#so getting a shower at those hours is impractical

[spirantization]

A Brief Guide to Living in High Temperatures

B.C. is experiencing a heatwave at moment with temps going up to 40C, and I offered @vimesbootstheory some advice on how to deal with it since they were concerned about reacting negatively to the heat. I've lived for about 3 years in India, in a place where the temperature routinely gets up to 45C in the heat of summer, and as a Canadian who is comfortable in cold weather it was a bit of an adjustment. No doubt other places and people will be going through extreme heat this year, so I hope I can offer some insight for those of us who are not accustomed to these sorts of temperatures.

1. Drink electrolytes! Not just water, which is not always enough. Your normal body temp is around 37C, so existing in temps higher than that will cause you to sweat just by existing. You need to replenish both fluids and electrolytes. You can get sport hydrators like Vega that you mix in with water, or drink fruit juice with some salt mixed in (it sounds gross, but it tastes surprisingly good). Try to drink at least a litre more than you normally would, but ideally as much as you can. This is really the most important thing.

2. Limit exposure to cold things. I know this sounds counter intuitive, because you're boiling out of your skin and nothing would feel better than to dunk yourself into a vat of ice. But trying to fix the extreme temperature with another extreme temperature will make your body very confused and destroy your ability to regulate your own body temperature. It might feel good in the short term, but you'll heat up again quickly and it'll feel twice as hot. You know when it's hot out, and you go into a store that has the AC on blast, and then you go back outside and you get hit with a wave of heat and you feel ill? Exposing your body to too many temperature jumps is really hard on it. Be nice to your body. It's doing its best. So in this vein:

avoid drinking iced beverages (hot, room temp or chilled is okay)

avoid cold showers, take cool showers instead (my true galaxy brain suggestion is to take hot showers; if you take a hot shower you will trick your body into thinking the air is actually cool. The opposite works in cold weather by taking a cold shower but I'm too much of a baby to do it.)

If you're really overheating, wet a cotton scarf or cloth and put it over your head and neck. Don't put ice directly on your skin.

3. Be careful with the AC. If you have a unit where you can set the temperature, try to set it as high as you can comfortably handle it. 25C will still offer relief if the outside temp is 38C, but it's not as extreme as jumping down to 18C. Having a fan and decent air circulation is important to making the room feel cool.

A big part of why I'm saying this is because my experience with these high temps has been in India, so you can take this with a grain of salt. I've lived in places where the buildings are not designed to be airtight, so the outside is leaking in constantly and it's impractical to have the AC running all day. And sometimes the power goes out and that's it, you don't have the option of AC until it comes back on and you've got to find a way to deal in another way. It might be 20 minutes or it might be 20 hours. Other parts of the world have more reliable power grids than semi-rural India, but there's always the possibility of drastically increased consumption of power causing blackouts anywhere in the world.

4. Stay inside during the heat of the day. Avoid going outside between 10am-6pm when it's the hottest. If you have to go somewhere, try to go early in the morning or later in the evening when the sun is about to set.

5. Set realistic expectations for yourself. You probably won't be able to do all the things you'd like to do. Going for a walk or exercising might be too much. Concentrating can be difficult. If all you're able to do is stare out a window, drinking water and sweating, that's okay. Give yourself permission to do a little less or feel grouchy.

That's about it! Please be safe out there in the heat, and take care of yourself. It's going to be a hot summer.

[sciderman]

you have a lot of headcanons about their top/bottom dynamics? ......hm.......*slides a dollar over tthe table*

i can’t believe how horny this place has gotten. i can’t believe i’m feeding you all like this. i’ve repressed all this for like, four years and it’s all bubbling to the surface. okay, so: 

- peter is pretty selfless when it comes to love - he’ll fall all over himself to please his partner, and he’ll quite happily neglect his own needs to make sure his partner is happy first. this works just fine for wade, who… 

so wade often “comes first”, if you catch my drift. wade gets his way and gets pampered, not necessarily because he demands it (though he does), but because peter is just. an incredibly generous boy, who wants nothing more than for wade to feel good and amazing. and wade’s so, so good and appreciative, that it’s a real treat for peter too. 

- wade’s greedy, that’s no secret. he’s not a very good top at all, because he does kind of make it all about him. he can’t help it. that’s the way he is. especially at the beginning of the relationship, when all that’s in his mind is that he wants to be loved and to know that he’s being loved. 

truly wade is just a bottom at heart because he craves attention, and loves to feel treasured. this works just fine for peter, who loves to shower his partner in praise and other such niceties. truly. carnal bliss. like jigsaw pieces that fit together perfectly. though eventually wade starts wanting to return the favour, considering how nice and good and generous his boy has been. 

- while peter’s not exactly hesitant per say, he’s has a more traditional view on sex and masculinity, which wade thinks is frankly pretty ridiculous. 

wade kind of takes it upon him to break those barriers down, piece by piece. he’d never pressure peter into something he didn’t want to do, of course, but little nudges to push peter out of his comfort zone and unleash the wild spider within. peter has never been able to really be himself with a partner before (gwen didn’t know peter was spider-man, and felicia didn’t know spider-man was peter), so wade’s really the first person who’s able to peel back all of peter’s layers. there’s a she-wolf in the closet, open up and set her free. awoo! 🎶

- low-key, it’s a big part of why 9319 wade was so conflicted about peter’s big “I’m Bisexual” moment. he really wanted to be there for that breakthrough. all those years of trying to chip away at it. 

(just another of wade’s many, many character flaws shining through. greedy. greedy boy. likes to make it all about him. like he deserves credit for his hard work, or something. wade is a self-depreciating narcissist. complicated man.)

wade does like to take ownership over peter’s transformation. he takes pride in his work. wade’s so so proud of himself when he’s able to undo peter and get him to abandon his reservations and just let completely loose. encourages peter to use his strength, lose himself. stop worrying. switch off that big brain. 

part of that is to get peter to accept being pampered and trying new things and new surprises. it’s all a very educational and liberating experience for peter. 

other miscellaneous headcanons 

- heightened senses. peter’s heightened senses. it makes him so easy to unravel, with a well-placed kiss or wade whispering in his ear. 

- wade and peter are evenly matched in wits in any other context, but wade’s able to completely short out peter’s brain on demand. this sucks for peter. peter tries to knock wade off his feet with a few surprises of his own. usually it’s a show of strength or some other clever little use of his powers that wade finds freaky-deaky! (wade: i knew you were holding out on me.) usually, though, the most effective way to knock wade off balance is a show of emotion. wade typically doesn’t know how to counter that. 

- as much as wade acts like a brat, or a petulant child when he doesn’t get his way (which peter loves, honestly) wade is very good at doing as he’s told,  whenever sex is involved. (which peter also loves.) it’s the only time wade likes it when peter bosses him around. 

- wade likes to be told he’s being a good boy. he preens when he’s praised. top or bottom, doesn’t matter. in a sexual context or otherwise. say nice things about him and he’s all gooey like caramel. 

- they both like it rough. they love to be hoisted up, tossed, thrown hard against a wall - they love scrapes and bruises and adrenaline. at the end of it, they’re soft and tender, but they love to spar and wrestle for who gets to take charge. (wade lets peter win, more often than not. and he’s not even subtle about it.) (wade: ughn!  drats! i don’t stand a chance against your strong, strong arms, and your clever, clever brain! curse you, spider-man!) 

- (wade: i do it because i know you’re a sore loser, and i don’t want to wound your ego.) (peter: you do it because you’re a stupid bottom.) (wade gasps, faux-offended.) (wade: i’ll show you who’s a stupid bottom, spider-man.)

- peter simps very. very hard for wade in a pretty, pretty dress. there’s nothing that makes peter feel weaker in the knees than a pretty, pretty girl. and wade wilson? the prettiest girl peter’s ever laid eyes on. the dresses give wade a confidence boost too, so 90% of the time, when wade’s in the dress, he’s wearing the trousers (metaphorically speaking). peter bottoms for wade, all the while wade’s in beautiful, beautiful lace and frills. talk about challenging your preconceived notions of masculinity. 

- both of them are very tactile and touchy-feely. wade loves running his hands through peter’s dumb hair. pulling his dumb hair. 

- peter, peter loves fiddling with wade’s clothes. his suit, the straps, his belt loops, anything. but specifically wade’s pretty, pretty frills and skirts. none of my artwork depicting this specific headcanon are safe for work. sorry. 

- okay and FINALLY have to address the elephant in the room here. web kink.

the answer is: sometimes. it’s not actually a staple, it’s something peter mostly does when wade’s misbehaving. wade has good humour about it, and it’s mostly for a laugh, but it’s really impractical and a bit of a turn-off actually. (wade: i have to wait here. for a whole HOUR????) 

truly, they like touching each other far too much for them to be into the whole bondage thing. wade, actually, really isn’t into bondage at all. it’s really not his bag, as much as he jokes about it. 

peter’s more into it, in a schadenfreude sort of way. it’s entertaining. 

wade humours him - but when it comes to bondage, wade’s actually pretty vanilla. he doesn’t have the best memories when it comes to being restrained, so they don’t do it very often. seeing peter being restrained doesn’t really do anything for wade either, especially since it’s just a charade. peter can’t be restrained. 

i can imagine a scenario where peter is tied up by something very delicate, like red ribbons or something, purely for show. that’s something that’ll do it for wade. more of a romantic gesture, really. 

okay. that’s all for now folks. this is already so much longer than i expected it to be, oh my god. 

[migilini]

Could you please write one of those Tiktok "I tried to kiss my bestfriend / crush" challenge for either Charlie or Owen. Thanks!

Crushtok - Owen Patrick Joyner

A/N: Yes ofc I can! I never wrote for Owen so let me know what you think! I hope you like it :)

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: tiktok and noise (so none really)

Requests are open!

MASTERLIST

--------‐--------------

The sun poked through curtains and you swore that you had heard birds the day before but it was loud, uncomfortably so. All you heard was the clacking of metal and the rattling of the machinery that the construction in front of Owens Appartement made. All the unpleasant noises woke you up in the early morning. Grumbling, you tried to block out the noise with a pillow pressed against your face.

"That's not gonna work sleepy beauty" a lower voice croaked, catching you completely off guard so you let out a quiet shriek. "Oweenn why do you have to scare me badly in the morning?" You whined and took the pillow away from your face.

He sat on the other side of the couch, just underneath your feet and looked absolutely tired. His blonde hair was standing up in every possible direction, his normally piercing blue eyes trying their best to stay open. By the way, he was looking at you with a little smirk on his lips, you figured that you didn't look any better.

"Because it's 6 am on a Saturday morning and I didn't want to suffer alone. So lucky you for visiting me this week!" Owen exclaimed and hit your leg in a joking manner.

"I've got thrown out by my landlord. I'm not here on my own terms..." this earned you a shocked gasp from the boy sitting in front of you. "And there I was, thinking this friendship meant something to you." You just rolled your eyes with a smirk.

"Do you want to come back to my bedroom? With some music playing it's much quieter than out here." Nodding tiredly, he held out a hand to help you stand up; you only noticed when you nuzzled into his bed that he didn't let go of your hand.

You woke up a couple of hours later, quiet pop music filled the darkroom and it was hot, your bare legs sticking to the duvet covers. You turned around and faced a back with broad shoulders that were just moments ago pressed against your back. Groaning, you stuck your legs out of the bed, the cold air cooling you down immediately. Owen stirred next to you and sat up slowly.

"Morning part 2." you chuckled and automatically pushed some of his hair out of his face.

"Mornin" he mumbled back.

"You were right it's much quieter in your room."

You stood up, stretching your limbs, before heading back into the living room where all your stuff was stored, quite impractically but it was stored.

You heard a shower running, that gave you the perfect time to change from your big shirt and little pants sleep attire to a more comfortable day outfit. After rummaging through your boxes, that you packed in a freezy, you choose some brown cotton pants with a white body and to top it off your favourite purple cardigan that Owen gifted you one Christmas. With some extra time, you put on your glasses and started to search for a new place to stay.

"So what do you wanna do today? I have nothing going on so..." you stopped listening as Owen walked into the living room shirtless. He wore some blue sweatpants that hung quite low on his hips, his chest still sparkling from the water.

You would have probably started to drool if he wouldn't have worn his hair in a towel bun.

You let out a laugh that made him stop in his tracks.

"What?" he stared at you intensely.

"Oh, nothing princess... nothing. We uh... could look at some apartments for me and just go for a drive?"

"Am I that bad of a roommate?" he said and plopped down next to you on the couch his arm resting on the top comfortably.

"No but I would really appreciate a place to store my stuff properly." you continued to scroll through places to stay.

"This one looks good." he pointed out and put his finger on the screen, you hadn't realised that he rested his arm just above your shoulders so it took you off guard when you suddenly felt his arm on your neck.

"Mhmm, but you cant look at it today... This one though has a viewing in the late afternoon."

"Then that's our plan for today."

++

"Y/N! Y/N!" Owen screamed loudly from the kitchen "Come here real quick."

With your phone still in one hand, you waddled over to your best friend. "What's the emergency?" you looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Do this TikTok with me." he pleaded and looked at you with a slight pout, shoving his phone in your face. Your eyes scanned the screen and then you scoffed, "First of all since when are you on lesbian TikTok? And secondly, that's a bit... explicit... don't you think?"

"W- Our lips don't have to touch! I don't have anybody else to do it with! Y/N Come On!" he yelled after your figure who left the kitchen with a shaking head and hot cheeks.

Your thought didn't stop racing for the rest of the day. Did Owen want to kiss you? Or was he just so comfortable with your friendship that he really didn't care? You hated that you were a cliche, falling in love with your childhood best friend. Growing up you were always the one rolling your eyes at your parents who thought that you and Owen would make just such a cute couple but here you were, sitting on his couch, your heart beating in your chest and extremely conscious of his presence.

Little did you know that Owen felt the exact same. Over the years and especially puberty, he started to develop feelings for you. At first, he tried to deny them, telling himself that it's just that he's used to you being around but then he left to pursue his acting career and he missed you more than everything in the world. Not a single day went by when he didn't think of you or tried to call you. Ever since then, he tried to be close to you in one way or the other, he didn't care if it was just his leg touching yours or your body heat warming him up.

Due to the fact that you were both anxious people, neither of you ever made a move. He missed your longing stares and you missed the way he was checking you out every time he looked at you.

His friends finally talked some confidence into him and so he took little steps into what should eventually lead to him confessing his love for you. He started to flirt more with you, give you loads of compliments and asked you if you wanted to do some TikTok or lives with him.

Tapping on your shoulder made you look up from your phone, the TikTok you've been watching looping on your screen. Owen stood next to you, his phone pointed to you, a mischievous smirk prominent on his face and whipped cream can in his other hand.

"No." you tried to be serious but a chuckle escaped your lips. Owen turned the camera to him and sprayed some cream into his mouth then stared at you with squinted eyes, the whipped cream flowing out of his mouth.

You stared at him for a couple of seconds, your brain in overdrive, hands sweaty and heart beating rapidly. An idea washed over you and you tilted your head before leaning in close. Owen's eyes went wide and he nearly choked on the cream. But you weren't gonna kiss him seconds before your lips would have met, you halted. Then you slowly took the can of whipped cream out of his hand and sprayed it all over his head.

"You didn't!" he gasped with a full mouth while you laid on the floor, holding your stomach in laughter. Something wet hit your face that stopped you from laughing further. Owen had a massive grin on his face, one hand dripping slightly and his hair, less creamy.

"Be cautious Joyner" you warned standing up on your tiptoes to be as close to him as possible, your pointer finger pressing into his chest "I know where your bed sleeps."

You tried to back out of the situation, knowing damn well that it can easily get out of hand with you two and a whipped cream match would make a lot of mess. But Owen being the child he is, didn't back out, instead, he ripped the can out of your hand and sprayed it down your back.

The war ended peacefully. The cans of whipped cream, yes you found more cans, laying somewhere in the living room both of you covered from head to toe, breathing heavily. Owen held his hands up in surrender and looked up to your position on the coffee table.

"Ha! I win! Told you I didn't want to do the TikTok." you smiled triumphantly. "I say loser cleans this up." before Owen could protest you sprinted to the shower. Lucky for you he actually started to clean up when you walked out of the bathroom, dressed in comfortable sweats and one of Owens hoodie, your damp hair falling over your shoulders.

"Hey Y/N?" Owen asked somehow nervously. "Yes darling?" you answered with a bad British accent.

"Can you come here for a second?"

"Owen I'm not doing that TikTok with you, you just saw how that ended," you argued but made your way over to him. He stood in the middle of the room, his phone propped up on a shelf.

"You have something on your face." you chuckled and whipped away some dried leftovers from your previous war.

"Can you react to this song? I don't remember where I know it from" he asked, his voice shaking slightly. You furrowed your eyebrows at his odd behaviour just moments ago he was normal and now he acted very strangely.

"Sure." he pulled you in front of him, his hands resting on your shoulders.

'Baby, you're like lightning in a bottle

I can't let you go now that I got it'

“Sounds like BORNS…” you whispered more to yourself than to him and continued to listen to the song “Are you sure you just haven't…” you turned around to face him.

Owen took this as his opportunity to cup your face with both of his hands, softly pressing his lips to yours.

Your breath hitched and it took you a second to realise what was happening. The confidence Owen had just moments ago vanished when you didn't kiss him back immediately. Why should you? You never gave a hint that you liked him like that as well.

Just as he was about to pull away and apologize profusely, you overcame your state of shock. Your arms grabbed his hips to pull him closer, deepening the kiss. You felt him smile against your lips. Your stomach erupted with butterflies, your whole body tingled and your cheeks felt hot.

He was the first one to pull away, resting his forehead on yours. Both breathing heavily, the filming camera was completely forgotten, you looked in each other's eyes.

“I wanted to do that for so long,” you admitted and unconsciously bit your lip. Owen gulped heavily, “Me too but, what the hell! I mean how crazy is that?!”

[basicallywhiterice]

moonlight (xu minghao)

Genre: Fluff, one scene with angst, college!au, graduation!au, established relationship, moving in together

Summary: Your relationship with Minghao, told through phone calls

Word count: 2k

Warnings: One cuss word I think

a/n: This is lowkey the foil to sunny but the plots are completely unrelated. Happy Minghao day y’all

D-17.

You wake up to a phone call from Minghao.

“Good morning!” he chirps. You respond with a noncommittal grunt. “Aw, baby. Rise and shine!”

“Five more minutes,” you yawn, turning over in your bed.

“C’mon, chop-chop. Get your exams over with! Get that bread, get that head, then leave.”

You still want to go back to sleep, but Minghao’s ridiculousness makes you open your eyes. “You want me to get that head? When you’re a hundred miles away?” Static. “That’s what I thought,” you grin, closing your eyes as another yawn escapes your mouth.

“Hey hey hey, don’t fall asleep on me again. You got this. Turn your camera on!”

“Why?”

“So I can see your beautiful face,” he sing-songs. A grin spreads across your face almost involuntarily—after three years of dating Minghao, simple statements like these never fail to make you happy. It’s because of how genuine he is, you think. He means it from the bottom of his heart. “Plus, you’ll have a harder time falling asleep again.”

“If you insist.” You sit up, turn your camera on, and prop your phone up on your blankets. Minghao pops up on screen a few moments later. “Hey.”

The call freezes for a second, displaying a pixelated jumble of his smiling face, before it resumes to show him blowing a kiss at you. “Hey.”

You blow one back, feeling the sleepiness leave your body. “Mm. Last day of exams. Can’t wait to get this shit over with.”

“That’s the spirit!” His grin is contagious, and you can’t help but break into a smile yourself.

“Thank you for cheering me up, Minghao. You just helped me start my day right.” Minghao’s the more laid-back person in your relationship, but he has no problem being your personal hypeman. He’s good at it, too—he never fails to brighten your day.

“Thank you for overcoming your sleepiness for me, baby.”

“Mhm, just for you. I think I’m gonna take a quick shower before I finish my exams.”

“Can I join?”

“Minghao!” You burst out laughing. Minghao grins.

“Hey, at least you’re fully awake now, right?”

“Oh my god, you dork. Anyways, what are you doing today?”

He explains some of his new designs and marvels at the amount of creative freedom his upcoming project has. Before you know it, it’s 8:28 and Minghao has to leave to catch the metro. You say your goodbyes like normal.

“I love you, Minghao.”

“I love you, y/n.”

You pause before you hit the ‘end call’ button. “I’ll see you soon.”

D-13.

Sometimes, you wonder if suffering through two years of graduate school was worth it.

Then, you remember the job offer you landed a few months ago, and the long hours seem like a small price to pay. Getting a job in New York City is no small task, and your learning through your graduate program certainly helped.

Plus, listening to Minghao get excited about how you’re finally moving in makes the process sound more than worth it, no matter how long it took.

“—so I asked my boss for the afternoon off to pick you up, and she said yes! And I was super happy, and she was super happy that I was happy, you know? She also suggested getting flowers—do you want flowers? I told her you don’t like flowers because they’re impractical, but I can get you a bouquet if you want, if you’ve changed your mind. Or I could get a flowerpot for our apartment. Or do you want a succulent for our apartment? They’re cute—”

“Minghao, calm down. Take a deep breath.” You wait until you hear his exaggerated huffing and puffing, and you smile. Minghao talks a mile a minute when he gets excited, but you love it. “Great. I’d love to get a plant for our apartment. I’m bringing my cactus with me, so we could draw cute faces on the flowerpots and have them be friends.”

“Didn’t you already draw something on your cactus’ pot, though?”

“Yeah, but there’s plenty of space to add on. Wait, let me show you.” You stand, padding toward your window and throwing open the curtains. Outside, the faint streaks of sunset paint the sky, illuminated by the fading glow of daylight. You grab your cactus from the window sill and walk back to your desk, holding it up to your phone.

“Oh, I like all the doodles,” Minghao remarks as you turn your plant this way and that. When you show him the back, where you’ve painted a crescent moon, his eyes soften. “You painted a moon on there.”

When Minghao graduated and left for New York, he promised that he’d always be there for you in spirit. After all, he had said, when you could look up to the same moon he saw, it was almost like he was there with you. “Whenever it’s cloudy at night or when there’s a new moon and I can’t see the moon, I just look at this instead,” you admit, running your finger over the paint.

“God, I’m so in love with you.”

“I know,” you smile softly, looking back up at your phone screen. “That’s exactly how I feel about you.”

“I know.”

Minghao stays on the phone with you for ten more minutes before he hangs up to go grocery shopping.

“I’ll see you soon, Minghao,” you say before you end the call.

Outside, the moon hasn’t risen yet, the sky an inky black. Tonight, though, you don’t need to watch the moon to deal with missing Minghao. Tonight, you sit back, content with waiting thirteen more days to see him.

D-10.

“I’m always so worried that this might be the last time I see my friends,” you whisper into the silence. It’s nearing midnight, but your mind is racing. You just got back from a long dinner with your friends and classmates, which was a fun affair, but now existential dread is creeping up on you.

“I felt the same way when I first graduated,” Minghao admits. You’re Facetiming him again, but your phone lays flat on your bed as you shuffle around, trying to drink in all the details of your room before you have to leave. “I still worry that I’ll never see some of them again. But they’re always one text away, and I make time to see everyone important to me.”

“Yeah. True.” You sigh. “Still, though. I’m gonna miss everyone. I miss you too, you know, even though I’ll be in New York soon.”

“I know. I miss you every day.”

You fall back onto your bed, grabbing your phone and holding it above your face. “I don’t… I don’t want to suffer through missing my friends while knowing that we probably won’t live in the same city again, you know? Missing you is slightly more bearable because I know we’ll end up in the same place, but there’s no guarantee for everyone else.”

“Yeah, and it sucks. But you’ll still be in touch with them, and you’ll make new friends.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

In the middle of the night, after you hang up and you’re all alone, you gaze up at the moon for strength.

D-5.

After walking across the stage and throwing your graduation cap in the air, you’re finally free from school. You don’t have much time to talk to Minghao—your day is packed with ceremonies and parties—but he’s just as excited as you are.

“Two years and I’m done!” you half-shout over the chattering in the background.

“I’m so proud of you, baby. Show me your graduation cap!”

You pluck it off your head and hold it in front of you with one hand, rotating it this way and that like a steering wheel. “It’s about the same as the undergraduate cap. I did get this hood, though. It almost feels like a cape.”

“You could be a superhero that has caffeine for blood, or something, and your kryptonite could be history tests.”

“God, don’t remind me of those. I’m free now, remember?”

You talk for a few more minutes before your friends remind you of the graduation party at 4 pm, and you have to hang up to get ready. Before you hang up, Minghao bombards you with reminders of how proud he is, before you finally have to go.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says.

D-1.

“Really? You’re still doing last-minute packing?” Minghao asks as you throw some shoes into your suitcase.

“Shh, I blame you for distracting me with late-night calls.”

“You find me to be distracting?”

You roll your eyes, ducking down to grab your folded towels and plop them on your bed. “Mhm, always have. Don’t get cocky, though.”

He’s smirking when you look back to the phone screen.

“Minghao! I just said not to get cocky.”

“C’mon, let me have this moment.”

You sigh dramatically, glancing around your nearly-empty room and making a mental checklist of things to pack in the morning. “You’ll get to the airport at 2 tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. Terminal C, right?”

“Right. Can’t wait to C you then.” He groans, and you can’t help but prolong the joke. “Get it? C you?”

“I feel so bad for your roommates. I bet you tortured them with constant bad puns during exam season.”

