out, and you perfectely know that at these gloomy days of his Karl needs the comfort of your company more than usual. You caringly offer him to drink a nice cup of hot relaxing herbal infusion and take a slow walk on the fresh air somewhere in the woods, trying to speak on positive themes in the process of your little trip, at the same time listening to the calming ambient sounds of the nature.

In winter you are especially worried about the health state of your dearest man, noticing that despite a cold weather he is quite lightly dressed, and his neck is perpetually open to the strong gusts of freezing northern and western winds. Does one need to say how surprised the lord was when you timidly gifted him a simply-looking yet so soft and warm scarf knitted with your own golden hands? No, the man wasn't just pleasantly surprised, he was baffled, even shocked by this gesture because literally nobody in his entire life has ever done such a nice thing for him.

Having the new accessory wrapped around his neck (which fits him well, by the way), Karl attends special occasions by the name of family meetings where he with a smug-ass smile on his face lively brags to the siblings (especially to Lady D) about what a kind, caring and attentive person his precious darling really is, unlike someone's annoyingly buzzing bloodthirsty bugs.

Heisenberg is sure as hell that he will never be grateful enough to you for everything you do for him every single day, understanding very well that without your divine presence in his life he would never ever feel so truly loved and cared for.

But the lord does not even imagine that the short sincere ''thank you, Buttercup'' of his makes you melt like a sweet sugar cube in a hot fragrant tea.

And each new day you are willing to keep tirelessly surrounding him with your priceless love and tender care because this so close to your heart man means the world for you and, surely, even more.

[riptide-kid]

Domestic December 2023- Day 9 Rory's first Christmas Market

Prompt: A day at the fair. I've taken some liberty with this one, since there are a lot of Christmas Markets around here and I love them!

Pairing: Aurora x Cumulus x Cirrus

Summary: Cirrus and Cumulus take Aurora to her first Christmas market.

Warnings: none

Words: ~500

You can also read this on Ao3!

“I’m sure you’ll love it, you’ll see!” Cumulus had assured.

“No winter without a Christmas market!” Cirrus had added, leaving no room for discussion as they made Aurora get her winter coat and boots, leaving the warmth of the den behind.

This was her first winter topside, and the other ghoulettes were determined to show her as much of the world as they could. Aurora wasn’t sure about this though, hiding her face in the collar of her coat, the wind burning on her cheeks as they walked down to the little town that was closest to the abbey. She buried her gloved hands in her pockets, careful to keep balance on the icy road.

“I can’t wait for the waffles,” Cirrus voice was muffled through the big scarf she was wearing.

“And the mulled wine!” Cumulus added excitingly.

They were getting closer to the little town. Auroras ears perked up under her hood. She could hear a faint music in the distance, and the soft chime of bells, along with some people talking and laughing. As they got closer to the main square, the sounds got a little louder but not unpleasantly so. Until now, the streets had only been illuminated by the occasional streetlamp, some of them not even working in this remote part of the land, but the closer they got to the music and voices, the closer they got to a warm, soft light.

Only a few more steps, and they were right in the middle of it. It was a lot to take in. There were stalls selling mulled wine and hot chocolate, waffles and candied almonds, hot chestnuts and of course every variety of Christmas cookies and cakes. Other stalls were selling handmade wreaths or cards, little wooden figures and decorations. Aurora turned around herself trying to take everything in. Thankfully, the place wasn’t too crowded, it was just the right amount of people to make it feel cozy and warm.

She stopped as her eyes landed on the huge tree, that was placed in the middle of the square. The twigs were dusted with snow, and it was decorated with red, blue, green and yellow lights, that reflected in Aurora’s eyes.

Cirrus softly tipped her shoulder, “are you alright?” she smiled at the smaller ghoulette.

Aurora nodded, “it’s beautiful!” she said.

Cirrus grinned “Told you!”

Cumulus returned, three steaming cups in her hands, passing one to each of her friends. “Careful, it’s super hot!” she warned, as Aurora took the cup into her hands and held it close to her face, the warmth seeping through her gloves.

She carefully put the cup to her lips, taking a small sip. She had never tasted anything like it before, the flavours of orange and cinnamon and other spices she didn’t even know the name of dancing across her tongue, making her feel all warm inside. “This is amazing!” she announced, and noticed Cumulus and Cirrus already smiling widely at her, as they had awaited her reaction. They watched her eyes lit up and she took another sip. Somehow, her childlike wonder about the things she was experiencing for the first time, made them appreciate them a lot more again.

“Aren’t you glad you came with us?” Cumulus teased, and Aurora nodded furiously.

Cirrus laughed. “Now.. Who’s ready for waffles?”

[faithfullyscarred]

mcu | frank castle

description: a brief walk with frank in cold fall weather

warnings: none?

word count: only 790

a/n: this is super random and super short, but let me know what you think!

❦ old masterlist

A cool breeze was kissing your cheeks, leaving them red as it swept past, and causing the fallen leaves to swirl around in a somewhat amusing way. Your hands were shoved deep into your pockets, trying to keep from the cool air as you waited for Frank to come out after paying the dinner bill.

Soon, the diner’s bell chimed, earning your attention as Frank made his way out.

“You ready, sweetheart?” He pulled a hat on.

You glanced over him, smiling gently at the way his ears had already turned red after only a few seconds in the night air. It had been colder than either of you expected.

“Ready,” you nodded, nuding his arm as you began walking.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest. “Christ, didn’t realize I should’ve been dressed for the middle of winter.”

Such a small complaint, one he wouldn’t have used to even bother making. He had gotten comfortable in saying little things like that, though. It didn’t seem like much, but it meant a lot with him, like he had always been offering that he was open for conversation.

“Guess it is a bit chilly, huh?” You tugged his hat over his ear, “Should’ve come more prepared, like me. I’ve got my trusty scarf.”

“Ah, your trusty scarf.” He chuckled, shaking his head, “Will you ever not take every single opportunity to rant about that damn scarf.”

“If it’s good, why wouldn’t I want to talk about it?” Joking, you raised a brow as if it were a serious question. “When has my scarf ever failed us?”

“Right now, it’s failing me right now. You’re not even sharing it, just rubbin’ it in.” He was pouting dramatically before resting his head on yours, “You’re just letting me freeze as I still do my best to keep you warm.”

He rubbed your arm, trying to produce some more heat. Frank usually wasn’t so underprepared, even for walks to get dinner. He usually had things planned out to some extent, and you had been fond of the rather grandfatherly way he would check the weather and report it back to you before going anywhere. Lately, though, he had been rather busy.

“Alright, alright. We can't really share my scarf as we walk, but I will help you warm up,” you let out a dramatic sigh before laughing, unable to keep it up.

Frank lifted his head, smiling down and placing a kiss on your lips. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

You hummed lightly, taking your hands out of  your pockets to put your scarf around his neck, even wrapping it around him. You pat his chest as you finish placing it, before giving him another kiss, though a bit longer this time to allow an exchange of warmth. As you pulled away, he was watching you so carefully, a dopey grin on his face, and you could just see how he wanted to go on yet another speech about why you were “his best girl” for such simple acts.

“Your hands must be cold too?” You glanced up at him before taking his hand into your own.

Placing a soft kiss on his scarred knuckles, you put your intertwined hands into your coat pocket, still feeling a bit of warmth that had been left over from just moments before. Frank gave you another thankful kiss on top of your head before shoving his other hand into his pocket and inching as close to you as possible. He wasn’t typically the type to make such a fuss.

He cleared his throat, “Have to put on some coffee when we get home, to warm us up.”

“Or tea,” you suggested, “since it’s getting so late.”

“Even better, hot chocolate? That kind you made a few weeks back?” He licked his lips, “With  the actual chocolate in it and what not, that shit was amazing.”

You chuckled at his description, as bare as it was. “I can do that, yeah. What if I make that and we… watch a movie? We could cuddle on the couch, light some candles for ambiance,” you wiggled your fingers for effect. “A warm night in?”

It was an eventful week, and the both of you knew things would pick up again. But right now they seemed to be calming down, which was what allowed you to at least go have dinner together. It was needed, just some quality time. And you had hoped it could last a bit longer for the night.

“I wouldn’t want to spend it any other way,” he gently squeezed your hand. “A night in with my girl after a shitty week? With an added bonus of her hot chocolate? How could I resist?”

❦ old masterlist

[thatslikely]

Seasons- G.W. Headcannons

dating George Weasley through the seasons

Warnings: mentions of food, but it's all fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: just thought it would be fun! Let me know if you want this for any other characters!

George Taglist: @hufflepuff5972

if you want to be added to the taglist, reply to this post, send me an ask, or dm me!

I recommend listening to this playlist while reading for the best experience!

----

Winter

On the first snowfall of the season, you two definitely built an adorable little snowman, complete with coal eyes (you probably stole Ron's scarf for his neck). You told George about the muggle story Frosty the Snowman, and he tried to find a spell to recreate Frosty.

The next day, you two gradually started amassing a large snowman army. Inevitably, in the middle of construction, George betrayed you with an icy snowball to your back.

Naturally, this incited a five day-long snowball war that increasingly got more and more intense. George was surprisingly good at building sturdy snow forts, so you never really stood a chance against his defences. He could have probably constructed a 7 foot tall barricade in a matter of minutes!

Even if you two are locked in battle, he'll always take time to admire the way the white snowflakes rest in your hair so beautifully, as well as the fiery determination behind your eyes.

Fiesty battles aside, George always made sure that you were warm and cozy after a long day in the cold, making homemade hot cocoa using Molly's famous recipe.

One day, long after the ‘Snow Skirmish’, you convince him to go ice skating with you; he absolutely fell in love with it. For a while, he had to hold onto your arms for balance, which led to a lot of falls considering he's a giant compared to you.

Eventually he got the hang of it and you taught him how to play muggle hockey, which he picked up quite quickly. He eventually got all the Weasleys hooked, and they held weekly tournaments. You were always George's favorite cheerleader.

If he ever became a little too cocky, he'd fall face-first onto the hard ice, which always brought a small smile to your face. He always laughed with you, too.

On snowless days, however, you two went on 'expeditions', which entailed peaceful walks through the woods, hand-knitted gloves intertwined.

You'd always keep your eyes peeled for birds or foxes, and occasionally he swore he saw a yeti. You were surprised he never got Fred to dress up in a yeti suit, at least not yet.

Spring

One word: picnics.

You spent the majority of springtime down at the Burrow, enjoying the pleasant spring weather. There were huge multicolored flower fields surrounding George's childhood home, making it even more fitting for the season.

Some days, he'd take you down to the creek past the Burrow, and the two of you would stand ankle-deep in the cool, flowing water. Sometimes, if he was feeling a bit mischievious, he’d splash you with some of the refreshing water, you quickly returning the favor.

Occasionally, he'd try to catch a little leaping frog, holding it carefully in his big palms. He was enchanted by the tiny creature, and without fail, he always begged you to let him keep it.

"But Terrance needs a home! We can make him a terrarium and everything! Please?"

Some days, he'd take you up to the Tree, which laid on a soft, grassy hill in the middle of a luscious yellow flower field. A single tire swing hung from its burly and ancient branches.

Often times, he'd sit at the base of the trunk, either dozing off or humming a song from his youth. If you chose to sit with him, however, he'd braid your hair perfectly and pick some colorful flowers to accent it.

"My little Angel, you look so pretty with flowers in your hair."

You'd always pick some petals for his ginger mop, too.

"Now we're matching, Georgie. Daffodils compliment your hair beautifully."

He loved to push you in the tire swing. He was far too big to fit in it now, to your dismay, but he was perfectly satisfied pushing you back and forth in it. It almost reminded him of rocking a baby cradle.

On rainy days, he'd fetch old rain boots from the attic. He'd always wear Bill's old pair, you wearing his'. The area around the small creek was all muddy, and you can't tell me he wouldn't make mud pies. Even if he's way too old for them.

"Darling, would you care for a pie?"

"And what does it taste like, exactly?"

"It's my signature flavor, mud!"

Summer

I firmly believe George is a good cook. He just is (see my chef!George fic for elabroation).

One sweltering day, you and him went out to the gardens and pick ripe, ruby-red strawberries to chop up and make into homemade strawberry ice cream.

His ice cream would surpass Fortescue's by a lot. Like it's scary. From then on, he made it every Saturday morning, even on chilly winter days.

Sometimes he'd turn adventurous and try some new flavors, which were normally pretty good, until he got a little too creative and made caramel watermelon ice cream. From then on, he stuck with the classics.

In the evenings, a small bonfire was lit and all the Weasleys spent the night drinking and dancing. Bill held a guitar concert, George and Arthur grilled up some hot dogs (which were juicy and delcious), Fred set off some fireworks, and Ginny held fiercely competitive broom races.

When everyone went inside, exhausted, you and George stayed outside, listening to the crickets chirping and admiring the clear, country sky. He pointed out his favorite constellations to you, reenacting the myths behind them with you as his co-actor (you can't tell me we wouldn't let you fake-stab him and he'd fall to the grass super dramatically).

Beach days: a must have.

George would definitely wear red/maroon swim trunks, and there would always be a white stripe of sunscreen on his freckled nose, even after he furiously rubbed it in.

He'd always love the bathing suit you sported, whether it was a gingham bikini or a gorgeous silver one piece. He loved you so much, you never felt self conscious around him.

He'd take you to a secret, tucked-away beach, and you two would spend the day building elaborate sand castles, burying you deep in the sand, and searching for pretty sea shells and sand dollars.

“Where do you think you’re going, Mister? You can’t just leave me buried under the san like this!”

“Someone’ll find you eventually. I just want all the icecream for myself, what can I say? Oh fine, I’ll dig you up, darling.”

Autumn

Autumn at the Burrow was like nothing else. There was always a seemingly endless supply of pumpkin juice and apple juice on tap, and traditions were ampted up to the max.

Pumpkin carving was taken very seriously, and you and George were no exceptions. You and him were never artsy per se, but you always tried your hardest together to crave an intricately designed pumpkin. It always turned out pretty decent, to your surprise.

George and Fred would constantly wear scary masks and hide around he Burrow, or plant fake spiders in the cupboards in hopes of scaring Ron. It always worked.

Since the weather was so nice and chilly, he'd always go around the woods with you collecting a pile of some good sticks for a tree fort. He always carried the branches, and you collected the prettiest orange leaves you could find, for a collage or scrapbook.

All fall, he worked on building a small, secluded tree fort, which was definitely worth it in the end. You two stayed up late into the night, telling ghost stories, kissing, or inviting the whole Weasley clan for a good old fashioned game of Truth or Dare.

As for Halloween, you guys already know he goes overboard. He decorated every inch of every wall with black and orange streamers, fake cobwebs, and little baby pumpkins. It was always really sweet; he'd always wear a proud grin after the whole house was adorned to his liking.

For costumes, I'm 99% sure that you two would always do pun-y couple costumes think him dressing up as a cereal box and you as a killer, or him as a ghost and you a pepper).

You two would also 100% go to a costume store, and buy as much cheap hair gel as you could, all so you two could make each spiky Mohawks (you'd never admit it to George, but he pulled them off).

One time, he let you take him to a muggle farm for the day. You decided it would be fun to do a corn maze. The both of you got lost for three hours. From then on, he just stuck with hay rides.

Spending time with George was always fun, year-round.

[harold231]

It wasn't real

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Posted: 04/30/2021

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: None? Maybe a lil angst just a lel bet.

A/N: I think it might be good? Idk You let me know. But like frfr, don't just give me feedback in your mind, put it into words. Also I apparently have a thing for Bucky in a dotted apron soooo yeah.

FYI: time zone/era is open for interpretation. Bucky never became an avenger/soldat and steve isn't part of this one.

The wind that blew around you was warm and sweet with the scent of freshly bloomed flowers. Perhaps it was an act of kindness from some God trying to distract you from the cold bitterness settling into your bones. Closing your eyes you conjure the very memory that left you so desolate.

The sun snuck it's way through the curtains to illuminate the room, effectively disturbing the sleep that you always seemed to be craving. Waking up is always hassle but whenever you remember that you get to spend your day with the only person who tolerates you and you him, getting out of bed is the easiest thing. Bucky is crazy and the damn boy is never in one spot for to long and he always has something to say, but you can't imagine how boring your days would be if you guys had never met. well technically if your parents had never met.

When you were a child you parents had to move to new york for business and they decided that Brooklyn was the place to be. You had been Bucky's neighbor and the first day you guys moved in his mom had dragged him over with the most delicious angel food cake that he so proudly claimed to have made mostly on his own. He just loved cooking and baking since forever, he would tell you that he just liked experimenting with foods but you knew the truth was that the boy liked to eat and didn't have the patience to wait for his mother to come home.

Only a few years after your family had moved to Brooklyn you and Bucky had already built an unbreakable bond. You guys had found a beautiful cherry tree one day when playing tag and had deemed it to be your's and Bucky's spot. Whenever you had a bad day or needed time away from the world you guys would go to the tree and just pick cherries, in the winter time you and Bucky would lay under the tree and kick the trunk so that the snow would fall from the leaves. It was the place where at only 15 years old bucky swore he would open his own Bakery and to quote him "I'm serving my ma's food my way doll, It's gonna be the next best thing to hit New York."

You were laying on the ground with your hands crossed behind your head looking up at Bucky swinging upside down from a branch when he told you all this. You felt something you had never felt before at that moment, looking up at the wild haired boy who loved to eat, loved his family, and had the most ambition you had ever heard from kids your age. Your heart felt full and your cheeks grew warm as you looked up at the same blue eyes you had know for years now, only this time you notice the way they twinkle in the sunlight and how rosy his lips are. Now 7 years laters you and Bucky were preparing to open the very bakery he promised you he'd open. Banners were beautifully strung along the walls and cute retro china was set out, ready to be filled for opening day. There was no hesitation from you when Bucky had asked you to run the bakery with him, you were excited to spend your days with the person you hoped you would spend the rest of your life with.

