#that was stressing me out. next step is emptying my inbox. as soon as my concert is over i can finally dedicate time to it

[moonchild-in-blue]

Not that anyone cares but i finally managed to go from this:

To this:

Much better 😌

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Solo Roadtrip Comfort

Summary - Part 12 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure)

Warnings - mentions of pregnancy, 

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N - G’day guys, I just wanna start by thanking you for all the likes, reblogs and follows since my last post, I really appreciate it. I hope you like this one too. And remember my inbox is always open for requests or even if you just wanna chat. Until next week, enjoy! 

You and Dean stay with Bobby for a few days before Sam catches a new lead. Dean, not wanting you to travel alone again insisted you drive back to the bunker together before he and Sam headed off again. While you didn’t really want to return to being alone, you finally agreed the bunker was home and you were safest there. You all knew it wasn’t going to be a milk run, but Dean promised to be back in time for your ultrasound appointment. However, nothing had gone to plan since they left. On the third day in pursuit of the high-level demon they’d called Bobby in for assistance. You were spending every waking hour researching and looking for demonic omens. With less than 48 hours to your appointment and no significant progress, you decide to call Dean to encourage him just to come home and regroup. 

“Hey, sweetheart, everything okay?”

“Yeah, just miss you.”

“I miss you too. I really thought we would’ve caught the son of a bitch by now.”

“I know...”

“24 more hours, okay, sweetheart? I’ll come back for the appointment, demon or no demon. I made a promise and I intend to keep it.”

“I called up to convince you, but truly, Dean, it’s just an ultrasound. I’ll get the pictures and there’ll be others. We’ll probably barely be able to see anything anyway. You should keep on this demon. It could be the key to creating a safer world for our peanut.”

“We’re chasing our tails, baby. We’re no closer to finding it than we were a week ago. I just want to hold you in my arms again.”

“I want nothing more than to be in your arms, but…”

“I know. I’ll give it 24 more hours. If we catch a lead we’ll chase it, otherwise I’m coming home to you. Deal?”

“Deal. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“You better not be overexerting yourself with research. Promise me you’ve been sleeping and eating and managing your stress.”

“I promise. Three full meals a day with snacks and I’m in our cold, lonely bed with a book or a movie by midnight, up every day well after dawn.”

“That’s my girl. I’ll be back to warm up that bed and give you some company soon enough.”

“I love you. Get back to work, I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Alright, sweetheart. I’ll call you tonight.”

You hang up and go to the kitchen to make yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before going back to research, but you find the peanut butter jar empty – damn Dean putting empty jars in the cupboard. The thought of your fiance makes you smile for a second. But your craving takes over. You go to your room and change out of Dean’s T-shirt into one of your own with ripped jeans and finish your outfit with one of his flannels before slipping on your boots and heading for the garage. You take the keys for the bright red car off the hook and get in, driving to the store. Once you get there you grab a new jar of peanut butter and a range of your other favourite snacks including a fresh apple pie. You take your things to the counter but something feels off. 

You feel uncomfortable with how the cashier is looking at you. You could’ve sworn his eyes were pitch black, but when you walk over with your groceries and get a closer look they’re bright blue. You try to push the anxiety down, but you can’t ignore your years of hunting experience and the sinking feeling in your stomach. That’s when you realise you had left the bunker completely unarmed. So instead you try to be inconspicuous and just pay for your groceries and leave. You keep looking back over your shoulder with each step you take towards your extremely conspicuous car. You quickly get in and lock the doors behind you and zoom off back towards the bunker. Once you’re out on the straight road you call Dean, but after two rings you hang up and call Sam instead. 

“Hey, Y/N. What’s up?”

“You with Dean?”

“I’m at the Library. Dean’s off with Bobby chatting to the locals.”

“Oh ok. Umm…good.”

“What’s going on? You know he doesn’t like it when you come to me instead of him. Didn’t you just almost break up over this a couple of weeks ago?”

“You know what he’s like…he stresses so much.”

“You know why though.”

“I know just…fine! I call him.”

Just as you’re about to say your goodbyes your phone lights up with an incoming call. “Speak of the devil…he’s calling. Thanks, Sam. I’ll see you whenever you guys get back. Be safe and good luck!”