“No comment.”

At 8:21, your roommate Jieqiong starts the last movie night you’ll share together, and you bid Minghao goodbye. Still, you find comfort in the fact that this is the last goodnight you’ll send over Facetime for a long time.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Minghao,” you say, blowing him a kiss.

“See you tomorrow.”

D-Day.

“I just got done picking up my suitcases,” you say, slipping an earbud into your right ear as you drop your phone in your pocket. As you grab the handles of your luggage, you scan the baggage claim area for an exit and start walking toward the sliding doors at the end of the row of conveyors.

“Awesome, I just saw some people walk out,” Minghao says. “I’m here waiting.”

Suddenly, you feel very small as the gravity of the situation weighs on you. Minghao is behind those doors, waiting. You’re about to start a new life together, staying in the same city for the first time in two years. “What if I can’t find you?” you all but whisper, halting your footsteps.

“Then we’ll just keep looking for each other. Take your time, baby.”

“I—yeah, okay.” You will your legs to move again. “Will you stay on the call with me?”

“Of course.”

“Okay.” A comfortable silence falls as you pass the exit checkpoint, stepping out of the sliding doors to the pickup area. “Okay, I just walked outside and—”

And then your gaze falls on a certain young man wearing a top in your favorite shade of light blue. What catches your attention is the poster he’s holding, with ‘my moon’ written on it in loopy handwriting and a cartoon moon doodled next to it.

Your face nearly splits open from how wide your smile is.

“I see you.”

Day 1.

You wake up with your face pressed into Minghao’s chest.

“Good morning,” you whisper. “Are you awake?”

Minghao groans. “Five more minutes,” he mutters. “What time is it?”

You glance around the room until you find his clock on his bedside table. “9:45. We have lots of time before we have to meet my parents for lunch.”

“Mm. Good.” He wraps an arm around your waist. “I’m glad you’re here, sleepyhead.”

You scoot closer. “You’re the one asking for more sleep, mister.”

“You’re the one who’s warm and soft and cuddly. I love you, y/n.”

Closing your eyes, you nuzzle your head into his chest and relax into his embrace. “I love you, Minghao.”

[goulets]

Heartland

Chapter: 2/8 Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson Additional Characters: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Barbara Gordon, Alfred Pennyworth Rating: T (for now) Case Fic/Kid Fic a03 link

The first suggestion is that Jason move back into his old room, just down the hall from Bruce's which is met with an unequivocal not on your fucking life, Bruce.

“Let's get one thing clear: I am not 'moving back in',” Jason hisses, glaring around at all of them. He's whispering so as not to wake the baby, and it doesn't come off quite as intimidating as he'd like. “I just need a bed to sleep in, that's it. Don't do me any fucking favors.”

Dick says, “There's an empty bedroom next to mine, it's not that big, and the bathroom is shared, but – ”

“Sold,” Jason says, and again, the infant sleeping in his arms makes a good old-fashioned broody storm-off kind of impractical.

(jason)

The first suggestion is that Jason move back into his old room, just down the hall from Bruce's which is met with an unequivocal not on your fucking life, Bruce.

“Let's get one thing clear: I am not 'moving back in',” Jason hisses, glaring around at all of them. He's whispering so as not to wake Danielle, and it doesn't come off quite as intimidating as he'd like. “I just need a bed to sleep in, that's it. Don't do me any fucking favors.”

Dick says, “There's an empty bedroom next to mine, it's not that big, and the bathroom is shared, but – ”

“Sold,” Jason says, and again, the infant sleeping in his arms makes a good old-fashioned broody storm-off kind of impractical.

“Okay,” Dick nods. “I'll, um, just show you then.” Bruce looks impassive, and Tim looks like he doesn't quite know what to do with himself, as Dick walks past Jason and Jason follows him up the steps to the main part of the mansion.

Jason doesn't like following behind Dick. It's partly the principle of the thing, because he literally had to die and rise from the grave to get out of Dick's shadow, and even then, it's a matter of distance, and little more. He's far enough off the path of righteousness that the light that shines like a beacon onto Dick doesn't even touch him. So it feels like old news, a habit he grew out of long ago, walking behind Dick, tracing his footfalls, but it's so familiar he half expects to see those stupid fucking pixie boots on his feet when he looks down.

Then there's the other familiar part, the part he’s been struggling not to acknowledge, the awareness that’s been growing in the back of his mind since he set up camp in Gotham. Simply put, Dick is hot. His ass in spandex was the source of way too many semis popped Jason's stupid, flimsy little Robin shorts, and his ass in faded pajama pants is nothing short of miraculous either. But it's not just his body, although Jason wishes it was, not just the shape of his ass and the curve of his spine and the span of his shoulders – Dick is beautiful. He's elegant when he moves, when he laughs, when he's angry, when he's worried, when he's a fucking mess. It's impossible not to look at him, the attention he commands is probably partly due to the fact that he was raised a performer, and partly because that's just Dick.

Jason knows he's one in a long, heavily annotated list of people to fantasize about Dick Grayson. It used to keep him up at night when he was a kid, and not just in that way. There hadn't been a lot of tolerance in the streets for homosexuality – sure, it existed, Jason'd even been on the receiving end once or twice in the unlucky parts of his youth – but you didn't talk about it. So he'd suppressed it, save for those late night visits from his hand in the dark, and then he'd died. Been sprung from the grave, grew up a little, and came back to find that, surprise surprise, the world had grown up a little bit too, and not entirely for the worse. And since then, he's had encounters with men, women, couple aliens, and all that is whatever. This thing with Dick doesn't bother him on account of Dick, well, having a dick. Not anymore.

No, it bothers him because it's Dick fucking Grayson. Golden Boy, Boy Wonder, or as Jason likes to refer to him, Stupid Fucking Bastard With Stupid Fucking Sticks Who Just Won't Fucking Quit. Out of all of them, Dick's the most unchanged. Bruce is hardened, less trusting; Tim is broken; Jason is – whatever the fuck he is, beyond all hope, maybe; but Dick's never lost the spring in his step. Jason thinks he'll probably backflip right into death with a smile on his face, and he won't come back, because Dick is too damn good to be reanimated like some freakish perversion of nature. Jason calls Tim “Replacement” because it's true, Jason was replaceable, but Dick never was. Not that Jason had ever wanted to be his replacement – he hardly knows what he wanted to be to Dick then, even less what he wants to be to Dick now, but it sure as hell isn't some bullshit co-parenting gig with the whole family breathing down his neck.

Of all the fucking days he had to drag his ass down here to gossip.

Dick says, “So, this is it,” and Jason realizes they're outside his new room. The room he's staying in. The room the baby is staying in. That's all it is.

It's not small at all, of course, and the bathroom he's sharing with Dick is also not small, with a stand-up shower and a jacuzzi sized tub, because that's necessary, two sinks, and a ridiculous amount of storage space. He doesn't look at Dick's room, just takes in the furnishings of his own, a queen bed with slate-grey sheets, closet, dresser, desk, bookshelves with a good number of books already on them, and a little windowseat that for some reason makes the back of his throat feel itchy to look at.

Danielle makes a small noise in his arms, and something occurs to him. “Um, where's she supposed to sleep?” He's not an expert, but he's pretty sure babies need cradles – actually, and a lot of other shit, like diaper cream, special baby soap, pacifiers, those sling contraptions he sees people walking around with, and probably a billion other things he has no freaking clue about.

Dick says, “Huh. Good question.”

Helpful, Jason thinks. She can't sleep with him, can she? What if he rolls on top of her? What if she rolls off the bed? What if he has a nightmare and pummels her to death in his sleep? The thought makes him want to be sick, what is he thinking, trying to be some kind of fucking caregiver –

“Jason? You okay?”

Jason blinks. It dawns on him that he's been frozen in place for several seconds now, mind overloaded with the sheer volume of information he doesn't know, endless blank pages supplemented by a thoroughly sourced index of his fears. It's not like he planned for this – ever – he's pretty sure parental ineptitude runs in the family, because his mom sure as fuck never read What to Expect When You're Expecting.

He says, “Doesn't she need some kind of special baby doctor?”

Dick nods. “Bruce'll have Leslie come by and look at her soon. According to the hospital records, she missed her three-month check-in, so.”

“Dick.” Jason tries, and fails, probably, to keep the overwhelming helplessness he's feeling out of his voice. “What the fuck, man – this is crazy. I can't – I don't – where is she supposed to sleep?”

“I can answer that,” comes Alfred's clipped tone from the doorway. Jason turns to see the older man hauling an enormous, tall box into the room.

Jason says, “The hell?” at the same time that Dick rushes forward and says, “Here, let me help you,” and that about sums it up, he thinks.

“Her sleeping quarters,” Alfred says. He and Dick lay the box down, and Jason feels his stomach churn unpleasantly at the picture on the front of a smiling, drooling blonde-haired baby standing in a white wooden crib, fat little fists wrapped around the railing.

“You work fast, Alfie,” Dick comments, hauling another box into the room. This one says Changing Table on the side, and then Alfred pushes a rocking chair in, and Jason will be damned if it isn’t a whole fucking matching baby bedroom set.

“Where the hell did you even get this?” he asks, incredulous. He’s been at the manor two hours tops, hardly enough time for even Alfred to go out shopping for an entire room’s worth of furniture.

“Same-day delivery,” Alfred says smoothly. “I find that being a frequent, loyal customer expedites the process somewhat.”

“You don’t fucking say,” Jason mutters under his breath. Dick is now bringing in box after box of diapers, six huge shopping bags full of baby crap Jason would rather do just about anything than sort through, and some disassembled swing-looking contraption that promises “15 soothing melodies and nature sounds”. The room, suddenly, doesn’t seem so big anymore.

“Hmm,” Dick frowns, looking around. He must be noticing the same thing as Jason. “Honestly, I don’t see all this fitting in here. Alfie, what do you think?”

“You have the adjoining room, do you not, Master Richard?” Alfred replies. He surveys their haul, looking satisfied. Jason feels a tiny bit like he’s going to have a nervous breakdown, which is more or less where he’s been since Danielle was placed in his arms to begin with.

He’d been deadly serious when he’d told Bruce that he’d take her and protect her, but true to half-cocked form, he hadn’t even begun to parse out what that meant. Now that he’s standing in a room that looks like a Babies R’ Us blew up in it, with a human being the size of a loaf of bread snoozing and twitching in his arms, he doesn’t know what he could have possibly been thinking. What Bruce could possibly have been thinking, letting him walk away with her.

Well. Actually, Jason thinks, that about tracks for Bruce’s idea of fatherhood. In Jason’s experience, anyways.

“We’ll put the crib here, I think,” Dick says, leaning the box against the wall opposite the bed. “Changing table can go next to it, and I guess put the rocking chair in the other corner? Bottle stuff should go in the bathroom, and, hmm…” he trails off. “Yeah, we’ll just put the swing in my room. Don’t worry about it, Alfie, I’ll take care of it. You’ve done more than enough, seriously.”

“I’ll leave it to you boys, then,” Alfred says, picking up some of the discarded shopping bags and tucking them under his arm. He gives Jason a long look, like there’s something he wants to say, but seems to think better of it. Jason doesn’t know whether or not to be disappointed.

The silence that falls once Alfred leaves is awkward, bordering on oppressive. Dick doesn’t seem to notice, just keeps opening boxes and stuffing things in drawers and putting on a show of looking like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Jason knows better - can see how haphazardly he’s putting things away, how he’s moving around just to avoid being still. It’s a relief, in a way, to know that he’s not the only one completely out of his depth.

Still, he can’t deny Dick is being about a billion times more useful than him. What else is new.

“I’m just gonna stick this in the closet,” Dick says about a box containing a carseat. “We’ll figure it out later.”

Jason frowns. His car right now is a piece of crap Volvo that certainly shouldn't be hauling around anything as fragile as a baby. Not like he can take her on the bike, either. If they have to make a quick getaway, he’s looking at one-handed free running, or getting some new wheels posthaste.

Danielle grunts and yawns, stretching her tiny hands up and clawing at the material of his jacket. He pats her back, and she settles back into the crook of his arm. It tears at him, a little, watching her burrow into the leather, mouth occasionally opening and sucking, leaving little damp spots in her wake. She’s warm as hell now, practically a furnace, and he frankly wishes he had taken the damn jacket off before she got all comfortable, but he’d rather eat his own gun than put her down. It’s shocking to realize, but he wants her to be closer, wants to hold her right against his skin, against his heartbeat. He’s never felt this way about anything before, about anyone.

He clears his throat. “You seem bizarrely familiar with all this crap,” he says to Dick. “How do you - I mean, I don’t even have a clue what that thing is,” he gestures to the piece of fabric Dick is holding. It looks like the world’s longest scarf.

“It’s a wrap,” Dick says. “It’s for holding the baby. Or ‘wearing’, I think they call it. It’s nice for keeping your hands free. Roy had one for Lian, but it had a lot more buckles than this.”

Jason blinks. Roy, of course. Roy’s told him how much Dick has helped him out when he got full custody of Lian, back when she was still a baby. No wonder Dick is able to snap into action so easily. Jason’s spent a little time around Roy’s daughter, but she’s usually with her grandparents when they get together. For the best, since most of his team-ups with Roy have ended in shootouts and/or catastrophic explosions.

Just another reason he has absolutely no fucking business being anywhere near an infant.

“Hey,” Tim says from the doorway. “Um, here’s this pillow thing.” He holds out a box labeled Infant Lounger, and Jason is officially calling bullshit, there’s absolutely no way babies need this many goddamn surfaces to simply exist upon when, as far as he can tell from his one hour of baby experience, there’s no chance you’d ever want to put one down anyways. It’s all just one big racket - except for the diapers, probably.

“Thanks, Tim,” Dick sighs, opening the box and pulling out the lounger. It’s covered in a cutesy little whale pattern. “Well, that’s adorable, isn’t it?”

Tim looks skeptical. “If you say so.”

Jason narrows his eyes. “You didn’t come up here just to deliver a whale pillow, Replacement.” Dick shoots him a reproachful look, but screw him. “What’d you find out?”

Tim, to his credit, looks relieved to have an excuse to get to the real reason he’s there. “Well, we can officially rule out anyone from Intergang as a suspect. Their whole operation is a bust now. Word is Mannheim is pulling all the survivors out and regrouping, probably off-world.” He nods to Jason. “We’ve ruled the League of Assassins out, too.”

“So, who does that leave?” Dick asks. “Locals? Who are the major players in the East End?”

“There aren’t any,” Tim says. “The whole neighborhood’s been a power vacuum since...well.”

“Since me,” Jason snorts.

“It’s all small-time gangs, nobody with the firepower or the logistic capability to pull something like this off,” Tim goes on. “Which means we’re either looking at somebody new, or there’s a major territory grab that we somehow haven’t caught wind of.”

“Who patrols the East End now, anyways?” Jason asks.

“Nobody, unless Barbara sends the Birds out there. Used to be you,” Tim says mildly.

Jason works his jaw. “Last I checked, your boss is the one who wanted me out of there.”

“Last I checked, you didn’t take orders from him,” Tim replies, voice cool and even. Jason suddenly understands what an infant lounger is for - it’s a safe resting spot to hold your baby when you need both hands to throttle your aggravating family members.

“Oh, knock it off, both of you,” Dick says irritably. “Tim, are you running down leads for this?”

“I guess so,” Tim shrugs. “I was here on the Intergang expansion in the first place. Bruce and I are going to check out the bodies later this evening, get ballistics reports and see what else we can find. The paperwork is coming in pretty slow on the law enforcement side of things.”

Jason twists his mouth in disgust. “GCPD, dragging their heels? Shocking.”

“Pretty much,” Tim affirms. “They’re just happy the Intergang faction’s dealt with. I don’t think they want to look into it too closely.”

Even with a baby on the hit list, Jason thinks bitterly. It’s enough to make a person want to pick up and move altogether.

Danielle moves suddenly in his arms, stretching her tiny body and kicking one leg out against his ribs. She whines, twisting her head away, and when she turns back to look at him, her brown eyes are wide and watery.

“Shit,” he murmurs. “Dick, help. She doesn’t look happy to see me.”

Dick appears at his shoulder. Danielle whines again, flailing her limbs against Jason’s chest.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Dick coos, right in Jason’s ear. Oh, sweet Jesus, Jason did not think this one through at all. He feels his face flush, and has to bite his tongue to keep from snapping at Dick to back the fuck up.

“Look at you,” Dick goes on, oblivious. “You’re awake now, huh? You need some attention, sweetie?” His breath is warm against Jason’s neck. Jason is going to crawl out of his skin.

Danielle’s eyes flicker towards the sound of Dick’s voice. She grunts, then turns abruptly and mouths at Jason’s armpit. Jason feels like his heart is gonna jump out of his goddamn throat. It’s been - God, he doesn’t even know, months? The better part of a year? - since he was this close to another person without his helmet on. His brain is screaming at him, escape, fight, neutralize, but even louder, there’s a piece of him overriding everything, a fist deep in his chest clenched around something he thought he’d left back in the Pit.

Danielle whines louder, kicking, and the fist clenches tighter.

“I don’t - ” he starts to say. His voice comes out breathy and ragged, he stops. Swallows. Get a grip, for fuck’s sake. “Maybe you should take her, I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing.”

“Just rock her,” Dick suggests. His arm comes around to Jason’s elbow, and now Jason can’t help it, he jerks away violently. The little body in his arms goes stock still for a moment, hiccups, and then the sound of wailing fills the room.

Jason swears. “I’m sorry,” he tells her, like that means a damn thing to a baby. “Shit, I’m really sorry, Danielle.” He holds her upright against his shoulder, rubbing her back like he’s seen Roy do with Lian when she’s upset. “I’m an asshole, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She hiccups again, and makes a displeased noise that sounds vaguely chastising. Fair enough, he deserves it. Anything is better than crying.

Dick is looking at him, overbright, and Jason averts his eyes. Briefly, he makes eye contact with Tim, who looks incredibly uncomfortable. Good.

“I think we’ll leave the morgue investigation to you guys,” Dick says to Tim. He seems to have realized he overstepped. “There’s a lot to do here, and I still have my regular patrol. I’m guessing you’re going to the docks this evening,” he addresses Jason.

“I want to, but.” Jason rocks Danielle pointedly. “Kinda got my hands full here.”

“You don’t think we can leave her for a few hours?”

“What the fuck, no,” Jason says, incredulous. “Even if she wasn’t being targeted by some psycho, you can’t just leave a baby, what’s wrong with you.”

“Even I knew that,” Tim says, obnoxiously.

“She wouldn’t be alone, jeez,” Dick protests. “Alfred is here.”

“I’m protecting her,” Jason reminds him darkly. “Alfred has enough shit on his plate.”

“Okay,” Dick says, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “She’s pretty attached to you anyways, so you’re right, it’s probably best if we do that.”

Jason isn’t sure whether or not he’s being patronized, but flips Dick the bird just to be safe. Dick pretends not to notice.

“Drake, your input is being requested in the Cave,” Damian announces from the doorway. Christ, it’s a whole fucking family reunion, and he can’t escape. “Personally, I hadn’t even noticed your absence.”

Tim’s expression goes from vaguely aggrieved to fully constipated, which soothes some of Jason’s irritation. Bruce’s demon spawn is a complete and utter terror, but he’s so like his mother that Jason can’t help liking him. He’s not stupid enough to look down on him in a fight - he heard secondhand what Robin did to Victor Zsasz - but his heart’s just not in it when he spars with Damian. So sue him, he’s got a soft spot for kids, no matter how lethal they are.

“Keep me updated,” Jason says to Tim.

Tim nods, one hand on the doorframe as he exits. “Will do. Sure you don’t want to come along? Autopsy is daytime work.”

Jason grimaces. “Been there, done that. You guys can poke at dead people, I prefer to get my answers from ones that are breathing.”

Damian scoffs audibly. “Breathing until you finish with them, you mean?”

Jason ignores him. He turns his attention back to Danielle, who is starting to mouth at the collar of his jacket more aggressively. Shit, he probably shouldn’t let her do that. This jacket isn’t too old, at least, but he’s smoked his way through a dozen packs of cigarettes in it already, not to mention all the bad guy spatter it’s probably absorbed. Surface cleaners can only do so much.

“Perhaps you’d like to offer her this,” Damian says imperiously, holding out a bottle. “You know, children her age require feeding every three to four hours.”

“...Thanks,” Jason says, suspicious. He doesn’t think Damian would attack him when he’s holding a baby, but he looks like he’s considering it. Warily, he takes the bottle. It’s warm. “Did you make it?”

“It’s infant formula,” Damian replies bitingly. “It requires no scientific mastery.”

Alfred made it, then. Jason exchanges a look with Dick, who quirks an eyebrow almost imperceptibly.

“You don’t need to stay, Damian,” Dick says. “I’m just gonna be putting together furniture. You probably have homework to do, right?”

Damian looks affronted. “My studies aren’t so taxing, Grayson. What furniture?”

“Baby furniture, for Danielle. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “You’re dismissing me because you want me to argue, so that I’ll stay and help you.”

Dick is the picture of innocence. “I really don’t need help. I assembled all the furniture in my apartment, I know what I’m doing.”

“I also know what you’re doing.” Damian walks to the box holding the crib pieces, hands on his hips. “A simpleton could do this.”

“They make it pretty user friendly.”

“I’ll get my tools.”

Dick looks quite pleased with himself as Damian rushes off. Jason can’t help but laugh.

“Nice,” he says, shaking his head at Dick’s impish grin. “Hold her for a second, I’m gonna take my jacket off.”

Danielle whines more insistently when he passes her to Dick, and doesn’t stop when he takes her back. He cradles her upright in one arm, bouncing her a little to keep her distracted, and touches the nipple of the bottle to her mouth. She latches on eagerly, and he tries and fails not to smile at her enthusiasm, the delighted kicking of her legs as she eats, her eyes trained on his face like laser beams. He feels - full, almost, like a balloon in his chest is slowly filling up, a window he’d nailed and soldered shut is being pried open again.

There are holes in Jason’s memory, things the Pit couldn’t restore, fragments of his life that were beaten out of him, or left in the ground, or atrophied and rotted away during his lost year after waking up. When he first came back to Gotham, he’d filled all those empty spaces with rage and spite, but he’d burned through it all in a few months and found there wasn’t enough left over to keep filling them, to stop him from noticing the edges of remembering in his mind, the sensation of familiarity that would abruptly fade into nothing. He’s learned to navigate around them, but there’s never been a moment that he hasn’t known they are there. They’re a constant reminder that he died Jason Todd and came back Almost Jason Todd, the same person but without all the pieces.

The feeling he has, feeding Danielle - the warm smell of her, the force of her gaze, so human and yet so alien, the clutch-and-pull of her small hands against the fabric of his shirt and the scarred skin of his hand - it’s like she’s reached right into the center of him and dragged forth the memory of being whole. He isn’t, he won’t ever be, but he can remember it, and it absolutely takes his breath away.

“You good?” Dick asks, softly.

Jason swallows. “Uh-huh,” he manages. It’s a damn good question. Jason isn’t frequently good, he’s often satisfied, often pissed off, often (less often, now) steeped so deep in madness he’s out of his mind. This is something else, he thinks. Something close to shattered, but it’s also close to good, because even though he’s in a thousand goddam pieces, the pieces, for once, are all there.

“Wow, Jay,” Dick murmurs. “You’ve really got a way with her, you know.”

Jason waits to answer until he’s sure his voice won’t betray how shaken apart he is. “She just doesn’t know any better yet,” he says. “Probably at this stage, it’s all the same to them.”

“She didn’t eat this well for me,” Dick says, and Jason can’t tear his eyes away from Danielle to look, but he can hear Dick smiling. “Face it, Jaybird, she chose you.”

“Shut up,” Jason replies, but it’s so subdued it’s practically a whisper. He can’t even deny it - she did choose him, and even if he can’t fathom why, even if it terrifies him, he can feel it all the way down to his bones. He’ll do anything for this little girl. Shit, she’s already got him shacking up in the last place he’d ever want to be. She’s got him thinking about sensible family cars, for Christ’s sake. He hasn’t even known her a full day, but she chose him, and he knows he’d die for her as instinctively as breathing.

“This had better not take long,” Damian says, reentering the room with his toolbox in hand. “I have training to finish.”

Dick laughs, but it’s a little off, somehow. Jason still doesn’t look - if he had to guess, he would say that Damian managed to surprise Dick, but that doesn’t seem very likely.

“Sure thing, Dami. The changing table is probably the easiest, if you have things to do.” Whatever Jason thought he heard, it’s not there anymore. Dick’s voice is back to being smooth and casual, pointedly so, which probably means Damian’s about to -

“In other words, you want me to assemble the crib,” Damian says flatly.

“Pretty sure I said changing table,” Dick repeats, exasperated.

“Enough with your mind games Grayson. They aren’t subtle, you’re embarrassing yourself. I’ll assemble the crib, since you seem to think it’s too challenging for you.”

“If that’s what you want,” Dick says evenly. Jason finally catches his eye, and he winks. “I’ll start working on the changing table - the way she’s eating, we’re gonna need it soon.”

Anxiety flits across Damian’s face, and he scowls hard at Jason a split second later. Jason shrugs one shoulder at him peaceably. He’d be lying if he said he had no reservations about changing diapers either, but hell, he signed up for this, didn’t he? People even more dysfunctional than him must have figured it out over the years. And considering his extracurricular activities, he can hardly be getting squeamish over a little baby poop.