At around 6:30 in the morning you had arrived at the bakery but it seemed that Bucky had beat you to it. The smell of fresh angel food cake and cocoa danced up your nose as soon as you opened the door. Closing your eyes you smiled at the memories that it brought back. Moving to the back you grabbed your Disney themed apron and placed your bag and coat in its place before scurrying over to the kitchen while trying (and failing) to tie your apron. There in all his dorkiness was Bucky wiggling around to the chordettes. He knew that you loved the 50's aesthetic so he found a way to incorporate it without going overboard, by adding little trinkets, a jukebox, and even those cute little dining tables. In fact at the moment he was wearing a ruffly red polka dotted apron as he frosted some cupcakes.

Apron tied, you were finally ready to get to work. You walked up to Bucky bumping his hip as you reached for some cupcake pans, "Whatcha doin here so early Buck, we don't open until 12" he looks at you with squinted eyes, "The hell are you doing here so early." "Woah,woah,woah completely unprovoked. I'm just saying cuz' you were the one complaining about the opening time being set at 8. Like damn." Breathing out a huff of air he wipes his forehead with a towel "I'm sorry doll, I'm just super nervous and I couldn't sleep so I came to start baking things. I already frosted the ice cream cakes and I just finished the pies, but I was thinking that maybe we needed some cupcakes too, even though we already baked so many pastries and stuff last night I'm worried it won't be enough."

Setting down the trays you move to hug Bucky from behind holding him close to you. "Buck I know we'll do great your food is too good to pass up on especially when it's free." You place a soft kiss to his shoulder " I promise you'll do great, everything you do is amazing you try your hardest at everything Buck, You've worked your butt off and made mine considerably larger to get here, don't start losing your mind on me now." A cute little laugh from Bucky lets you know that he's hearing you and he isn't so stressed anymore. "I just want this to be perfect ya know?" with your head still against his back you nod, "I just want it to be a special day for my special girl."

You couldn't stop the slight blush that rose to your cheeks or the way that your heart suddenly started beating three times faster. You had also wanted to make him something special which is why you had got here so early. Finally releasing your hold on Bucky you straighten your apron out before gathering everything you need for some red velvet cupcakes. Bucky loved your red velvet cake so you loved making it for him. After hours of mixing, baking, and frosting had passed, you guys were rewarded with a bakery that looked as great as it smelled. "Alright doll, I'm heading out, I gotta go get ready. Meet you back here at 12 , Love ya." He didn't even give you a chance to answer as he ran right out the door. "Love you too."

You had stayed behind just a little while longer as you perfected your secret project. Carefully you added snowflakes to some of the cupcakes because you knew how much he loved snow even if he hated winter, some cats, flowers that reminded you of bucky, and one extra special cupcake. When you finish you decide to clean up a bit more and prepare some drinks for later before heading home to get ready. As soon as you got home you took a shower and did the simplest of make up with a light pink lip. You had decided to wear a dress to match the blossoming flowers that spring had brought. Pink with a yellow lace trim and flowers embroided all over the dress, matching it with some yellow flats.

You had decided that it was a perfect day for a walk so you grabbed a light scarf and slung it over your shoulders, grabbed Bucky's cupcakes, and headed over to the bakery. You felt as if a Hundred pounds had been lifted from your shoulders knowing that Bucky had felt the same way about you. You had decided that you would tell him today with your special cupcakes. As you rounded the corner you felt giddy and you couldn't wipe the smile from your face no matter how hard you tried. As you reached the bakery you saw that a majority of the people had already arrived and you knew that it would put Bucky at ease to see all the people enjoying his food. You stopped at the window, closing your eyes to take a deep breath to prepare yourself to join the celebration.

Opening your eyes you reached for the handle only to stop at the sight on the other side of the door. Bucky stood there arms wrapped around a woman eyes locked on hers as he leaned in for a kiss. It must have all happened in about 30 seconds but it felt as if time himself had slowed it down for you to watch the way he tilted her head and ran his tongue along her bottom lip before finally uniting their lips. Your heart dropped as quickly as your smile did and suddenly you felt so stupid for thinking this could be real. You willed yourself not to cry as you allowed your legs to carry you anywhere but there.

That's how you found yourself sitting underneath a blossoming cherry tree. A tree that held only happy memories because it wasn't a place you could be sad... back then. With your back against the tree and box of cupcakes full of unrequited love in your lap you realize how much you over romanticized Bucky. Opening the box you decide it would be a shame to let them go to waste. The first one you grab has a big red heart frosted in the middle, you let out a deep sigh before breaking the cupcake right down the middle. You shove half of the cupcake into your mouth and only then do you allow the tears to fall. You sat there for hours crying eating cupcakes, watching the sunset, and thinking about everything that Bucky did for you, as a friend. You realize you had no right to be angry at Bucky, after all you never told him how you felt you just assumed that he would feel the same way after so many years. With every broken memory another cupcake vanished.

He was always there for you, when no one wanted to come to your slumber party Bucky did and he even did all the girly things with you. Painting your nails, doing your hair, watching chick flicks, and pillow fights. once he even asserted that no one could protect you as well as he could, when you had decided to go camping with your friend from class so he insisted on taking you himself. Your friend was most noticeably gay so you had assumed he wanted to spend time alone with you. But now that you think back on those memories these are things that anyone would do for their bestfriend. And that's what you realized 8 hours and 11 cupcakes later.

The moon floated above you and as it's white rays settled upon the lake you decided it might be time to go home now. You get up and dust your dress off before leaning down to grab the mostly empty box. Turning around you are stopped again by what's in front of you. Bucky stands there brows furrowed as his eyes flash from you to the box in your hands. "Where the hell have you been, I've been calling you all day." swallowing the lump in your throat you go to answer but are interrupted. " everyone's been asking me about you all night and I had no damn idea what to tell them, but apparently you were just out here being inconsiderate. You go and tell me I can do great tonight, that you'd be there for me, but you weren't." You try to answer him but are again interrupted. "You could have told me something earlier instead of leaving me there like a dumb-" "SHUT UP!" this time it was your turn to interrupt him.

Taking a deep breath you look into his eyes before explaining. "Of course I was ready to be there today, you think I wore this dress to sit under a damn tree? Well I didn't. When I left my apartment I was ready and I was excited, so excited. I couldn't even stop smiling on my way over, but then I got to the shop and I saw-" Immediately you stopped as you realized what you were about to say. He cocked an eyebrow and shook his head slightly as if to say 'Hello?' "You saw what? What did you see that would make you abandon ship just like that?" Shame flushed through your being and you could no longer keep eye contact. "Nothing, you know what, it doesn't even matter. I'm sorry I was being dramatic I should have been an adult and dealt with it on my own time. And I'm sorry I abandoned you all, but the night was about you anyways."

"The night was supposed to be about the both of us so it does matter if you saw something that made you want to leave. Just tell me doll, what did you see?" his voice is soft as he pleads with you. "I saw... well I saw you kissing that lady and I just wanted get away and ended up here okay!?" You said it all in a jumble hoping that he wouldn't be able to understand what you had said. But luck wasn't your friend so of course he did. "So seeing me kiss another person was so gross to you that you had to run away, what the hell? are you 13 again?" You hadn't admitted it outloud yet and it seemed that the dumbass in front of you was going to force it out of you.

Stepping around Bucky you pull your scarf tight around your body as you focus on not crying anymore until you get home. You distract yourself by thinking of all the love you saw in all the little things Bucky did for you. Dancing around the newly furnished bakery body against body as frank sinatra brought you heart to heart, watching rom-coms and ugly crying together, but by the time you get home you force yourself to face the ugly truth. The Love was always in your head. It wasn't real.

A new wave of tears blurred your vision as teardrops fell perfectly to the ground. "It's because I have feelings for you Bucky, and I now know you don't feel the same way." Sniffling you don't bother looking up because your heart is to broken for that right now. "I'm Just gonna need a little bit of time and I'll be back good as new like nothing even happened." Still unable to lift your gaze from the ground you decide to focus on the last cupcake left in the box. 'I Love You' is written in tiny light blue frosting letters. "I uhm, uhh." That brought your attention to Bucky, as embarrassment pulsed as strong as ever through your veins. " You don't have to say anything Buck, It's fine, I'll see you next week, on monday" you hand him the box as you go to pass him "I think you would have a better use for this than me I ate 11 others already so."

Divider credits: @firefly-graphics

[cursestothemoon]

Raspberry Beret

Requested: Yesss

George Weasley x Fem!Hufflepuff!Reader 

A songfic inspired by the song Raspberry Beret by Prince

Warnings: mentions of sex (nothing too descriptive), brief nudity (no description) 

Word Count: 1673

Summary: A girl wearing a raspberry beret comes into Honeydukes during George’s shift. It wasn’t long before she had his attention and his heart.

aH guys this ones a bit on the shorter side but i still think its super cute and hope you like it, thANK YOU FOR REQUESTING  

✧✧✧

George Weasley was never a man of much fortune. He and his brother had big dreams of owning their own joke shop one day, the greatest the wizarding world had ever seen. But dreams come with the pace of a tortoise, slow and steady, and not without hardwork. He knew this all too well as he started his shift at Honeydukes, a job that was as mundane and boring as his left shoe but a job nonetheless (Fred had won the bet that got him the only opening at Zonko’s).

He stood at the till, boxes unpacked and counter wiped down, and he had nothing to do. George made a mental note to take longer to do his tasks next time, never one to handle boredom well. A long, pale index finger came out to scratch at a line in the counter, the soft hum of the casual customers was enough to keep him sane though it seemed no one wanted to actually buy anything.

Seems that I was busy doing something close to nothing

But different than the day before

That's when I saw her, ooh, I saw her

She walked in through the out door, out door

A loud thumping made George turn toward the supply room, racking his mind as to why his brother would be sneaking into Honeydukes when he knew for a fact he was able to go on the Hogsmeade trip today. He craned his neck to get a better view of the room through the door that had been left ajar, and to his surprise it was not his brother coming through the secret passage he was sure, up until now, only they knew about.

Instead, George watched three girls climb through the open square in the floorboards, each one looking vastly different from the other. But the one who caught his eyes was the last to emerge, her voluminous curls bouncing as she hoped to her feet. It was the raspberry colored beret that sat gently atop her head that had his face splitting into a grin. Her hands came up to straighten out the wrinkles in her bright yellow sweater and white skirt. George thought she was the picture of summer in the middle of this dreary Autumn and he was sure that as she caught his eye and gave him a small smile whilst putting a finger up to her lips, asking him to keep this a secret, he fell in love with her.

She wore a

Raspberry beret

The kind you find in a second hand store

Raspberry beret

And if it was warm she wouldn't wear much more

Raspberry beret

I think I love her

Her and George didn’t talk much in the beginning, preferring flirty glances and secretive smiles as he checked her out at the till, in more ways than one. And as he watched the season change from a crisp Autumn, to dreary Winter, then finally a soft spring George noticed that one thing that stayed the same was the second hand raspberry beret that she wore oh so delicately. Y/n L/n, he had learned after the first time he had to ring her up, was his own Parisian delicacy. Her body had infiltrated the walls of his mind, now occupying his thoughts nearly every waking hour, and her face, crafted with the looks of goddesses divine in mind. George was sure he was in love with her, and he was going to ask her on a proper date.

Y/n had come into Honeydukes on her own today, a bright yellow and black scarf hanging off her figure due to it being one of the breezier days of the new Spring. A smile was brought to her lips as she saw George leaning against the till, eyes already on hers as he smirked in her direction.

“Lovely day isn’t it?” He asked, eyes following Y/n’s figure as she walked closer to where he was.

She nodded, “Yeah, a bit chilly but I’ll manage.”

Built like she was

She had the nerve to ask me

If I planned to do her any harm

George grew more frantic as she neared the doors to leave the shop, his feet carrying him your way before his mind could catch up.

“Y/n!”

She turned back at the sound of his voice, butterflies erupting in her stomach at the way her name seemed to cascade out of his beautifully drawn lips.

“Whatdya say to a date with me?” His charming smile made her swoon, but she knew his reputation around Hogwarts.

George and Fred Weasley were big, bright, and boisterous. Most people knew of them and most girls would fall at the feet of the handsome red haired twins, Y/n wouldn’t be another blind sheep in a herd of lovesick girls.

Her tone was playful as she asked him, “I don’t know, are you planning on breaking my heart when you’re done?”

“Never.”

I could tell when she kissed me

She knew how to get her kicks

The day was cloudy, the overcast grey sky made everything seem more blinding. It was their third date and George was hoping she’d let him kiss her, she had been quite a tease only letting him get close enough to place his puckered lips on her soft cheek.

Her raspberry beret was placed on her head just as it was every other day, and George couldn’t help the grin that broke onto his face as he took in the way the raspberry red seemed to compliment her skin exceptionally well.

“You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said, have you?” Y/n laughed incredulously as she noticed George seemed to be lost in thought as he looked at her.

He gave a sheepish smile, “Not a single one, love, too busy thinking about how bloody beautiful you are.”

Y/n leaned closer, close enough to brush her nose against his making him smirk. George felt the anticipation build, and his eyelids drooped lazily as he prepared, or hoped, for her to come the rest of the way to his lips.

“Is that so?” Her tone was teasing, and her smile drove him mad.

George gulped, finding he was fresh out of words at her confident wittiness. Luckily, George wouldn't be needing any words as Y/n grabbed hold of his face and pulled his lips onto hers. Her lips were soft and tasted of, ironically enough, raspberries. Her hand found its way down his chest then back up as she pulled him closer, taking clear control over the kiss as George was happy to have her the dominant one for now. It was obvious she knew what she was doing, her tongue coming out delicately to swipe at his making his knees buckle just before she sank her teeth into his bottom lip giving it a pull before letting it go, watching as it bounced back to place.

“Kiss me like that again and I might start listening more.” George chuckled, his eyes only on her lips.

Listen

They say the first time ain't the greatest

But I tell ya

If I had the chance to do it all again

I wouldn't change a stroke

'Cause baby, I'm the most

With a girl as fine as she was then

The rain was heavy as George and Y/n ran back into the castle, eager to get away from the aggressive weather. Their date, a picnic, had been going perfectly, but the mid spring rainfall was unexpected and caused them to break into a mad dash to get back under cover.

They rushed to a dark corridor, away from the other groups of students trying to get away from the rain. George pulled her face to his, pushing her body back against a wall as he kissed her. Y/n pulled away, separation making a smacking noise, and looked up at him with a mischievous smile. Her hand came up to play with the collar on his shirt, gentle fingers making goosebumps rise on his skin. A growl emitted from the back of his throat, his hands grabbing her by the hips and pulling her closer wanting another kiss. Y/n put a hand to his chest as she looked up at him from under her lashes.

“Come back to my dorm.”

George smirked, “And what would you have us do if I did?”

“I think I’d let you take advantage of me.” She whispered by his ear, lips brushing against his skin making the hair on his neck stand up.

He was quick to get back to the Hufflepuff dorms, tugging her by the hand as she giggled at his hastiness. George’s long legs moving faster than hers and strides more determined as his mind was already set on one thing, and one thing only.

The dorm was empty, thankfully, and she cast a locking charm as well as a silencing charm on the door before turning back to an eagerly awaiting George. This was their first time together in such an intimate way but both of them would be lying if they said they hadn’t imagined it late in the night.

The atmosphere was light, giggles being pulled from her lips as George wanted to make this as enjoyable for her as possible. And despite first time awkwardness, George wouldn’t change a thing, not a single one, as he stripped her of her clothes, raspberry beret falling off her head as George laid her down onto the bed.

As George laid awake in Y/n’s bed, her body, naked and warm, tucked under his arm with her head on his ever so elevated chest as she slept soundly, he smiled to himself as he looked at the raspberry beret laying near the edge of the bed.

She wore a

Raspberry beret

The kind you find in a second hand store

Raspberry beret

And if it was warm she wouldn't wear much more

Raspberry beret

I think I love her

[mashiraostail]

plz sir may i have some general midnight fluff hc?? please im starving

dfhdsk yes sir i will feed you

ngl this kinda hurt my feelings but its all soft and fluff no angst or anything but like...damn...i rlly do b fleshing this woman out better than mangaka himself 

*She’s a super light sleeper but she does not mind always getting woken up by you, since she can fall asleep so fast, you’ll be in the middle of a convo and just look over and she’s passed out mid-sentence. Getting woken up by your sleepy snuffling just means she can cuddle up a little closer to you or just feel your warmth a little longer.

*Unlike some of the other teachers who may just not think to do it/don’t very much care she makes it a point to introduce you to her friends after you’ve been together long enough, if it’s just sex she won’t bother for obvious reasons but if it’s more than that even if it’s not super serious she’ll still do it, she likes for her life to be fairly blended work and personal life don’t really have a harsh line drawn between them, she likes it when her s/o is friends with her friends. If she hears about you texting Mic, or helping Eraser patch up his costume, or getting lunch with Vlad and Hound Dog she’s going to be totally over the moon, she’s never jealous of or wary of her friends around you. Go ahead and hang on Mic at that party she’ll think it’s funny and sweet and she’ll be glad the pair of you get along so well.

*She’s a really good cook but she hates cooking sometimes. She’s either super in the mood to make food or she’ll beg and whine for you to do it. 

*She wouldn’t mind dating another pro but also I think dating a non-hero responder (police officer, firefighter, paramedic, detective etc..) or especially just a civilian would be something she’d enjoy a little more than the others, I don’t think any of the pros have a strong preference either way, a job is rarely a deal-breaker, it would be sort of hypocritical of them considering how busy their work keeps them. That in mind the more mundane her s/o’s 9-5 the more she’ll kinda like it..she gets a little sense of normalcy if you have a set schedule and set day off and set vacation time,  she really likes it. Not because she’s controlling/overbearing but just because she sort of likes routine..and the domesticity of it all. If you have every Tuesday off so you always bring her lunch or if you get off early Saturday afternoons so you always go to see her at her agency that day will become her favorite day of the week. If you’re always home by 6 PM it will become the best part of the day. Always being able to expect you at home when she returns is a treat for her (especially if you like cooking too, the first few times she comes back to you cooking dinner for her you probably at least make out in the kitchen). 

*She likes handholding and if that’s your preference she won’t be upset by it but her absolute favorite thing to do is pet her arm around you, she likes being able to squeeze you. 

*If you have long/unruly or very textured hair she’ll take so much joy in being asked to help style it, ask her to braid it for you, help you diffuse it, can she straighten that one piece in the back? All of it just makes her soo happy so don’t be shy asking her to help you out, and if you’re comfortable do the same for her. 

*She’s such a hugger, she may not kiss you all the time but she’ll at least have to hug you every time you part ways and it’s never a half-assed hug either it’s allllwaayys a tight squeeze and you’re pretty sure you always hear her take in a big whiff of your hair or the crook of your neck before she pulls away. 

*Always is telling you she missed you after short periods of time. You went out to grab take out and took a minute longer? ‘I missed you babe’ You got stuck at work and got home later than expected. ‘I’m so glad you’re finally here babe I missed you.’ Went to the bathroom? ‘I missed you.’ She just thinks it's funny to watch you roll your eyes at it despite the fact that you always go right to her side whenever she says it. 

*Will be very suggestible during a back rub/ shoulder massage. If you need something from her that is the time to ask, she knows she's being set up the minute she feels you climb on top of her but it feels too good to stop you. She knows she's about to agree to some stupid shit but she can’t help it.  

*Chronic neck kisser, she’s always kissing your neck, if your sensitive or it flusters you she’ll do it even more. Honestly, at times she goes for your neck/jaw before going for your lips. Doesn’t really care who’s around to see it, if your back is turned to her, unexpecting, she only has one thing on her mind. But even when you’re hugging or cuddling or about to go to sleep at night she can’t help but pepper a bunch of kisses around your neck and collar. 

*Speaking of sleeping she prefers sleeping with as little clothing as possible because, a, it makes morning sex more accessible and she cannot lie it is her favorite, and b, she has terrible wandering hands, she likes to touch and squeeze and pinch everywhere she can. Her favorite spot is the place where your ass and thigh meet she’s always pinching you right there on either leg if you’re laying on your chest. 

*Probably also the cheesiest out of the group if the relationship is really well established/once it is. She can definitely fall victim to domestic bliss and it makes her totally lovesick for her s/o. She's definitely the kind of partner that like when you say something like ‘oh my hands are cold’ or ‘ahh I ran out to the trash without shoes on now I’m freezing’ to just like take the afflicted body part(s) between her hands and rub them really aggressively while she breathes hot air on them/kisses them and scolds you for staying out in the cold too long while she makes that pouty affectionate ‘oooh’ noise.       -At first, she loves summer and it’s her favorite, and she’ll always love summer; the warm weather and sunshine gives way to amazing moods, people are always so happy in the summertime, but the longer she’s in a relationship the more winter becomes appealing to her. She still loves summer for all its beaches and warmth and bare skin and even tans. As strange as it sounds a slow sticky August morning will always be one of her favorite things...but winter with its big sweaters and hand-holding and cuddling for warmth? Seeing you come inside and peel off a huge scarf and big, chunky gloves, your hat pulling away to reveal disheveled hair covered in quickly melting snowflakes, nose and cheeks red from the temperature, lips and eyes just a bit puffy and irritated from the wind. Watching you shed multiple snow-covered layers to reveal cool skin that’s still somehow pink and flushed from the snow?...yeah, she probably realized she was in love with you in the winter.  

[pricetagofficial]

Winter Wonderland -KK

Warnings: Language, and lots and lots of fluff

Word Count: 2.6K

Tag List: @kishony-the-geek @idkmanicantenglish @unknowntoanyone @subtleappreciation 

A/N: So this was my Secret Santa gift to @birdy-bat-writes​, and I finally had the time to post it on here for the rest of you to see it!

Rolling to the other side of the bed, you felt for the sleeping form of your boyfriend only to find out he wasn’t there. With a groan, you slowly sat up and saw that you were in the bed alone. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you got up and slipped on a pair of slippers before slowly making your way to the kitchen.

Entering the room, you heard music blasting and saw that Kon was standing there with his back to you. No doubt he had heard you get up, the guy had super hearing. The windows were all frosted over from the cold weather outside so you could barely see out them. Taking sleepy steps, you wrapped your arms around him from behind and took in the warmth that radiated from his body.

“Good morning beautiful.” He said, placing a hand on yours that rested on his stomach.

“Morning.” You mumbled, nuzzling into his back. “Why are you up so early?”

“I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed.” He smiled, turning ever so slightly to look down at you.

Kon had the biggest smile on his face, your hair was a mess, and sleep still present in your beautiful eyes. But his favorite thing was that you were in one of his shirts, he was so big that it went down to your knees. Turning the heat down to low, he turned fully and wrapped you into a tight hug pulling you fully against him.

Burying your face in his chest, you let out a sigh of content. Kon always gave you the best hugs, he was the perfect height to just scoop you up into one and hold you close. He played with the straying hairs on your head and placed a small kiss on the top making your face heat up.

“I hope you’re hungry, I made pancakes.” He smiled, tilting your head up to look at him as his blue eyes shone down at you. You gave him a smile of your own and ran your fingers through his dark hair, making him chuckle softly and lead you to the table.

The way your apartment was set up, you could get a clear view of Metropolis and all you could see was white. The entire city was covered in a blanket of pure white snow as the sun reflected off of it like tiny crystals illuminating the ground.

Kon stepped into the room and smiled at the sight of you staring at the snow, if he wanted he could watch you for hours and never get bored. Setting the plates down, he placed a cup of coffee in your hands as you turned to look at him once more.

“You’re perfect, you know that right?” you asked, watching him take his seat across from you.

He let out a laugh, "Nowhere near as perfect as you Sunshine. Now, eat up it is the first time we both have the day off in a while and I am taking advantage of it."

Giving him a side-glance, you took a bite of the fluffy pancakes a soft moan leaving your lips at the taste on your tongue. It seemed like Ma Kent had taught Kon how to cook because these tasted exactly like the ones she made the last time you and Kon had visited them.

“These are so good.” You murmured, eating more of the fluffy delicious-ness on your plate until it was gone. The idle conversation the two of you held we sweet as he asked you about how work was going with the upcoming winter break. The Titans were on a break at the moment with half of the team going home for the time being, but the two of you got to see Tim and Bart often.

The second your plate was empty, Kon picked you up and carried you back to your room.

“Conner Kent put me down!” you laughed, trying to wiggle out of his hold.

"No can do beautiful, I have a busy day planned as I said. Now get dressed for the cold, and do not come out until you are." He chuckled as he set you down, shutting the door behind him as he left.

Giggling, you quickly changed out of your pajamas and dressed yourself in normal winter attire. You had no idea what Kon had planned for the two of you today but you were excited none the less. It didn’t take you long to get ready, leaving the confines of your room to see Kon waiting for you in the living room with his thick coat on and a scarf that was a deep blue and red.

The second you left your room; he walked over and placed a loving kiss on your lips making you smile even more.

“My lady.” He grinned, holding out your coat for you to slip into.

“You are such a dork Conner Kent.” You teased, buttoning the coat up and wrapping the scarf around your neck.

Kon’s blue eyes shone down at you with amusement, “Yes, but I am your dork sunshine.” He grinned. Grabbing your hat, he pushed it down onto your head, making it go over your eyes as you stood there with your arms crossed and tapping your foot.

Flipping it up over your eyes, he pecked your lips once more before he took your hand and led you out the door, and locked it behind you. Keeping his grip on your hand, Kon led you down the stairs and out the front door of your apartment building as the bright sun and cold air greeted you both.

Taking a deep breath, the wonderful feeling of winter filled you as you gripped his hand tighter. “So, where are we going?” you asked.

"You'll see, now stop asking questions." Kon chuckled, pulling you closer and starting to walk down the street. The stores were all decorated for Christmas with garland, lights, and ribbons galore. The street lights all had wreaths on them that had candy canes on them and people were out and about doing their holiday shopping.

Kon had his arm wrapped around your waist as the two of you walked in a comfortable silence. There was nothing you enjoyed more than just his company; you didn’t have to anything special but just be together. His body radiated heat as he warmed your figure from the cold, keeping you pressed to his side.

As you both walked, you tried to figure out where he was leading you only to be surprised when he led you towards Metropolis Park which was almost blinding from all the snow. What on earth was he going to do here? Looking up at him to try and gauge his feelings, you couldn’t tell anything. Kon had his signature smile on his face, the one he always had when he was with you.

“What are we doing at the park?” you asked, trying to get him to answer.

“Didn’t I say it was a surprise?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes and let him lead you into the park as you followed the path. The first thing the two of you came across was a stand selling hot chocolate. Without saying a word, Kon had walked over and bought you both a steaming cup handing you yours with a big grin on his face.

“Is this what you dragged me out here for?” You asked. “Hot chocolate? We have plenty at home.”

“This is only part of our day; the other part should be here in about thirty seconds.” He answered winking at you.

Counting to thirty in your head, you heard something in the distance that sounded like bells? Slowly you turned to see what was coming and your jaw dropped to see a horse-drawn sleigh stop right in front of you. Quickly you looked up at Kon who was smiling down at you.

“Your sleigh awaits milady.” He said with the cheesiest grin on his face.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as he helped you into the sleigh, sitting down beside you and placing the blanket over your laps. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you close to him as you leaned into his touch.

The driver whipped the reigns and the horses started to trot down the path that led deeper into the park as you smiled brightly at the sights around you. Metropolis Park was a winter wonderland, and who better to share it with than your boyfriend.

“So, how do you like your surprise so far?” he asked, kissing the top of your head.

"It's amazing!" You beamed up at him, "I've never been on a horse-drawn sleigh before, and this is absolutely perfect."

Kon smiled down at you, tilting your head up so he could kiss your frozen lips. “I’m glad, just wait until we get to our next stop.”

You kept a confused look on your face as you sipped your hot chocolate, enjoying the cold with him. The sounds of the sleigh-bells ringing filled the air as bluebirds sung their happy tune. The city looked like it came straight out of a Holiday card, with the evergreens covered in fresh snow and the sky blue as could be.

Soon, the sleigh pulled to a stop at the end of the path where a crowd of people was waiting for something. Before you could speak, Kon was up and helping you out of the sleigh, holding your empty cups as you stepped down. Your foot slid out from under you, and Kon was there in a second to catch you in his arms, his baby-blue glistening down at you in amusement.

“After all this time, you’re still falling for me.” He grinned.

He set you on your feet as you hit him on the shoulder with a laugh. “You can’t go five minutes without being cheesy, can you?” you teased.  

"You should really know me better than that, sunshine." He grinned and took your hand, leading you down the walking path towards the large group of people. What you didn't notice, was where the group was gathered.

Stopping at the edge of the crowd, you noticed that there was a large skating rink in the middle of the park and people were trying to force their way through to pay for skates and tickets. Of course, Kon being the gentleman he is had bought your tickets online so you did not have to wait in line.

He came back to you holding two pairs of skates, with the biggest smile on his face. Kon had never been ice skating, and he was excited to try it. Having done it yourself, he knew that you would enjoy this for sure. If all else fails, he would enjoy getting to hold you close as you helped him around the rink.

The two of you walked your way around to the entrance and sat on a bench to change into the skates. You had managed to lace yours up easily and helped Kon lace his. It was obvious he was struggling but did not mind the assistance from you.

Keeping your balance, you slowly walked your way through the gate with Kon right behind you and slid onto the ice letting out a content sigh. Turning around, you saw Kon struggling a little to keep his balance as his feet slid around on the ice.

Who would have thought that a Kryptonian clone could not keep balance on ice skates?

With a giggle, you skated closer to him and gripped his hands. “Look at me, not the ground.” His hands gripped yours tightly and looked up at your face with his signature smirk.

“I would totally fly and make myself look balance, but then I wouldn’t have an excuse to hold you close.” He teased, leaning over to peck your lips.

You gave him an amused smile, Kon had a point but you still thought it was entertaining that he did not have good balance naturally. The two of you skated around the rink, Kon holding you close in his arms while you helped him balance. The cold tickled your faces, as flecks of snow sprung up with the wind landing on your lashes and hair.

Kon had a hard time paying attention to where he was going, he was more occupied with watching you have the time of your life as you skated around the rink. After a bit, he decided to stand off to the side and watch you skate around with the breeze brushing your scarf and hair in different directions.

The way you looked had him mesmerized as he watched you turn and skate backward with your eyes closed. He had no idea what led him to do this, but before either of you knew it Kon had stepped away from the wall and held his arms out to catch you forgetting that he had terrible balance.

You collided into his chest and the both of you fell over onto the ice with a yell of surprise. Kon was sprawled on his back with you on top of him. He let out a laugh and pushed your hat up that had fallen over your eyes.

“Conner Kent, what the fuck were you thinking?” you asked, hitting him on the chest.

“I was thinking that I wanted to be cute and romantic, and catch my girl.” He responded looking around seeing the looks you got from other people. “I can see now that was a bad idea.”

You shook your head with a laugh and slowly got up off the ice and helped him up. The two of you decided that it was time to start heading back, the sky was growing dark and it was starting to get colder. With the fall, your clothes were now slightly damp and cold. That only made the way back less exciting than the trip to the park.

The second the two of you were in the safety of your apartment, you made a dash for the shower peeling off your clothes as you went. Nothing sounded more comforting than a hot shower to wash away the cold. It didn't take long for you to get in and out, drying off with the freshly dried towel Kon must have left for you along with some thermal leggings and a shirt of his that was also warm.

With a smile, you dried off and dressed in the clothes he left for you complete with fuzzy socks. Stepping out, you heard clattering noises coming from the kitchen once again.

“Kon, what are you doing baby?” you asked, walking in to see him hunched over the stove again.

He turned to look at you holding up two cups and a plate full of cookies and other wintery treats. "I was thinking of a movie to finish off the night with some hot chocolate and cookies. This is Ma's recipe so you know it's a good one." He chuckled and let you take the plate of goodies before you retired to the couch and popping in a favorite holiday movie.

As the movie played out, you curled into his side with your cup warming your hands. The cookies were long gone and you felt sleep start to overcome you, but didn't let it ruin the moment. No matter where you went, you just wanted to be held in Kon's arms and that was how you were going to end the amazing day you had with him.

[nsfwmonomazine]

Weekly Thread 3

THREAD: Week 3

Writing: @StevieTMQ

Ship: MonoBaku

Kink: Dubcon

Other Warnings: Sex Pollen

Look out for more Weekly Threads from our various contributors!!

Read the thread below!

Patrolling is hell. Patrolling with Bakugou is double hell, extra fucking tedious hell with torture on top.

He’s already the cockiest, worst bastard in 1A, probably the first fucker Neito would pick to bring down if he were given the opportunity. But this is school and Vlad has been on his ass about playing nice with the kids in the other class, no matter how Neito has to chew the inside of his lip until it bleeds. 

It’s cold on top of everything else, the wind bitter and biting, sinking deep into Neito’s bones. Bakugou has enough trouble with his own quirk in the winter and it shows, the way he’s hunched into his high collar, grumbly and sulky. Neito can barely get close enough to touch him and borrow it, let alone use it in the difficult weather. He can’t seem to sweat at all, doesn’t have the benefit of equipment designed for that express purpose. 

They’re on a rooftop, surveying from above, keeping an eye on the crowded streets. Bakugou maintaining a solid few meters of distance between them. “Doesn’t want some extra stealing his shit!” 

Neito snorts at the memory. He’s no extra, he’s the fucking star. As if Bakugou would know. 

“Shut up!” 

Neito chooses to let that go with grace. “You see anything?”

“No, and I won’t if you keep makin’ fuckin noise over there.” Bakugou’s voice is a gravely interruption in the low howl of wind, the city sounds a few stories down. 

Neito turns back to the street, hands balled into fists. Annoying bastard. 

Nothing happens for a while, except Neito’s fingers and toes stinging and burning with cold before inevitably going numb, hundreds of nameless sets of winter clothes and various vehicles passing on the streets below. 

Then someone stops and looks at him. Neito clocks him immediately, stares back, taking in the red scarf and beanie, the nondescript grey peacoat. An average man. May just be admiring the architecture. 

He’s too far to make out features but he doesn’t turn his face away from Neito, doesn’t even shuffle his feet for a few minutes. Long enough to give Neito the sense that something is very wrong.

His stance shifts and his hand comes out of his pocket, still fixated on the top of their building. 

“Bakugou,” Neito says calmly.

Bakugou grunts back noncommittally and the man on the street throws something, too hard and fast for Neito to see, other than the fact that it’s coming straight for them. When he looks back, the man is gone, vanished in the sea of bodies. 

The top of the roof is covered in coarse gravel, camouflaging whatever small object was thrown onto it. Neito scans quickly across the pale rocks. He swears he heard it on his left, but he sees nothing. 

“What’s with you?!” Bakugou half shouts, just loud enough to carry over the wind without bothering to get closer. 

Neito’s crunching over the gravel, looking for the object, whatever it may be, when he sees it. A little red sphere, cracked open by the impact, cradled in the stones. He leans down to inspect it closer. 

He’s rocked by a wave of vertigo, nearly knocked on his ass by it. He grits his teeth and picks up the capsule. Nothing is inside it anymore, just an empty shell of shattered plastic. 

Weird. 

“Hey, extra! What the fuck is goin’ on!?” 

The sound of shifting stones announces Bakugou closing in, coming to see if Neito is doing something he should worry about. 

Neito squats over the gravel with the broken capsule pinched between his thumb and index, trying to stop the rooftop from spinning, gasping for breath as if it was punched out of him. He’s suddenly feverish, super sensitive to the cold air rushing into the sleeves of his coat, goosebumps rising instantly. Every vessel in his body seems to dilate simultaneously, a hot, sick rush of feeling tingling through him impossibly fast. 

The capsule falls, Neito catching himself with a gloved hand on the gravel, for a moment, heaving as if he’s going to be sick. The rush fades fast though, nausea disappearing only to be replaced with an arousal that grips so suddenly, so tightly Neito feels it creak his bones. 

“Oi!” 

Neito spins quickly to face Bakugou, still crouched between his knees like a beast. He feels like an animal, throbbing with dumb desire. It heats him from within, warms his numb extremities, makes him feel unstoppable, undeniable. 

And Bakugou… Bakugou doesn’t look annoying or haughty or imposing anymore. He looks like a challenge, like he needs to be levelled. He’s fucking tempting, all curiously narrowed eyes and empty threats and that sickeningly slim waist that makes Neito’s cock throb even under the thick winter wear. He is, without a doubt, a feast, that no one is here to discourage Neito from consuming. 