Danielle, having paused her eating to look around, makes a short fussing sound and then latches onto the bottle again. Jason adjusts his hold and brings her up a little higher. She curls into him automatically, the fingers of her little hand splaying against his shirt, right over the intersection of scar tissue fanning across his chest. He’s never let anyone touch him there before. It doesn’t feel….bad. At all.

It feels like waking up after a long, disorienting dream. Like climbing down a mountain and taking the first breath of oxygen-rich air.

It feels like being home.

***

(tim)

“Here’s what we know,” Bruce says, pulling up the footage from Oracle. “One month ago, Cy Reynolds and a couple dozen henchmen took over the Eastern port for Intergang. They demo’d the warehouses the Dragons were operating out of, and the old Falcone hotel. They brought in tech, weapons, and what appears to be equipment from Apokolips to construct a boom tube.”

“Just what we need,” Tim mutters.

“Two days ago, Cy Reynolds, his wife, and their adult son all turned up dead. Each was shot twice in the head, execution style. Oracle, any update on ballistics?”

“Negative,” Barbara’s voice comes through the computer speakers. “Forensics are taking their sweet time.”

“We have sixteen other bodies, identified as Reynolds’ second tier of command within Intergang and their respective families.” Bruce pauses. “This includes three children. A fourth was targeted, identified as the child of Mitchell Howard and Linda Torres, but she somehow survived.”

“And made it all the way to St. Aden’s in Coventry,” Tim finishes. “Records say Torres lived on the edge of Little Italy.”

“Has your group seen any signs of new groups operating on the East End?” Bruce asks. “There’s a short list of suspects who could have pulled this off in two days.”

“If there are, they’re way underground,” Barbara says. “You can rule out the Golden Dragons, most of the ones left in that area joined up with Intergang. They’re focused on turf wars in Chinatown, they wouldn’t bother defending the Eastern port.”

“That fits with our intel,” Tim says, trying not to sound annoyed. This started as his op, and he’d ruled out the Dragons from the very beginning. Bruce’d had barely a passing interest until Jason got involved, and now Tim has been demoted to pinch-hitter on his own case. He’ll deal, but after the year he’s had, it’s a little hard not to take it personally.

“The killers’ modus operandi ranges from shooting to stabbing, which suggests human suspects,” Bruce says. “Targeting families suggests the mob.”

“The Falcones used to control the whole east side,” Tim says thoughtfully. He’s surprised it never occurred to him. He’d been so focused on new territory feuds, he hadn’t stopped to think that it might be an old territory feud. Maybe he deserves to be a pinch-hitter. “Any chance they’re making a comeback?”

There’s a flurry of typing on Barbara’s end. “Funny you should mention them. We had five bodies from the Falcone family turn up over the past six months. Some of these could be accidental, but I tagged it as suspicious after the third one.”

“So, a rival family,” Tim says, slowly. He racks his brain for a list of crime families in Gotham’s history. Who’d even bother going after the Falcones these days? They haven’t been truly active in Gotham for over two decades, but, Tim supposes, some rivalries never die. “The Maronis are locked up….maybe the Odessa Mob? Could they be making moves?”

“Nightwing would know if they were expanding past Bludhaven,” Bruce says. Fair enough. Wouldn’t make sense for the Russians to stage a hostile takeover when they’re barely holding ground across the harbor, anyways. “Who are the victims from the Falcones?”

“That’s the weird part. They were all straight, as far as I can tell. One shoe store manager, two housewives, a scuba instructor, a graduate student, and an entrepreneur. Barely a drug charge between them.”

“Could they be unrelated?” Tim asks, glancing through the reports..

“No,” Bruce says decisively. “It’s too much of a coincidence. These murders are all connected.”

“I agree,” Barbara says. “Based on proximity alone, but combined with the destruction of the old hotel, it’s all adding up to something.”

Tim doesn’t argue. They’re right - if there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that coincidences are never just that in Gotham. The connection is there, they just need to find it.

“That hotel was Carmine Falcone’s crown jewel, back when he was in power,” Bruce says. “If the Falcone family is behind this, they could have been retaliating.”

“That’s a hell of a lot of bodies to drop just in retaliation,” Tim says doubtfully. “And to what end? If it is them, it has to be more than that.”

Barbara puts new footage on their screen. “Here’s what I pulled from last night’s traffic cams. Looks like the person who killed the baby’s parents is the same one who dropped her at the orphanage.”

Tim studies the grainy figure on the screen. They’re wearing a hood and limping slightly, but from the approximate size and shape, they appear to be -

“A female assailant,” Bruce says. “Not a pro. This person couldn’t have taken down a man like Reynolds.”

Tim stretches his arms over his head. “So, multiple killers.”

“Fits the mob angle. Give me an hour or two, and I’ll have an ID,” Barbara says. “Oracle out.”

Tim watches Bruce pull stills from the footage and run them against his video backlogs. On a separate screen, he watches Colin draw baby Danielle out of the Safe Surrender box, look around at the camera, and then hurry out of view.

“Red Robin, what exactly is going on over there?” Barbara asks quietly over the comm in his ear. She must have opened a private channel, because Bruce doesn’t show any indication he’s hearing her too.

“I’m gonna hit the training mat,” he says to Bruce. He gets no acknowledgement, which is more or less what he’s learned to expect.

“It’s been kind of a shitshow here,” he replies, once he’s out of earshot of Bruce. “What have you heard?”

“That Robin brought home a baby, and Red Hood adopted it, and now he’s moving back in to take care of it.”

“You’re pretty much caught up, then,” he says, stifling a laugh. “And Nightwing is helping, which is even weirder.”

“No shit,” she muses. “He’s helping Red Hood?”

“I guess? I was just with them, they’re kind of getting along, actually.”

“They had a decent rapport going when Nightwing took over as Big B,” Barbara says. “Robin wasn’t crazy about it. I think he wanted N all to himself.”

Tim considers this. “I always thought Robin didn’t like Hood because of his methods.”

“I’m not about to psychoanalyze Robin on a line I know he could hack if he wanted to,” Barbara says dryly. “But I’m sure that’s part of it. Hang on, B is lighting up the family line.”

Tim switches over. Bruce says, “We’re going to have to make some adjustments to patrols, while Danielle is in our care.”

“Black Bat and Batgirl are still in Florida,” Barbara says. “They should be wrapping up their case in the next day or two. I’ll put them on the South End when they get back.”

“Good,” Bruce says. “Signal should also be back in Gotham by then. Red Robin, you’ll need to put activities with the Titans on hold. I’ll have you covering the Northeast corner, including Crime Alley and the Bowery.”

“That’s my turf,” Jason snarls over the comm. “You can’t just go giving away my patrol. I gave you the East End, and look how that fucking turned out.”

“I wasn’t finished. Red Robin will cover those areas when Red Hood is otherwise occupied.”

Tim closes his eyes for a long second. Great. Now Jason will be gunning for him, again.

“Nightwing, your coverage of Bludhaven is non-negotiable. Robin will join you, temporarily, and fill in for you on the nights you need to be absent.”

“Really?” Dick sounds pleased. “Hey, Robin, did you hear that?”

“Of course I did,” Damian says. “Father, I accept this assignment.”

Unfair, Tim thinks, petulantly. He thinks Barbara’s probably right about Damian wanting Dick all to himself, but they all want Dick all to themselves. It’s complete bullshit that Jason and Damian, by far the least deserving, are the ones getting him.

“Oracle, we’ll need the Birds to fill in the gaps.”

Tim can almost hear Barbara rolling her eyes. “That’s what we’ve been doing, Batman. I’ll ask Huntress to keep her eyes on the Narrows. I’ve already got half my monitors dialed in to the East End. If anything happens there, I’ll be first to know.”

“Good,” Bruce says. “We’ll debrief again after tonight.”

There’s a long pause, and then Jason says, “Replace - Red Robin, we better talk if you’re taking my patrol tonight.”

Tim swallows. “Just so you know, I didn’t ask B to assign me.”

“No shit you didn’t. No one in their right mind would. No idea why he’s gone off the fucking deep end about this, like we haven’t dealt with way worse.” Jason sounds aggrieved. Tim can hear baby squealing noises in the background.

“Twenty bodies in one weekend isn’t nothing,” Barbara says. “This only happened because we were lax on patrol. No one was covering that area while Red Robin was gone.”

“I had informants on the ground,” Tim protests. “We were in touch.”

“It’s not your fault, Red,” Dick says immediately. “Oracle didn’t mean that. We should have been covering. It’s our bad, not yours.”

“I could have been covering,” Jason grumbles.

“Last time there were this many dead gangsters on the docks, you were covering.”

“Oh, fuck you, Boy Wonder.”

“Boys,” Oracle says, none too pleasantly. “I’m muting the family line now, so you’ll have to bicker like schoolgirls in person. Oracle out.”

Well, if he’s on the training mat anyways, he might as well get a workout in. Tim grabs his bo staff and scrolls through the training menus on his phone until he finds one that’ll thoroughly kick his ass. It’s stressful, having this many people in the manor. Tim doesn’t have a single clue how to act around a baby, much less how to act around Jason Todd with a baby.

Conner will find this hilarious, he thinks, whenever he gets back to Earth. Not the murders, obviously, but he’s always taken particular delight in Tim’s family drama. He’ll have to tell him about it next time they see each other - if they ever see each other - if Conner is even talking to him -

Tim shakes his head roughly. He’s been doing so well at not thinking about Conner, and truth be told, a hiatus from the Titans will probably do him a world of good on that front. He can’t take any more of Bart’s overcompensating, or Gar and Cassie’s whispering when they think he isn’t paying attention. At least when Bruce and Damian second-guess him, it’s not because they think he’s heartbroken, or whatever.

Because he’s not.

Probably.

The program starts, and then immediately ends when Tim takes a holographic missile to the chest. Crap. He hits the restart button, pushes everything else out of his mind. Dealing with his encyclopedia of dysfunctional relationships can wait. This, at least, he knows how to do.

***

[fanfictionaries]

The Seduction of Sirius Black - Part 1

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Sirius Black

Summary:

Hermione loves her boyfriend, but there’s just one little problem -- she’s hopelessly attracted to Sirius Black. 

Warnings: Swearing, Smut/18+ NSFW, Angst, Ron bashing (sorry) 

Author’s Note: Posting some old stuff! Honestly, editing it has been a nice lead back into really writing. Very cathartic! 

Also, apologies for the Ron bashing in this story. I know it’s a stupid trope and to a certain extent I really enjoy Ron as a character, buuuuut I’m using it as a cheap way to move plot. 

ALSO, this is obviously a AU where Sirius didn’t die in the Department of Mysteries. 

ALSO (and this is the last one I swear), I AM a big fan of Wolfstar but I also have daddy issues and find Sirius Black extremely attractive and this is my tumblr so I can write the stories I want I guess. Haha Not to mention, Sirius Black gives BIG bisexual energy.  

MASTERLIST

*** 

Hermione didn’t really know when it had happened – this attraction to Sirius Black. It wasn’t as if she had woken up one day with the sudden urge to jump across the table and shag the older wizard into the next life. The whole thing had occurred much more gradually than that, she supposed. However, despite all of the trivial aspects of her…situation, Hermione chose instead to focus purely on the fact that he was entirely off limits. For many reasons. There was no way anyone in her close-knit circle of friends would be okay with her becoming entangled with a man more than twice her age and who also happened to be her best friend’s god father. It would be unacceptable. It would be impractical. Most of all it would be highly inappropriate as she was currently dating her other best friend, Ronald Weasley.

She supposed the attraction was inevitable to a certain degree. At the beginning, nearly a year and half ago, things like physical attraction were far from her mind. She’d just started her new position at the Ministry, Harry and Ron were training to be Aurors, the war had just come to an end and thus her life was a whirlwind of people and places. But over time things slowed down. Ronald was stationed away on official Auror business more and more often, leaving very little time for him to visit her and when he did come back, he had to split his time between her and his large family. Harry, having waited for Ginny to finish her final year at Hogwarts, had gone and married her the summer after and for all intents and purposes abandoned her. Harry…

It was really all Harry’s fault. Or at least that’s what Hermione liked to think whenever she felt her heart skip and her pulse slip between her thighs in Sirius Black’s presence. It had been Harry’s idea for Hermione to move into Grimmauld Place with him and Sirius after the war. Family, it seemed, had taken an important role in everyone’s lives when Lord Voldemort fell for the final time. All of the Weasley children had moved back to their childhood home of the Burrow – even Charlie much to everyone’s great surprise and delight. Tonks and Remus moved in with her mother and father, Andromeda and Theodore, to bask in the cheer of their newborn baby Teddy. And Harry had moved in with Sirius. Everyone had felt the need to be closer than ever to the ones that they loved, and Hermione completely understood that need. In fact, if she had had a family to go to, she would have moved in with them as well. But her parents were still in Australia somewhere, the location even unknown to herself as she’d designed it that way. Harry, being fully aware of this fact, insisted that she move in with him and Sirius. Hermione had been fully prepared to get her own flat in London. But after a bit of prodding she’d accepted Harry’s offer, secretly grateful that her best friend was so kind and thoughtful. Now, she probably cursed him name at least five times a day.

Hermione had been happy for him and Ginny when they announced their engagement. She’d cried not only when Ginny asked her to be her maid of honor, but also when the two had said their ‘I do’s. However, Harry moved out of Grimmauld Place following their marriage and subsequently left her to live with Sirius Black all by herself. So now she sat in the quaint little kitchen of the Black home, sipping her morning tea, and trying incredibly hard to keep her attention on her book rather than glance up at the rugged wizard sitting across from her.

“Hmpf” Sirius let out the little sound of surprise before continuing, “Would you look at that. Sources say that while Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, announces no final decisions have been made in regard to the recent Magical Creature Equality Act proposed last month, there are certain voices in the Ministry that are persuading not only the members of the Wizengamot, but the Minister himself to vote yes for magical creature equality.” He read the words aloud, peaking over his paper at her and raising his eyebrows. “I wonder who those certain voices or voice is…” he mused humorously.

It was no secret that shortly after being appointed a position in the Ministry department of Magical Creatures, Hermione had gone about being a personal activist for Magical Creature rights. Merlin, she had written almost the entire Act herself. Her hand still cramped at the thought of the hours she spent in her office and the library at Grimmauld Place scribbling away with her quill.

“No idea,” Hermione responded, feigning ignorance but blushing all the same in embarrassment. She kept her eyes on the pages of her book but found no matter how many times she read and reread the same paragraph she couldn’t retain it. Slowly her eyes shifted to the man in front of her. His gaze was fixed on the paper and so she was free to take him in. He had just showered, his wavy brown hair hanging damp to his shoulders. It made him look, in her opinion, especially delectable that morning. Hermione felt herself blush even deeper at the lewd thoughts threatening to enter her mind before looking back down at her book and scolding herself.

“So, when is Ronald coming for a visit again? Need me to clear off any time soon?” Sirius asked, sparking up conversation after the long bout of silence.

“Unfortunately, he won’t be back till next month,” she sighed, ignoring the second half of Sirius’s question.

“Well that’s not too bad I suppose—” Sirius smiled warmly and set down his paper as he stood up “—It gives you plenty of time to focus on getting the Ministry on board with your Act before you’re…distracted.” Sirius added the last part with a teasing implication not lost on Hermione.

“My Act?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow jokingly as she stood up as well and took her teacup to the sink. She grabbed the sponge to begin washing up when Sirius took it from her hand.

“I can do the washing up. You’re going to be late for work. Besides, it’s not like I work or anything. Might as well do something productive today,” he stated dryly, turning on the tap.

“Hmm, yes. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. You’ve become quite the lay-about. When are you going to get a job and start contributing to the household?” Hermione asked cheekily.

“Lay-about? Need I remind you that this is my house that you live in, rent free. You’re lucky a kind old man like me has taken a liking to you, or you’d be on the streets, kitten,” Sirius said, flicking some water off his fingertips in her direction.

“More like taken pity on me—” Hermione shook her head “—and you’re far from an old man, Sirius. I swear, you’d like people to think you’re closer to eighty than twenty!” She exited the kitchen and slipped into her heels next to the front door.

“Mind picking up some milk on your way home, kitten? We’re almost out!” Sirius called out to her, ignoring her statement on his age. Hermione tried not to focus on the way her stomach flipped in response to Sirius using his nickname for her for a second time that morning.

“Sure thing!” she called back before exiting the front door and apparating the moment she hit the sidewalk.

Hermione found it very difficult to work that day. The summer heat had become abysmal, proving to be quite the sticky, humid season, and of course that meant the Ministry’s cooling charms were on the fritz. By the time the day was over, Hermione’s hair had grown three times its size. Catching her reflection in a Ministry window, Hermione had gasped at its state. Even she hadn’t known it could get that big. In addition, her silk blouse that she had tucked into a polyester pencil skirt had become damp and uncomfortable from the sweat that accumulated on her body throughout the day.  And even after casting multiple drying spells to herself and her clothes, there was still nothing she could do about her hair. To add to her physical discomfort, she also struggled with a mental discomfort as well. Ron had been plaguing her mind all day long.

Ronald Weasley. Her oldest friend, now boyfriend. It hadn’t been a shock to anyone when they had gotten together after the war had ended. It had almost been expected in fact. She’d liked him since third year and aside from his short tryst with Lavender Brown, it had been obvious they would be together. Hermione loved Ron, she really did, but he was gone so often. Gone often and when he was home things felt…off. His affection seemed to have waned and Hermione was left thinking that perhaps it had something to do with her. Every time he chose to kiss her cheek as opposed to her lips or pat her leg friendly instead of holding her hand Hermione felt a little blow to her confidence. Bitterly she thought of how he and Lavender had been all over each other sixth year. She certainly wouldn’t enjoy having Ron’s tongue shoved down her throat in broad daylight, but surely, it’d be nice to have him show a bit of affection. In the beginning he’d been much more enthusiastic. They would often sneak off for a cheeky snog and hands often lingered under tables. They’d even gone all the way. It had been romantic and sweet, and Ron had certainly enjoyed himself. Or at least she thought he had. But now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe she’d been rubbish at it and he didn’t know how to tell her. Maybe he just didn’t find her attractive anymore. She had put on a bit of weight in the past year and a half. Hermione figured it was for the best as she was no longer starving to death on the run from Voldemort and his Death Eaters. But now when she looked in the mirror her eyes focused for too long on the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the thickness of her thighs, and the softness of her stomach.

Despite this possibility, Hermione couldn’t help but feel guilty about her lustful thoughts involving Sirius. She often tried to reason with herself that it was perfectly normal to feel such base emotions. Everyone had them and as long as she didn’t act on them, she was fine. She was just lonely, and Sirius was there.

Resolving to speak with Ron about her concerns when he returned in a week, Hermione shook the troubling thoughts from her head and continued down Diagon Alley, intending to just pop by the small corner store at the end for some milk and maybe some ice-cream for later. She needed a small pick-me-up after the day she’d had. Jogging the last few steps to the corner store, Hermione pulled open the heavy door and sighed happily as the cooling charms inside enveloped her. She wiped her forehead with her arm and headed to the back of the store where the freezer section was. The store was practically deserted aside from a single witch staring at the ice pops with a heavy look of concentration. Hermione walked up next to her to stare at the ice-cream choices and smiled when she spotted the Rocky Road. It was Ron’s favorite.

“It’s a scorcher out there, innit?” commented the witch, her thick London accent coming through endearingly sweet. Hermione looked to her left and took in the girl. She was thin and tan with beautiful golden hair tied up into a long ponytail. She had a friendly, heart-shaped face and sparkly green eyes. Something about her seemed familiar – Hermione must have seen her somewhere before.

“I’m practically melting,” agreed Hermione, shaking her head, and grabbing the Rocky Road, thinking she would have that tonight rather than her usual Mint Chocolate-Chip.

“Any fun plans for the heat?” the pretty blonde asked casually, grabbing a box of grape ice pops and a carton of Rocky Road ice-cream as well.

“Not really. Probably just go home and cast as many cooling charms as possible—” Hermione crinkled her nose and quirked the corner of her mouth in a wry grin “—Yourself?”

“Me and my boyfriend are planning a nice night in. He’s just got back from assignment with the Ministry. He’s an Auror, so we’re doing a bit of celebrating before he has to go back.” The girl smiled, her voice heavy with adoration.

“How nice! My boyfriend’s an Auror as well.”

“Really?” the girl asked, eyes lighting up.

“Yes, he’s actually away on assignment right now. I wonder if they know—” Hermione had been about to ask if perhaps their respective partners were familiar with each other when a voice called out from the end of the aisle.

“Babe, they didn’t have the crisps you like, but—” Basket hanging from one hand and a bag of Salt and Vinegar crisps in the other, Ron stopped dead in his tracts at the sight of Hermione. His eyes grew wide, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “’Mione?”

Hermione stared back too, but unlike Ron she was unable to find her voice. Instead she just stared. Ron was back from assignment? Why hadn’t he told her? What was he doing there? Why was he calling this girl babe when—

“Wait—‘Mione? As in Hermione Granger?” the witch asked, taking a step back from Hermione and towards Ron. She looked at Hermione with wide, incredulous eyes. “Oh my gosh, I feel so foolish. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.”

Hermione looked on in confusion as she watched the witch hook her arm in Ron’s and smile politely back at her.

“Hermione,” Ron said her name again, but Hermione was too busy taking the two of them in. She felt like an absolute fool. The carton of Rocky Road slipped from her fingers and landed on the linoleum floor of the shop with a dull thud. Then, in a panic, Hermione turned on the spot and fled, hearing Ron’s call after her mix with a small ‘Oh my’ from the pretty blonde witch.

There were a million places Hermione could have gone. There were a million places Hermione should have gone. All of them much better choices than the seedy little muggle bar she found just outside of Diagon Alley. She should have gone home. Or to Harry. Or to Ginny. The smart choice was to tell someone what had happened and to talk it out. But instead, she spent the next four hours doing her best to get well and truly pissed. Drinking wasn’t like Hermione and certainly the first glass of whiskey had been hard to get down. But she found after the first two, she hardly tasted the biting liquid anymore and the dulling effect of the alcohol was just so nice.

It was just past ten in the evening when Hermione left the bar, tipping this way and that way in her heels and feeling exceptionally light-headed. The night had cooled down and the sun had just set, allowing Hermione to feel some semblance of relief as she walked down the street to a nearby alleyway. It probably wasn’t the best idea to apparate when she was so inebriated, but Hermione wasn’t really thinking in that moment. She just knew she didn’t want to walk. Thankfully, she managed to land, although very ungracefully, in front of Grimmauld Place without splinching herself.

“Shit,” Hermione whispered followed by a snort of laughter when she tripped over the threshold after finally getting her key in the keyhole. The world had gone all wobbly it had taken her ages to find the right key and get it in the lock. Closing the front door as quietly behind her as possible Hermione found herself overtaken by the strong urge to laugh again. Hermione Granger was well and truly sloshed and for some reason she found that to be very funny.

“Hermione?”

Hermione jumped at her name, letting out a little shriek as she turned around and found Sirius standing in the hall. The hall was dark, but light streamed out through the doorway to the kitchen illuminating him in long shadows where he stood, arms crossed.

“Sirius—” Hermione held a hand to her heart, feeling it beat wildly in her chest. “I didn’t think you’d still be up.”

“It’s past eleven, where have you been?” There was a strange tone to his voice, like he was angry with her but also like he was speaking to a small, frightened animal.

Past eleven? How long had it taken her to unlock the front door?

“I was—” Hermione tripped on the rug, catching herself on the wall and letting out another little laugh “—I stopped and had a little post-work drink.” Her words were slurred, even to her own ears and she laughed again, holding a hand over mouth in embarrassment. “Well, maybe one or two post-work drinks.”

“Are you drunk, kitten?” Sirius asked, sounding amused now.

Hermione continued down the hall, getting closer and closer to Sirius. Each step was a new struggle. A trip here, a wobble there. But Hermione didn’t care. In fact, she felt…good. Free almost. “Maaaaybe,” she drawled, giggling like a small child as she closed the last bit of distance and swayed before Sirius.

He stared down at her, arms now uncrossed as he seemed to be trying to figure out whether he should be amused or concerned. Hermione’s mouth went dry. Now that she was closer, she could see him more clearly and Merlin did she see him. There was a shadow of facial hair across his square jaw, and down his neck. Hermione found herself wondering what it felt like – whether it was soft or rough. Gaze traveling down the thickness of his neck she found his upperhalf bare, the only thing covering his torso, an open robe revealing the inky black of his tattoos. She loved his tattoos. They made him look dangerous. Mysterious. Hot. His chest was free of hair, the lean muscles dipping low and high like delicious hills and valleys she’d so like to explore. In fact…she reached out a hand, her body working opposite of a clear head as her fingertips tentatively touched the smooth planes of Sirius’ chest. He was warm.

He went sort of rigid under her touch, but Hermione barely noticed. Instead she was too entranced by the feel of him. Had she ever touched him before? She didn’t think she had. Her gazed traveled further south and with it, so did her fingertips. Ghosting down the center of his chest from sternum to bellybutton, she blushed furiously at the sight of thick dark hair starting at his navel and disappearing below a pair of pajama pants that sat dangerously low on his hips. She swallowed thickly, her breath coming in thick hot puffs as her hand traveled further, barely brushing the thick hair before a hand shot out and grasped her wrist.

Hermione gasped, looking up suddenly into the stormy eyes of Sirius Black before her. He lifted her wrist to shoulder height, pulling her forward slightly as he did it. The distance between them closed even more.