Neito lunges at him, without warning or interruption, so fast that Bakugou can do nothing but take the impact around his middle and fall to the gravel beneath him. 

“What the fuck!?” 

“Just- just-” Neito starts, but doesn’t finish. He’s on autopilot, can’t stop to string two words together, can’t think. He’s all action, pinning Bakugou under his thighs, feet flexing around his calves to minimize struggle. But he’s Bakugou and he fights, relentlessly, shouting the whole time. 

“What’re you doing?!” As Neito seizes his wrists, ignoring the tiny explosions that assault him. 

“Fucking stop!” As Neito slams his hands to the gravel above his head and holds him there. 

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you!” As Neito grinds against Bakugou experimentally and light bursts behind his rolling eyes with the sheer, heady pleasure of it. 

Neito can barely hear him through the ecstasy, his body moving on animal instinct alone, hindbrain in full control. He forces Bakugou down, bends him to his will, intent on taking what he needs. The power is almost as intoxicating as the sensation, a harmonic force that has his nerves feeling everything at neon intensity. Bakugou’s once narrow eyes blown wide with fear, his cock half hard despite all of it makes Neito feel indestructible, unconquerable. A force to be reckoned with. 

He bends to claim Bakugou’s pretty pout with his own mouth, violent and desperate, teeth clacking together. Bakugou bites him, inevitably. Neito bites back, harder, sinking teeth into his lip until he yelps, high and helpless and Neito laughs against his mouth. 

It’s amazing, it’s so fucking good, but it’s not enough. Neito’s body demands more, demands to be closer, demands entrance. He can hump and grind against Bakugou, through their layers of clothing, but it won’t take him over the finish line, he can tell already. He needs in, needs in right fucking now, his skin like fire every second he’s not buried in the heat of Bakugou’s inviting body.  

Neito pulls back to flip Bakugou over, passes his wrists to the other hand to avoid the explosions, throwing all his weight to one side to get him prone. His hand goes directly to the waistband of Bakugou’s pants, not even stopping to grab a handful of round, tempting ass on the way, yanking and stripping. 

“Whoa, whoa, STOP, FUCKIN’ STOP!!” Bakugou’s crying now, Neito can tell from the thickness of his voice, the shake in the tone. It only spurs him on.

“Can’t,” Neito says, croaks it out with a clumsy tongue.

“WHY THE FUCK NOT?!” 

Neito’s grinding against his ass, moaning despite himself. He’s so close, just there, just under him, open and tight, oh fuck, he must be so tight. 

“Won’t stop,” Neito forces out with a groan, “fuck- won’t stop- inside- gotta be inside-”

Neito resumes pulling Bakugou’s pants down, over his pale, shapely ass and he yelps again.

“JUST USE MY MOUTH YOU FUCK!” 

Neito nearly blacks out at the very thought, the immediacy of Bakugou’s huge, loud mouth wrapped around his cock, finally shut up, makes him shudder toe to tip. That’s inside his body, that’s where his cock needs to be. He flips Bakugou back over. 

“Really?” He asks, kind of, but he’s already moving, already getting his own pants shoved down as far as he can with Bakugou in the way. A string of precome drools from his slit, his cock violently, vibrantly red, aching. 

“Fucking get it over with!” 

Neito takes Bakugou’s wrists, one in each hand to force back to the gravel. He kneels on his biceps, just inside each elbow to hold him and sits back on Bakugou’s chest. A king, taking his rightful throne. Bakugou’s eyes burn crimson, hatred-heated, looking past Neito’s cock to sneer at him. 

There’s no time to savour it, no time to appreciate how Bakugou’s eyes are puffy and pink-rimmed, his lips bitten and swollen, chapped from the cold. Neito takes his cock in hand, a fistful of Bakugou’s fluffy hair in the other, shifting forward until the head of it meets Bakugou’s pout. His mouth falls open, a dream, big straight teeth and wide, soft-looking tongue on full display. 

It’s just as velvety as it looks, Bakugou’s rough, dry lips providing a contrast to his warm, wet, perfect mouth. Fucking divine. Neito’s grip tightens in his hair, pulls his head down onto his cock, needing to be further enveloped, working him down to the hilt.

Bakugou is a masterpiece, tear-streaked cheeks and pouty lips stretched to accommodate Neito’s girth, tongue working against the underside. He gags as Neito leans in further, eyes rolling back, wincing. He looks so stupid. Neito’s cock throbs, precome leaking down Bakugou’s throat, milked out by the convulsion of it. 

His mouth meets Neito’s pelvis, presses into dark blonde hair, and any semblance of restraint that Neito had snaps with it. He leans forward, knees crashing into the gravel, pain barely registering through the rapture that is Bakugou’s mouth. Bakugou’s gripping Neito’s hips hard, hands now free, trying to hold him back but he is unrestrainable. 

Bakugou’s skull is pushed into the gravel, Neito falling onto a hand over his face, fucking into his mouth brutally. He barely notices the graze of teeth, the bruises bursting under Bakugou’s fingers. He’s single-mindedly driving into the hot resistance of his throat, the flexing, choking, fight of it meeting and matching his rhythm. Sensation bursts in every inch of Neito, electric pleasure sparking and crackling, rolling to a peak, finally, finally reaching a conclusion. 

Neito comes so forcefully he feels pulled right from his body, soul escaping the bonds of its cage the instant he spills down Bakugou’s incredible throat. It’s bright white euphoria, fittingly explosive, perfectly brilliant and all-consuming until it ebbs slowly away, leaving Neito gasping. 

He’s embarrassed, suddenly and maybe irrationally. He lets Bakugou’s hair slip from his grasp, pulling out and away and scrambling back as fast as he can, tucking his softening cock back into his pants. He’s unsure where to go from here. 

“Oi, oi, oi,” Bakugou says with a wrecked voice, the roughness of it down to sandpaper from it’s usual rock tumbler. He wipes his mouth as he sits back up, not ashamed or violated as Neito expected, but mean. A wicked grin splits his face. “You think you’re goin’ anywhere without returning the favour?”

[trillian-anders]

chambers - ix

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: violence, angst, slow burn

word count: 4243

Description: post-endgame. Steve Rogers has passed away from old age. The one remarkable thing is that no one knew his heart would be in the condition it was. He was able to save one more life. After receiving his heart, strange things start happening. Including something that would change your life forever. (Inspired by the Netflix series of the same name.)

The wind was howling, it rattled the shutters, the windows creaking and groaning in protest. Bucky had tried the caulk the windowsill shut but it hadn’t worked. The two young men were huddled around the small stove, door open and slowly giving off heat to warm them.

“Here we go.” Bucky rubbed his dry hands together, breath coming out in little puffs in front of his face. He sat heavily down next to you, draping an arm around your shoulder as the gas for the stove finally kicked on, the heat pouring out steadily. You were wrapped in two blankets, one thrown over Bucky’s lap. You wore a winter coat, a hat, glove covered hands twisted tightly in the hand knit blanket that your mom, Sarah, had made you that last winter before she was gone. 

“You can go home Buck.” You whispered, curling into him further. “Heat’s never off at your house.” Bucky scoffed, his own head covered with a thick wool hat, scarf pulled up around his rosy cheeks.

“And leave you here to freeze?” Bucky glared at you playfully, “I told you we could both go, but you’re too proud for that. I’m not going if you’re not.” You sighed heavily, Bucky’s arm pulling your shoulder in tightly, your cheek buried against his chest. 

“You think my Ma is making beef stew tonight?” Bucky asked quietly. Your stomach growled at the thought, eyes dropping in exhaustion. You’d just gotten over another cold. How would pneumonia help you?

“Maybe…” You shifted against his chest, “Maybe we should go see.” Bucky grinned, laying a fat wet kiss to your cheek before helping you from the ground and turning to stove off, shutting the door with his foot.

“Let’s go.” 

…

“Let’s go.” You said. The exit ramp of the Quinjet lowered, the wind howling against the sides of the ship. A hand met your shoulder and you turned.

Bucky looked haunted here. A few seconds ago when you were in the shared apartment he looked so much less hollow. Less scarred. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Leave all of your new friends. Betray Tony. You had to. This was Bucky. And you trusted Bucky. More than anything. And if what he said was true then there were five more guys just like him waiting behind this reinforced door they were about to walk up to. 

“Til the end of the line Buck.” He choked, not looking at you for a moment, his hand gripping your shoulder tightly. He shook his head,

“I’m not worth all this Steve.” But you’re worth everything to me.

Everything.

…

“I’m gonna go back.” Your breath caught in your throat. It felt thick in this room. Unbreathable. Bucky looked at you sadly from across the small dining table in your apartment. The funeral was yesterday. 

“When you take the stones?” His voice was unwavering. Not betraying the emotion his eyes were giving you. Your heart was breaking.

“Yeah,” You breathed, “I… I don’t belong here, I can have this second chance…” the words felt empty. How could you do this?

What about my second chance? Bucky should say. I don’t get a second chance. He should be screaming. Please scream at me. Please.

“You’re goin’ back for Peg?” He asked you very calmly. His eyes were glassy, unfocused. You felt yourself nod. Beg me to stay. Please beg me to stay. 

“I love her Buck.” But I love you too. Please. Do something. Anything. Bucky nodded, standing and stepping away from the table, turning his back to you for a moment.

“Sam should get the shield.” He said. Shoulders tense, he didn’t turn back to you. “If you’re gonna do this, Sam deserves it.” You felt yourself nod, wringing your hands together. It was silent for a beat. Then a beat more. “So this is the end of the line?”

…

A fist meets your face, your head snapping back, neck cracking from impact. You stumble, fists coming up, swinging back. Making contact. 

“Captain America.” The thug spat blood. “You’re much smaller in person.” The guy was a giant. Had to be on the higher end of 6’7 and pushing 400 lbs. all muscle. Slow. And dumb. Evaluate Rogers. Take him down.

You moved quickly, shield spinning to ricochet off the wall to hit him from behind making him stumble forward, your leg kicking him in the chest and stunning his lungs, fist coming to crack against his jaw and the man fell to the floor unconscious as you caught the shield. 

Footsteps from above and a voice over the coms, “What about that new agent? What’s her name?” Natasha. Fucking Natasha. 

“How am I supposed to know?” You grunted as you rolled the man over to grab a key card from his pocket.

“Sarah!” She yelled in triumph, “She seems very vanilla.” You didn’t know what that meant but,

“Sarah was my Mother’s name so… no thanks.” You swiped the key card for the room you were in, the mechanical door hissing and opening. This base. You remember it from other memories. The thought coming to you as Steve takes you room to room. Silently dispatching whoever is in his way. A thumb drive. It’s always some stupid little thumb drive that could totally dismantle an organization. 

But this was Hydra.

And this little thumb drive was a piece of a greater puzzle, and you didn’t have the picture on the box to guide you. This base. Why was it so familiar?

Something was striking you as you forced Steve’s eyes to take one last look around the room. 

There!

Right there!

A black and white photo from a newspaper. One you’ve seen before. A man and two others. Holding guns in military uniform. The man’s face in the middle circled in red.

Zemo.

You groan. Head pounding. Eyes glued shut. There was a rhythmic beeping. A heart monitor. You could feel little electrodes stuck to your face and chest. The blanket over you was yours though, not the scratchy one you knew was used in the medical ward of the compound. Your eyes slowly opened, trying to shake the exhaustion out of them, your eyes focused in the dim room on your ceiling. 

This was your room still. 

You felt sluggish, eyes rolling shut before opening slowly. You turned your head to see Wanda dozing off in the chair beside you, a second chair empty to her left. 

Your heart monitor was on her right, along with a machine that was tracking your brain activity. One you’d seen used before during your many tests Bruce liked to run. The blinds were open, the early morning light shining through.

A glass of water was on your night stand, two little white pills beside it. Your hands found purchase beneath you and your arms shook as you pushed yourself up against the headboard. Wanda snoozed on, cheek pressed against her fist. 

You shakily grabbed the water, taking a sip before taking the two pills and chugging the glass, the thirst you were feeling not even close to being quenched. You sat back heavily, fingers still wrapped around the glass as you thought back to what caused you to be in this position right now.

Zemo.

Fucking Zemo. 

You know you can’t trust him. He wants what? To rebuild Hydra? A greater tomorrow? Sure. For certain people a greater tomorrow. The ones so struck by their fear and ignorance that they’d strike down anyone different than them just to have control. 

He’d get rid of your medical bills. 

Your parents would be financially stable again. You’d be financially stable for the first time in your life. You could move on. You could travel. You’d always wanted to travel.

These people, Wanda. Sam. Bucky.

Bucky.

Would they really care about you after all this was over? It’s been almost two weeks since you’d come to the compound. These were superficial friendships to be sure. Coworker friendships. Once you’d left you’d be forgotten. Right now they were taking care of you. But was it only because of Steve? Your hand lay over the scar on your chest.

Your heart was breaking. 

Steve’s emotions were fully infused with your own. You loved these people. These people who you barely knew but you knew entirely. These people you’ve fought beside and haven’t. You didn’t know where Steve began and you ended anymore. 

The memories the year before you came here were once in a blue moon. Something would strike you and then you would tumble into a memory. Something Steve would show you. Since being here they were daily and sometimes multiple times a day. Who were you anymore?

You look at your hands and you could swear for a moment they weren’t even yours. 

Zemo wants your blood for obvious reasons. Even the watered down generic super serum that you’d been getting the effects from ran you at half capacity for Steve’s abilities. If Zemo got his hands on it surely he’d be able to isolate the serum and enhance it. 

He didn’t want old Winter Soldiers. He wanted new ones. Ones he’d formed himself. One maybe he could become himself.

“Y/N.” Wanda’s voice was soft, sleepy. Her hands came to take the glass from you. “How are you feeling? You’ve been out for a little over a day.” Your voice was raspy, throat still dry.

“I’m okay.” You shifted in bed, looking at her, unsure, “Where’s Bucky?” You remember him being the last thing you saw before you’d entered your seizure. His arms catching you before you hit the ground, cushioning your head in his palm. His mouth forming your name, but your ears not hearing it. 

The empty chair, Wanda looked at it for a second before replying, “He’s taking a shower, he’ll be back in a minute. Are you hungry?” You were ravenous. 

“Yeah, I could eat.” She came back with a spread a moment later. Breakfast plate stolen with what looked like Sam’s cooking. He must have been up making breakfast already. 

“What happened during your seizure?” She asked. You swallowed the fork full of eggs before replying,

“I had four memories.” Four of them. So cold. Freezing temperatures in each one. But you know that couldn’t have been entirely true. Steve told Bucky he was leaving in autumn. But it felt like you were sitting in an ice box. Something wasn’t right there. 

“Hmm.” She picked at her fingernails, “What do you think of Zemo?” Her voice was soft, like she already knew, she had to. But she was asking anyway. 

“I can’t.” You shook your head, “No matter how quickly he could make my problems disappear...” Your fingers rolled a piece of fuzz between them, fork lay discarded on the plate. “I feel like it would make an even greater mess of things.” Wanda nodded, shifting back in her seat. 

“Do you think--” The door clicked open, Bucky shuffling in quietly and catching your eye almost immediately, his blue orbs widening. 

“You’re awake!” A soft smile. It warms your heart. He looked to Wanda, handing her a cup of coffee he’d prepared for her before sitting down in the chair beside her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up, how are you feeling?” Your heart skipped a beat. A shadow in the corner of your eye and there was Steve, but he wasn’t looking at you. Forlorn eyes stared at Bucky. Your breath hitched, 

“I’m okay, thanks.” Your heart began to race as you felt Steve’s eyes move to you. A chill ran down your spine. A fucking ghost he was. Bucky sipped his coffee, the strong black brew permeating it’s scent through the room. Bucky kind of always smelled like black coffee now that you thought about it. “How are you?” 

“I’m good.” He cleared his throat, “Listen, I don’t know how you feel about Zemo and--”

“I’m not gonna do it Buck.” Your voice tense. His face serious suddenly. He nodded. 

“Okay.” He let out a sigh of relief. “Okay.” Wanda placed her coffee mug on the end table. 

“But I think we should pretend like you are going to.” She said. “If Zemo thinks you’re going to give in we could lead him into a trap.” Fingers circling the rim of the coffee mug. 

“I think that’s a good idea.” You agreed. “We should talk to Sam and--”

“We aren’t using you as bait.” Bucky scoffed, turning to Wanda, “We aren’t using her as bait.” You and Wanda share a look. 

“We’ll see what Sam says.” You nod to Wanda. She takes a long drink of her coffee, 

“I’ll give you two a minute.” You watched her back as she left the room, shutting the door silently. 

“Buck-”

“Y/N-” 

You talked over each other, then silence. Both of you staring at one another. “You’re not going to be used as bait.” He started, “It’s not-- You’re not--”

“Bucky.” You lay a hand over his, the hand beneath you rough and calloused. More so than you remembered, but knuckles still split, some still healing. “Whatever it takes… Zemo is a threat. You know better than anyone that he’ll do whatever he thinks is necessary to get what he wants.” His blue eyes not leaving yours, it was intense and made you nervous, “He’ll come for me whether we do this or not.”

“So let him come for you, you’re at the fucking Avengers compound for christ sake.” He stood from the chair, stepping back to pace. “There’s a whole army worth of people here to keep him out.” He ran his metal fingers through his cropped hair, exasperatedly. 

“Buck… I can do this. I may not fully be like Steve, but I’m half capacity at least. I can--”

“You don’t know how to use it, you’ll get hurt, you can barely defend yourself.” 

“So show me!” You yelled, “I know all of his moves,” You tap your temple, “They’re all up here, I just need the practice.” Bucky shook his head, hands coming to his hips. 

“It’s not safe,” He spoke evenly, “You’re not Captain America, Y/N.”

“No.” You sat back heavily against the pillows behind you, “I’m not, but this guy is bigger than me and you. This is about possibly saving the world and I get it, we don’t trade lives, but I can hold my own against a couple thugs,” His eyes met yours once more, a softness there, “Let me try.” He stepped closer to the bed,

“It’s not worth you getting hurt.” He said softly, fingers brushing yours. Your heart skipped. 

“Show me how to not get hurt and I won’t.” You intertwined your fingers, both of you looking at your joined hands. Your heart fluttering in your chest, butterflies in your stomach, “Please… Jaime.” 

He snatched his hand from yours quickly, taking a step back, eyes rapidly searching yours. Your heart dropped, “I’m sorry... Bucky.” You tried to grab his arm again but he stepped out of reach, a pang in your chest and your eyes began to water. “Bucky, please.”

“Don’t.” His voice tense, shaky, “Just don’t.” And he left. 

Fuck. Fuck. 

Bucky stomped down the hallway, turmoil bubbling in his chest as he reached his room, slamming the door shut. The hinges screamed in protest. His fingers an imprint on the side of the door. He gripped the short hair on his head and pulled, letting out a clenched teeth scream in aggravation, sitting on the end of his bed and resting his elbows on his knees. 

Jaime. 

Steve had called him that once, and only once… and that means you’ve seen… He shakes his head. Fuck. His breathing is heavy, heart aching in his chest as he remembers how Steve left. 

Steve left him. 

Even though they could try. It was different now, times were different now. But Steve left. Steve left him. He made a choice and he chose to leave him. He couldn’t fault Peggy. He couldn’t be angry with her for getting to keep Steve. Getting to love him. But the jealousy was there. And this feeling brewing in his chest at the sight of you, left him empty and wanting. 

And confused.

So confused. 

You were this soft enigma in his life. This worried presence. He didn’t know how to act around you half the time, the other half it was just like taking care of Steve all over again. But it wasn’t. It was you. You knew things about him no one else did and it was easy to forget until something like that spilled from your tongue. 

Jaime. 

He could almost feel Steve’s lips against his again. In that tent. Right after he’d been rescued. The desperation. The love. A chill goes down his spine. He could feel eyes on him, but when he looks around he sees nothing. It’s just him, alone in his room. The empty walls and bland neutrals he didn’t care to dress up. A pile of clothes on the chair of his desk he had yet to put away and a laptop haphazardly placed on the coffee table next to a pile of notebooks. 

Memories.

Confirming kills. 

Planning on things to bring up in therapy next week. Planning on things to avoid. And in that pile of notebooks is a new one, a red cover. You. Everything he knew about you. Every detail of your life. Every hospital visit, every heart failure. The names of the hearts before Steve’s. The people your body rejected. Your family. Your parents who lived in a two story house in New Jersey. They have two dogs. Your grandparents live with them. Your Mom works at a doctor’s office in the city. Your Dad is a barber. You don’t have any siblings. 

It’s why your parents had banked so much on you and you avoided them when you failed. 

Bucky remembers the jab he’d taken when he first met you. “So what are you going to do with your life now? Now that you have this second chance?” He regret it as soon as it left his dumb mouth. He’d really lost his touch with women. He’d watched you curl in on yourself, the disappointment and failure you’d felt amplified by the knowledge that he knew you weren’t important. 

Not at the time anyway. 

You were so important now. Bucky’s heart panged with the thought. It was the third time he’d seen you in a situation he couldn’t help you in. The first seizure in the coffee shop, the second when he’d walked into your apartment and saw your destroyed legs, and now with a seizure that seemed to never want to end. Bruce had been worried about brain damage. Luckily you were fine. 

But you weren’t fine. 

Bucky flipped through the red notebook. A picture of you smiling back at him. An article from a newspaper, tubes connected to you as they announced that after fifteen years you’d finally gotten a new heart. A little fluff piece in the local paper he’d kept after they were informed about Steve’s donation. The first time he’d actually seen you aside from the funeral. 

He felt all choked up. He needed to talk to Sam before you did. He had to come up with some other plan. There had to be a way to get to Zemo first. Without using you as bait and without waiting for Zemo to come to them. There had to be some sort of Plan C. 

...

“He passed the polygraph.” Sharon stated, “He excelled on the obstacle course and in hand to hand he held his own.” Arms crossed as they watched him, sitting on the other side of the two way mirror. Sam stepped into view beside her, mimicking her stance. 

“What do you think?” Sam asked her.

“He might be a valuable asset.” She said optimistically.

“Bucky’s not a fan of him.” 

“Bucky isn’t a fan of anyone,” Sharon scoffed. Sam shrugged, nodding. 

“Have him start in the morning, take him down to the barracks.” She placed papers in a folder in front of her, shuffling and organizing them as Sam continued, “Let Eric Josten know he’s welcome on the team on a trial basis.” 

Eric, your Eric, sat on the other side of that glass. A grey Avengers t-shirt stretched tightly across his chest, the polygraph machine still laying in the off position in front of him. 

“Bucky really isn’t going to be happy.” Sam said to himself, exiting the interrogation hall and pressing a button to call the elevator. As he waited he contemplated how he was going to break the news to Bucky. Tomorrow was typically their day with the cadets so he had to do it tonight, but when tonight? Maybe after Bucky has eaten two full pizzas he might be sleepy and more compliant than with an empty stomach? Or maybe a text as Bucky’s about to fall asleep so maybe he wouldn’t see it until the morning even though technically he’d told him the night before?

“Sam.” Wanda entered the elevator beside him, “I need to talk to you about Y/N.” Sam hit the close door button, the elevator began to make it’s ascent. 

“Is she awake?” He asked, turning towards her. 

Wanda nodded and continued, “She’s not going to turn herself over to Zemo, we’ve already discussed, we think it might be possible to--” The elevator stopped, doors opening revealing Bucky on the other side. His eyes widened at the sight of Wanda, stepping in and immediately beginning, 

“Wanda we aren’t using her as bait.” She huffed annoyed, 

“We would all be right there, it’s not as if she’s defenseless--”

“She is defenseless, and there’s no telling what Zemo has up his sleeve,”

“We would all be a couple of yards away as he revealed his location, I would be RIGHT THERE-”

“Absolutely not, there’s only a definite amount of bases he could be at-”

“If he even is at a Hyrda base, you have no idea where he could be.” 

“That’s why we would gather some intel before-”

“And how long will that take?” Sam stepped between the two Avengers as the elevator stopped again. 

“Chill out, both of you.” Sam stated in his Captain voice, “We’ll discuss this as a team in our meeting tomorrow, for now let’s just make sure Y/N is making a good recovery,” The trio stepped from the elevator into the main common room, “And by the way Eric will begin training tomorrow,” Bucky’s face contorted into rage as Sam took a step back into the elevator and quickly hit close door, muffling his shouted reply as the elevator climbed once again, taking him away from his current problem and into a future one. 

How were they going to do this?

How could you ever look at him again? 

Your cheeks had flushed with embarrassment almost immediately. The little pet name, it had slipped from your mouth before you could even think about it. The tenderness in which he held your hand, for a minute you just forgot who you were. You forgot who you weren’t. Because that’s what this is right?

Stupid fucking Steve and his stupid fucking emotions ruining your life. 

Hot tears ran down your cheeks in the moments after you were left alone in your room. How could you be so stupid? These feelings that were bubbling in your chest weren’t yours. They just weren’t. This love and affection you felt for him was one sided, it was just because of Steve. Stupid, stupid Steve and this stupid haunted heart that wouldn’t just stop.

Why you? Why these memories? Why was this fucking guy now after you? For some diluted super serum? You sunk back heavily into the sheets, tear tracks dried on your face, still hot in embarrassment. Alone. 

Until you weren’t.

A gentle knock and your door opened. The soft smile, dimpled cheek, bright eyed Eric entered your room, “Hey.” He said quietly, taking note of your red eyes he came to your side quickly, taking your hand in his. They were softer than Bucky’s, his knuckles weren’t split. “What’s wrong?” You shake your head, wiping your cheeks with your free hand until he gently cupped your face. 

“It’s nothing.” Your voice still watery. 

“It doesn’t sound like nothing.” He was kneeling by your bed, face so close to yours. Sweet plush lips. You are vulnerable. You know you shouldn’t be doing this. That maybe it was a mistake, but you needed it. You needed it so badly.  You pressed your lips to his. 

He seemed shocked at first, before his hand drifted from your cheek to the nape of your neck, meeting your lips over and over in a series of small kisses that brought those butterflies back into your stomach. His tongue brushed your bottom lip and you couldn’t help but deepen the kiss. Trying to fill that hollowness in your chest. This ache that you know will never go away because it’s the hole that Steve had left for Bucky. 

It’s the emptiness you felt when Bucky ran away from you, that rejection you were now using Eric to soothe. 

He rested his forehead against yours, breath still mingling. “I really liked that.” He whispered, his eyes still half lidded looking at your lips.

“Me too.” And you kinda did. 

.

.

.

taglist //  @albinotigerpython​  @bookish-shristi​ @saturnki​ @jennmurawski13​ @geeksareunique​ @the-soulofdevil @tinmunky​  @nutellakirb​ @witch-of-letters​ @torntaltos​ @emotionallysalty​ @an-lover​ @lbuck121​

[paper-chain-queen]

Sweet ‘N Spicy Goodness

Bakugou X FReader

Rating: Teen... because it’s Bakugou and he swears :p

Words: 2,000+

I loved the Lotte x Bump Of Chicken animation by Studio Bones and thought of this little one-shot. Please look it up on Youtube if you haven't seen it, it's super cute

Summary: Bakugou goes to the store to pick up his favourite chocolate bar, he ends up crushing on a U.A student in the process.

A blonde boy stomped his way into a convenience store to grab a small snack. He wasn’t in his usual area, and he was more irritated than usual as it had started to get cold. 

The winter cold was making it harder for him to sweat, which made his quirk less effective and thus making it nearly impossible to train for the upcoming U.A entrance exam.

“Fuck this cold. It’s fucking freezing..”His hand reached for the last hot pepper-infused chocolate bar. Regular chocolate bars were too sugary but this one was spicy which made it perfect in his opinion. Bakugou’s hand grabbed the red-packaging and half- a second later another hand with long, orange nails dropped next to his.Bakugou felt a shock go up his body as he turned his head, ready to tell whoever it was to ‘fuck off.’ As he turned to look, he felt his words get caught in his throat.

“Oops, sorry.” The girl’s voice was like a melody he had never heard. Her lustrous hair was slightly peeking out from the oversized scarf she was wearing, he wasn’t the only one feeling the cold. She had a bright smile and large eyes that seemed to draw him in, and he noticed a red camellia tucked into her hair.She stood maybe a head taller and said something else before removing her dainty hand from the chocolate bar and grabbing a different snack.

The girl gave him another bright smile before walking away towards the cashier, a bounce in her step. The girl was too cheery with the man behind the counter for Bakugou’s taste, giving him a friendly goodbye as she headed out the store, the greenish skirt of her U.A uniform swishing around her thighs as she quickly evaded colliding with an incoming customer.

“Wait, dammit… U.A- !” Bakugou realized where the girl went to school was exactly what he was aiming for and tried to run after her, not really knowing why, but he lost her in a crowd. He stood in the middle of the sidewalk, letting out a large sigh, his hot breath in the cold air creating a soft cloud.

“Pft.. whatever… not gonna worry about some extra..” Bakugou decided and hunched his shoulders forward as he stuffed the chocolate bar into his pocket, hurrying home to get out of the cold.He would see her at U.A when he got in. Not that he cared if he ever saw her again.

Time passed, Bakugou got into U.A but he hadn’t seen the mystery girl around. So much had happened since the convenience store meeting. 

There was the USJ incident. The fall of All Might. Moving into the dorms. Bakugou failed his hero licensing exam and had to take a course. He had been a drummer at the U.A school festival. Yes, U.A kept Bakugou very busy but now and then he still found himself wondering where the annoyingly cute girl who liked spicy hot pepper-chocolate was.

Bakugou was back at the convenience store, nestled into his scarf, cursing about the cold as he reached out for his regular spicy chocolate bar. Seconds after his hand grabbed it, another hand reached out and laid their soft hand over his.The hand didn’t move, just stayed there and softly held his.

Bakugou looked over and it the girl from the last time. His world felt hazy, the edges were all airbrushed out, and she stood in the centre, clear as day, and she was as beautiful as the first time he saw her. The U.A uniform looked perfect on her before, and that hadn’t changed. Her skirt was even a little shorter, and Bakugou caught a small peak of soft skin above her thigh-high black stockings.He couldn’t believe his luck, he had come to this convenience store multiple times, but this was the first time since the initial meeting that he had seen her.

The explosive boy had tried to find her at U.A, but he didn’t know her name and was too proud to go around, giving people a detailed description of the girl who enjoyed the same chocolate as him.

She smiled coyly and had blush on her cheeks as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.Bakugou was no longer shorter, he had grown and now towered over her. The ash-blonde boy smirked at her, feeling cocky over the way she smiled and blushed. He let go of the chocolate bar and held hand in his. It fit perfectly in his.

“ I- I was thinking about you… I couldn’t take my mind off-” Her soft melodic voice was cut off, and he felt hard fabric wrap around his head.

“Bakugou!”

“Huh?” He was in class, being glared at by his homeroom teacher.

“Fall asleep again, and you can take a nap in detention,” Aizawa informed him, causing the others in class to laugh.It was just a dream. Bakugou had been dreaming…

“What? did you stay up past 8:30 last night, Bakugou!?” Teased Kaminari.

“Die.” He threatened, and the class only laughed at the antics.Bakugou leaned back and looked out the window, winter was on its way, and all the tree’s on campus were bare, a slight layer of frost covered the window.

The class went on, and soon it was lunch, and he was surrounded by his usual crew.

“Yo, check it out, (y/n)-senpai is with Gang Orca’s agency!” Sero shoved his phone into Kirishima’s face, who grabbed the phone and seemed to be excited over the news.Red eyes wandered over to the phone screen as he shovelled hot curry into his mouth, and when he recognized the girl in the tight-fitting catsuit smiling with the top ten hero, he choked on his food.Kirishima hit him on the back to try and help him while Kaminari and Sero laughed.

If Bakugou hadn’t been so caught up in the fact he finally had a name for the face he had seen in his weird and unwanted daydreams, then he would threaten to end their lives for laughing at him.Mina handed him a glass of water while Kirishima asked what was wrong. What they didn’t know was that Bakugou was actually over the moon.He had a lead.

Bakugou silently ate the rest of his lunch while the others at the table talked about (y/n)-Senpai. She was a second-year student in Class 2-B and was already making headlines in the professional hero world.

Her quirk: Mother Nature. That explained the red flower nestled in her hair.Kirishima even showed him a video from the recent event where she created a massive serpent-dragon out of vines and trees, controlling and making it move as if it was alive and capturing a villain in its wooden jaws.Bakugou was now more determined to find her and challenge her to a fight.He was sure he would. He was Bakugou, the best, the future number one hero. He wouldn’t let himself be intimidated by some girl.

Even if she was pretty and had a pretty awesome quirk.

“Hey Bakugou, we’re gonna stock up for game night, want any snacks?” Kirishima asked as everyone packed up their school bags, excited for their weekend.

“I’ll get it myself, Shitty Hair.” The group headed off school grounds together, and Bakugou shoved his hands into his coat pockets, trying to keep warm.

“Fuck, it’s cold out.”The group of friends walked along the road and came upon the local convenience store that lots of U.A students frequented.The bell rang as they walked into the store, and Bakugou went straight to the wall that was decorated with various types of chocolate treats. His hand reached out for his favourite hot-pepper infused chocolate bar, it’s flaming red packaging standing out on the shelf.As his hand reached for it, another gloved hand bumped into his, and his heart raced, his crimson eye’s looking over, hoping to see the girl who had been on his mind.Instead.. he was met with Sero’s broad smile.

“You like this one too Bakugou?! I’ll rock-paper-scissors you for it.” Sero offered, and Bakuou simply growled and just took the chocolate bar from the shelf for himself, marched to the cashier, paid for his stuff and stomping out of the store to head back.The days were short, so the night had fallen, and neon lights decorated the street.

As he walked along the road, he could hear his 'squad’ calling his name and catching up to him. By chance, he looked up and froze on the spot, causing the guys to ask him what was wrong, but Bakugou just stared ahead.There you were, walking along with some friend of yours. She must have been telling you a joke or something because you were laughing, a bounce in your step as you walked. You were sporting the U.A uniform but had a thick green scarf wrapped around your neck and hair, a red camelia tucked behind your ear.You were stunning, and Bakugou felt his body go hot, his palms sweating profusely as he stared at you despite the cold air.

“Bakugou?”The explosion boy didn’t wait any longer and ran straight towards you, not thinking about his next move, but he didn’t want to miss this chance.

All you saw was someone running up to you, and your friend and your hero instincts flipped on as you took a fighting pose, ready to protect your friend who was in the support program at U.A.Instead of starting a fight, Bakugou came to a screeching halt in front of you and huffed and puffed as he stood there. His breath creating soft, fleeting clouds in the cold air.Crimson eyes met yours and stayed like that for a while.

“…Oh! I know you.” You giggled, and your friend just looked to for answers, and you grabbed onto her sleeve and shook it to get her attention.

“Remember, the cute boy who beat me to my favourite chocolate bar.”  You reminded her and Bakugou’s face erupted into a red that matched his eyes as he heard that you had thought of him.

You had talked about him…. and called him cute!

Bakugou couldn’t help but celebrate in his mind, stoked that he had stood out enough for you to tell your friend about him. And while he didn’t stand tall over you, he appeared to now and at least be the same height.

He was still a growing boy. He knew he had time to grow taller.

You spoke to your friend, and she said she needed to head home for dinner but expected a text later, wanting to know how this all ended.

He rushed to grab the chocolate bar out of his pocket and held it out to you. He couldn’t even look at you as he did, choosing to look to the side, only peeking after a moment that you still just stared at the chocolate bar.

“Well?! Take it already!” He snapped, holding out the bar closer to you.

“Oh! Thank you.” She smiled and took the bar, a small blush on her cheeks. She unwrapped the red paper revealing the silver foil and snapped the bar in half.

“Here, for my cute kohai.” You offered him the other half, and Bakugou couldn’t believe how you had somehow gotten prettier than the last time he had seen you, and he felt this smile was unique, just for him. His recent fantasies of you fell short of the real thing.

“I’m a second year in the hero course at U.A., class 2-1. (L/N) (Y/N), nice to meet you…” you were still holding out the other half of the chocolate bar to him.