“Kitten.” It was a warning. Hermione knew it. But for some reason her whiskey-idled brain didn’t care. She liked the risk behind his tone. Her body practically purred at the sound of his special nickname just for her – the irony of that sentiment lost on her in the moment.

“Yes, Sirius?” she responded, her voice coming out deep and breathy and dare she say seductive? Hermione had never sounded like that before. She kind of liked it. Looking up at him with her best attempt at innocent eyes, she waited for him to say something.

Sirius stared down at her, his face a stony mask, but a war was raging behind his eyes. Hermione’s gaze flickered from the stormy grey of his eyes to the fullness of his lips and back up. With a deep breath and a long swallow that made his Adam’s apple bob in a mouth-watering way, Sirius finally spoke.

“You should go to bed.”

Hermione huffed, a bit like a petulant child but not quite as bratty. “What if I don’t want to?”

“It wasn’t really a suggestion.” His tone was dark, and it sent a surprising thrill through Hermione’s body. Her center throbbed. Her breath hitched. Maybe it was all in her head – this thick tension between them. Or maybe it wasn’t. It was certainly taboo, this…energy radiating between them. But Hermione didn’t really care because in that moment she made the sudden realization that she could have this. She could have this and not be the bad guy. Ron was the bad guy. All those months of guilt for feeling basic human attraction and he was off shagging some beautiful, leggy blonde. But now…she didn’t have to feel guilty anymore.

Before she could stop herself, Hermione lifted up onto her toes and closed the distance between them. Their lips pressed together for a moment, firm and warm. When Sirius failed to respond, Hermione’s stomach dropped, and she made the mortifying realization that he didn’t want to kiss her. She was just beginning to pull away, an apology poised on her lips when the grip on her wrist vanished and reappeared around her waist, pulling her in tightly as Sirius’s lips claimed her own.

It all happened very quickly. A meshing of lips and teeth and tongue that left her hot, sticky, and out of breath. Before she knew it, she was being pushed up against the wall of the hallway, her back and head hitting the plaster hard, but she did not care. The only thing she could focus on was the feeling of Sirius’s lips on her own and the hot cloud of their shared breath.

His hands remained wrapped tightly around her torso, gripping the material of her blouse in his fists, but Hermione’s hands were everywhere. She wanted to touch all of him, and she was determined to do so. It wasn’t until her hands wound themselves around his neck and threaded up into his hair, gripping the strands vice-like, that Sirius broke. He let out a ragged groan before moving his hands from around her waist to her front. Grabbing the material of her blouse in each hand, he gave a great tug, not even bothering to try and unbutton it. Hermione gasped at the sound of ripping fabric and the pop of her blouse buttons. Cool air brushing her sensitive skin and the hitch in his breath made Hermione acutely aware that she was now bare to him from the waist up. She remembered the bra she’d chosen to wear that day – a thin and see-through number that cupped her breasts perfectly but left little to the imagination. He was kissing her neck then, sucking and biting in ways that left her breathless and needy. His hands covered her breasts, kneading and stroking in a gentle way that contrasted so strikingly with how he was attacking her neck.

The only thing Hermione could do in that moment was hold on for dear life. Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest and when Sirius’s mouth traveled south to envelope of her nipples, she thought that actually had. She let out a low, needy moan and arched into him. Feeling bold, she slid a hand from his hair, down the firm planes of his chest and to the front of his pajama bottoms. At the feel of his hard length she whined, high and breathy. Her hand had been there for barely a moment before Sirius tore away from her, distancing himself the width of the hallway. Hermione leaned against the wall behind her, needing the stability of it to stay upright due to her still drunk nature and the shaky state of her legs.

“What?” she asked, looking at the panting man across from her with confusion.

Sirius stared at her for a moment, chest falling up and down as pieces of his thick dark hair hung in his face. Hermione tried to focus but the only thing she could think of was how much she wanted to brush that hair from his gorgeous features so she could see him more clearly.

“You’re drunk. You should go to bed,” said Sirius, his voice low and gravely and filled with an edge of regret.

“But—” Hermione hesitated, confused at his response “—I don’t understand.” She crossed the distance between them, kissing up the older wizard’s neck. Did he think she didn’t want this?

“Kitten.” Sirius’s voice was strained, but he still managed to grab Hermione’s wandering hands and push her away again. Hermione gasped at his rough touch as he pulled her off of him. “I said you should go to bed.”

Hermione stared up at him in shock for a moment before a surprising rage filled her. Was she not good enough for him? Was she not pretty enough? Did he not enjoy what they’d been doing? The hot sting of angry tears reached the inner corners of her eyes and she tore out of Sirius’s grip before stomping up the stairs towards her room with a huff.

Part 2

[caffeinatedbraincell]

I’m back on my bullshit with more TOG fluff, have fun :)

Read on AO3

Joe stumbled into the kitchen, soaking wet and wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He looked around frantically before making a beeline toward the countertop. He lunged for the notebook lying there.

Behind him, Nicky yelped. “Yusuf!”

Joe turned around to find his husband carrying a package of flour in his arms, which he’d apparently been retrieving from the pantry while Joe barged into his workspace.

“Hmm?” Joe said distractedly, already starting to feel the lines slipping. Damnit, why did the perfect words for his poems always only occur to him in the shower? Meter, alliteration, emotion… he’d had it all at the tip of his tongue moments ago. He just needed to write it down before he-

“Hayati, you better have a good reason for standing dripping wet and half-naked in my kitchen. There’s soapy water everywhere! You’ve made such a mess, Joe, and I just mopped…”

Nicky’s lamentations continued, and Joe tried desperately to listen while mentally reciting what was left of the lines he’d composed in the shower.

“Joe?” Nicky’s fingers snapped impatiently in front of his face. “Are you even listening to me?”

The last vestiges of his beautifully crafted words evaporated from his brain, and Joe sighed, shoulders slumping forward. “I’m sorry, Nicky. I’ll clean it up.”

He turned to grab a spare dish towel from the cabinet, shivering slightly as a wayward breeze hit his damp skin. Before he could take two steps, Joe felt a gentle hand around his wrist.

Nicky maneuvered the flour package onto the table and leveled him with a mortifyingly discerning look. “What happened, love?”

Joe remained silent, unsure of how to go about explaining the absurdity of his current presence in the kitchen. The whole endeavor seemed rather stupid in retrospect. And it wasn’t like he had a line or two of breathtaking poetry to show for it, either.

Nicky’s eyes widened a little at his hesitation. “Are you alright, Joe? Are you hurt?” He ran his hands fretfully up and down Joe’s arms and chest, feeling for traces of an injury. Joe’s eyes snapped up guiltily, and he took hold of Nicky’s wrists and brought them to his lips.

“I am alright, amore. I mean it. Not at all hurt. Please do not worry.”

“You’re trembling. Go dry off and wear something warm, I’ll take care of the floor. Then you can tell me what’s going on.”

Minutes later, Joe emerged from their room in one of Nicky’s large, fleece-lined hoodies. He found Nicky in the kitchen, wringing out a towel into the sink. As soon as he saw Joe, Nicky walked over and pressed a warm mug of hot cocoa into his hands.

“Let’s sit on the couch?”

Joe nodded, following his husband to the living room and curling up next to him on the cushions. A small blaze was starting to catch in the fireplace. Outside, rain poured with a vengeance. Nicky had closed the window but left the curtains open. Joe smiled to himself. He had never met anyone who loved the rain as much as his Nicoló.

“Drink, hayati. We can’t have you catching a cold. See, I even added those tiny marshmallows you like.”

Joe took a large sip from the cup, sighing softly as the chocolate-covered notes of nutmeg and cinnamon floated over his tongue. He nuzzled closer to Nicky, feeling a little overcome with warmth and love.

Nicky wrapped his arms around Joe and pulled him closer. “So, are you going to tell me what prompted you to run out here mid-shower in the cold of winter?”

“I thought of the right words,” Joe mumbled into Nicky’s holiday-green jumper.

“Hmm?”

“For a poem I was writing. I’ve been struggling for days with a particular section and it suddenly came to me while showering. I wanted to write it down before I forgot.”

A comfortable silence blanketed them for several minutes. Joe took another sip of his drink, savoring it gratefully.

“You didn’t, though.”

“What?” Joe asked.

“You didn’t write anything down. You came into the kitchen, but you never even opened your notebook.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot the words. They never stay for long.”

“Was it because I yelled at you?”

“No! No, amore, that was well-deserved. And you didn’t yell at me, you just…emphatically expressed your displeasure at having to mop again. Which is fair, honestly.”

Nicky chuckled, and Joe felt his heart fill with warmth all over again. He set the empty cocoa mug aside and tenderly pressed his lips to Nicky’s.

The next morning, Joe found a whole set of brand-new children’s bath crayons in the shower, stacked neatly next to their soaps and shampoos.

___

The crayons turned out to be a life-changing convenience. This became clear just three weeks after they arrived, when Joe found himself in a position to send a completed manuscript of his current poetry book to his publisher ahead of the deadline.

“This has literally never happened before,” he told Nicky in awe. “I’m always late, if anything. You are a genius, my love, thank you so much for the pre-Christmas present.”

Nicky all but preened. “Had you told me earlier, I would have gotten the crayons for you ages ago.”

“Ah,” Joe replied a little bashfully, “I didn’t actually know such a thing existed until you got them.”

It was when Joe returned from a brief meeting with his publisher the following day that he and Nicky had their first actual fight in several months. It started, like most of their fights, with empty stomachs and a grocery trip oversight.

“Joe, there’s no fresh garlic in this bag!”

“There was none at the store. Use the minced garlic in the fridge.”

“What?!”

Joe rolled his eyes. “It’s the same thing, Nicky. Better, in fact, since it’s saving you the trouble of having to chop it yourself.”

“Have you ever heard of making roasted garlic cloves using minced garlic?”

“I have not,” Joe conceded. “We should make something else.”

Nicky knew he was being impractical. Obviously, there was nothing Joe could have done if they were out of stock at the store. But Nicky had been planning this dish for days, and had already promised Nile he would send her some as part of his ongoing campaign to refute her claim that “any form of garlic except garlic bread is gross.”

There was no way Joe could have known about that, either, but Nicky was in no mood to admit any such thing.

“Joe, you had one job! I gave you a grocery list!”

Joe turned from where he was stocking the refrigerator, brow furrowed. “I don’t know what exactly you expect me to do about the store being out of garlic.”

“I don’t know, maybe check another store? Was that the only grocery store in this city?”

“Nicky, I think you should go to your room.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s just…you’re hungry. And you’re clearly not prepared to cook without fresh garlic. So let me do the cooking, and you, uh, do something else. Outside of the kitchen.”

“Are you kicking me out of my kitchen?”

“Our kitchen, madre de dio, Nicky! I’m trying to help you!”

“Maybe you could help me by actually getting the stuff I asked you to get from the store!”

“You know what, if you need whole garlic so urgently, get it yourself. It’s dark and below freezing outside. There is no way I’m wandering from store to store at this hour to fulfill this baseless whim of yours.”

That, Nicky knew, was a completely justified response to his unreasonable anger. But it hurt nevertheless.

“Fine,” he whispered, grabbing his coat and storming out the front door before Joe could see the tears prickling in his eyes.

Joe stared at the door, astonished. Part of him wanted desperately to follow Nicky outside. Of course he could check a couple more stores. If Nicky genuinely wished for something, Joe would go to the ends of the Earth, scour Heaven and Hell, to get it for him. No amount of ego was worth knowing his beloved was out there, hungry and alone, in the frigid wind.

But Joe was also well aware that he wasn’t at fault here. And Nicky, his Nicky, rarely reacted like this to their disagreements; perhaps he just needed some time for himself. It wouldn’t be right for Joe to impose his company when his husband clearly didn’t want it.

Joe sighed in frustration. A hot shower would clear his head, he hoped, heading for their bedroom.

Twenty minutes after he had stormed out, Nicky was coming around to the realization that this had been a profoundly stupid idea. Moments after leaving the house, he had realized that he’d left the car keys behind. Foolishly, he’d boarded a bus for downtown, too irked to return home. Now, with the bus routes closed for the night and taxis staying off the road as snow clouds threatened the city, Nicky quietly admitted to himself that he was stranded.

The first weak snowflakes began to fall. Then the wind picked up, blowing several icy droplets into his face. Nicky shivered. Fuck this, he thought, pulling out his phone. His pride wasn’t worth causing Joe to worry, and it definitely wasn’t worth getting sick from the cold and creating loads of extra work for his husband. He was going to call Joe, apologize profusely, and beg him to come pick him up.

At their home, Joe let the steaming water soak through to his tired bones as he scrawled passionately on the shower walls. He was a little hurt and, if he was being honest, more than a little worried. But for once Nicky wasn’t here for him to talk to, so he threw his words at the wall in brightly colored crayon instead.

He almost didn’t hear his cell phone ring. Contorting his upper body out of the shower, he wiped his hands on his towel and reached around for the phone in his pants’ pocket. The called ID flashed his husband’s name. Joe picked up without hesitation.

“Hello?”

“Joe, I fucked up. I’m s- so sorry. I should never- never have spoken to you like that, h- hayati. Please- please forgive me.”

Over the line, Joe could hear Nicky’s teeth chattering as he struggled to get the words out. Joe shut the water off and clambered out of the shower.

“Nicky, what happened? Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m f- fine. It’s just cold.”

“Come home. Please.”

“Yeah, that’s- that’s the problem. I took the bus here. The c- car keys…”

Joe had put the phone on speaker and was already getting dressed. He shouldered into a coat and seized a large throw from their bed, striding into the living room.

“I’m coming. Where are you?”

“Uh, Mira Mesa Transit Station. S- sorry, kind of far.”

“Nowhere in the universe is too far.”

“Joe-”

“Just sit tight, I’m on my way.”

Joe drove like a madman. Luckily, no one else was insane enough to be out in this imminent blizzard, so at least the roads were clear. In just under ten minutes, he reached the station.

A figure sat huddled under the overhang. Joe barely managed to stop the car before jumping out.

“Nicoló!”

Nicky struggled to his feet. “Joe, grazie a dio-”

“Shhh, amore mio, I’ve got you,” Joe soothed, pulling a shivering Nicky towards the car and bundling him into the passenger’s seat. Once he'd climbed in himself, Joe turned up the heater and divested Nicky of his too-thin, snow-soaked windbreaker. “Wear this,” he coaxed, whipping his own dry jacket off and wrapping it around Nicky’s shoulders.

“No, hayati-”

“Shh, love, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Joe wrapped the throw over the jacket, dusting the snow from Nicky's collar and tucking the blanket in. The whole way back, he drove with one hand on the wheel, intertwining the other with Nicky’s and rubbing his knuckles to warm him up.

“Shower,” Joe decided as soon as they stepped into their home. “You’re so cold, my heart. Go stand under warm water until you can feel your toes and fingers again. I’m going to make us some hot soup, okay?” Joe leaned forward and kissed Nicky’s nose gently.

Nicky nodded, too cold and tired to insist on helping. He had an inkling sense that Joe might still be irritated with him, after all. It would not be undeserved.

He made his way to their bedroom, draping Joe’s jacket over a bedpost and discarding his own clothes as he stepped into shower. Exhaling deeply, he turned his back to the stream of hot water- and froze.

A red bath crayon lay fallen on the floor, clearly left behind in haste. Joe must have been showering when I called, Nicky thought with a pang of guilt. But what had caught his attention was the shower wall in front of him. There, written in his beloved husband’s flowy cursive, was a poem.

If I could only read your heart When your lips cannot translate I wouldn’t let it break, my love Yet if it does Take mine An eternity alone I’ll wait.

The warm water poured down Nicky’s back, relaxing his aching muscles even as tears sprung into his eyes at Joe’s tender, longing words. Nicky stared and stared until the steam blurred the writing beyond perception.

A knock at the bathroom door snapped him out of his reverie.

“Nicky? Are you alright? Almost done?”

Nicky cleared his throat. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

He shut off the water and dried off. He found the bedroom empty, and slipped into the pajamas and fluffy sweatshirt that Joe must have laid out for him earlier. Dry and warm and very cozy, Nicky felt his eyes well up again at the care Joe put into something as minor as picking out some clothes.

Even during their worst fights, Nicky never doubted their love for each other; their hearts had been one far too long for any such lingering uncertainties. But it never ceased to amaze him how quickly Joe forgave. How despite taking Nicky’s hurtful words to heart, Joe went above and beyond to make sure he didn’t suffer.

He took a deep breath to regain his composure, and walked out. But the moment he entered the kitchen, the fragrance of creamy red pepper tomato bisque reached his nose, and he very nearly broke down in tears again. His favorite soup. It was a recipe he and Joe had perfected together through the years. Watching Joe quietly ladle it into two bowls, Nicky felt something clench in his chest.

“Hayati.”

Joe spun around. “Nicky! Are you feeling better, my heart?”

“I am.”

“Oh, good. Are you, uh…” Joe’s eyes flickered to the floor. “Are you still angry with me about the garlic thing?”

Nicky crossed the distance between them in two strides and threw himself into his husband’s arms. Joe stumbled back, a little startled, but quickly pulled Nicky close and buried his face in Nicky’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Nicky.”

“No. No, Yusuf, please. You did nothing wrong. It is I who should beg your forgiveness, having treated you as I did. You've shown me nothing but kindness, and I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

Joe shook his head in protest, nuzzling his nose into Nicky’s neck.

“I saw what you wrote in the shower,” he continued. Joe stilled in his arms. “I- I don’t know if you meant for me to see, but…”

“I forgot to erase it. But everything I write is for you, Nicolò. It’s yours.”

“It was beautiful. Beautiful, and heartbreaking. Forgive me, my all. Forgive me for raising my voice at you, for making you feel alone. Forgive me for walking away insteading of talking to you. And forgive me for dragging you out into that storm at this hour to come searching for me, it was beyond cruel to make you drive so far-”

Joe pulled back, eyes round with tears, and gently pressed his palm to Nicky’s lips.

“Stop it. Please. Don’t apologize for calling me when you needed me. Where would I rather be than at your side? I meant it, earlier. Nowhere in the universe is too far.”

Nicky held Joe’s hand to his lips and kissed his palm. A tear slipped down Joe’s cheek as he swallowed a sob. Nicky wrapped a hand behind his neck and rubbed soothing circles into the tense muscles there. After a few minutes, Joe's breathing evened out, and he lifted his eyes to gaze at Nicky with unguarded adoration. It would be so easy to just let this go, Nicky thought. But the knowledge that he had hurt Joe stood like a wall of glass between them, and Nicky felt it would drive him mad.

“Joe, I- I need to hear you say it. If you forgive me, that is. I don’t know, tonight has just been a lot. Please, hayati, I-”

“You are forgiven. You are always forgiven.”

Nicky exhaled, feeling the glass wall shatter. He kissed Joe’s temple softly. “Thank you, my love.”

Joe tilted his head slowly, dragging his lips up Nicky’s jaw until he could capture his mouth in a melting kiss. Nicky responded with ardent devotion, backing Joe up against the refrigerator and holding him there as they kissed again and again. It was only when he grew light-headed from lack of oxygen that Nicky pulled back. Still, Joe whimpered at the loss of warmth, reaching out for his husband.

“Nicky…”

“Joe, you have no idea how much I want to stand here kissing you all night. But you’ve prepared this wonderful dinner. I’d hate for it to get cold.”

Joe laughed, a joyous thing that swept Nicky off his feet just like it had the very first time he'd heard it.

“Alright, let’s eat. But after dinner we’ll cuddle on the couch under the heated blanket and I’ll hold you to your promise.”

Nicky smiled fondly, unable to help leaning in and placing one more kiss at the corner of his beloved’s lips. “Please do.”

[winterxwidow27]

Star Crossed Lovers

                                       1. Longing. 

                              A WinterWidow Drabble 

                                   Natasha’s POV. 

 Have you ever felt so alone, that your whole world feels as if you were sinking and you couldn’t find anything to hold onto? That was Natasha Romanoff for most of her life, for as long as she could remember she has been forced to do things she never thought that she would be able to do. But it's strange the lengths we will go to if it meant our survival, she did everything they asked of her and after the first couple of years she learned not to ask questions; asking questions was bad in her line of work and she was conditioned to shoot first – always. All of her days melted into one so she had no idea how long she has been doing this, her routine never changed and she spent everyday training or just pushing herself to see what it would take for her body to break but sadly it never did because I guess if she can feel pain that means she’s not broken right? She has the ability to feel, to bleed. I guess you could say she was on a path of self-destruction and for a while she was sloppy in her work, hoping to get caught or hopefully killed on the field. The higher ups in the KGB noticed a change in her and decided to push my training even more, they hired another assassin to come work with the girls in the red room but she was first to meet them.  

So after several hours of her practicing her American and English accent it was time to go and hit the gym, they made the girls wear the most impractical outfits so they would always be combat ready so most of the time they would be wearing evening gowns and high heels and today was no different. A sleek black number she could barely breathe in yet alone fight and six inch stiletto heels that were hard to even walk in and she would struggle until the fight or flight mode kicked in. Entering the gymnasium she was the only one there yet but always prided herself on being early and organised. Time always moved so slow in this place so to try and distract herself she started throwing punches and kicks at one of the several punching bags hanging from the rafters. Maybe about fifteen minutes later she heard footsteps that triggered all of her training, her fists pulling up to protect her face but he was too fast and a swift kick to the stomach knocked her to the floor and made her gasp for breath. It was exhilarating, a small smile must of appeared across her lips without her knowing and exposing the fact she was enjoying this.  

We continued to spar, he didn’t have a mark on him even though I'm sure I got several clean shots to his face, maybe the mask he was wearing over his mouth protected him somehow? His eyes observed my every move but he never spoke or gave me direction. I had to learn to adapt to his fighting style, he was a hard hitter and my usual training was much different but I held my own. It wasn’t until he managed to get me in a head lock, I felt the coldness of metal but never expected that to be his arm, he released me just before I lost consciousness and I finally got to look at him properly. My eyes scanned his body, scanning the threat stood before me and I tried not to focus on his arm but it wasn’t like anything I had ever seen before but I could tell something about him was different – beside the arm. He still hadn’t spoken a word to me so while I rubbed my neck in the hope to prevent bruising I decided to speak, praise him if you will. “Where did you learn how to fight like that? No one usually gets the upper hand with me.” It might of sounded obnoxious but it was true, Natasha Romanoff was on a different calibre to every other girl here. Except maybe Yelena. It looked like he was about to finally respond but someone else called him over in Russian. They called him soldier and just like that he was gone. 

That night it was harder than usual to sleep, not only the faces of her past haunted her – the visions of the fire and the screams of people she could no longer remember but her entire body ached which was different for her. After several hours she finally fell asleep from pure exhaustion but the air raid alarm was blaring to wake the girls up at 5am ready for another day of training the perfect assassins, who suspects a beautiful girl to be their end? Breakfast was sloppy porridge oats that made her gag but the punishment for not finishing her meal ensured that everyone cleaned their plate. Then it was time to hit the showers, the only time the girls were not under some form of surveillance but of course these were limited to fifteen minutes. Natasha stood underneath the warm water, letting it soothe her bruised flesh from the night before and she could hear some of the others gossip about the new trainer, she just listened. She learned his name was James and that he was a cold blooded��killer but part of her thought that no one is born like that, maybe he was like her? Maybe he was forced into this lifestyle? Another alarm went off and the water shut off automatically, thankfully she had managed to rinse off her hair while getting lost in her thoughts.  

It was dark now, everyone was getting ready for bed but she heard a guard call her by her last name, that’s how she knew it was important. She nodded over to him and was told she was needed in the gym. Had he returned? This time she skipped the ridiculous dress and heels and went in just some yoga pants and a sports bra, she could put up an equal fight now or so she thought. When she entered the room he was there again, his eyes still fixated on her but no words. He caught sight of the bruises on her abdomen which he had given her and if she didn’t know any different she could swear she saw a flash of regret in his eyes until he just went right back to sparring. She had managed to wrap her legs around his arm and get in more punches to his face but he just slammed her against a wall to get her to break the hold and it worked, all of the air being forced out of her body again she laughed a little. He didn’t like that and his metal hand wrapped itself tightly around her throat, cutting off her air supply instantly and she was fading fast, she managed to mumble something.

 “James..” He dropped her instantly, his face full of confusion and while she coughed a couple of times he just watched her. Like an alien learning about a new species, his curiosity was peeked with the redheaded female. Natasha finally dragged herself back to her feet, standing before him but his tall frame overshadowed her. “That’s your name right? James?” He turned away from her then, left some distance between them before she finally heard him speak, his voice fit his whole aesthetic – cold and calculated.  “I don’t know who that is anymore.” Those words seemed more vulnerable than he probably realised, it pulled at something deep inside Natasha. Something that the KGB had spent years burying. She slowly approached him again but rather than speaking more and pushing a subject she knew he didn’t want to discuss she gently touched his metal arm, just showing a single second of understanding before they went right back to sparring. She always gave as good as she got but James gave her the fight of a lifetime. At one point she managed to get the upper hand, he seemed to get distracted at the mere mention of his name again which allowed Natasha to jump onto his shoulders and use her own body as leverage to flip James over and onto the floor before she pinned him down too. Her red locks dangling in front of her face as she smugly smirked down at him. “C’mon darling. You’ve got to be ready for anything.” He quickly over powered her, pinning her down against the wooden flooring, the bang echoing around the whole room. Her eyes glanced up at him and she watched as he removed his mask – he was breathtakingly handsome and she felt her breath hitch but hopefully she hid it well. “I’m ready, Natasha.” For some reason her name sounded so much better coming from his lips and without warning he got off her, put the mask back on just in time for his keeper to come and get him again just like the night before.  