“C'mon bro, introduce yourself already.” Kirishima was nudging him, annoying him.

“Fuck off already!” He yelled at him and got even more embarrassed when he realized how he was acting in front of you.But you just giggled, a small blush on your cheeks. He hoped you couldn’t hear how quickly his heart was racing.

“Bakugou Katsuki…” He told her while grabbing the chocolate she was offering.

“ (L/N)- Senpai! Do you like video games?” Asked Mina as she bounced up and down and grabbed the girl’s hands.

“I do, I’m not very good, though.” you laughed at the pink girl’s energetic self.

“That’s okay! It’s just for fun anyway, plus this group has wayyy too much male energy. I’m dying for a girl to join.” Mina was practically begging you to join.

“ If you don’t mind then, I’d love to join.” You said, and you looked over to the cute ash-blonde boy who had been quiet. Bakugou Katsuki was a boy you had been curious about for a bit, and you couldn’t help be excited about finally meeting him.

“Maybe I could be your player 2?” You winked at Bakugou as you said so, and he felt his heart go 'boom.’

“What are you losers waiting for then!? It’s fucking cold out.” He yelled as he turned around to hide his red face as he stuffed the entire half of the chocolate bar into his face and then jammed his hands into his pockets, marching back to the school dorms.

“He’s kind of a funny one, isn’t he?” You giggled to the others in the group, and they all laughed nervously, even they weren’t sure what to make of Bakugou’s strange attitude.

“ Yeah… but he’s a really good guy.” Kirishima insisted, getting the feeling that his best bro had a crush, and he would do what he could to help.

“Yeah, I saw his performance at the summer festival.” You gushed, and Kirishima worried that the sports festival might be a poor example of what Bakugou was like.

“ He’s really not that bad…” He started, but you were quick to cut him off.

“I thought he was amazing, the way he used his quirk was so versatile, and his determination to take the number one spot was admirable.” You explained, Kirishima noticed a small blush on your cheeks as you tucked a bit of hair behind your ear. Maybe you had a crush on Bakugou as well?

“Oi, flower girl!” Bakugou yelled, pointing his finger at you.

“Flower girl?” You asked, pointing to yourself and tilting your head slightly. The act made Bakugou curse in his head. You were unfairly cute, and it was making his teenage brain go crazy. Bakugou had waited a year to meet you and wasn’t going to let you waste time on 'extra’s. He wanted you beside him.

“Don’t walk with them! Walk with me.” He grabbed you by the scarf and dragged you along. Kirishima shook his head at his friend, hoping you weren’t the type to be scared off by this behaviour.

All you were thinking was that this seemed to be the beginning of a very fun, but oddly sweet relationship with a little bit of spice. Just the way you liked your chocolate bars.

[youmustbestrongernow]

If you find the time another prompt. Something fluffy, lovely and warm for davenzi? Maybe them just cuddling, enjoying each others warmth. Soft kisses. Them being totally in love after all the time they already are together.

Ah, I loved this one, soft and warm and fluffy that’s my jam. So this is pretty much just warm cuddles in winter, enjoy!

David didn’t think he’d ever felt tired like this. His bones ached with it, he swore he could feel them creaking as he moved. He felt cold and shivery too, he’d waited ten minutes for a bus and even when he’d stepped on board he hadn’t been able to get warm. The damp winter cold had seeped into his bones. There was a pounding behind his eyes, probably because he was tired and had been awake for almost twenty hours. It was quite possible he was getting a cold. His coat was still damp from the rain shower he’d gotten caught in earlier and he’d forgotten his stupid scarf, rushing out of the door at the crack of dawn that morning.

All he wanted was to sleep. For at least the next thirty years. Or most of the next couple of days at least. It was almost one in the morning and he was finally on his way home from work. The bus he was on was almost empty. Everyone sensible was already tucked up in bed. Exactly where he wanted to be. 

He’d been shooting a scene for his latest show, out on location, several miles outside the city limits. It was great fun but meant long hours and travel time. He’d been dropped off back at the studio an hour ago but it wasn’t a huge production. He didn’t get driven to his door so he had to make his own way home. Which was fine he supposed, if it wasn’t the middle of the night. It was times like this he’d wished he’d learnt to drive. He should’ve just gotten a taxi but even though he was doing well it felt too much like splashing the cash, especially when the bus stop was just down the road.

There was no point dwelling on it, he was practically home now anyway. He took out his phone and sent a text to Matteo, telling him he’d be five minutes. There was no way he was still awake but he sent it anyway. He got off the bus at his stop and made his way to his apartment. He was so close. The bus wasn’t exactly warm but alighting was like stepping into a freezer. He ducked his head to reduce his exposure to the biting cold air. 

As he walked under the streetlights he saw his breath in front of his face. There was snow underfoot, crunching with each step he took. He shivered and wrapped his jacket tighter around himself. Shoving his hands in his pockets and frowned in surprise, pulling his hands out again. There were thick woollen gloves in his pockets that he hadn’t put in there. No that was Matteo, always thinking of him. David grinned and pulled them on as he walked the last three minutes to the apartment.

His legs felt like lead dragging them up the stairs but he was almost home. Almost there. Just a few more steps. He decided he was going to collapse straight into bed and never move again.

Finally, he was home. He unlocked the door and stepped inside his apartment. He didn’t know why he was surprised that it was still warm, of course Matteo had left the heating on. The lamps were still on in the living room too, casting a soft glow over everything. He just leant against the door for a second, smiling at how thoughtful his boyfriend was.

He was too tired to eat but he knew there’d be food ready for him in the fridge if he checked. Matteo however, was nowhere to be seen so he must be in bed. Which was where David was supposed to be. He wasn’t going to waste any time. Their bed was calling to him. He shrugged off his damp coat and discarded his shoes by the door before heading straight to the bedroom, switching off all the lights and the heating as he went. 

Slowly he opened the door and just stood there, he couldn’t help it. The lamp was still on and he could see Matteo, curled up in the bed, blankets wrapped tightly around himself, sleeping soundly. 

He just watched him sleep for a moment, his headache fading away at the sight of him. All the tension he’d been holding onto melted away. All that was left was a bone aching tiredness. It was warm in the bedroom so David took off his hoodie and his sweater because Matteo had insisted he layer up against the cold. Something he was grateful for now. He stripped off the rest of his clothes and crept towards Matteo. 

Carefully he climbed into the bed, making sure Matteo remained tucked up in the blankets as he got in beside him. He wanted nothing more than to wrap him in his arms but he didn’t want to wake him. Instead, he just shuffled closer and lay there watching him sleep. The last traces of cold faded away as he got close enough to absorb Matteo’s body heat.

He always liked it hot. When David wasn’t there he would sleep under three or four heavy woollen blankets. He’d leave the heating on all night sometimes and David would come back to a roasting apartment. He used to worry his boyfriend would suffocate in his sleep but it never seemed to be a problem. On a normal night, when David was there he reluctantly shed a couple to snuggle up to David instead. David usually refused to sleep under five blankets. But tonight, after being outside for so long he was glad of the warm cocoon Matteo had created for them.

As hard as he tried not to wake him, Matteo sensed that he was there and reached for him in his sleep. David pushed off one of the blankets and pulled him into his arms, wrapping him up tight, pressing tender kisses to his forehead. Matteo smiled in his sleep and slowly blinked awake.

“You’re home,” he whispered.

“I’m home.”

“You’re-”

“Late?”

His eyes drifted shut again as he tried to fight off sleep. “Yeah.”

“Missed you,” David said quietly.

“Missed you more, tired?”

He yawned widely, answering Matteo’s question. “Fucking exhausted. And I think I’m getting a cold,” he admitted, knowing he’d get instant sympathy from Matteo. He was terrible when he was ill and Matteo always took care of him anyway.

Matteo reached out he pressed a gentle hand to his forehead. “Hm.” He tucked the blankets tighter around him. “Did you eat?”

“Too tired,” David said.

That finally got Matteo to open his eyes properly. He huffed squinted at him but didn’t push. It was so late now it would give him a stomach ache if he ate. He was sure Matteo would feed him up in the morning.

“Work tomorrow?”

Tomorrow was Saturday, the first he’d had off in a month. Matteo didn’t work weekends so it meant they would finally get a whole day together. Or what was left of it after David had slept for a thousand years. “No, I’m all yours.” Matteo’s face lit up, an excited smile on his lips that David just had to kiss. Soft and slow, just letting all the love he felt bleed into it. Matteo’s hand came up behind his head cradling him close as his lips parted and he sighed, just relaxing against him. God, he’d missed him, stupid work eating into all his time with Matteo.

“I’ll make you a big breakfast, then you’re just gonna rest and I’m gonna take care of you,” Matteo mumbled against his lips before pulling back slightly and stroking his hand over his face, tracing his lips with his fingertips. 

“I love you,” David murmured, what else could he say but that?

“Love you too.”

David pulled him closer and closed his eyes. “Sleep?” he suggested.

“No,” Matteo whined, “not yet I just got you back.”

“Ok.”

“Stay awake a little, please?”

He was exhausted and he wouldn’t last long but he would fight off sleep for a few tired minutes of Matteo’s company. “For you anything,” he said.

Matteo chuckled at that. “Sap,” he said fondly.

“That’s me,” David agreed. He groaned but dragged himself up the bed so he could sit up a little, pulling Matteo with him. As tired as he was he’d barely spoken to Matteo these past couple of days. Yeah, they had the weekend ahead of them but David ached with how much he missed him. He just wanted a few minutes with him before he drifted off into sleep.

Matteo settled against his chest and looked up at him. “How did it all go?”

“Why the hell did you let me agree to film a show out in the woods in January?” He tried to sound cross but he was too tired, it just sounded fond.

“I’m pretty sure I mentioned several times that it would be crazy cold,” Matteo countered.

“I’m pretty sure if you loved me you wouldn’t have let me make such stupid decisions,” David said.

Matteo huffed at that and David knew he was about to win this silly non-argument. “I’m pretty sure if I loved you I would’ve sent you off this morning with a huge flask of hot soup to keep you warm and- oh wait, I did do that, got up super early to make it from scratch and everything,” he said smugly, like he had every right to be.

“That’s because you’re the best,” David said.

“The best,” Matteo murmured.

“The best.”

“Yeah?”

David just kissed him again. “Tired?” He’d been tired for hours so he could deal with it a little longer.

Matteo shrugged, he was David could tell but he felt the same. He desperately wanted to stay awake just to be with him a little longer. “Just a bit longer, I really missed you today,” he said quietly as if he thought David would say no. Did he really think David would just turn away and go to sleep? As if that were possible.

Instead, he sat up, pulling Matteo off the bed with him, keeping both of them wrapped up in the blankets. Matteo whined but allowed himself to be pulled away from the bed.

“It’s snowing out, come on,” David said.

“David it’s one in the morning,” Matteo argued.

“Just to the balcony come on,” David murmured.

He made sure the blanket was wrapped tightly around and then guided them out onto the balcony, stepping into the trainers that they kept by the door.

“Oh, it is snowing!” Matteo leant against him, tilting his head up to the sky.

“Thought I was lying?”

“No,” Matteo said. He so did.

“Why would I lie about snow?”

“It’s so pretty,” Matteo whispered.

It really was, a blanket of white over the city, sparkling and glowing as it drifted across the streetlights. Everything was muted and still. Beautiful. David hooked his chin over Matteo’s shoulder. “You know what else is pretty?”

“You,” Matteo said.

“You.” David reached out and brushed the snowflakes from his hair. “You’re beautiful.”

With the light from the city below casting a soft glow over them, he saw Matteo’s cheeks pinken.

“You’re warm,” Matteo murmured, “always warm, I never sleep properly when you’re not here.”

“I’ll always come back to keep you warm,” David promised.

They just stood there on the balcony for a little while, wrapped up tight in the blankets just swaying together. It may have been snowing but with Matteo against him, he’d never felt warmer. It spread out from his heart all through his body, warming every inch of him. Since the day they’d met there’d been a fire burning in him for Matteo and it never stopped. It had been nearly five years and it never faded, never lessened. It burned as bright as ever. David was sure it always would.

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

But it’s snowing

Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Summary: Because the Tower can’t stay unsupervised during Christmas you are forced to stay and miss the family reunion. Byt not everything so bad after all.

Warnings: A bit (really just tiny bit) of angst, fluff.

A/N: And here comes my last (I hope) late challenge. This one is for one and only @justkending​. Congratulations on your milestone! <3 You deserved that!

You loved winter. You remember always playing with your parents and brothers whenever it started to snow. You were all wearing tons of sweaters, the warmest gloves and spent hours outside, tossing snow at each other or making snowmen. After hours, when you were literally shaking out of cold, you would come back to the warm house met with your mom waiting for all of yous with hot chocolate and some cookies.  

You just finished talking to your parents, apologising them for not coming for Christmas this year. Well… not like bad guys decided to behave, only because you’d like to eat some of that delicious turkey your dad always made. 

You sighed and leaned down, shoving your head in your arms, with the solemn idea of all the food you will miss. You loved your job to bits. Catching the bad guys alongside some superhero handsome faces (and beautiful ones as well) was one of the coolest jobs. But at moments like that, you hated your job. You haven’t seen your family for a whole year and you were looking forward to this year’s holidays. You bought all the presents, which were now sitting in the corner of your room, laughing at you. 

“You’re ok?” You looked up to meet the concerned look on your Captains face. You frowned and pouted and turned around, your back to him. You knew you were being childish, but he deserved it. He was the one who made you stay here in the Tower, while everyone else except the holy trinity of menace - him, Sam and Bucky - and you stayed in the damn Tower. 

“We’re gonna need you. Not even Bucky can shoot like you.” You should feel proud when he said that, but all you felt was disappointment for not being able to spend that time with your family. 

“Come one, sweetheart, is this how its gonna be now?” He finally asked, walking into your room and closing the doors. Something you should have done before. You still kept your back to him and huffed, to underline how mad you are at him. “You know if I could I wouldn’t keep you. But you know the rules... We work in four people teams and you work perfectly with us… If someone attacks the Tower we will be able to work perfectly together…” You could hear the pain and sorry in his voice and you were so close to turn around and tell him it was ok. But no… You will be strong! “We were thinking…” 

“Oh no…” You mumbled, making him chuckle. It was never good when the three of them were making a plan. It was even worse when they all agreed on something. Bucky and Sam agreeing was not a good sign. Hell no. “Should I be scared?” He smiled, happy for you to finally talk to him. 

“We know how much you love Christmas and how much you hate it that you can’t spend it with your family…”

“I wonder whose fault that is!” He sighed and bit his lip, trying not to roll his eyes. He hated when you were acting like a kid. You were definitely spending too much time with Tony and Clint. 

“How about we make our special little Christmas?” You turned around, definitely surprised to hear that. “We have already ordered food, so if you agree we can start the preparations tomorrow… I mean if you don’t want to, we…” But he didn’t finish when you jumped and hugged him, smiling like a little girl. It didn’t take Steve long to circle his arm around your waist, pulling you to him. Those parts were his favourite in this friendship between the two of you. You gave the best hugs. “Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

“Only if you help me sending those gifts to my family.” He smiled and nodded, happy to see you smile again. 

**

“I think I know how to stir a damn sauce, Wilson!” Bucky growled, already annoyed with Sam’s complaining. 

“Well, apparently no… If you stir too fast…”

“Sam, Bucky…” You exhaled, giving them the most disappointed look. “I put you two on different things, for this not to happen. Bucky, you’re doing great. Sam stop being a whiny bitch!” You grinned at him when he sends you one of his evil looks. 

“I’m not sure that’s a language suitable for a lady”, Steve whispered at you, helping you to shove vegetables into turkey’s ass. 

“Well, good thing I ain’t a lady then, Rogers”, you winked at him and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Ok, close him up and he’s ready for tomorrow!” You exclaimed happily, taking a bite of the carrot from what was left of the turkey’s filling. “We have mashed potatoes, turkey, two extra types of meat, three sauces, a lovely apple pie made by one and only Sam Wilson”, he bowed making you laugh. “Oh and salmon as well.” You jumped excitedly. 

Steve couldn’t help but smile warmly at your behaviour. On the field or the training mat you were forceful, merciless, the best sniper he met, and he worked with Bucky a lot. You didn’t blink twice to kill whoever would frighten your friends. And here you were. Acting like a complete kid. It has always been like that. When the mission finished you changed completely. You were this happy talkative, charming and flirting, beautiful woman. Yes. Flirting. He tried not to. But he noticed how your little flirting was a bit more than little with him. Started from talks, smiles and looks, and ended up in touches. He would lie to himself if he said he didn’t like it. He did. Very much indeed. 

“Stevie?” Oh, this little nickname you gave him. It was always filled with love. Softness and something he never heard from anyone else before. Oh, how he loved hearing it from you. “Are you back?”

“Back?” He frowned, just now realising that everyone except you and him left the kitchen. 

“You went somewhere. In your head, sweety. I called you a couple of times,” You chuckled seeing his confused look. “Never mind. I’m off to bed. We have a long day tomorrow,” you smiled at him and leaned in to give him a kiss on his cheek. “Have a good night, Captain.” You winked knowing quite well what this does to him. You caught him ones inhaling deeply when you called him like that after the mission, and you never forgot about it. 

“Goodnight doll.” He sighed, shaking his head in disbelieving. Oh, he was screwed. Very screwed. 

**

There were not many times Steve Grant Rogers was surprised and unable to react quickly enough. There was really not many things that would be able to surprise him. But a woman's body, throwing herself into his bed, jumping like a 5 years old child at 4:35 in the morning was one of those things. 

“Jesus, doll!” He grumbled when you tried to wake him up by calling his name and pushing his shoulder. “What happened?” He asked lazily, realizing that nothing bad happened, by the big smile on your lips. “Let me sleep.”

“It’s snowing, Stevie!” He growled and turned towards you in a complete shock. 

“You woke me up. On my day off at 4:35 to tell me it’s snowing? Thanks, doll, you can go back to bed. This is what I’m gonna do!” He was about to turn around and close his eyes once again when you caught his hand and started to pull him from the bed. 

“But it’s snowing!” You exclaimed visibly annoyed he does not understand. “First snow of the year. Come on!” He took a deep breath and stopped in the middle of the room, making you halt as well. After all, he was a super soldier, way stronger than you would ever be. 

“Doll! Just stop for a second and think how stupid this whole situation is…” You looked up at him and he sighed. You were biting your lip nervously. After a while, your gaze landed on the floor and he could no longer feel your warm touch on his wrist. “I hope you didn’t wake no one else…” He yawned and smiled softly at her. 

“I’m sorry.” He frowned hearing your broken voice. “I… I really love snow and I wanted to enjoy the first flakes with you... “ His eyes widened at your confession. And he was sure his heart skipped a beat or two. “I… I’m sorry. “ You smiled at him, but he was sure it wasn’t real. Before he was able to react you left the room, closing the doors at his face. 

And then it hit him. The memory. From one of the days, you were happily talking to him about your family traditions. 

“Watching the first snow together started when I joined SHIELD and didn’t have that much time to spend with my family.” You started cheerfully, smiling at the solemn idea of those times with the people you loved so much. “So we decided that no matter what, no matter where we are, or what we do, we would call each other and look at the snow.” You chuckled. “It’s really personal you know? Snow is something I love deeply and I think that’s why it's so special for me. If I ask someone to join me, this would probably be my kind of confession.” You laughed out loud. “It’s stupid right?”

“Fuck!” He cursed under his voice. Quickly putting some clothes on, a coat, hat, some gloves and a scarf he ran to one place he was sure to find you. The roof. He was such an idiot. How could he screw this up? 

“It’s beautiful, right?” he stopped hearing your voice. There you were sitting on the edge of the room, looking at the city. He frowned hearing other voices. It was then he noticed a phone in your hand. “It’s fine. The guys are amazing you know? We are making Christmas dinner tomorrow.” 

“Oh, that’s adorable, sweety.” Your mother, what he assumed spoke. She had the same soft voice as you did. He could feel the longing for his only girl and he immediately felt bad for making you stay here. “How about Captain Rogers? I thought you’d ask him to join you for the show.” He froze and swallowed. Was he hearing right? Were you planning on asking him to join you for a while? 

“It’s fine… Am… He couldn’t.” You lied, not wanting to go into any details. “He’s…”

“A complete idiot!” You jumped hearing a voice behind you, almost dropping the phone. “A complete, utter moron!”

“Is this Captain America?” a what seemed to be a teenage voice called out. “Can I talk to him, sis?” 

“I’ll call you all back.” And not waiting for an answer you ended the phone, staring at the man in front of you. “What… What are you doing here?” 

“It's snowing.” He smiled, walking towards you. “I’m such a blockhead!” He chuckled and cupped your cheeks with his gloved hands.” You leaned into his touch, so happy to have him here. “I’m sorry, doll!” You shook your head and hugged him, burying your head in his coat. 

“I’m happy you came…” You whispered and not thinking about anything you leaned in and kissed him softly. “Look, Stevie, it’s snowing!” He chuckled, and kissed you back, thanking whatever gods there were, that you chose him to show the first snow.  

[fallinfor-youreyes]

You Have Not Touched Me (Yet)

Malcolm’s going to get a restraining order against her hands. Ao3

He’s staring.

Has been for the last twenty minutes at least, long enough for her to almost finish her crossword puzzle. Long enough, that if it were anyone other than Malcolm Bright, it would have passed the super weird mark about 17 minutes ago.

But, he is Malcolm Bright, so instead she is just ignoring him. Because she doesn’t want to startle him. He’s been staring at her for about 20 minutes, and his hands haven’t trembled in about 16, and if this is what it takes for him to relax for a few moments, she can deal with the odd feeling of being seen while she gets in her own few moments of her own relaxation.

If Gil asks, she’s been writing her after action report. Definitely not doing a crossword puzzle. But Gil doesn’t ask, because she always gets her reports in, and always before JT, so she’s not worried. Crosswords clear her mind.

Maybe zoning out while staring at people is what clears Malcolm’s.

“Do you have bad circulation?”

Her pen slides right off the page, effectively ruining her almost prefect crossword.

“What?” Dani lifts her eyes to him, and his head is tilted, ice clear eyes already waiting for her.

“Your hands.” He holds out his own and beckons her, and for whatever reason she complies. She drops her hand into his, and he flinches, just slightly. “Your hands are freezing.”

His hands are warm. Like insanely warm. Probably a side affect of his constant moving.

He stares at their hands a moment before his eyes flicker back to hers. “You should talk to your doctor.” His hands cup hers and they are warm, warm, warm.

“Some people have cold hands, Bright.”

“Some people have bad circulation.”

He’s still holding her hand, and suddenly more than his hands are warm. Her cheeks are warm. She feels like the entire room has warmed up serval degrees.

She’s not a fan.

Something crashes in the common area, and she jumps back, pulling her fingers from his grip.

Malcolm blinks. Then he shakes his head and stands, stretching as he does, instantly becoming more of the Malcolm Bright she knows, almost vibrating with chaotic energy. “Think Gil will let us outside now, or will we be punished because you haven’t finished your report yet?” He says, tossing in a teasing smile that makes her want to punch him.

“You are allowed to leave whenever you want, you know. Perks of being a consultant.” Dani says, stuffing her crossword under her notebook so she can officially get to work.

“I do not miss the paperwork of being a special agent” Malcolm agrees.

Dani glares at him and turns to the half done report. “Lucky you.”

Someone knocks on the glass of the conference room, and they both turn, Gil shaking a new folder at them.

Dani sighs. New case. More paperwork.

Malcolm looks almost giddy. Dani grabs her things, and smiles at Malcolm as he holds the door for her.

Then she brushes her fingers across the back of his neck and he yelps, and she runs off before he can retaliate.

“Why are your hands so cold!”

xXx

There’s a box on her desk. A box with a bow. She vaguely recognizes that is only a week until the holidays, and that she is woefully behind on present shopping.

But it doesn’t explain the box. The precinct had given up on white elephants after a disastrous year that lead to nothing but chaos, and her and JT had decided to be the type of people who exchanged old bottles of alcohol, so the box with the very pretty bow is a mystery.

“Ohh!” Edrisa rushes up to her desk, drowning in a scarf that is almost as big as her. “Is that your gift from Bright?”

“Uh,” Dani picks up the box and finds the label, Malcolm’s terrible handwriting a clear give away.

Dani-

For your hands ;)

-Bright

“Yes. I think it is.”

Edrisa wraps her scarf closer around herself. “He got me this scarf.”

Dani smiles, Edrisa’s contagious mood spilling around her. She carefully opens the box, and a pair of gloves fall out.

Real, genuine leather gloves. The kind the fancy rich kids used to wear when she was in college and they wanted to look rich and fancy.

“Ohh.” Edrisa moves closer to get a better look. “Those are lovely.”

Dani slips one on and it’s a perfect fit. Thy are soft and warm, and she can’t help but smile.

Malcolm Bright was worried that her hands were cold.

It does a stupid thing to her heart, but she ignores that.

“I think he went for a winter protection theme in his gifts.” Edrisa says, holding out her scarf. “Feel how soft. He got JT a wool hat. And I’m almost positive Gil’s surprisingly festive turtle neck is also courtesy of Bright.”

The scarf is fantastically soft, and exactly the kind of thing Edrisa would choose for herself. He’s good at this. Finding gifts for people that are functional and meaningful, and she almost hates him for it.

“Huh,” Dani says, letting holding out the other glove for Edrisa to try on. “This glove is surprisingly soft as well.”

“Maybe he just really likes soft winter gear.”

“What’s the point if it’s not soft.” Malcolm says, appearing over Erdisa’s shoulder out of nowhere, wearing a ridiculously festive hat.

“I see you got your gifts?” he asks. He’s smiling, but Dani can see the tiniest bit of uncertainty in his eyes. He’s nervous. It makes the stupid feeling in her heart multiply.

Edrisa nods hard enough Dani’s afraid she’s going to hurt herself. “Yes. Thank you so much! I love it.” She holds it the edge of it out to him. “It’s so soft.”

The uncertainty in his eyes flashes away as he prattles to Edrisa about the importance of soft scarfs and some science thing but it’s back the second he turns to Dani.

She stretches her hand that’s still gloved, and feels her lips quirk up without her consent. “They’re very warm.”

Malcolm’s smile matches hers. “I’m very committed to making sure everyone stays warm.”

Before she can answer, JT claps Malcolm on the back, wearing his own hat, much more subdued than Malcolm’s.

“Bright, what’s your favorite alcohol.”

The conversation derails until Gil has to heard them into a semblance of productive, and Dani let’s herself get lost in her thoughts once everything settles down.

Malcolm Bright bought her gloves for Christmas, because he knows her hands a perpetually cold. It’s stupidly cute.

She slips the gloves on at the end of the day, and from the corner of her eyes she can see him smile to himself. And this time, when her heart squeezes just a little too tight, she doesn’t ignore it.

xXx

It’s odd, Dani notices, how one second, he can be panicking, and the next, be so exhausted he looks almost peaceful.

His apartment is quiet, except for Sunshine shuffling in the corner and the sound of his breath slowly working its way back to normal. His eyes are closed and the worry has seeped out of his face, and for a second, Dani can forgot that not 10 minutes ago he was in the middle of panic attack.

She’s seen the tremors and been present for some of his outbursts, but she’s never seen him like this.

But he’s calmer now, his breathing back to normal, his hands still in his lap, eyes closed as she watches him from her side of the couch. She was here by accident, dropping off a case file he had forgotten, and things had been okay until he got a phone call. Well, more like 7 phone calls, that he all promptly ignored until said caller started texting, and then it happened. She never had training on how to help someone through a panic attack, but they were here now, on the other side, both still in one piece.

She reaches out and gently presses her fingers against his forehead, one of those moves she inherited from her mom who would do this to her and her siblings no matter what was ailing them as kids.

Malcolm hisses softly, hand snapping up to grab her wrist, not bothering to open his eyes. “I am going to get a restraining order on your hands.”

“Oh, really?”

Malcolm opens a single eye in an attempt to glare at her.

His thumb runs over her pulse point.

Her cheeks may or may not flush.

“Yes. They cannot come within ten inches of me unless thoroughly warmed.”

Dani shifts so she’s slightly closer to him. She doesn’t move her hand. He doesn’t let go of her wrist.

“How do you propose I warm them, Bright. Pretty sure you're the one who decided I have a medical condition.”

He gives her a tight smile, one that if he wasn’t coming down of a panic attack might have been less strained. “I’m glad you asked.” He turns her hand in his and stares at their interlocked fingers instead of her face when he talks.

“You can sit on them. Stuff them in your pockets. Hold a nice cup of very hot tea or coffee for a bit.” Her keeps talking to their hands, but his arm is moving now, twisting her palm so it’s face up. “Blow on them. Or my personal favorite, rub them together.” He says, and then he does just that. He rubs his hands gently over hers for a few second before bringing her hand back up to his cheek.

“Ahh,” Malcolm closes his eyes, and lets go of her hand. “Much better.”

Dani wants to kiss him. It’s impulsive and spells for a disaster, and is definitely not in the “how to care for your friend after a panic attack” manual, but she really, really wants to kiss Malcolm Bright.

She let’s her fingers trail down his cheek, over the day old stubble he has growing and he leans into her touch.

He’s tired. Exhausted. She can see the dark circles under his eyes, and she’s positive if they stay still for long enough, he will fall asleep on her.

“Bright,” Dani says, pulling her hand away from his face. His eyes pop open and he follows her hand as she brings it back other lap. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He blinks, and suddenly he’s a different person. No longer the Malcolm she’s only seen glimpses of, but Bright, the man who shows up to crime scenes with a mask on his face, over compensating in personality for something she hasn’t quite pinned down yet.

“Yeah! I’m great!.” He forces a smile, and when she doesn’t smile back, he cracks. The mask slips off again. He drops his head to the back of the couch. “My sister has been seeing my dad.”

She doesn’t want to push him, so she just sits, listening.

“And he’s, well you know, a serial killer, but he’s so charming and all consuming. I still find myself wondering if I made him proud, which is ridiculous. And Ains, jesus, I though Ainsley was safe from it.” He pauses, dragging his hands down his face. “But that was my mom, calling me. Apparently she hasn’t shown up to work for a few days. Said she needed some time off, but she’s been to see him every single day, and it’s been twenty years, and he’s somehow gotten all of us back to him within a few months of each other. He’s behind bars and locks, and is literally chained to the wall, but he still has us in his grasp, seeking his approval.”

Dani notices his hands are starting to shake.

“I didn’t even know Ains was seeing him. I’ve failed her-“

Dani grabs his hand, and he startles. “Breathe.” She tells him, squeezing his hand until he listens to her. “You’re going to be okay. And I’m sure your sister will too.”

He’s staring at their hands again, and she doesn’t let go until he sighs, slumping back against the couch.

“Thanks, For you know, staying and dealing with all this.” He waves his hand around, and Sunshines chirps at them from her post.

“Anytime. If you need someone to talk to, or to shock you into reality with freezing hands.” She smiles at him, before pushing herself off the couch. She knows a dismissal when she hears it. “You have my number. Do you need help with the night terror locks?”

Malcolm smiles, a real, true smile, One that betrays his exhaustion, edging slightly on delirious.

“No. I think I got those myself. Thank you, though.”

“Don’t mention it.” She grabs her coat and says goodbye to Sunshine, pulling on her gloves before she turns to say goodbye to him.

“Powell,” Malcolm says, pushing himself off the couch as he moves toward his bed. “I mean it about your hands.”

Dani rolls her eyes at him. “Goodnight, Bright.”

xXx

She’s not sure how they got here.

Well, she is. Sort of. Vaguely.

They were on the train. It’s so late, it’s early, but they closed a huge case, and Gil broke out the very good, very special whiskey, and then they were taking the same train home.

And Malcolm decided to stand even though there was only like 5 other people in the car, so she stands with him for solidarity or companionship or whatever. And she’s been a New Yorker since the day she was born, riding subways before she even took her first steps, but even she is not immune to the sudden jerks of the train.

Which leads to her crashing into Malcolm, and Malcolm oh so valiantly grabbing her waist to steady her, which leads to her oh so causally not stepping away from him.

Which somehow, eventually led to this. His lips on hers as she falls against the door of her apartment.

Dani is not sure how they got here, but she does not want it to end.

His lips are soft and warm, and her heart is doing literal jumping jacks, and she doesn’t want this moment to end, ever.

But she also doesn’t know how to let it continue. This is still Malcolm, who might be kissing her, but his one hand is still decidedly on her waist, the other pushing into the wood of her door. His hands haven’t moved. And she desperately wants to let her hands travel to the front of his jacket and start undoing the buttons, to relieve him of at least one of his million layers, but this is Malcolm and she doesn’t want to push him too hard. She doesn’t want to cross his boundary line and push them back into a place that doesn’t lead to this.

To him kissing her and her trying to stop herself from smiling so she doesn’t accidentally bite his lip.

He pulls back, breathing hard, and it takes all her willpower to not grab his face and pull his mouth back to hers.

He would probably complain that her hands are too cold.

“Hi,” he says, once he’s caught his breath. He’s got the look in his eyes like they just got a case, but he’s looking at her like she’s a puzzle he desperately wants to solve.

“Hi,” she says back, but it’s more of a sigh than an actual word.

“This okay?”

They’ve know each other for over a year know, and she considers them friends, but this is the most uncertain she’s ever heard him sound. And they’ve been through a whole lot of shit together.

Dani nods. “Totally.” She drags her teeth over her bottom lip, and Malcolm swallows hard. “You okay?”

Malcolm blinks, and his cheeks flush pink

She wants to kiss him again. She wants him to move his hands.

“Totally.”

Slowly, she reaches up, dropping one of her hands on his shoulder, the other coming to rest just below the collar of his shirt.

“Restraining order,” he teases, voice hoarse. Before she can roll her eyes and kiss him again, he grabs her hands and brings her fingers up to him mouth, gently blowing over them.

It’s intimate in a way that makes her knees weak. He’s going to be the death of her.

“Malcolm.”

He hums, pressing a kiss to her fingers. She uses her free hand to open the first button of his vest and his ice clear eyes snap up to hers.

“Dani.”

She pops the second button, and his lip quirks up. She wants to kiss the corner of this mouth. So she does.

She slides her hand to the back of his neck, and he hisses when hers finger brush against his skin, but then he’s kissing her again.

And Dani doesn’t know where this is going, or really how they got here, but for right now, in this moment, she’s good.

They can figure everything else out later.

She snaps the final button of his vest.

His catches her lip on his teeth.

Yeah, she decides. They can figure it out later.

[thecousinsdangereux]

fic preview: over the wide skies up above (and the earth below)

Pairing: Blake/Yang (RWBY)

Playlist: On Spotify

Notes: This is a preview of a thing that I may or may not be something I actually finish post ski!au. Basically, it’s all for @twelveclara who wanted a Greek Gods AU. You’re lucky I adore you, you dumb bitch. I’ll fix this up and write more for you some day. Happy birthday. <3

                                                           — 

She was picking flowers: roses, crocus, and beautiful violets. Up and down the soft meadow. Iris blossoms too she picked, and hyacinth. And the narcissus, which was grown as a lure for the flower-faced girl by Gaia. All according to the plans of Zeus. She was doing a favor for the one who receives many guests. It was a wondrous thing in its splendor. To look at it gives a sense of holy awe to the immortal gods as well as mortal humans. It has a hundred heads growing from the root up. Its sweet fragrance spread over the wide skies up above. And the earth below smiled back in all its radiance. So too the churning mass of the salty sea

[From the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, translated by Gregory Nagy]

                                                            —

They meet on a Sunday morning, on the first day of Winter, under a cloudy and snow-filled sky.

It’s a collision only barely avoided; she swerves, but the white petals still brush against her cheek, sticking out every which way and thus not as easily dodged as the form carrying them (barreling around the corner without any particular concern or hesitation). The juxtaposition hardly stops there, because the resulting stream of expletives feels in direct opposition to what follows it: an apology that —  when directed at her — sounds soft and familiar, despite the lingering profanities.  

The thought doesn’t make any sense, but she hardly has time to consider its meaning when it first hits her; it’s quickly followed by a scent — floral and strong and overwhelming — that hits just as hard, turns the world over on itself, shifts the seasons, melts the ice around them. 