[eldritchsurveys]

984.

1. When was the last time someone saw you naked? >> That’s a good question. Sparrow sees me in various states of undress sometimes, but I don’t remember the last time I was fully naked long enough to be seen by anyone. The only time I’m nude is when I’m in the shower or putting on moisturiser directly after said shower (which I do in my room).

2. If you could bring someone back from the dead and spend an hour with them, who would it be and what would you do/say? >> I don’t want to do this. I wouldn’t want to do that to the person, either, like... that sounds traumatic as fuck. (Now, if it were an Inworld type of situation, that’d be way different.)

3. What is the greatest loss you’ve endured? >> Various aspects of myself, I guess. But maybe they’re not truly lost. I have no way of knowing right now.

4. How would you describe your current mood? >> Neutral. I am rarely in an actual mood of any sort when I get this question, obviously -- I tend to only do surveys when I’m in this state, because it’s hard to focus on survey questions (or anything, really) if I’m actively having an emotion.

5. When was the last time you did something you were embarrassed by? >> I don’t remember.

6. What was the last thing you lied about? >> I don’t know, lying isn’t something I normally do -- unless lying by omission counts, because I don’t say literally everything that I’m thinking or tell everyone literally everything about a situation. Or whatever.

7. Where is your favorite place to have sex? >> Inworld.

8. What is your earliest memory? >> I have a vague impression of being on the floor of a dog breeder’s house? When we got my childhood dog Roxie, I guess.

9. Do you ever drink or get high alone? >> I often drink alone just because I’m in the house alone during the times when I’m most likely to drink. I like to just vibe, and not have to worry about “putting on my human suit” or whatever. Sometimes I like to be weird and dreamy or dance-y and vibrant when I’m intoxicated and I like to have space to do that.

10. What type of a drunk are you? >> I don’t know, I haven’t been drunk in a long time. I think at this point in my life I’m probably just a sleepy, cranky drunk. Which is partly why I don’t drink nearly enough to get there, lol.

11. What song (or a few songs, whatever) means a lot to you and why? >> Death is the Road to Awe means a lot to me because The Fountain as a whole means a lot to me and the music is a big part of that whole yarn-ball of meaningfulness. It’s something I really can’t explain. The feelings I have about the movie and the song are on the “this is actually kind of painful in its intensity” level of emotional connection.

12. When was the last time you revealed your feelings for someone? Were they accepted or rejected? >> I don’t remember. Revealing my feelings isn’t a common activity here in Mordredland, as I’m sure is obvious, and I rarely have any remarkable (or share-able) feelings about people anyway.

13. What was the reason behind your last visit to the hospital? >> I think the last time I was in a hospital was when Sparrow’s sister had her child.

14. How do you tend to deal with a breakup? >> ---

15. What is the “worst” drug you’ve done? Are there any you will never try, or any you want to try? >> I don’t classify drugs this way, so I don’t know how to answer this question. The drug I know I will never try is crack, and a drug I am interested in trying is shrooms.

16. What is something you’ve done that you truly regret? >> ---

17. What does it mean to you to be a good person? Do you feel you are a good person? >> I am uninterested in the “good person” designation. I just want to be valuable to and loved by a few people, maybe. That’d be nice.

18. What is your philosophy on life/how do you generally choose to live or conduct yourself? >> I don’t think I have an overall life philosophy, because that seems terribly impractical at best. Life is so complex. Maybe that’s a philosophy -- rejoice in and value the complexity of life. *shrug* 

19. Do you view animals as being just as important as people? Why or why not? >> Hmm. I think a living thing should be allowed to live out its life and not be abused or willfully subjected to conditions that disrupt its quality of life. That’s really it, though.

20. When was the last time you were up all night and why? >> I don’t remember the last time that happened.

21. What is the worst thing you’ve done to yourself? What is the worst thing someone else has done to you? >> I don’t know what the worst thing I’ve done to myself is, but one not-great thing I’ve done to myself is become a chronic self-injurer. One not-great thing someone else has done to me is, well, I don’t know, physically abuse me repeatedly?

22. What is the most personal thing you’re willing to reveal? >> I’m not sure.

23. What made you stop talking to the last person you cut out of your life? >> The fact that he emotionally abused me, probably. That’ll do it.

24. Is there a situation or person you haven’t been able to get over/forgive? >> There are a lot of things I haven’t “gotten over” because their traumatic nature changed the way I am as a person and now I have to deal with that. I don’t really see a point in forgiveness, personally -- what I do see a point is forgiving myself and treating myself better than I’ve been treated.

25. Who was the last person to yell at you? Did you yell back? >> I don’t remember.

26. Where did your last injury come from? >> I don’t know! I just have this random gouge on my finger, like someone just took a small sample of my skin.

27. What are some kinks or turn-ons you have, if any? >> Trying to describe the things I like is hard because 1) it’s often dependent on context and 2) it’s more... specific kinds of things happening in specific kinds of situations and I don’t want to like, have to lay out a whole scenario, lol.

28. What are you like during arguments? >> I have an insanely heightened physical response to conflict, for some reason (I say “for some reason” like I’m not literally post-traumatic, but I don’t know what exactly contributed to this particular symptom) -- crazy heartbeat, flushed skin, shaking, the whole nine. So I guess I’d say I go full monkey-brain during arguments and I tend to do/say whatever will get me the fuck out of the situation because I cannot process anything but “I’m in danger and these people are dangerous and did I mention DANGER”. I’ve been working on trying to express myself rationally during perceived-conflict or actual-conflict situations, but it’s a long process and mostly I just try to avoid getting into the position to begin with.

29. What is the worst thing you have said to another person? >> *shrug* Who knows.

30. Where do you like to be kissed? >> Everywhere, when a person I’m available to in that way is doing it. (So, Inworlders.)

31. What is more difficult for you, looking into someones eyes when you are telling someone how you feel, or looking into someones eyes when they are telling you how they feel? >> I don’t look into people’s eyes, period. It’s the practice of eye contact itself that is inconceivably difficult for me.

32. Think of the last time you were REALLY angry. WHY were you angry? Do you still feel the same way? >> I really don’t remember the last time I was legitimately furious (and not just using bluster to suppress a more vulnerable feeling).

33. You are on a flight from Honolulu to Chicago non-stop. There is a fire in the back of the plane. You have enough time to make ONE phone call. Who do you call? What do you tell them? >> Why was I in Honolulu, though...? I need more context for this situation that I cannot imagine myself in.

34. You are at the doctor’s office and he has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? What do you do with your remaining days? Would you be afraid? >> Well, obviously I tell my spouse, and then I guess... some people I hang out with online? I don’t know what I would do with my remaining days because I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in that situation and how it would change my priorities. And, of fucking course I’d be afraid.

35. You can have one of the following two things. Which do you choose? Why? Usually when someone says that, a list of two things would follow. <--

36. You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late even once more, you are fired. Do you take the time to save the dogs life? Why or Why not? >> I don’t work, so that’s the first problem with this question. In a general sense, though, I would probably risk a consequence of that caliber in order to try to save a life if I can. (I don’t know about this specific situation, though, because I can’t swim...)

37. Would you rather be hurt by the one you trust the most or the one you love the most? >> It’s people that I trust and love (those are the same thing, sorry, I don’t get how they can be separate *shrug*) that would have the best chance of hurting me, because of the emotional attachment...

38. Your best friend confesses that he/she has feelings for you more than just friendship. He/she is falling in love with you. What do you (or did you) do/say? >> ---

39. Think of the last person who you know that died. You have the chance to give them 1 hour of life back, but you have to give up one year of yours. Do you do it? Why or Why not? >> No, man, we went through this already in an earlier question. No matter how you present the circumstances, I’m not bringing anyone back from the dead, period.

40. Are you the kind of friend that you would want to have as a friend? >> Well, I don’t know???

41. Does love = sex? >> Inworld, it does, because that’s just how it works for Us.

42.Your boss tells your coworker that they have to let them go because of work shortage, and they are the newest employee. You have been there much longer. Your coworker has a family to support and no other means of income. Do you go to your boss and offer to leave the company? Why or Why not? >> ---

43.When was the last time you told someone HONESTLY how you felt regardless of how difficult it was for you to say? Who was it? What did you have to tell the person? >> I haven’t done that in a long time, idk.

44. What would be (or what was) harder for you to tell a member of the opposite sex, you love them or that you do not love them back? >> I think the “I don’t love you back” conversation would be way harder, lmao. People get really upset about that sort of thing.

45. What do you think would be the hardest thing for you to give up? Why would it be hard to lose? >> *shrug*?? 

46. Excluding romantic love, when was the last time you told someone you loved them. Who were they to you? >> ---

47. If there was one moment and one time in the last month what would you change and why? >> No.

48.Imagine it is a dark night, you are alone, it is raining outside, you hear someone walking around outside your window. WHO do you wish was there with you? >> My apartment is on the third floor... my biggest concern would be “how the fuck is this person walking on air???” I don’t know why I’d want anyone in particular with me -- why, so we can both be killed by this apparent superhuman? lmao.

49. Would you give a homeless person CPR if they were dying? Why or Why not? >> If I felt confident in my ability to perform CPR, I might. I think it’s mostly the fear that I’m going to do it wrong and... idk, kill the person quicker? that would prevent me from doing it. It does sound vaguely irrational when I write it out like that, but hey.

50.You are holding onto your grandmother’s hand and the hand of a newborn that you do not know as they hang over the edge of a cliff. You have to let one go to save the other. Who do you let fall to their death? What was your rationale for making the decision? >> ---

51. Are you old fashioned? >> No.

52. When was the last time you were nice to someone and did NOT expect anything in return for it? >> I’m not “nice to” people. I just treat people with basic respect and consideration, and of course I expect that in return...

53.Which would you choose, true love with a guarantee of a broken heart, or never loved at all? Why? >> ---

54.If you could do anything or wish anything, what would it be? >> ---

55. What was the last thing you ate? >> A few toasted vanilla Smashmallows.

56. What kind of guys are you usually attracted to? >> ---

57. What’s the stupidest thing that’s happened to you that ended a friendship? >> I don’t think any of the things that ended my friendships were stupid. It just sucked.

58. What’s the longest amount of time you’ve had sex for? >> Inworld, probably... an hour and a half, maybe 2 hours? Outworld, I don’t remember or care.

59. What reality shows do you watch? >> I don’t think I watch any. I’m trying to think if anything I’ve watched on purpose qualifies as “reality” and I... don’t think so? Untold Stores of the ER is basically just dramatisations of allegedly-real stories, so maybe that’s the closest thing to reality tv that I watch? Man, I do love that show. Oh, wait, those cooking shows! Those are reality TV, right? Okay, yeah, I watch stuff like that.

60. Post a video of yourself here: >> No.

61. Where do you work? >> ---

62. Have you ever gone up to a car thinking it was yours and tried to get in it? >> ---

63. Where do you buy most of your clothes? >> I don’t have a designated place where I buy most of my clothes. I shop for clothes so infrequently that it’s really just “wherever has the specific item that I want”.

64. If you were very intelligent and had the capability to have any profession, what would you like to be? Getting tired of the unrealistic hypotheticals. <-- My constant mood with surveys.

65. What’s your most irrational fear? >> ---

66. How many radio stations do you listen to? >> Zero.

67. What kind of music do they have? >> ---

68. Would you rather go to Greece or Hawaii? >> Oh, but I would go to either...

69. Musicals: Yay or Nay? >> Yay :)

70. What are the next concerts you’ll be going to? >> Ha! Hilarious.

71. What was the last conversation you had with your best friend about? >> ---

72. Are you one of those people that LOVE to hug others? >> Inworld I will spend all day cuddling if I can. Outworld, I legitimately cannot remember the last time I initiated a hug with someone. It’s been years.

[moonbeambucky]

Addicted (Part 6 - End)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader Word Count: 5347 Warnings: minor fluff, angst, smut, cheating

Summary: Hearts break under the weight of buried feelings, longing for the chance at repair no matter the consequence.

A/N: This is the final installment of my submission for @youngmoneymilla Eliza’s 5K Challenge. My prompt was “Quit You” by Lost Kings. Thank you as always to Sam 💕 @buckyofthemyscira for beta reading, ilysm! gif not mine

PART 5 | ADDICTED MASTERLIST

Steve limps off the jet, supported by Sam and Bucky on each side; both men in just as much pain but Steve had gotten it the worst. 

Everyone is hurt in different ways. Wanda broke her wrist, holding her arm gently as she follows the group towards the med bay, hoping she doesn't need surgery. Tony grunts with each step, every muscle in his body aching as the particles that make up his suit retreat to the chamber on his chest.

Natasha takes the gauze off the gash on her forehead, checking for any fresh blood. She smirks as Clint passes by, calling out for Lucky. The dog runs out jumping on Clint, ignoring the two black eyes and a splint going across his nose. This isn’t the first time it’s broken and it won’t be the last either but Lucky doesn’t care as his tongue laps away at Clint’s face.

The medical staff is overwhelmed by everyone rushing in. Steve fights the help he desperately needs, hissing through a clenched jaw as he tries to ensure the team gets treated first for their injuries.

“Easy Cap.” Sam forces Steve to lie back on the table. “You gotta let them fix you up, alright? You don't wanna worry your girl too much.” Bucky’s expression drops but he continues to help Steve out of his gear.

All Steve could think about was Y/N, aside from the throbbing in his head, most likely a concussion. His leg was aching too from the thick piece of metal that lodged itself in there.

He expects to heal quickly but between the other injuries he has his body is going to be working overtime.

He reaches for his phone, catching a glimpse of his shadowed reflection against the dark screen. His busted lip is swollen, his skin is covered in dirt, caked with blood and sweat. He feels as bad as he looks, maybe worse but he’s holding it together for everyone.

It’s earlier than he thought, having been on the plane for hours, drifting in and out he didn’t quite pay attention to the time. He reviewed the message he sent Y/N as they were headed back to the Tower.

Steve: Hi sweetheart, we’re on our way back. I’m pretty banged up but I don’t want you to worry. I’ll be alright in a few days. You might not want to see me until then, not by the way my face is looking right now. I miss you and I love you. Steve.

She had only replied to him fairly recently, letting him know she was on her way and seeing that message made his heart feel lighter. The truth was Y/N missed Steve’s initial text. She was keeping herself extra busy with work during his week long absence. Her phone was on silent as she hosted an open house for potential buyers.

As soon as it was over she locked up and grabbed a cab, racing to the Tower, not caring that her feet were aching from the heels she’s been in all day. Steve was hurt and it sounded bad, and all she wanted to do was see him. Her stomach twisted itself into knots during the prolonged car ride thanks to early evening traffic but she was nearly there.

When she pulled up to the front of the Tower she paid the cab driver, ignoring his questions about who she might be and why she was going into the headquarters of the Avengers. It wasn’t on purpose but all she could think about was Steve, guilt eating away at her as she realized she hadn’t thought about him much since he left, not since she shared that longing gaze with Bucky.

At the entrance Y/N is greeted by the familiar faces of the security guards who send her up to the medical wing. As the elevator doors opened she dashed to her left, heels clattering against the polished floor, ignoring the pain in her feet as she walked briskly towards her destination.

She stopped in the hallway at the sight of Bucky closing a door behind him. He looked even more tired than when she last saw him. His face was covered in a film of grime with greasy strands tucked behind his ear.

His mouth falls open when he sees how incredible she looks. A simple black dress has never looked better and the leather jacket she wears over it makes his cock stir, and fuck, those shoes. Pointed toe pumps with straps all over covered in dangerous looking studs. He would kill to feel those scrape against his back as he fucks her.

Bucky stops, ignoring the throb in his pants. He can’t think like that anymore. His lips press into a somber thin line and he looks away from her. Y/N opened her mouth to say something but Bucky doesn’t have the strength to hear it. He brushes past her, inhaling her scent, that sweet fragrance that’s been tainted with worry, over Steve.

Y/N takes deep breath, pushing Bucky out of her mind as she heads inside Steve’s room. He’s happy to see her, his lips pulling into a soft smile that aches at the moment but he pushes through. Tears fall down her cheeks as she sees the aftermath of the mission, beaten into his face.

“I’m alright sweetheart, I promise,” Steve reassured.

Y/N sat on the chair beside his bed, lacing her fingers with his. Tears continued their stream as she took note of every cut on what was once flawless skin, with red abrasions standing out like a cardinal in the snow.

“I’ll be better in no time, I’m a super soldier, remember?”

Another smile stretches across his face as Steve tries to lighten the mood, this time pulling a little too much as his lip splits open again. Y/N grabs some gauze pads, gently dabbing at the blood.

“You don’t look very super now Steve.” She frowned, sniffling. “Why didn’t you ask me to come over?”

“I didn’t want you to worry about me… but I’m glad you’re here.” He caressed her cheek and Y/N leaned into his warm palm.

She didn’t come because of Steve’s message.

When she finally got to her screen after the open house the message she saw had nearly given her a heart attack. Bucky. Seeing his name above a text message made her thoughts split into a million scenarios of why he was contacting her. Is he hurt? Is he dead? After reading the text she held back tears.

Bucky: We’re back, Steve’s hurt. you should come see him

“Please don’t cry,” Steve murmured, wiping away her tears with his thumb.

“I love you Steve,” Y/N said.

Leaning down, she gently pressed her lips against his swollen ones, feeling him wince against her. She pulled away with a coppery taste in her mouth, a soured reflection of her relationship with Steve.

Hours later Bucky came back to check on Steve not realizing Y/N was still there. He froze, blushing with embarrassment, staring at them in fear as if they had been able to see what has occupied him the last few hours.

Bucky was freshly showered, his hair finally soft and clean again though he felt nothing but dirty. In the shower he stroked himself, tugging at his balls, swiping at his leaking tip with his thumb over and over again to the image of Y/N in that outfit. He groaned as he came, hot ropes painting the tiled walls of his shower, wishing he was buried inside her heat again.

Steve’s eyes lit up as he greeted Bucky.

“Just checkin’ in to see how you’re feeling pal.” Bucky smiled uncomfortably, glancing over at Y/N as she was mid-yawn.

“Better now that my best girl came to see me.”

Y/N smiled softly at him before covering her mouth to hide another yawn.

“You should go home sweetheart.” Steve turned his head towards Bucky, “It’s late. Would you mind taking Y/N home, Buck?”

Her yawn was cut off by the immediate tingle of fear that ran down her spine. “No, no it’s okay Steve. You’ve all had a long trip back. I can get home myself.”

Y/N slipped her heels back on, limping slightly as she walked to grab her jacket from where it was hung. She missed the silent look Steve shared with Bucky, the one that meant he was trusting him with getting her home safe and Bucky knew there was no room for argument.

Bucky gave them a few minutes to say goodbye as he went back to his room to grab his phone and keys, as a bad feeling burned a hole in his stomach.

The ride to her apartment was awkward, with the radio filling the void of silence. Bucky was trying not to stare at her bare legs, and how desperate he was to be between them again. He focused on the road instead, driving to Y/N’s apartment, a place in all the time they’ve spent together he’s never been. He frowned, not realizing how close she lived to him.

“It’s this one,” she cleared her throat, pointing it out as he slowed down on her block.

Bucky found a spot a few doors down from her building. Y/N was surprised when he turned off the engine, and even more surprised when he opened her door for her. Bucky offered her his arm to step down from the tall SUV.

“Thank you,” she said softly as she held on to him.

It felt so strange to be walking with Y/N to her apartment but Bucky promised himself he would only walk her to the front door to make sure she gets inside safely. It’s what Steve would want. He followed behind Y/N, averting his eyes from her tantalizing backside.

Focusing on her shoes isn’t any better but it does allow him the ability to see as her foot stumbles on the step. Quickly he reaches out for her, his arms instinctively going around her waist to ensure she doesn’t fall.

“I’m fine,” Y/N said, swallowing harshly, very much aware of Bucky’s firm grip around her.

Bucky was aware of it too, feeling the way her stomach tensed against him so he let go. Y/N held the banister as she continued to walk up the steps, holding back a whimper from the radiating ache in her foot.

At the top of the steps she digs in her bag for her keys and Bucky notices how she shifted her weight to the other foot.

“Those shoes are incredibly sexy but impractical for walking.”

With her key in the door Y/N paused at Bucky’s words, and Bucky, turning a not so subtle shade of pink must have realized what he said as well.

Y/N opened the door, limping again as she took a step inside. She was about to thank him before Bucky followed her in.

“What floor are you on?”

Her brows furrowed as she answered warily, “The fifth.”

Just like Bucky’s building, Y/N’s had no elevator and there was no way he was going to let her struggle up the steps.

“C’mere,” he said, gesturing his arms open.

Bucky waited for Y/N to step towards him before he scooped her up bridal style. Her heart was pounding as she looped her arm around his neck, her stomach twisting with unease about how right it felt to be in his arms again.

She gazes at Bucky and up close she can see the rough patches around his temple and on his cheek, light red scrapes that have already begun to heal. She adjusted her grip as he continued to walk up the steps, feeling the puffs of breath he was blowing out from his nose.

Bucky can bench press ten times her weight so she’s not offended. He’s hurt, and he’s hiding it. By the time they reach the top she can feel the rapid beat of his heart and the heaviness of his breathing.

Y/N points towards her door and Bucky sets her down gently.

“Thank you.” She smiled, taking a deep breath of her own before speaking again. “Do you want to come in and rest for a few minutes? Maybe I can get you a glass of water or something?”

Bucky huffs out another breath, contemplating what he should do. Water does sound good right now and he could take a minute to get his breathing under control but he knows he shouldn’t stay. His arid throat makes the decision for him. Y/N swallows a deep breath of her own; this isn't a big deal, it’s just water.

She unlocks her door, swinging it open as she blindly reaches her arm out on the wall for the light switch. Bucky shuts the door behind them, locking them all out of habit. Y/N leans against the wall as she takes off her heels, feeling immediate relief as her feet hit the cold wood floor.

Leading Bucky further into her apartment he passes the small kitchen in a nook off to the right and the circular glass table to the left with a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers in the center. Their fragrance permeates the air, a sweet resemblance to her perfume. He wondered if she bought them for herself or if they were from Steve. I should have bought her flowers.

Bucky finds himself in her living room that is somewhat similar to his own. Candles of varying heights line the fireplace, the mantle is a simple beam of wood, distressed enough to match the aged brick surround.

Ignoring the modest television above the mantle, Bucky smiles instead as he glances over to the right. Through the glass paneled doors of a small accent cabinet Bucky can see the well worn spines of the books that filled the shelves. It was a shame he never asked her about the things they have in common. His heart skips a sullen beat as he realizes he’s known her for so long and yet there’s so much he doesn’t know.

He sits on the comfortable couch, watching Y/N walk with a slightly uneven gait as she heads back towards the kitchen.

“Did you want something other than water?”

“No, that’s fine,” Bucky called back to her.

He never really thought about Y/N’s apartment before being as they were always at his place, but as he looks around everything makes sense. The decor is a perfect reflection of her personality. He cranes his neck around to check out the art she has hanging above the couch, twisting a little too far and feeling an uncomfortable pull.

His hand reaches back to feel the gauze covering stitches he had to get. He feels the slight dampness of blood, confirming he’s pulled them. He rushes off the couch, not wanting to get blood on her furniture.

“Here you g–” Y/N stops, placing the water on the table the moment she saw Bucky’s tense face. “Are you okay?”

His lips formed a thin line. “Pulled my stitches.”

“Oh Bucky, let me help you.”

Y/N took him into the bathroom and they pass the entry to her bedroom. Bucky tries not to peek inside but he gets a glimpse of dim lighting reflecting soft colors. He sits on the edge of the tub as Y/N opens the medicine cabinet to pull out a box of bandages and antiseptic.

“Can I see?” she asked.

Reluctantly Bucky pulled his shirt over his head, trying to ignore all the times he’s undressed in front of her before. Y/N pressed her lips together at the sight of his bare torso. He’s a little banged up, with more scrapes littering his chest and bruising around his ribs.

He shifts, allowing her access to his back and the gauze on his shoulder blade. Y/N pulls the tape off his skin as gently as she can, bracing one hand against him to help separate the glue from his tender skin. He’s warmer than usual and she doesn’t know if it’s from the wound or the fact that they’re currently in this situation together.

When the gauze is pulled off Y/N gasped slightly. Bucky’s gash was angry red, with dark wire looped through the broken seams of skin. The sutures had separated in a few spots with fresh crimson trickling down.

Y/N lets out a shaky breath, upset at the injuries Bucky sustained. “Are you in pain?” she asked, rinsing a washcloth under the faucet and wringing it out.

My heart is broken without you. “I’ll be fine. Should heal soon.”

Gently she blotted at his skin to clean the blood away, patting the area dry. On a cotton swab she puts on the antiseptic cream, dabbing it on the open wound from the broken sutures. Bucky turns his head to watch her search for something in the cabinet again, her eyes widening with relief as she spots what she needed.

Y/N handed him a roll of medical tape. “Do you mind?”

Opening the box, she unwrapped fresh gauze, holding it against his skin and Bucky tore off pieces for her as she secured it over his wound. A satisfied smile pulled at her lips when she was finished.

She leaned down to pick up the washcloth from the floor as Bucky swung around to face her, holding out the tape. Nerves bubbled up his throat as he opened his mouth to speak.

“I love…” he paused as she took the tape from his hands, electrifying tingles dancing on their skin as they touched. “...how much you care about me.”

It’s not exactly what Y/N wanted to hear but it’s close and she takes it as if Bucky recited the deepest words of love written by poets of long ago.

Time slowed as she set the items aside, her heart pounding in her ears to the silent beat of love. Bucky stood tall, his bare chest rising and falling with the same unspoken desire as he stared longingly at her.

With a step forward the space between them diminishes. Y/N’s breath hitches in her throat and she forces the lump down with a hard swallow. Lifting her gaze towards Bucky’s she sees the blue of his eyes withdrawing for dark pupils but this time they were different. Gone is the wanton wildfire, now his eyes simmer with soft longing.

Bucky smiled gently with the faintest muscles pulling on the corner of his lips. His nerves are buzzing as she grazes her fingers up his arms, goosebumps prickling his skin as she traced the curves of his muscular arms; smiling wider as she brushed over the grooves of his metal appendage until her arms were wrapped around his neck.

He’s mesmerized as Y/N’s tongue darts out to wet her lips because she can’t prevent what is going to happen, she doesn’t want to. Their faces are inches apart and Y/N feels Bucky’s hot breath falling on her. She grazed her nose along his skin, brushing her lips softly against Bucky’s. Tears flooded her eyes the moment he pressed his lips against hers as joy and relief washed over her like a tidal wave.

Kissing Y/N again was a dream come true, and Bucky sets aside his thoughts of the inevitable nightmare this would lead to. His arms wrap around her, bringing her as close to his heart that will always be hers.

Despite their time apart the kiss is soft and slow, with gentle whimpers falling from Y/N’s mouth as her lips mold perfectly to Bucky’s. The world faded away as they were reunited, their tongues meeting in a sensual dance, deepening the kiss they never want to end.

Bucky’s hands skimmed down her sides until he reached her thighs, grabbing them in surprise as he lifted her up. Their kiss broke momentarily as the air filled with Y/N’s laughter before she pressed her lips against his again craving more; insatiable for his kiss as if it was restoring her soul.

Navigating blindly towards her bedroom, Bucky gently laid Y/N on the bed and he draped himself beside her. Their lips exchange sweet kisses that grow deeper as their hands roam along bare skin. She smiles as she pulls him closer, gently rocking her hips against him.

Bucky feels the stir in his pants and he knows she can too, his hardening length ruts against her and as much as he wants to be buried inside her he pulls away. It’s a quick moment to drink her in, to see the dizzying effects of their passion in the gaze of her eyes.

Y/N looks at him like he’s the only thing that matters in the world and Bucky feels the sentiment deep in his soul. Her soft smile is everything, the light in her eyes that shine just for him. He’s enveloped by that sweet scent he calls home, a place he wants to visit again and never leave.

He pours his heart and soul into every heavenly movement as his lips pressed against hers again. Soft whimpers bubbled in her throat and as a moan fell from Bucky’s lips Y/N felt an ache in her core that longed to be sated in a way no one else but Bucky could make her.

It felt like time had never passed. Bucky unzipped her dress, delicately tossing it to the floor as he peeled the fabric from her skin. Cupping the smooth fabric of her bra before reaching around to unhook the clasp.

His hands are immediately on her breasts, gently squeezing the supple flesh as leans in closer. Bucky drags his tongue over her nipple, circling over each one back and forth. Her back arched as he nipped lightly, taking it into his warm mouth, sucking, licking, giving his attention to each breast.

Y/N felt the wetness soaking through her panties as he continued, gasping as he flicked his tongue over the pebbled bud, increasing her building ache with another swirl of his tongue.

Bucky knew he was driving her crazy, the scent of her arousal flooded his senses. There was a heady longing in her musk that made him want to pounce on her like a lion stalking its prey. But tonight things were different. The only thing on his mind is to draw out and savor every sensual moment together.

He trailed sweet kisses down her stomach, sucking gently against the inside of her thighs. Y/N squirmed as he teased her more with kisses that almost went where she wanted them most.

When Bucky finally grabbed the material of her panties she gasped, when his arms curled around her thighs she whimpered, and when he took his first taste of her she cried out, gripping the sheets as she ascended to the heavens.

Bucky took his time between her legs, to worship her like the goddess she is. His tongue works expertly to bring her to the edge, loving the way Y/N trembles around him. She cries out, burying her fingers in his hair, the scratchy feeling of her need to hold on to anything solidifies the tent in his pants but Bucky ignores it, moaning against her as she comes undone.

Over and over again he sends her body into a dizzying spell of bliss, riding waves of pleasure as his name falls from her lips. Their eyes lock and he hummed in content at the taste of her. Slowly her body relaxed, her legs still shaking as he climbed up her body.

Bucky’s lips capture hers again, the taste of her being passed between them as Bucky slipped his tongue deeper into Y/N’s mouth. Whimpers leave her lips as she breaks away for air, swallowing a hardened breath.

Y/N’s eyes speak volumes as she stares at him, with her hands accompanying the unspoken words as she traced them lightly down his back, along the top of his jeans until she reached the front.

Her hands rested on the button as she looked at Bucky, seeing the affirmative nod of his head. She popped the button, cupping his hardness as he kissed her again. It was a duel effort to get Bucky out of his jeans, shucking them to the side along with his boxers.

Shifting on the bed, she spread her legs wide enough for Bucky to slip between them. Holding himself above, his loving gaze is cast upon her and he can’t help but caress her face. His heart flutters at the true beauty of Y/N as she lies beneath him. His fingers caress the soft skin of her cheeks and Bucky leans down to take her lips once more, soft and sweet as he pushes inside of her.

The feeling is euphoric. Intense pleasure buzzing throughout their bodies as their hips met with a craving for more. Every thrust brought them higher on the crest of a wave of endless bliss.

A lewd moan spills from her lips, digging her fingers into his back as Bucky swiveled his hips, reaching deeper inside to the place inside her he knows well.

“Ohh fuck… yes… right there, so good,” she panted in hot breaths against him.

This is all he’s ever wanted, to make Y/N feel good, to make love to her every day and night, to love her.

She comes down from her high, crushing her lips to his as he continues his shallow thrusts. The stubble of his beard scrapes at her cheek but she doesn’t care. She needs him, now more than ever before.

Bucky was an addiction she tried to kick but the memory of him never faded, the way he made her feel, the way he felt inside her; she was changed from the moment their lips met and there was no turning back– not now, not ever.

Her hands roam down the muscles of his back and onto the swell of his ass, grabbing the flesh that flexes with each thrust into her. Bucky loves feeling her hands on him, guiding him as she lifts her hips to meet his, taking what she needs and he’ll give her everything.

The friction against her clit brings her to the edge, spurred on by Bucky’s words she comes; panting, cursing, his name on her lips as she tumbled towards ecstasy. His mouth is against hers again, swallowing the sweet moans she gives as she kisses him back.

She nudges him to lie on his back, savoring every moment as she slowly sinks down on him. Y/N is careful not to move too quickly, knowing his stitches are vulnerable as she moves above him.

Bucky’s hands caress her thighs, sliding up to her undulating hips. Every moment beating out the last in a bid for how beautiful she truly is; glowing like a celestial fire that burns for his love.

The muscles of his stomach tense as he sits up, wrapping his arms around her as she moves sensually on top of him. He kisses between her breasts, on any part of her skin his lips could meet until she slowed her pace. Her own arms wrapped around Bucky as their lips met, each of them smiling against one another.

They separated only when her lungs were burning for air but the kissing didn’t stop. Bucky kissed her neck as Y/N held him closer, resuming the motion of her hips. The press of his thumb against her clit made her twitch around him, crying out as she came.

Another kiss, stealing her breath that came out in heavy pants. Bucky moved Y/N on her side, getting behind her, lifting her thigh so he could enter her again. They move in tandem and he palms her breast that jiggles in his hand. His tongue traces the throbbing vein of her neck as his fingers tweak the peaked bud.

Y/N craned her head back to face him, slipping her tongue inside his mouth as he moved in and out of her wet heat. Bucky’s arm stretched across her waist, pulling her closer as he increased his pace. She bent her other arm, reaching out for his metal hand behind her, needing to feel as connected to Bucky as possible.

He feels her walls pulsing as he hits her sweet spots, moans bubbling in her throat and he knows she’s close. He grips her tighter as her walls clench around him in the most heavenly way.

It’s too much for him; Y/N is the only thing in the world that can turn Bucky into a crumbling mess. His body tenses as he thrusts, letting out a strangled cry as he releases himself inside her.

The aftermath of their lovemaking fills the air of her bedroom. Bucky’s head falls against hers, sticking against her equally sweat glistened skin. Y/N is still breathing heavy, her heart growing warmer as Bucky presses a kiss to her forehead.

For a while they laid together in silence, not wanting to face the real world when Bucky inevitably had to leave. It was easier to push the truth away for a few minutes longer, to smile tenderly at each other and block out the rest of the world.

Bucky brings her closer, rubbing circles on her back and feeling her skin prickle under his touch. Their hands intertwine again and Bucky presses another kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering on her warm skin. He hopes Y/N realizes how he feels about her, that he’s making up for things he left unsaid.

In the back of his mind Bucky knows he can’t ever say them because now things are complicated. More complicated than before when he couldn’t express his true emotions, because now there’s Steve.

He regrets having to leave Y/N but he needs to get back before anyone questions his whereabouts. His stomach sinks like an anchor as he sits at the edge of the bed, seeing the doleful expression on Y/N’s face.

Bucky searches for his clothes on her floor and Y/N gets out of bed. She can’t look at him, let alone herself. She opens a drawer to find something to wear. Silent tears slip down her face.

She is ruining a good thing. Steve doesn't deserve this. She knows that but as Bucky gets dressed behind her she realizes she can’t choose. She doesn’t want to.

She loves Steve and he loves her, he fills the part of her soul that’s been neglected for so long by Bucky. And though Bucky can’t reciprocate emotionally she can’t let him go. Y/N loves Bucky in a way she’s never felt before. An indescribable love that makes every part of her flutter when they’re together or not. Even if he can’t say the words, even if it’s not enough she still needs him. She needs both of them.

Bucky hates himself more than ever. If only Steve knew what he did… he wouldn’t call him a best friend. He hates that he can’t admit the truth to Y/N like he should have. Steve is a good man, the best man he’s ever known who loves unashamedly. Bucky knows Y/N deserves a man like Steve but as he looks at her tear filled eyes a bell of selfishness rings and knows he can’t let her go.

They hug for too long at the front of her door, rubbing her back as Y/N sobs against him. He isn’t afraid to hide the wetness in his own eyes. This isn’t easy for either of them but they know what has to be done.

The choice is simple, there is no choice. There is no Steve or Bucky.

It’s understood in their passionate kiss, the intensity that never falters. Sparks fly in their eyes just as they did when they first met, confirming that neither are letting each other go. It’s wrong but they won’t stop.

Bucky and Y/N are addicted to each other, to the way they feel together, high off the rush of chasing a love they'll never have. The secrecy continues because the truth would hurt everyone around them even if the cost is hurting themselves the most.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated :)

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[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 164

Chapter Summary -Tom and Danielle begin to plan their wedding, the only issue is, they are struggling at even deciding the location.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

Copyright for the photo is the owners, not mine. All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1 @black-ninja-blade

Tom sighed as he looked at the coffee mug in front of him. “So, trouble in paradise?” He looked up at Ben, who sat beside him with his own cup of tea in his hand.

“No, we just were getting bothered by arrangements so we said we’d take an hour or two away from everything to just take a step back before an actual argument took place.”

“Good plan. So, what was the issue?”

“Location.”

“Yeah, Sophie and I spent a while talking about it. I mean, you know how it is with the Isle of Wight, it’s a fucking island, so there was the transport costs, and it’s a holiday resort and it’s expensive to live in, so that doesn’t help but it means something to Sophie’s family and is far easier to police than London, so we went with it in the end. Where are the different options?”

“I want Oxford, it’s where I grew up, maybe even Suffolk, just not London, too open.”

“And Danielle wants?”

“Ireland.”

“Oh, there’s not much room for compromise when there are two different countries involved,” Ben commented.

“It’s impractical. Most everybody that will be at the wedding will have to travel there for it from here, only a few of her family would not have to, and even at that, some of her family are in the States so they will have to travel also, how is that fair?”

“What’s her reasoning for it?”

“What?”

“Why is she pushing for Ireland?” Ben queried.

“I am not even sure.”

“Why, did she just say the country in general, or is it that she is talking about some random area outside of where she is from.”

“No, I think she is talking about Connemara. It just makes so little sense.”

“Well, not exactly. Kuala Lumpur would make little sense, her hometown in her home country at least makes sense.” Ben pointed out. “She did say that for her cousin’s wedding, that the tradition is to have it in the bride’s hometown, has that something to do with it?”

“I don’t know,” Tom recalled the conversation at the awards ceremony with Sophie and Ben a few months previous.

“Well, how about you ask her. If this cannot even get past location, how are you supposed to go any further? This is sort of an integral part of it all.”

“It just all seems so much stress and bother.”

“Most of it is and you wonder what’s the bloody point to it also, but that is all part and parcel of it. At the end of the day, it is worth it if you are both happy and I know, for all of the madness that this entails, you do actually want to marry Danielle.”

Tom nodded. He wanted that, he did not want the madness that it would entail and if he and Danielle could not agree on even something as simple as location, then he worried for it all. “I need to talk to her.”

“Yes.” Ben encouraged.

Tom took out his phone and dialled Danielle’s number.

“Hello? Tom?”

It was clear her phone was not to her ear and that he was on loudspeaker. “Yes, I thought….are you not at home?”

“No, I am in the car, pulled in, obviously. I needed to do some stuff. I thought we were going to take an hour or so to settle?”

“I know, I just...Elle, can I ask, why is it so important to you that it is in Ireland. I just want to know.”

“I...we said we’d talk later.”

“Elle?”

“I just thought it would be nicer, my grandparents got married there, my dad was christened in that church, then he and Mam got married there, I was christened there. According to the parish records, the Hughes’s have been there since pre-famine times. They have my great great grandfather’s signature in the records at that church and I know it’s small and dated, but it’s thirteenth century and I just...I think that’s nicer. I know it’s a different country and I know it’s a pain in the ass area to get to in another country but it matters to me.” There was no response to her statement. “Tom?”

“I’m here...I never realised.”

“We’ll talk later. I just need to get this done, I will talk to you soon, bye.”

“Bye.” The phone line went dead and Tom looked at his phone for a minute before looking at Ben, who was looking at him expectantly. “So…” He knew that with him being right next to him, Ben heard all of what Danielle had said.

“Seems a logical reason to want it there, if I’m honest. It matters to her. Now you need to ready your reason for having it here.”

“I don’t really have one, other than convenience.” He confessed before going silent for a moment. “Convenience does not trump tradition and historical sentiment, does it?”

“How long has it been since that famine, a hundred and fifty or so years, and Danielle can trace her family using that exact church in that time, that’s noteworthy, and it clearly means a lot to...wait, that’s another thing.”

“What?” Tom asked, worried at the look on Ben’s face. “What’s another thing?”

“Danielle’s a Catholic.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You’re not a Catholic.”

“No.”

“How does that work? Can you get married in a Catholic church if you’re not?”

“I have no idea.” In truth, Tom had not even thought of such issues. Neither he nor Danielle were in any way religious and their different faiths had never been much of a discussion as a result, but he had to wonder how it would work. “I need to check that.”

“You do.” Ben urged.

*

Tom parked his car into the drive and got out, going to the boot to take out the few bits of shopping he had gotten on his way back from Bens. He stood looking at Danielle’s car for a moment, knowing that something was peculiar about it but uncertain what the difference was. It was only when he realised the tyres were darker than before did he realise that she had gotten them changed. He huffed slightly in amusement, he had gone rushing to a friend to talk while Danielle did something practical and sensible.

Bringing in the shopping, he noted the quiet in the house. Both dogs greeted him as he placed the groceries on the counter before putting them away. After a few minutes, he wondered where Danielle was as her car keys and keys to the house were in their usual spots, meaning she was somewhere within it and with the boiler not making noise, it was obvious that she was not in the shower. He walked up the stairs and heard the telltale whirring of her fax machine. He knocked on their office door, which was slightly ajar and waited. A moment later, Danielle opened it and gave him a small smile. “Hey.”

“You got your tyres done?”

“Yeah, they were bothering me recently, getting a tad thin so I said I would grab four more.”

“How much?”

“Six, I got them from a place on the edge of the city, for cheaper than here, one place quoted me a thousand.”

“Jesus.” He looked at the machine. “Fun?”

“I wish, the paperwork for the Paramount job.”

“When’s that?”

“Two weeks in November. I will have to go to Croatia for it.”

“That’s fun.”

“Is it? What is Croatia even like at that time of year? I also need to do a week in Budapest. The joys of being the European Coordinator.”

“You love it really.”

“I love the paycheck and the doors it will open for me.”

“Brutal honesty.”

“So, what did you get up to?” Danielle asked curiously, not wanting to focus too much on work.

“I spoke with Ben.”

“And how is he?”

“Good. He was asking for you.”

“Bless him.” She smiled as she looked for a paperclip to keep certain pages together.

“He actually mentioned something to me that I never even thought of.”

“Oh yeah?”

“The fact we’re not the same religion.” Danielle paused and looked at him. “And how that will affect us.”

“Well, we’re not exactly utterly devout to our two branches of Christianity.”

Tom nodded in agreement. “But say we do this in that church you were talking about, how does that work, how can we get married there if I am not a Catholic?”

“Well, we could always convert you but that failing, they are not overly bothered.”

“Really?”

“You know, for all the wrongs that the Catholic Church has and there are plenty, it is not as backward as you all think over here. I mean, I have seen Protestant schools that demand a letter from the local reverend proving kids go to service at least every second week, Roger in work asked to use the fax there to send on his paperwork when getting his daughter into their local school. In Ireland, the schools may have a Catholic priest on a school board, but if you don’t even get Christened, you are fine to get into the school usually. The church isn’t as it was, it will marry Catholics and Protestants, as long as you fulfil what is required of you in their eyes.”

“Me?”

“No, plural ‘you’. It’s just they go through the ceremony and you have to do a stupid course on the meaning of marriage and all that other bollix no one pays heed to. It’s a ‘tick the box’ exercise really.”

“You clearly hold it all in such high regard.” Tom joked.

“Oh, yeah, clearly.” Danielle scoffed in return. “It’s a tad hypocritical of a man that will never be allowed marry giving marriage advice. I don’t think its something they can give practical experience of. I know what it will take to be married to you, patience, understanding,” She leant in close to him. “And nice underwear.” She added in a whisper, causing Tom to chuckle and lick his teeth.

“You’re not wrong.” He pulled her to him. “I was thinking.”

“Oh dear, those words usually lead to something terrifying. What, dear Thomas, were you thinking?”

Tom scoffed at her referencing his full name. “I wanted Britain for convenience, but all things considered, I think Ireland is the better place for the wedding.” She said nothing in return. “It matters so much to you, I can see now why and as long as at the end of it, I get to call you my wife, I don’t care if we have to travel for it. I only care about us being married.”

Danielle bit her lips together and inhaled deeply. “I…I don’t want this to cause arguments. I don’t want something fancy, I don’t need twelve thousand pound dresses and chandeliers, but that...that is something I would love, so much. It’s such a big part of our family tradition, so much so that my Mam forewent the usual tradition of her parish for Dad’s. All of my family, all of our records are there and it means a lot to me. I...thank you.”

“Just promise me if I give in to this request, you won’t turn into Bridezilla.”

Danielle snorted at his comment, knowing him to be joking. “I promise I’ll try not to. But if someone does not RSVP on the right date, or wears pink…” She laughed playfully.

“Oh dear, she’s started.” Tom laughed in response.

[durgas]

look to new orleans

Summary:  AU. Canon Divergence. Caroline is tired of the small town life of Mystic Falls so she makes an impulsive decision to go to Klaus in New Orleans accompanied by Enzo who supplies her with plenty of alcohol and moral support in that order. Klaroline. Carenzo friendship.

Chapter One

“Oh gorgeous, come on and lighten up.” Enzo drawled as he knocked back another whiskey in the bar nestled just outside of New Orleans. “You’re not getting any younger.” 

Caroline poked his arm. “Hey!” She said as she swigged her cocktail down in one. “That’s rude.” She crossed her arms and attempted to look scary, something that was impossible given the fact she was swaying side to side. 

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Enzo’s voice held hints of exasperation. “Let’s go get your Prince Charming, blondie.” 

Several days ago, Caroline had decided it was time to take Klaus up on his offer. Her mother was dead, Elena was her irritating self and she couldn't bear being in Mystic Falls any longer. Two days ago, they had arrived at Bay St. Lewis and they had not moved since despite being so close. Instead, she and Enzo had found the nearest hotel and drank until they couldn’t stand. Then, the next day they did it all again. Then, Caroline had decided to clean their hotel rooms until she stank of lemon and pine with a faint acidic taste that Enzo could have lived without. 

“What if it’s not the right time?” Caroline said in a slurred voice as she sat back down next to Enzo. “What if he never meant for me to take his offer?” 

Enzo put his arm around her, ignoring her petulant pout. “Then, you and I will get out of here for good. But, you decided to come so we’re not leaving without you seeing him.” He said as he motioned to the bartender for another round of drinks. “And, I want to meet the great Klaus Mikaelson.”

“Okay.” She said as she stifled a yawn. “First thing tomorrow, we’ll go.” She paused to sip her drink, this time a sharp mojito with plenty of booze. “But, he’s not that impressive.”

“Not that impressive? Well don’t waste your time with him, gorgeous, I’ll be yours.” Enzo smirked. He was gratified by the indignant scowl on Caroline’s face, he knew she would rise to the bait.

“Not even possible.” Her eyes narrowed at him with a steely look, not as effective as normal due to the alcoholic glaze. “Don’t get any ideas, Enzo.” 

Tossing back his final whiskey for the night, he gallantly offered his arm to Caroline in an exaggerated show. She took it, a little unstable on her feet, and they made their way back to their respective rooms. Enzo fell straight asleep on his bed, not even bothering to remove his shoes, whilst Caroline carefully took off her clothes and folded them neatly before brushing her teeth and climbing into bed. 

Dawn came quicker than they wanted, the bright yellow sun burning through the thin cotton curtains of their rooms. 

Getting up, she showered and got ready with military precision making sure that her clothes were all ironed and her hair was neat. She chose a light blue sundress after almost an hour of deliberating; an attractive look without trying too hard. Spritzing on her perfume, she luxuriated in the fresh orange notes carefully blended with vanilla and just a hint of cinnamon. She was ready for whatever the day threw at her. She knocked on Enzo’s door three times until he opened it; he reeked of whiskey so she pinched her nose as she went inside his room.

“You need to shower.” She said as she sat down on his bed. “I’m ready but you’re not coming with me like that. I do not want to be stuck in the car with your obnoxious smell.” 

Enzo rolled his eyes. “You know, you’re a real charmer sometimes.” He moved closer to her and watched as she tried her very hardest not to touch him. “Alright, I’ll have a shower but no peeking.”

“As if.” Caroline said as she got up to rummage around his wardrobe. “And, wear these. These are clean.” She placed a black t-shirt and pair of jeans next to him, holding them with her fingertips. 

“Okay, your majesty.” He made a mock bow as he went for a shower. 

Two and a half hours later, they were in New Orleans. Enzo had taken his time with breakfast, slowly chomping away at the selection at least until Caroline threatened him with one of the silver cereal spoons. Spices hit their nose as they stepped out of the car, an impractical yellow Lamborghini which Enzo had stolen, and they stood a moment in the hustle and bustle. Then, Caroline got out her map intending to go straight to Klaus’s house which she had heard was located in the French Quarter. Enzo, however, appeared to have other plans as he made a beeline for the nearest bar so Caroline reluctantly went with him. On their way, she decided it was a good idea as it might just settle her pounding heart and the nerves that were quickly fraying.

“Cheers, gorgeous.” Enzo had ordered them a platter of shots. He clasped the first one between his fingers and threw it back as if it were water.

Caroline drank her own shot. “Okay, let’s finish these and find Klaus.” The warmth of the alcohol was beginning to burn her throat as she tossed back shots 2,3 and 4 in quick succession. 

“One more, one more. Don’t spoil my fun.” Enzo grumbled as he ordered another tray. 

Several shot trays later, Caroline wanted to do karaoke so she shimmied her way to the stage as Enzo applauded drunkenly. Her voice was pretty awful after several drinks but she was attractive so people clapped on the pretty blonde especially when she took off her denim jacket. Enzo chugged his drink, thinking that maybe it was time for Caroline and him to go to some hotel for the night. She had most definitely had enough.

“No, no. I want to do an encore.” Caroline’s voice was whiny and she refused to move despite Enzo’s gentle attempts. He didn’t want to cause a scene, the bar was full of other vampires after all and he noticed more than a few who had taken a shine to Caroline. “One more song, please.”

Enzo inwardly groaned. Her voice had fast deteriorated from pretty awful to horrendous but it was only one more song. “Okay, gorgeous. One more song, you promise?”

“Promise. Promise.” Caroline squealed excitedly as if she were a five year old and not a fully grown vampire. She started to sing.

Klaus sped to her and took away the microphone. “I think that’s quite enough now, love.” He had a smirk on his face and his blue eyes were glinting. “Come on, love. Let’s not torture these vampires any more.”