“Shit, sorry! I’ve got so many of these fucking things that I can barely see and I’ve got to get them to the greenhouse in like five minutes and I’m really running late and are you okay?” 

The flowers — she can see them more clearly now: long-stemmed and white with a brilliant yellow center ringed in red — obscure most of the woman’s face. But her long blonde hair spills outside of the boundaries of the dozens of stems barely contained to the two large buckets she holds in front of her chest. Blake finds herself briefly distracted again (distracted from a distraction), this time by the looping curls, the different colors of gold that glint among the strands despite the overcast skies. But then the woman shifts, trying to see around the stems, and with the movement, a new wave of the scent hits her and it’s all she can think about again. 

“What is that?” 

“What’s what?” The woman laughs and finally pokes her head through the flowers. The bright smile that appears is one that Blake cannot differentiate from the first bloom of Spring. “You mean like, the daffodils or — whoa.” 

She can’t pinpoint the reason for the change, but something makes the woman’s eyes (the color of the sky at 5:30 am in the middle of June) widen when they first meet Blake’s. The surprise steals her smile, but it returns almost immediately, stronger than before. 

“Whoa,” she says again. “Where have you been?” 

Blake’s a college freshman — one who got a fake ID at 16 and has been to frat parties and bars and clubs — and so she’s heard the line before (or something like it, ‘all my life’ tacked on at the end), but she’s never heard anyone say it like this woman does. The emphasis is in the wrong spot, the tone out of place, the emotion behind it incomprehensible. 

(Stranger than all that, her instantaneous thought — one she only just keeps from escaping her own lips — is waiting for you.) 

“I — what?” she says instead. 

“It’s the day before Christmas break! I’ve been here all semester and I’ve never seen you before. It’s not that big of a school. So, like, where have you been?” 

The girl shifts her cargo to the side — as though to give herself a better view — and the warm leather of her coat, the soft wool around the collar, belong on her frame as much as the dark gold belongs around her neck (a woven scarf, color deeper than her hair). 

“Not in the greenhouse,” Blake settles on. “I didn’t know we had one.” 

“Yeah, I could have guessed that.” 

It comes with a laugh and Blake’s not sure whether to be offended or not, but the woman quickly continues, before Blake can settle on any one expression.

“The Botany program is pretty small. Not too many people other than us visit the far field, let alone the Greenhouse.”

“Botany?” It’s not what she expects, but it feels right. 

(Blake’s not sure how she knows what feels right. But she doesn’t question it either.)

“Yeah. Plants are sort of my thing.” The girl lifts one of the buckets as though to prove her point, and Blake is once again reminded. 

“Yeah. What are those? They smell — ”

(Perfect. Like something she’s been searching for.) 

“Really good right?” She laughs again; a breeze, but one strong enough to bend the trunks of trees. “Yeah, people use it in perfumes all the fucking time. But I think I like the pure version of it best.” Leaning forward, the woman tips the bucket in Blake’s direction, allowing her to get another whiff. “Poet’s Daffodil. Narcissus poeticus, if you’d be into me showing off.” 

She’s leaning in, breathing in deep, but her surprise at the name is such that it nearly sends her rocking off balance and crashing face-first into the delicate stems.

“Oh, you are into me showing off.” The woman shifts again, but the flowers can’t obscure the brightness of her grin. “Hold on, let me take some notes for future reference. Is it the Latin, foreign languages in general, or the vast depth of knowledge that does it for you?” 

“No, I — ” Blake barely recognizes the laugh that escapes from her own lips. “No, it’s just. I’ve never seen it before. The flower version of Narcissus, I mean. But I’ve read about it a hundred times. The man, at least.” 

The woman’s head tilts in thought, but her expression clears quickly.

“Mythology nerd, huh?”

“Classics major.” 

“Oh, super mythology nerd.” She tips the bucket forward again. One of the flowers slides against Blake’s cheek. “You better take one then. You can show it off to all your friends. Spin it however you like. Something like, you got a mythological flower from a mythological girl.” She pauses. “Okay that didn’t actually make sense, I don’t think. I meant like, you got a flower from a goddess. Because I’m like -- uh, I dunno -- what’s the hottest goddess?” 

“The last person who answered that question got into an awful lot of trouble, in the end,” Blake quips, but finds her smile aches. (She also finds she has an immediate answer, though it’s not one of the three that Paris had to consider in the contest that lead to such trouble for the Greeks and Trojans both.)

“I think I remember the basics of that one. How about you take the flower and my number instead of a golden apple and we’ll skip the bad ending.” 

It’s sudden, but it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like Blake’s been waiting for a while. 

“Forward,” she says despite all that, because it’s almost as though she has to. As though there are steps to take that she’s not allowed to skip, lest she upset a balance she wasn’t aware existed before now. 

It’s a dramatic thought; she’d laugh at herself if — when she reaches into the bucket to grasp one of the stems — she didn’t feel the world sigh in relief.  

“I’ve never really seen the point of wasting time.” The woman shrugs, tone and words light, but only in the same sort of way (required, practiced lines). “There’s just not enough of it.” 

“You sound like you’re a hundred years old and on your deathbed,” Blake laughs, but oh, her heart is clenching. And she’s taking out her phone. She’s making a new contact. She’s already thinking about the first time she’ll text this woman and she doesn’t even know her name. 

(There isn’t enough time. Somehow, she agrees, and that makes her want to get all of it in now, while she has a chance.)

“Or I’m someone who is very late in dropping off some daffodils that don’t really like the cold much. Even if I have a very valid excuse in wanting to stick around.” She pulls away with several long strides backwards; it seems genuinely regretful, but she brightens a little, seeing the flower clutched in one of Blake’s hands (and her phone in the other). “818-815-6247. Let me know if you want to see the greenhouse. Or tell me about the prettiest goddess. Or do anything at all.” 

She takes another step back and Blake nods twice, before realizing she’s missing something. 

“Wait! I’m — ” It comes out sounding a little more desperate than she would have liked, but then, the woman turns back towards her quickly enough for a single petal to fall off of one of of the flowers, so maybe pretenses aren’t really something either of them are concerning themselves with. “I don’t know your name.” 

“Yang.” It’s not the name she expects, but it slides into place easily enough. 

“Blake.” (Somehow, that’s not the name she expects either, even though it’s her own.) “I’ll text you. Call you. Soon.” 

“Good.” She catches another flash of that smile before Yang turns away. “And I’ll be waiting. Or —  trying to. I’ve never been very patient, though you’d think I would have learned by now.” 

“A lot of practice?” Blake calls after her, takes a step towards her (doesn’t notice). 

“Too much, I think.” Her laugh carries, blonde curls whip in the wind as she walks off. “So try to have mercy on me this time.”

Afterwards, she smells of daffodils (of dark green leaves, of a meadow that stretches on and on and on, of mint and hay and dirt and weeds and the whole of spring), as though it’s coming from her pores rather than the flower she places in a small glass on her nightstand. The scent persists through showers and nights out and all the smells that come with living in a coed freshman dorm. It lasts for days (or eons) and stretches back in time, too; she finds it tucked away in memories where it has no place, couldn’t possibly exist. 

(She’s five and her mom takes her to pick blueberries, she’s fourteen on a field trip to the botanical gardens, she’s seventeen and trying to find a perfume that suits her, she’s nineteen and stepping out of her late night Byzantine history seminar. And it’s there — it’s always there — just out of reach: the field over, the next flower, a slightly different perfume, a whiff on the wind that she chases across campus for ten minutes before giving up.)  

(She’s older — ageless — and she doesn’t recognize herself, but it’s there too.) 

The scent of flowers lingers and Blake doesn’t mind. 

She also texts Yang before it can begin to fade.

—

They first meet on Helios’s Day, on the morning of the vernal equinox, under a bright and clear sky.

She watches from behind the treeline, but even from a distance, it’s obvious, the way the ground rises to greet her when the woman walks past: stalks lengthening, flowers unfolding, grass brightening into a more vibrant shade of green with each step she takes. The world is in bloom and it follows the unspoken instructions of only one creature that roams its face. 

Hesitation is not a trait often associated with the gods, but the god of the underworld feels it now, unwilling to interrupt the celebration that the very Earth seemingly wishes to partake in, but desiring it all the same. She is used to the damp, dark coolness of the world below, and the sun always seems beats down with an unfamiliar and uncomfortable heat, but today it feels indomitable and irresistible. 

Today, she wants to step out into the light. 

Vines wrap around her as soon as she does — nothing binding or restrictive, but welcoming — a soft touch that greets her in time with the smile of the one who controls them. She does not appear surprised at the intrusion, nor displeased, but when she walks closer and white flowers — fragrant and familiar — spring up all around them, certainty sprouts as well. 

“The receiver of many guests. Giver of good counsel. It’s not often we see you up here.” The tone is teasing, different from what she typically hears, and it warms her cheeks, places a shade of color there that others would not recognize. (She barely recognizes it in herself.) “What have you come to the surface for?” 

She has an answer to the question, but it’s an honest one, not one she typically gives freely. 

She gives it freely now.  

“Sometimes, I miss being around things that are alive.” 

The goddess doesn’t belittle when she responds — though her smile stays playful — like so many others would. 

“I may be able to help you with that.” 

The ground shifts again and one of the flowers at her feet lifts, stem lengthening to four times what would be natural, until it’s sliding between her fingers, depositing itself in her palm, releasing itself from the Earth when she lifts it to her nose and breathes deep. 

“Everything dies when I go below,” she says softly, and with regret. 

“Not this.” 

She stares into the goddess’s eyes (crocus, monkshood, bellflower, wisteria, lilac) and believes her words, impossible though they are. 

“I’m Kore.” The name doesn’t quite suit her, though the king of the underworld had known it before now. “You should call on me whenever you want to feel something that is alive.” 

“And what if I feel that always?” 

Kore laughs. The whole of the clearing blooms. 

“Then you should call on me always, Hades. Whenever you please.”

—

There’s no need for any pretense. No desire for it, besides.

They graduate from text to voice quickly — within the span of a week —  and when Blake calls, Yang answers on the first ring. When Blake asks if she wants to hang out, Yang rattles off seven different options without pause. 

(“I’ve been thinking about what we should do together since we first met,” Yang says, not really an admission, not when the truth is so easily accessible.

“That was four days ago,” Blake feels she has to add, but Yang just laughs.)

Yang — without flowers blocking her face — is more beautiful than anything Blake’s ever seen. It’s more than the sharp cut of her jaw or the muscles of her forearm or the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles; Yang is attractive and anyone would agree, but it’s more than that. (Something curls in Blake’s stomach and settles in place at the sight, roots growing quick and deep.) And maybe it’s more for Yang too, because her expression — when Blake steps into view, climbing up over the crest of the hill that marks the start of the far field  — holds more than Blake can measure. 

College is strange, and the relationships formed within it, stranger still. She’d met Sun at a freshmen karaoke mixer that she’d been dragged to by her roommate, and in the span of a few hours, they’d gone through every stage of a relationship imaginable: strangers (the awkward first meet), rivals (when he and Ilia had picked the same song and Blake had been dragged along in solidarity), possible partners (when mixer had become unofficial and the alcohol had come out), and (finally) best friends (when the awkward flirtation and intoxication was behind them).   

But this — Yang taking her hand and leading her towards the greenhouse — is different, and that must be apparent to both of them, because Yang hardly looks surprised when Blake doesn’t step away, even once they’re inside. 

“Why botany?” Blake asks, tone softer than the question merits.

Yang’s lips curl and Blake gets caught on the corner like it’s a hook; she wants to press her fingers against the indent, and then do the same with her mouth.   

“I like making things grow. Wherever I go.” Her smile is unabashed, even when she continues. “Cheesy, I know. But I like making things come alive.”

(Blake thinks of vines growing in places they shouldn’t be able to, thinks of flowers sprouting from the cracks in pavement, thinks of the roots of trees spilling out over and digging into rock. She thinks — most of all — of Yang’s hands on all of them and on her as well, a different sort of challenge that Yang never took as such.) 

“It’s not cheesy it’s — “ As she searches for the word, Yang’s gaze does something similar with the planes of her face (searching, though Blake doesn’t think she finds what she’s looking for, and finds herself coming up similarly short). “ —  sincere? Earnest?” She shakes her head; neither are quite right. “Whatever it is, the world needs more of it.” 

The honesty doesn’t sound as sweet coming from her lips, but Yang doesn’t appear to mind. She smiles again, wider this time, and the plants around them pulse with a soft sigh, a tangible exhale of oxygen. And when Yang walks along the rows -- running her fingers gently along the leaves and petals and stalks -- when she speaks each of their names, Blake could swear the vegetation leans into her touch. 

The thought is less strange when coupled with her own: that she wants to do much of the same. 

She searches for patience, then. 

She’s had practice with it too. 

(She used to have more of it.) 

—

She doesn’t last long. 

But then, how could she? 

Only a week later, one of Yang’s friends throws a back-to-school party and Blake gets pulled along, as seems to be the new trend. 

(“It’s weird,” Yang says, much in the same way she always does, with a grin lighting her face. “She’s normally a lot more particular about her guest list.”) 

There’s alcohol waiting for them as soon as they walk in, and they each throw back a shot before moving any further, though the (surprisingly) fancy cocktail Blake picks up shortly after is one that she nurses for the rest of the night, at least until her hands find better uses. 

Yang’s hands find them more quickly than Blake’s; she’s tactile and gregarious and fun and she touches people as she greets them, throughout conversations, when she says goodbye. But she touches Blake most of all: her hand on the small of her back, her fingers threading through the hair that rests at the nape of her neck, her chin resting on Blake’s shoulder. 

It builds and builds and there’s not enough time and so Blake reaches down, tugs on Yang’s hand and pulls her outside. It feels like the only place they can be — tucked into the corner of the balcony of Yang’s friend’s lavish apartment with the night sky overhead — when she kisses her. 

There’s no surprise in the action, but there’s plenty of everything else. 

(Blake considers all the Greek words for affection, for feeling, for lust, for every form of love known to the poets, and disregards them all.) 

Her lipstick is dark, and it’s smeared over Yang’s mouth when she pulls back (later — that night and in the upcoming weeks and months and years — she’ll find it in other places: Yang’s neck, her thighs, her sheets). The stains Yang leaves is of a different sort, but Blake first notices it in the taste left on her lips. She runs her tongue along it, brow pinching in thought, and Yang laughs as she watches her try to figure it out. 

“Pomegranate,” she explains. “It’s the lip balm.” 

Blake can’t see how that accounts for all of it and kisses her again, just to be sure.

—

The first time they kiss, the world springs into revelry.

The humans flourish under the bountiful harvest; their yields triple, they write songs about the season, they throw feasts without excuse, and each of the gods benefit from an upsurge of tributes, from the smallest villages to the largest city-states. 

She hardly notices. 

Instead, she focuses on memorizing the way Kore tastes. 

 —

She meets a boy in her Ancient Greek Lit class, finds his translation of the first line of the Odyssey to be interesting. The word polytropos, he argues, should be taken as an active description; Odysseus is not controlled but in control of his fate. ‘Sing to me, Muse, of a compelling man; sing through me the story of a man who could shape the world around him’, the boy writes, and Blake gets caught on the intensity in his expression as he reads it, is taken by his confidence and passion (forgets to argue against the lengthiness and the clear liberties he takes). 

He greets her after class, suggests they study together sometime, and that’s what Yang finds them doing a couple days later, tucked away in a corner of the library, pouring over words translated a thousand times, Adam finding a way to disagree with every previous version of them. Yang slides into the conversation and the seat next to Blake without needing to be invited, her warm smile at ease even when Adam switches to Greek, speaks fast and condescending. 

“Well I don’t know anything about any of that,” Yang says easily. “But Blake told me that myths were supposed to be enjoyed by everyone, right? That they were passed on from generation to generation, like bedtime songs or campfire stories. Seems like getting all wordy and pretentious doesn’t really fit that idea, right?” She smiles, and Blake’s gaze shifts towards it, away from the clear ire in Adam’s eyes. “I’d go with Blake’s version.”

In the hour they’d been at the table, Blake hadn’t offered her own translation (hadn’t been asked), but it’s scribbled there, within the margins of the pages of printed out Greek, and Yang’s fingers brush against the pen strokes as she leans in, their shoulders brushing against each other. 

“Tell me about a complicated man,” Blake reads, voice soft. 

“Yeah.” Yang nods and completely ignores Adam’s glare. Blake finds doing the same to be easy, his magnetism fading away, swept aside by stronger forces. “Sometimes you’ve got to admit that something like that can’t be totally summed up in a word or even in a sentence. There’s something kind of beautiful about that too — I think — admitting the complexity in such a simple way.”

“I… think so too.”  

Adam doesn’t last for much longer, quickly tiring of not being the center of attention. He slams his books shut and shoves his chair out with force when he stands and Blake can’t remember what it was about him that appealed to her in the first place.

“I don’t like him,” Yang says after he leaves, a simple declaration as she steals a sip from Blake’s water bottle.

Blake blinks. Considers. “Yeah. I don’t think I’ll be studying with him again.” 

And she doesn’t. 

(It’s not normally that easy, she thinks, later on, and isn’t sure what she means by that at all.)

—

The humans tell tales about them, before their story is finished. 

Time is odd like that when you are immortal and infinite. Beginnings and ends and middles get jumbled in a way that they never do for those who have a life to live in a linear manner.  

It starts small: maidens whispering to each other, children making up rhymes, mothers telling stories to put their daughters to sleep. There’s a soft reverence in these traditions, and though she does not catalog the words they use, she picks up on the meaning. It settles in her chest — the warmth of it — different from the sort that presses at her heart when Kore is near, but significant in a distinct way. 

The tales change over time, warped by the teller and the listener alike, move further from the truth. But the humans could hardly know of the color of Kore’s hair, the tone of her skin, the color of her eyes, and what did it matter when the genders were confused or the courtship was pressed into a single day? The meaning persisted, the good intentions enough to sate the both of them. 

The stories lengthen, turn into poems, turn into songs, turn into performances, turn into epics. And one day Hermes tells them — amusement in his voice — that they have started to record them, to actually write them down.

But they carry on, much in the same way. 

What harm could human words -- written or no -- have on the lives of the gods?