“Torture?” Caroline’s voice rose several tones with indignation. “I was having fun.” She stomped off the stage and glared at Klaus. “And, why are you here?”

Klaus chuckled. “I live here, sweetheart. And, you came to see me.” 

“Not like this.” She groaned with frustration. “I was going to come tomorrow.”

“Well when a baby blonde vampire and her annoying friend enter my town, I need to be sure they’re not a threat.” Klaus moved towards Caroline. “But now I know it’s you, my town is yours as long as you keep your friend on a leash.”

“How do you know I’m not a threat?” She slurred as she poked him in the chest. 

Klaus let out a bark of laughter. “Miss Mystic Falls? You’re only a threat to those with poor fashion choices and cleaning supplies.” Klaus took her arm. “Let’s go now, Caroline.”

Thanks for reading! Also can be found here and here :)

[superblizzardfire]

Omelet (Bruce/Clint)

Written for Writer’s Month 2020 Day 17: Cooking  

(AO3 Link)

Bruce gets a little weird after a transformation. He’s good at hiding it from the others – for years Clint thought nothing of his "early night" excuses - but now they live together.

And it turns out that post-Hulk Bruce is a fucking gremlin.

Clint steps out of the shower to find him spreading toothpaste onto his toast. ‘Babe, don’t eat that.’

‘I had a craving,’ he says defensively, not looking up. ‘Don’t worry, I’m immune to fluoride poisoning.’

Clint snorts. ‘Yeah, that’s the part I’m worried about.’ He grabs a tub of mint ice cream from the freezer. ‘Trade ya.’

Bruce’s face lights up. ‘You’re a genius.’

Clint is used to eating garbage - he grew up in a circus, for god’s sake - but Bruce’s post-Hulk cravings are on another level. He drinks mugs of cold chicken noodle soup, puts pepper on dry cereal and crunches down apple pieces smothered in mustard.

🍳

As well as the food cravings, Bruce has mood swings worse than a teenager. One minute he’s laughing hysterically at a picture of a duck, the next he’s sobbing into a pillow because he broke a plate. All Clint can do is hold him close until he passes out for the night. Bruce is always back to normal in the morning, though he remembers little of their weird evenings. To see him so vulnerable and open is a little scary, but at least he doesn’t have to go it alone anymore.

It’s on these days particularly that Clint wishes he could cook. On missions, he’s lucky to wolf down the odd protein bar. Lengthy food prep is plain impractical so he’s never learnt how.

When he’d moved into Bruce’s floor, he’d assumed the man would be an amazing cook. Not that Clint had expected to be waited on or anything, but he’d known his boyfriend was good with his hands.

‘You’re joking, right?’ Bruce had laughed as they dug into bowls of takeout noodles.

‘Well, you’ve been all over the world! I thought you’d be the fancy food type.’

‘I’ll eat anything, fancy or otherwise. That doesn’t mean I can make it.’

Now he’s watching Bruce demolish freezer-burned fish fingers with custard and wondering if he should hold an intervention. They can’t keep living on frozen and dried crap. Someone needs to look after Bruce, since clearly he isn’t doing it himself.

There’s a call to assemble, and literally everything goes wrong. They get two false alarms that the fighting is over, so Bruce has to Hulk out three times in as many hours. Clint winds up with a black eye and a bruised back.

Tonight, Bruce isn’t hungry. He doesn’t get mood swings, either. Instead, he has hallucinations.

Clint spends the night cuddling his boyfriend as Bruce trembles, pointing at invisible spiders on the walls and talking to a woman sitting at the end of the bed. It’s unnerving, but Clint stays awake until Bruce can’t any longer, and holds him close for the rest of the night.

An hour later, Bruce shuffles into the kitchen. ‘Something’s burning.’

🍳

The next morning, Clint creeps into the kitchen and gets to work. He is an Avenger, an assassin, and one of the most skilled archers in the world. He can figure out how to make a goddamn omelet.

Clint holds a smoking pan over the sink, attacking his creation with a spatula. ‘Yeah. I uh, tried to cook something.’

‘You cooked?’ he echoes, as if Clint just declared he’s learning to fly.

The blackened mass is fused to the pan. The spatula doesn’t even dent it. ‘I said "tried".’ He glances up with an apologetic smile. ‘Did I wake you?’

Bruce shakes his head. He looks peaky but relaxed, and he pads over to nuzzle his shoulder like a friendly cat. ‘Why the sudden urge to cook?’

He sighs. ‘I don’t know, I just... I wanna take care of you.’ He dumps the pan in the sink so he can wrap him in a warm hug. ‘Not much nutritional value in ramen. Can’t be good for you after burning all those Hulk calories.’

Bruce hums contentedly. ‘Do I want to know what I ate last night?’

Clint’s heart sinks. ‘Nothing. You were pretty out of it. You hungry?’

‘Famished,’ he admits with a wry smile.

‘Okay, here’s the deal. I’m taking you out for breakfast. You name it, we get it. Then when we get back, we’re gonna find Steve. Because he’s the only one of us who can actually cook. We seriously need to learn how to feed ourselves.’

Bruce quirks an eyebrow. ‘We’re getting cooking lessons from Captain America?’

‘Yep.’ He leans back to kiss his forehead. ‘And I’m throwing out the mustard. It’s for your own good.’

Bruce laughs. ‘Deal.’

[dazzlingfantasiesblogs]

You Walked Away

Hey loves here is another story I am working on. 

I have so many going, ideas just keep flowling. 

Warning: 18+ ONLY. VIOLENCE,smut talk.

Please do not post my wok anywhere else.

Gifs are not mine.

Italics - Flash backs

Bold- Your thoughts

Regular - Deans thoughts

Strike-through - Lyrics

“Nothings that bad, if it feels good..” Dean woke up out a cold sweat. “Dean, you ok?” looking over at his younger brother, he wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Ye… Yeah..” He had a dream. About her. Again. Three nights in a row. His only true one. She was a leader. She was a force. She was….you.

Taking a shower Dean thought about your face smirking at him as the two of you sprinted out of the dinner without paying. Both running until your lungs hurt, laughing as you hid behind the trees in the forest. He grabbed your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your lips. The sheer force causing your lips to slightly bruise. “Hey! There they are!” The owner shouted seeing you two from the flashlight that shone in the forest. “RUN!” You Hollard grabbing his hand tightly. Sure to not let go.

“Dean?” Sam asked as he drove baby, going with the curves of the road. “You look like you seen a monster.” “Not a monster..” Dean mumbled. “One of the only two women I ever loved.” Sam knew who he was talking about. Not Lisa. The one who was his ride or die. The one who held Sammy’s hand tightly as they crossed the road to the ice cream shop. The one who pulled a gun on a werewolf who chased him when he was eight.

“Thanks Bobby, This fuckin Wendigo sent me through the fuckin ringer.” You laughed a bit, holding the phone with your chin and shoulder as you changed your oil. “Yeah, I am good. Couple cuts. Nothing huge. Chaz is with me.” You finished tightening the bolt. “Yeah, he is a good dog.” Looking over, you smiled at your white German Shepard who slept on the hay barrel. “Yeah, I will stop by soon. Love you too.” Hanging up the phone, you whistled. Chaz stretched and walked to the side of the car. Lowering the jack to the charger, you opened the door for him. Jumping in the front, he laid back down sleeping. Starting the car, you headed to the next destination.

“Sam, is it Washington?” “Oregon Dean.” Sam shook his head annoyed slightly. His mind was obviously preoccupied. “Well, Imma catch some z’s. We got about seven hours.” Dean nodded staring at the road ahead of him thinking of you.

His lip was caught between his teeth as you danced on the stage in the empty bar you two broke into. Watching as you swayed your hips to the music. A thousand demons could crash in here and he would kill them all if meant you to continue your dance. It was his 20th birthday and you wanted to give him a gift. Walking down the stage you grabbed a bottle of bourbon. Putting it in a shot and gave it to him. Dancing on his lap, he almost choked on the shot feeling you rub against him.

Dean looked down at his jeans. “Fuck..” he gritted his teeth seeing a full on boner. The remember those thick curved that made his mouth water. You where a pistol in the bedroom and had him craving you seven years later. There was always a power force when it came to you. When hell was at its worst, and he was in chains… he thought of you.

Pulling into the hotel parking lot, you grabbed your leash for Chaz. “Sorry boy, regulations.”  Jumping out of the car, the dog snorted half asleep. Walking into the hotel, you checked in with ease. After all, no asked questions to a Federal Agent. Opening the door, it was beautiful. Getting situated you open your laptop for a little research. As you looked up the case you where certain it was a djinn.

The next morning you woke up, grabbed your cup of coffee. Your FBI suite was a little more out there than most. It was fitted to well to your body, it caused looks where ever you went. The blue suite with black heels. A crisp white shirt with small blue tie to match. As you opened the door the police station, the young man watched as you walked in. He was handsome, tall and had black hair. He took off his hat nodding to you. “How.. How can I help you mam?” He stuttered slightly. “Hello. Agent Stone with the FBI. I need to see the two bodies that where recently murdered.” Shaking his head he walked you to the morgues office.

“Come on Dean.” Sam hollered as they walked out the door. As they drove, they parked. “Hmm nice car..” Dean looked at the black and red Challenger that sat out of the police station.  They walked in to see a young man sitting there. “I am with..” “The FBI?” The man asked confused. “Umm, yes. Agent Smith and Agent Jones.” He nodded. “Your partner is in the morgues office. I’ll walk you back.” Dean looked to Sam confused on who it could be. “Cass?” Dean whispered to Sam. “Not sure.. Maybe Garth?” Shrugging their shoulders, they looked in the office. Dean looked at his phone sending a text to Garth seeing if it was him. Sam patted his arm, stopping out around the door. Dean watched Sam’s jaw drop looking at you. Dean followed his eyes and dropped his phone “Shit..” He whispered. Both men kneeled so they couldn’t be seen through the windows. “Perfect, yeah I would love to take you up on that drink. Hey, I love Karoke!” Dean peered over the window, watching your smile to the corner. You looked so different. Your hair short in a Pixie. He seen your suit and took a deep breath. Your cleavage showing through the white shirt. “We gotta go…” Dean whispered. “NO! you owe her!” Sam growled. “I miss her! She was the only one who rooted me on for Stanford!” Sam went to stand up. Opening the door to the office, you stared at the files, walked passed the men without seeing them. Slipping through the files. Sam couldn’t believe how you had grown. The same confident walk you always had; the rings littered your fingers. He noticed a hand tattoo.

Getting in your car, you peered at the phone number you got. You could afford to let loose a little bit and enjoy your time. After hanging out with Chaz, you took a shower and got ready for your night out. Putting on your dark burgundy lipstick, smokey eye shadow. Wearing tight black jeans that had rips all over. Sliding on your bright red thigh high heeled boots. While most thought they where impractical, you killed more monsters with them than you cared to admit. Sharping the heel, just in case. Wearing a black sequined bra and a white loose shirt hanging over it. Heading to the car, you blasted your music, leaving Chaz with a new bone.

Dean paced back and forth. “We should leave.” “NO!” sam hollered. “We know there is at least 2 or more Djinn that is effecting this place.” Dean nodded sighing. Seeing you shook him to his very core. “Lets go get you some drinks, women,  whatever to calm you down.” Sam spoke with a sigh. He knew his brothers vices, one of them used to be you.

“If she leaves I leave!” Dean growled at John. “Wow, you love her.” John laughed a bit shaking his head. “Be careful, they all leave eventually..” Snarling John walked away from his eldest. “I do love her, more than breathing.” “Than… NEVER LET HER GO!” John spoke thinking of Mary. How he missed her, still years later.

Walking into the bar, you went straight to the bar. Three shots of tequila down and whiskey for a chaser. “Love a woman who can handle her whiskey.” The corner spoke smiling at her. “Hey Jesse!” You smiled at the handsome man. “I spoke with your partners after you left. I gave them case files too.” Looking at him slightly confused, your ran through all the hunters you knew. Bobby? No. Garth? Maybe it was Garth. However he implied more than one. Ignoring the thought you started to get on the dance floor. “Are you going to sing?” Jesse asked with a smile on his face. “Sure..” You nodded. “Oh there are your partners!” You looked at the door seeing two men walk in. Your heart beating irregularly. You felt the bar in close on you slightly. “I.. I am going on stage!” “Sure, I will go say hi!” You walked to the stage, grabbing the mic picking the song. “Perfect!” You grabbed the microphone and took the stage. You always seemed to know how to command an audience. “This is to someone who needs to fucking hear this song.” You spoke on the mic. Watching you seen the elder Winchester look at you grabbing the drink he got and walked towards the stage. The music started and you seen two dancers next to you. “We get paid to dance with the karoke singers” the young woman said. Her blonde hair in a pony tail. “Get ready for one hell of a performance.” She smiled annoyed. They probably all said that. “I wanna start this out and say . I gotta get it off my chest . Got no anger, got no malice. Just a little bit of regret . Know nobody else will tell you .So there's some things I gotta say Gonna jot it down and then get it out. And then I'll be on my way” You sang the song by Halsey. This song always making you think of Dean. You swung your hips holding onto the microphone.  “No, you're not half the man you think that you are. And you can't fill the hole inside of you with money, drugs and cars. I'm so glad I never ever had a baby with you. 'Cause you can't love nothin' unless there's somethin' in it for you”  Dean listened to the lyrics. His heart was turning at the lyrics. He watched as you took off your white shirt, twirling it over your head. Jumping off the stage in front of him, landing perfectly. You stood toe to toe with him.  “Oh, I feel so sorry I feel so sad. I tried to help you. It just made you mad. And I had no warnin'. About who you are. I'm just glad I made it out without breakin' down. And then ran so fuckin' far. That you would never ever touch me again. Won't see your alligator tears. 'Cause, no, I've had enough of them” You shoved his shoulder slightly to have him sit on the stool. Walking away, your ass jiggled as you walked. You grabbed Jesses tie, pushing him against the Colom winking at him to relax him. “Let me start this off by sayin'. I really meant well from the start Take a broken man right in my hands. And then put back all his parts. But you're not half the man you think that you are. And you can't fill the hole inside of you with money, girls and cars. I'm so glad I never ever had a baby with you. 'Cause you can't love nothin' unless there's somethin' in it for you” Jesse put his hands on your hips as your sang. He looked at your tattoos and licked his lips unintentionally. You turned around, swinging your hips against his. The whole bar watching intently as you put on a show for them. Walking to the table Dean had his drink on, You jumped up on the cherry wood table, kicking his drink off of it. “Oh, I feel so sorry (I feel so sorry). I feel so sad (I feel so sad). I tried to help you (I tried to help you) It just made you mad. And I had no warnin' (I had no warnin'). About who you are ('bout who you) Just glad I made it out without breakin' down. Oh, I feel so sorry (I feel so sorry). I feel so sad (I feel so sad). I tried to help you (I tried to help you). It just made you mad. And I had no warnin' (I had no) About who you are ('bout who you). 'Bout who you are” A wild child at heart was your call, especially when it came to the man who crushed you more than any god could. As you danced on the table, Dean looked up at you shocked. You pointed at him slightly as you sang. Looking him straight in the eyes.  “Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. 'Cause you're not half the man you think that you are And you can't fill the hole inside of you with money, drugs and cars. I'm so glad I never ever had a baby with you. 'Cause you can't love nothin' unless there's somethin' in it for you. I feel so sad. You should be sad. You should be. You should be sad. You should be. You should be. You should be” When the song ended a roar of an applause happened. “Encore” was yelled over and over. Walking to the bar you looked at the bartender pleading. “Bottle. Patron. Glass, ice.” The man nodded you put your card down. Feeling hands on your hips you seen Jesse behind you. “Who the hell are you? A Rockstar/FBI” Laughing slightly you took a shot. You felt HIS gaze on you. It was burning you into the wood slab you stood on.  

Dean sat frozen in his seat. Everyone dancing to the music that played after your performance. The whole time he couldn’t believe every word you spoke. He seen you sing Karaoke millions of times. Your voice was that of an angel, well.. better than that. The way you took your shirt off, the outfit you wore. The tattoos that covered your body. You had changed, you had grown. He looked over to see you talking to him. The corner. He seen red, getting up. Sam grabbed his shoulder pushing back down on the seat. “No! We talk to her tomorrow Dean.” He said in Deans ear so he could ear. “Bullshit.. She is about to go home with this fucker!” “And? You fucked that up!” Sam yelled back.

Walking out with Jesse out the back he grabbed your hand tightly. “Sorry love.. your beautiful but I don’t shack up with hunters” Your grabbed the sharpened branch in your boot. Jesse went to inject you with sleeping medicine. Easily evading him “Man.. I was hoping it wasn’t you… It is always the corner.. you where cute..” you spoke grabbing the branch pushing into the Djinn. Hearing a large door close you seen Dean and Sam walk out. Grabbing the Djinn body you held him up, making it look like you where walking to your car. Grabbing your keys you needed to burn his body. Opening the back seat you pushed the man in. Turning around you seen Dean, he trapped you against the car. “Get away from me asshole.. Sam talk sense into your idiot brother..” You looked at the taller, but younger Winchester. “We miss you.. Both of us.” Sammy walked towards you. Your beef was not with him. You loved Sammy, as much as you loved Dean. “Wow Sammy, you got tall..” You looked up at the now man in front of you. His smile took up his face, scooping you into a huge hug. Feeling him secure you tight against his chest, you sighed slightly and hugged  him back tightly. He pressed a kiss on the top of your hair, pulling away slightly. “I love your hair like this.” He spoke pulling a small clump of the short hair. “Remember I am still your elder Sam.” You shot a smile back to him. “Well it was pleasant seeing you SAM. I gotta head out, there is more than one Djinn. I got it covered fellas.”

Dean watched as you interacted with his brother. So gentle and sweet like you had done years before. Age had been kind to you, that is for sure. The way you smiled at Sam and hugged him, was like when you where kids. Only difference was that Sam towered over you now. Like he did everyone else. “We can help you Y/N.” Sam spoke pleading with you to spend more time near you. It broke Deans heart, seeing how much Sammy missed her too. “Sam..” She sighed a bit, stepping away, putting her fingers through her short hair. “You know.. I can’t be here if HE is here..” Dean seen you nodded towards him. Holding up your white shirt Dean looked at you. “You forgot your shirt..” He grumbled walking towards you. He seen as you held out your hand for the shirt. “Put it on before you get cold.” Dean hated seeing men passing by staring at you. The same hunger and lust he always had for you. “No. I am warm. Thanks for the fake worry thought.”  Your voice was venom when it came to him. He knew he fucked up. He deserved anything you threw his way.

“Anyways boys, I gotta go check on Chaz. He probably needs to eat.” “You have kid?” Deans word left his mouth before he could stop them. You could tell by the shock on his face. “No, my dog. Guess he is like a son though. You two choose. Take care of the Djinn or let me. Either way I need to smoke this bitch before he stinks up my beautiful.” You nodded towards your challenger. “Please Y/N. I never got to hunt with you fully..” You watched the puppy dog eyes Sam gave you. Everything in your head was screaming for you to get the fuck out of there. Your heart on the other hand missed the Winchesters. “Fine. Dean doesn’t get to speak to me. I am staying at The Wolf Hotel. Room 125. Here is a spare key Sam. Also, don’t come tonight. I gotta go find another lay since this one, well was a Djinn..” you sighed stretching your arms. Your turned to get your keys out of your pocket once again. Dean and Sam seen a huge scar from your lower back to the top of your shoulder. The diagonal cut looked like the same width of an angel blade. You felt fingers pressed to your back. You knew those hands. The rough pads of Deans fingers out lined the scar. The feeling burned your skin, letting out a slight gasp. “What is that from?” Dean asked angrily. “None of your fucking business. Now gotta go.” “No.” Dean stopped the door before you closed it. “I am not going to let you go sleep with someone random to get back at me. What is that scar from?” “Dean..” Sam grabbed his arms stopping his brother from making any other move. “That is from an angel blade.. From when I was protecting another angel by the name of Castiel.” You seen Deans eyes grow wide. “You.. you’re the huntress Castiel talked about.” Deans voice was dark, something was off about him. “ For some reason he calls me that.” “NO! For some reason all hunters call you that! I had no clue it was you.. No one knew  you real name..” “I never told them. No need too. If I died in a hunt, no one would look for me anyways. No reason to know my fucking name.”

That hit Dean like a pile of bricks. “Y/N..” He whispered looking into y/c eyes. “Truth is what it is. Like I said we can meet up tomorrow.” Shutting the door on the boys, you started the car and drove off. Dean watched as you raced down the street. “She.. is” “Lost.” Dean spoke before Sammy could.” “No Dean, she is hardened.” Sam knew that would bother his brother. “Let’s get back to the Motel.”

It was two in the morning. The idea of you laying with another man drove him nuts. He knew you said it twice to piss him off. Another man between those thick, sexy thighs of yours. He tossed and turned in the bed. The image kept burning into his brain was not pleasant. He looked over to see Sam knocked out for the night. Going into Sams wallet he grabbed the room card to your hotel room. He needed to talk to you. Sneaking out the motels door, he got into Baby and sped off.

Sleep was something you rarely got. Mostly because of your back pain and nightmares that every hunter had to deal with. Afterall it was part of the job. Chaz woke up to someone opening the door. A loud howl was hurd, stopping Dean in his tracks. Soon he seen a white dog rushing towards him. He braced himself for impact getting thrown to the ground by the large dog. Chaz going to bite down on his exposed neck. “Heel Chaz..” you spoke tiredly sliding your gun behind your pajama pants. Chaz growled at Dean, looking him dead in the eyes. “That dog could have..” “Killed you?” you cut him off before he could speak. “More than likely. He has taken down larger prey than you.” Rubbing Chaz head the dog walked back to the bed and laid on it. His eyes still fixated on Dean. “ I would be careful if I were you. Any sudden move and he will go after you.” You spoke sitting in the comfortable chair that stretched out. “Can we talk?” Dean asked sitting across from you. Chaz getting up, sitting between you and Dean. He sat facing Dean, sitting like a statue. “He REALLY does not like you.” You laughed a bit. “What do you want? Where is Sammy? I gave him the key card.” Glancing over at the card on the floor that he dropped. “I wanted to talk about.. our past.”

That dog did a number on Deans back. He sat slightly twisted trying to ease the pinched nerve. He looked at your face, wondering what you would say to him. “No.” His face fell at your reply. “There is no us. I try and forget about that part of my life. THANK. YOU. VERY. MUCH.” The attitude that dripped of your lips caused Dean to stir a bit. God did he love that venom tongue that could eat anyone alive. “Y/N.. I have thought about you everyday since I left..” “Sure Dean. Like you thought about Lisa? At least she lasted longer. From what I can tell, she wasn’t a whore. However how did all those one night stands go?” “How did you know about Lisa… and others..?” Dean asked confused. “Well, Bobby told me about Lisa. However, I didn’t know about the one night stands till now.” You sighed a bit. You head falling into your left hand. “Dean go back to the motel and sleep.. I am exhausted and as you know, I don’t sleep well in general. Especially after being thrown around and tortured by an angel..” Groaning you stood up. Chaz quickly going close to you. “Y/N L.N. Enough.” Dean spoke, harshly. “Dean now is not the fucking time! I am running on no sleep, I didn’t get to fuck the cute guy and I am emotionally exhausted. If you don’t wanna drive back to the motel, take the damn pull out couch!”

[tsarisfanfiction]

Bath (Tales From The Heart)

Fandom: One Piece Rating: Gen Warnings: None. Characters: Law, Penguin, Shachi

If there was one member of the crew that disliked bath time more than Bepo, it was Law. Unlike Bepo, whose bulk and fur demanded bathing, Law could usually get away with a quick shower to clean off, preserving hygiene while avoiding the indignity of almost drowning.

Sometimes, to his despair, there was no choice. Blood was notoriously difficult to scrub off without a good soaking, and while Law's fighting style rather intentionally avoided the substance, in a battle not everyone could kill without spraying blood everywhere (some pirates were total animals and Marines were rarely much better).

After every such battle, Law would stand and stare at his poor clothes – always grateful that as captain one duty he'd managed to successfully shirk completely was the laundry – until his arms were grabbed by Penguin and Shachi, who would frog-march him to the bathroom. As a devil fruit user, his crew had unanimously decided that he was not permitted to bathe by himself (Penguin and Shachi were particularly insistent, likely because of a certain event not long after forming the crew when Law hadn't emerged from the bathroom after an hour so they'd disregarded privacy over to concern to find him mostly submerged and losing the battle to keep his head above water).

When it had become clear to Law that this was non-negotiable, he had been firm in who, exactly, he would permit in the room with him. He trusted his entire crew, of course, but of the crew there were only three that knew everything, three that he was willing to see his body for extended periods of time (the white splotches weren't immediately apparent, and hadn't been for years, but the paler patches of skin were still there and the tattoos didn't hide them completely). Bepo's own hatred for baths left him an impractical choice, leaving Penguin and Shachi the only two allowed.

Sometimes it was only one of them, usually if the other had suffered an unlucky blow during battle, but often it was both, a task shared the same way they shared everything. Law suspected he wasn't the only one who preferred to keep reminders of the past close to his chest (water was a valuable commodity so baths were usually shared, but Penguin and Shachi would only share with each other and Law). Like him, they had their own childhood scars, lines and spots from bullet wounds obtained as children, before they knew how to fight back, to save themselves.

It was an unspoken rule that scars were never mentioned at bath time. Penguin and Shachi would coerce Law into the warm water, occasionally picking him up to dump him in if he was feeling particularly adverse – Law never Roomed away, realising that as much as he hated it and occasionally denied it, getting wet was a necessity and being childish about it helped no-one, least of all himself – before jumping into the water themselves, one either side. On particularly bad days, when the battle had been difficult and Law's stamina already depleted, he could do little more than sag against the side, relying on the pair of them to keep him above the water as they rinsed the blood from his skin. Other days he was less weary, capable of at least wiping the blood away himself.

If he ignored the bone-aching weariness the water brought – on some days an easier feat than others – those moments were almost enjoyable as he placed all his trust in his oldest nakama and lazed in the water, enjoying the warmth. Weighted down as he was, getting out unaided was impossible, but Penguin and Shachi had long since honed the art of noticing when he'd had enough. He never let a bath go on for too long, reluctant to be separated from the rest of his crew and the decisions to be made for longer than necessary. The times when someone was injured, a lucky strike from the enemy connecting, Law would only suffer a bath long enough to get rid of the blood before demanding to be helped out, determined to check on his injured nakama as soon as possible (initial treatment was always done before a bath, unless there was a risk of infection his abilities couldn't negate, but Law would never leave a recovering nakama for any longer than necessary).

Rarely, the injured party was Law himself, who needed the blood washed away before treatment could begin. Those were the days Penguin and Shachi never let go even for a moment, keeping him strictly upright and safe even as the water drained his strength. They'd treat the wounds then and there, too, if it wasn't too severe, supplies kept in a cupboard by the sink so Law didn't have to go far, didn't have to use his Room so soon after submergence.

Occasionally, injured or not although always when exhausted, Law found himself drifting off to sleep, lulled into security by the warmth and his nakama's presence. It was never a deep sleep – not with the danger of water ever-present, if subdued – but Penguin and Shachi would take extra precautions then, keeping movement to a minimum in the hopes that he'd sleep through extraction from the bath and subsequent dressing, to wake later in the comfort of his own bed. It usually failed, even their familiar presence not enough to defend him from the potential horrors of the water, but the effort was appreciated.

Warm and dry after a bath, Law would always admit that while he still hated the things, it could be far worse. At least he could trust his nakama would never let him drown.

[meganshinsou-tm]

Vermilion. (m)

↳ chapter twenty: the moon on a chain

❧ genre:  pro-hero’s bakugou/kirishima, poly, happy ending

❧ chapter warnings: 

[multi-chap masterlist] [previous chapter - next chapter]

You walked around the city, boots clicking against the pavement as you clasped your trench coat tighter around your body trying to hide from the windy and chilly air. The colder seasons were your favorite more multiple reasons, the weather in general, holidays, and the colors. You were just a brighter and happier person in those months. As you patrolled the city today though, you were cursing how impractical your hero costume became on these cold days. Today was actually only your second day back on patrolling duty, the past 2 weeks you were stuck on desk duty just like when you first started at the agency. But at your latest doctors appointment, the man cleared you as 100% recovered despite your scars and that meant you could get back in the action, but under one condition.

Working with Katsuki or Kirishima only.

“Freezing your tits off princess?”

A teasing and brash voice spoke into your ear as you felt arms wrapping around your waist, causing you to now walk awkwardly as Bakugou held on.

“Shut up Baka-gou! The thought of being outdoors in freezing weather may have slipped my mind. Now get off, we’re on the job right now! Someone might see and start going nuts,” you replied elbowing him.

“And you think I give a fuck? I wish those fucking leeches would catch us together! Then shit would really hit the fan huh?” He snickered and tickled your sides, referring to an article that was published a week ago of you and Kirishima.

You couldn’t help but giggle. Once you were showing improvements in your recovery the boys got more comfortable with taking you back out into the world. The week before, you and Kirishima went grocery shopping and an off-duty worker for the towns hero magazine happened to catch the two of you being all giddy and in love while on the train. Kirishima was all about PDA, he’d litter your face with kisses, never let go of your hand, held you tight and close to him. The paparazzi worker took advantage of this rare sight and snapped a few pictures, soon news of ‘Red Riot Under Bruja's Spell’ spread across Japan like a plague. Everyone at the agency always poked fun, wondering when someone would catch you and Bakugou together and how much of a shit show that would be.

“You’re such a fucking chick Suki, you just live for drama!”

Rolling your eyes you managed to push the hero off but were soon pulled back and into an alley. Your back was slammed against a wall and Bakugou’s massive arm gauntlets trapped your head. His crimson hues burned into you and a smirk played on his face that was nipped by the cold and pink.

“Is it wrong that I want the world to know that you belong to me as well?” Bakugou cooed before biting down on your cheek roughly.

“Hmm,” you teased, taking longer than he wanted to answer back, causing the male to bite down harder and place a knee between your legs and press it hard against your core. Your fingers dug into the brick behind you and a purr left your lips.

“I’m fucking teasing Suki! Of course it's not wrong, I want the world to know that as well! I see all the girls that drool over you on the street, they still think you’re free real-estate.”

The blonde completely released you, letting his arms fall to his sides and kissed your forehead. He pulled out his phone and looked at the time, a smirk on his face.

“Good answer, I guess we’ll let you have your gifts after all. Now come on, it’s time to head back. We got a birthday to celebrate princess!”

Back at home the three of you took turns with showers and getting ready. You and Kirishima always took the longest when it came to your hair, so Katsuki opted to shower alone and fast while you and Kirishima showered together. The red head washed your (h/c) locks for you, always adding way more shampoo than needed but you never complained. He’d just barely harden his fingers and massage your scalp each time, be playful and try to spike up your hair. Showers with the red-head were always fun and sweet. As he put conditioner on your ends you made small talk.

“I told you guys, I didn’t want to make a big deal about today, but you didn't listen! You even got the entire agency to go out for me with a party!”

“Well when do we ever listen to you mama? This is a day we get to celebrate and spoil you!”

“And how is it any different from every other day with you two,” you chuckled and hummed as Kirishima finished running the product through your hair and wrapped you in his arms, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Alright, you got me there. I know you don’t like birthdays, but this is your first one with us and we’re really excited about it, please just let us do this and if it happens to not be to your liking, then we'll listen next year, okay?”

Kiri’s voice was soft and soothing, and you nodded.

It was true, birthdays weren’t your thing. You didn’t like to think about getting old and to you it was just another day but both of the men had been having this glow about them all day long so they obviously had something exciting planned and who were you to dull that happiness.

“Alright Kiri, I’ll give it a shot!”

After a few more minutes the two of you were out, a towel wrapped around your body and one wrapped around Kiri’s hips. You bent over to wrap a towel around your hair and the man playfully smacked your ass almost making you fall over, always forgetting his strength and apologizing as he grabbed your hips before you could tumble to the ground. Standing up straight again and turning to face him you smiled and put your hands on your hips.

“So, anything special I need to wear?”

Half an hour later downstairs, the two men were fully dressed and impatiently waiting.

“I’m about to go up there, that stupid old hag probably fucked up on the measurements I gave her,” Bakugou growled and shot up from the couch.

“Whoa there, chill man, I’m sure she’s almost done!”

Kirishima laughed catching his friend by the back of his blazer.

Katsuki clicked his tongue, swatting the hand that held him back away and stood at the end of the stairs looking up and leaned against the wall. Bakugou was a mess, all day he played it cool as if he was collected but underneath the date they had in mind for you gnawed at him. The man was a sort of perfectionist, especially when it came to you. He called the place they would be taking you to multiple times, making sure that it was indeed reserved and closed to the public for the night. He made sure that Kirishima in fact brought their gifts there and set them up correctly.

“Bakugou, everything will be perfect, stop stressing man. Remember where we took her for the first date? A goddamn bowling alley! Trust me, she’ll be over the moon for this!”

“I know that idiot! I just don’t want anyone or anything to fuck up her night.”

Kirishima went to reply until he heard a door upstairs opening, both men looked, hearing the sound of heels clicking against the hardwood floors. Both their hearts seemed to beat faster than humanly possible the closer the footsteps got. It felt like the first time they took you out all over again. They both straightened their clothes. Their outfits matched besides their tie colors, both wore black slacks with a black button up shirt underneath black jackets. Kirishima donned a yellow tie while Suki, after 15 minutes of begging from his friend wore a red one. Both of them stood, shoulder to shoulder with their hands in their pockets as they waited for you to descend down the stairs.

“If I’m the only one looking this fucking fancy, I will kill you both!”

Kirishima and Katsuki chuckled with each other and watched as red heeled feet made their first step down. As your ankles started to merge into your calves, black tulle could be seen bouncing with the steps you took. More and more, your body started to come into view and both pairs of vermilion eyes widened and sparkled, jaws were dropped. Looking down to watch your step underneath the amount of tulle, your fingers also held back your bangs from falling into your eyes. A black bandeau type halter wrapped and encased your chest, revealing a more than decent amount of cleavage and exposed shoulders and arms. The men could see your soft mounds bounce as you walked, making Bakugou rethink ever asking his mother to design you an outfit ever again.

A high-waisted black tulle skirt sat perfectly at your hips and hit you mid-calf. Per the men’s request you wore zero jewelry, an odd request at that. It made you feel even more naked in the chest area since your hair was in a top knot. Your eyes finally looked up to the men standing before you and a smile crossed your red lips.

“Aww, don’t I have the two best looking boyfriends in the world!”

Both of your lovers smiled and kissed your cheek as you stood before them, their eyes wondering over every inch of your body. They exchanged compliments with you themselves, making your cheeks blush violently. Apparently Katsuki’s mom had made the dress specially for you and this night. You found it odd that the blonde took your measurements a few weeks earlier, when you asked what he was getting them for he did say that his mother was designing you a dress but it was supposed to be for some hero banquet that was held every winter.

“So, I guess that excuse about a hero banquet was bullshit huh?”

The blonde smirked and shook his head, “No that was true, but we also wanted you to have something special to wear for tonight that you couldn’t find anywhere else. Fucking Mitsuki is getting an ear full tomorrow about this!”

Kirishima took your hand in his, twirling you around and whistling until you spun into his chest, your back flushed into him and his arms wrapped around you tight as he nuzzled your neck, complimenting how well of a job Mitsuki did on your dress. The blonde smirked and took a long step closer to the two of you, placing himself before you. His red eyes dark and gleaming. You felt teeth at your shoulder making you gasp as Bakugou lifted your chin with his finger. The mood in the room quickly changed from light-hearted to sexual in a matter of seconds. It wasn’t fair sometimes having two boyfriends at a time like this, trapped with no way out, not like you wanted a way out though but you did enjoy this outfit and wanted to at least spend a few hours in it before it was torn to shreds and Mitsuki's hard work would be all for naught.

“That old hag did too good of a job, how are we supposed to take you out in this?” Bakugou growled through gritted teeth, his finger now scraping down your breasts as they were pushed together, tracing the curve of the soft and supple mounds.

Kirishima’s sharp teeth dragged down your skin and one of his hands turned your face so he could plant a hot kiss to your lips. Once he broke it, another hand was on your chin, gripping and making you look forward again as Bakugou’s own lips crashed into yours with another hot kiss. You were powerless to them, already melting and feeling arousal pool between your legs.

“Damn this skirt, it’s too long and the waist is too tight for me to slip my hand into. I bet you’re already soaking wet, huh cutie?”

A quiet ‘yes’ left your lips and the two men chuckled as they both left pecks along your neck and shoulders. You were slowly getting sucked into their spells until you realized what this night was about in the first place.

“S - fuck, goddammit! Stop it! You two can wait a few more hours for this, I’m hungry and I want my presents!”

Kirishima laughed, quickly changing his sloppy kisses to sweet ones, Bakugou rolled his eyes and bit your cheek, releasing you with a smirk.

“When we get back home, we get to unwrap a present of our own!”

Before leaving the house you were blindfolded by Katsuki, you growled thinking it was another sexual advance but he assured it was just until they got you to your destination, but that the garment would definitely be used later. They each took one of your hands and walked you outside to a vehicle, both agreeing that you looked way too good for other people to see and refused bringing you on a train.

The whole ride over to wherever the fuck it was you were going was full of you guessing. You guessed DisneyLand, the beach, a few restaurants, the bowling alley that you were banned from, and all kinds of other places only to be met with harsh ‘no’s’. You also had to blindly swat away the men's wandering hands as they both tried to slip them under your skirt or into your top. It was a fun game to them since you lost your sight and would jump each time one of them whispered in your ear or squeezed you.

“We’re gonna have so much fucking fun with you tonight princess. It’ll be like it’s our birthday instead!”

You heard a clap as both Katsuki and Kirishima high-fived each other behind your head, making your eyes roll underneath the black blindfold.

“I’m dating teenagers!”

Only a few minutes later you felt the vehicle slowing down and finally coming to a stop. Your hands flew to the barrier around your eyes but were quickly stopped. Sharp teeth bit at your cheek then were at your earlobe.

“If you so much as touch these without our permission, your cute little ass is going to get it later, understood baby girl?”

Your bottom lip retreated between your teeth as your thighs rubbed together from Kirishima’s words. Another set of teeth were at the opposite lobe, warm breath now fanning both sides. On each thigh a hand was placed and squeezed simultaneously.

“Answer him princess, you know how not using your words only riles us up even more!”

Bakugou’s voice now burned on your skin and you grit your teeth, feeling the heat rising from your core and into your chest as you swallowed harshly.

“Yah! I understand! Now let off!”

Your own hands pushed away their hands and you motioned for them to get out, not sure if you were even motioning in the right direction. Your ears could hear the door opening, cool air rushing in and making you shiver. A warm hand took yours and Katsuki coached you to the edge of the seat, your feet hanging out the door before he grabbed your waist and helped you out. Something wrapped around your shoulders and Kirishima was heard chuckling behind you as you jumped.

“Calm down mama, it’s just my jacket! Take our hands and we’ll get going.”

You did as instructed, holding out your palms to have them taken immediately by a man on each side of you, kisses were planted on your cheeks and they started to walk. When you’d come to steps, the two would instructed you like a child. So far just the journey was fun to you. The three of you soon stopped and a door could be heard opening and you continued to walk again. The air wasn’t as cold and the ground turned from concrete to what felt like flat carpet. You couldn’t exactly place a finger on the smell, it's almost as if there wasn't one.

“Guys, how much further?” You whined.

“Oi, only a few more steps brat! When we say ‘now’, you can take off your blind fold.”

Sighing, you wanted to just start running but knowing your luck, you’d face plant into the ground. Once again you were at a stop as your boyfriends hands left your own and you could feel them leaving. You wanted to take the mask off but remembered their warning and let your hands fall to your sides, grabbing at the tool of your skirt as you whined out their names.

Both men looked on at you, standing in the middle of the massive room clutching your fabric and trying to contain your excitement. They both looked at each other and nodded and announced together.

“Okay, now!"

Your jaw dropped as you took in the surroundings. Miscellaneous types of fish swam around the massive tanks that made up the walls of the room you were standing in the middle of. The only light filling the room was dim, making it feel like you were indeed on the ocean floor. Quickly you walked over and pressed your face and hands to the glass, awing at the gorgeous coral reefs and plant life, the colorful fishes. Until, something dark loomed overhead making you furrow your brows and look up.

“Holy. Shit.”

Above you, gracefully floating along was a massive whale shark. How you didn’t see it in the first place blew your mind. Whale sharks were your favorite ocean animal. You only ever dreamed about seeing one in real life and going into the oceans to swim with one of the gentle giants. They were so beautiful, the underside of their bellies white against the contrasting dark color with white spots on top. Your eyes watched as the shark floated and started to descend lower and even closer into view, your heeled feet quickly walked over to it. Your fingers brushing the cool glass as if you could touch it through the thick barrier.

“That’s a pretty big fish huh?” Kirishima’s voice spoke next to you.

You looked at him with sparkling eyes and he gave one of his famous sharp toothed grins. Touching your cheek, he leaned down to place a soft kiss to your lips.

“This is … I – I don’t have any words. It’s beautiful and it’s perfect!”

“Are you happy?”

Bakugou’s voice rang in your other ear, as he leaned an arm against the glass and looked into the tank, a hand in his pocket. You smiled and lunged to hug him, almost knocking the breath from his chest. He grunted but hugged you back, patting your hair and placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Of course I’m happy Suki, I’m elated, ecstatic, over the moon, bliss –“

Bakugou placed a hand over your mouth with a chuckle, it was quickly removed and he kissed you just as softly as Kirishima had done, lingering for longer though. His red eyes were open and he saw his friend give him a nod. Katsuki broke the kiss, placing his hands on your hips and slowly turning you around, pulling you into his chest as he hugged you from behind, hooking his chin over your shoulder. You chuckled and looked before you to see Kirishima standing there with his hands behind his back. Quirking a brow you looked from him and to Bakugou, unsure of what exactly they were plotting.

“Ready for your first gift princess?” Katsuki asked, smiling against your skin.

Your eyes lit up and you nodded eagerly, making the two men laugh. Kirishima walked closer until he stood before you pulling out a small flat black box from behind his back. You looked at it closely, it was obviously some sort of jewelry box.

“We know how badly you wish to have the moon and you know if we could it would be yours in a heartbeat, right?”

You nodded in reply and Bakugou's grip around you tightened. Kirishima smiled and his fingers gripped the edge of the box, slowly opening it.

“Well, hopefully this satisfies you for now while we figure out how to get you a real one.”

You grinned and looked to see the red-head completely open the jewelry box, revealing a white-gold crescent shaped pendant with diamonds lining the curve of it. It seemed to sparkle and shine even without being moved.

“Oh w-wow, it’s so pretty. Is it mine?”

Bakugou laughed and released you from his hold as his hands reached out to remove the necklace from the box. Holding it closer his cleared his throat, making you get the hint that he was trying to put it on you. The chain wasn’t loose or tight, almost like a choker and the pendant rested perfectly between your collarbone.

Katsuki moved from behind you and stood by Kirishima, both of them looking over you and grinning.

“Well how does it look?”

“Perfect!” They both blurted out in unison.

You smiled and hugged them both, placing a kiss to each of their lips.

“I love you Katsuki, and I love you Eijirou, these gifts are way more than I deserve and this is really the best birthday I’ve had so far. Thank you so much!”

“Don’t thank us yet mama, you still have one more left from each of us. Let’s go sit down and eat, then you can open those!”

After eating the food that the guys had brought over, you were extremely full and miserable. Your face lay flat on the table as you groaned, rubbing your stomach. It was all Bakugou’s fault, he tried saying that you couldn’t possibly finish the entire steak and sides on your plate and of course not being one to back down from him you emerged victorious while also wanting to die.

“How about some cake?” Kirishima’s voice sang out.

“No! No more, I'm gonna puke!”

Bakugou laughed and pet your head, quietly mentioning something about more presents. Your head perked back up and you smiled. Both boyfriends smirked and sat two small bags on the table.

“These aren't really anything special or as extravagant as the necklace but we couldn’t resist. Open mine first mama!" Kiri so eagerly pleaded.

You smiled and grabbed the red bag, quickly ripping the tissue paper from it. You squealed when your eyes landed on two different Funko Pop boxes. Removing them you couldn’t help but smile. It was a Beast Boy and Raven. To others the small toys may have meant nothing but the guys knew you were a collector of the figures and it was even better because of the pet name the hero called you by.

“Kiri, this is so sweet and perfect! I’m going to put them on their own little shelf.”

Bakugou subtly pushed his green gift bag towards you with a smirk. You smiled and took it, doing the same as before. Your eyes went soft and you placed a hand over your heart. You pulled out yet another Funko and held it to your cheek, smiling wide at the blonde. It was a Gizmo from Gremlins. These two were really pulling out all the big guns with your gifts, making you fear for how Christmas would turn out.

“Suki, I love him! God - thank you guys so much. I’m so lucky to have you, really.”

Kirishima and Bakugou proudly smiled and leaned over to places kisses on each cheek. For the rest of the night, you spent your time marveling at the fish and whale shark again, and talking between your two boyfriends until the two decided it was finally time to end the night and get you home. There was no objection, you honestly were pleased to hear the words. Once in the backseat of the vehicle you were lured into before, you stretched out between the two heroes. Your head rested in Kiri’s lap and your legs in Bakugou’s. Hands massaged your scalp and calves, and quickly you were fast asleep.

Once home neither of the men bothered to try waking you, Kirishima gently gathered your body into his arms and exited the vehicle. Bakugou followed behind and paid the driver. Once at the front door Bakugou fished out the keys and opened it for his friend, they both sighed as they walked through the front door. It had been a big day not only for you but also for them, with having to set up everything on top of work they were pretty worn out themselves.

A soft and high pitched sigh came from your lips as you nuzzled more into Kiri’s chest. Both men looked at you, Katsuki smirked and walked over, his hand petting your hair before he placed a kiss to your cheek. His fingers moved to trace the pendant that laid on your collarbone, even in the dim light it still sparkled.

“I was honestly nervous as fuck that she wouldn’t like this thing,” he softly said as to not wake you.

“Bakugou, I think we could’ve gotten her a macaroni necklace and she would’ve been happy. She’s just that type of person.”

“Tch, we would’ve saved a shit ton of money if we took that route, huh?”

The two stared at you, smiles on their faces as you slept peacefully, Kirishima leaned down to kiss your forehead and shrugged his shoulders.

“She’s worth every single penny though.”

“Damn right she is. Come on, let’s get her to bed, I feel like it’s gonna be a two man job to get that tight ass skirt off of her hips!”

You were carried up the stairs and gently laid down on your bed. Katsuki and Kiri both removed their coats, the red-head took them, placing the garments on the chair in the corner of your room. They both started to work on dressing you down, each took one of your small feet in their hands and removed the red heels. You flinched as Katsuki’s fingers grazed the inner arch of your foot, he chuckled and started to lightly flick the skin with his fingers tickling you more. Your face started to twitch and groans came from your mouth.

They both snickered and snorted, until your leg kicked, almost nailing the blonde right between the legs. Kirishima couldn’t help but let out a laugh as he took the heels and sat them on the ground.

“Little shit, nearly clipped me!”

“Well don’t tickle me asshole,” your sleepy voice suddenly blurted.

The men looked to see you slowly sitting up on your palms and rubbing your eyes. You yawned and rubbed the back of your neck looking at them with a quirked brow.

“Were you just going to let me sleep?”

“Well yeah, why wouldn’t we?” Bakugou asked.

“You two seemed very determined earlier to get into my panties, what happened?”

They looked at each other, Kirishima shrugged his shoulders.

“Uh – I guess we just figured you were tired mama.”

You smiled and moved to sit on your knees, inching towards the end of the bed and looking between both men. Without their coats, both of them had pushed up the sleeves of their dress shirts, showing off their muscular forearms. Their entire torsos looked amazing in the snugly fit shirts along with the pants. Just the sight of them had you quickly brimming with lust, the little dream you had during your power nap also didn't help with the situation.

“I’m far from tired Red. In fact I’m all ready to go, wanna feel?”

You bit your lip, hands running up your thighs and pushing the black tulle back as one of your hands went to disappear underneath it.

“You little fucking minx!” Bakugou smirked as he started to loosen his tie even more.

“Get your cute little ass over here, now!” The red-head gleamed, licking his sharp teeth and holding out a hand for you.

Smiling, you took it as he helped you off the bed. Bakugou was quick to pull your back into his chest and attacked your shoulders with harsh kisses, his canine teeth scraping against your skin. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them back into his own, a sweet groan leaving his mouth. Your hands got to work on un-doing the yellow tie from Kirishima’s neck, his finger hooked under your chin making you look up to him so he could place a rough kiss on your lips. You moaned into his mouth as the man behind you reached his hands around and aggressively groped your breasts and bit down with sheer force on the crook of your neck and started to suck.

Your fingers curled into the button-up shirt and tugged. To undo the obstacles you reluctantly broke the hungry kiss with Kiri, making him resort to kissing your jaw and neck. His tongue darted across your now flaming skin, making you giggle while your fingers quickly undid the buttons of his shirt and pushed the fabric down and off his shoulders. You marveled at the hard and flawless chest underneath, hands running over his pecs and mouth kissing his collarbone. Your hands traveled down and undid his belt in record time and removed it to work on the button of his pants. His own hands were on your shoulders, turning you around to face Bakugou.

“Sorry mama, that’s all you get for now,” Kiri growled into your ear as he and the blonde switched roles. His own razor sharp teeth biting down the back of your neck.

You lips were soon met with Katsuki’s, you could feel the smirk and bit down on his lip harshly, payback for the bite he gave to your neck. He growled out a usual insult but shut up once your hand groped his hardening member over his slacks. Your free hand tugged on the tie around his neck, pulling him closer. Kirishima’s hands lifted and bundled up the tool of your skirt, cool air hit your exposed thighs and his hands were able to find your ass and squeeze roughly. Hardening the tips of his fingers, you could feel them digging into your plump flesh. Your hands worked on removing Bakugou’s shirt the same you did with Kiri’s but you left his tie on.

“You two still have that blindfold?”

“It’s in my pocket cutie, don’t worry we haven’t forgotten about it. We’re just being generous right now, letting you take in the sight of us. We know how badly you wanted to strip us first.”

Your head turned around to kiss Kirishima with a smile.

“You’re so thoughtful Red, use this on me too,” you tugged on Bakugou’s tie making him growl and bite your cheek with a devious grin.

Both men smiled at each other and nodded.

“It’s still your birthday princess, so your wish is our command.”