You hang up and answer Dean’s call. 

“Hey, sweetheart, something wrong? Are you okay? The baby?”

“We’re both fine. Give me a sec,” you put the phone down while you drive into the garage, but stop halfway when something occurs to you, “shit!”

“Y/N? Sweetheart? What’s going on?”

You hear Dean’s worried calls and pick your phone back up. “Something’s not right, Dean.”

“With the baby? Are you bleeding? Does it hurt? I know I hate hospitals-”

“I’m fine. The baby’s fine. I already told you.”

“Then what’s not right? What’s going on?”

“I gotta get out of here. I think someone’s in the bunker.”

“Son of a bitch! Dammit! I’ll send Sam back on the plane and I’ll drive. Dammit! I’ll get on a plane…”

You quickly back out of the garage and speed off down the road. You don’t know where to go, but you can’t risk being caught in the bunker with a demon. You try to take deep breaths to manage your stress, completely zoning out your frantic fiance on the phone. After a few minutes, you spot a clearing in the trees, drive off the road, and park.

“Y/N? Talk to me? Are you there? Are you okay?”

“Dean. I think the demon you’re looking for is here in Kansas.”

“I’m getting in the car now. I’m gonna pick up Sam and Bobby and we’re gonna check it out. I want you to get out of there and drive to Bobby’s and lock yourself in the panic room. Don’t stop unless you absolutely have to. And call me whenever you do.”

“Dean…It’s all my fault,” you try to take a deep breath but end up crying instead. The stress is too much for you to handle alone, along with your raging hormones. “I went out. I didn’t take my gun or my knife. I just wanted a peanut butter and jelly sandwich but you ate all the peanut butter! I just wanted a sandwich…And I-I forgot to shut the garage door. It’s my fault. They found me. The cashier-”

“Hey, hey, hey! Y/N! Sweetheart! Slow down! Take a deep breath with me,” Dean takes an exaggerated breath in and out so you can hear him. He does this a few times until he can hear you’ve settled down a little. “Okay, now start at the beginning. Tell me everything.”

You tell him everything that’s happened since you last spoke, including your call to Sam and hunch about the cashier. 

“Okay, we’re gonna stick to the same plan okay? You keep driving to Bobby’s, I can stay on the line if you want. If you need to stop to fill up, pee or get snacks you call me, Sam or Bobby – you don’t unlock or get out of the car without one of us on the line. As soon as I meet up with them we’re all gonna head back. Sam and I will go to Kansas and search the bunker and check the town for demons, Bobby will go home to be with you. We’ll go there and pick you up and bring you home as soon as we know it’s safe.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“For what?”

“For scaring you, for screwing up, for not being more careful…”

“Everything’s gonna be okay. It’s not your fault. Granted it’s a little early for baby-brain to be setting in yet, but then again I’ve never been around many pregnant women, so what would I know?”

“I can’t go to Sioux Falls, what about the appointment?”

“You call and reschedule, or I can. It can be a few days late. It’s more important you’re safe. I just pulled up in front of the library, I’m gonna go get Sam and fill him in, you should start driving. Do you want to stay on the line?”

You take a deep breath. “No, I’m a badass hunter, I can do this!”

“Damn right you are! You got this. By the way, check the glove box.”

You do as you’re told and find a silver knife and gun. “But how?”

“Before we left Bobby’s I put a spare set in there. It’s your car whenever you want it, you know that, and I knew I couldn’t stop you from leaving the bunker when I’m not there. But what I could do was make sure you never left unarmed.”

“I love you, baby.”

“Be safe. You got this. And call whenever you stop, we’ll be tracking you too.”

You hang up and go to close the glove box but something catches your eye: a mix tape. You pull it out, you can’t help but smile as you read the writing: A mixtape for the love of my life. You put it in to play and start the car. Classic rock fills the car as you peel off back towards the road. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A few hours pass before the need to pee is so unbearable you have to stop. You take the next exit and call Sam before pulling up at the Gas-N-Sip. He answers quickly.

“Hey Y/N, you’re on speaker with Dean too.”

“Hey, sweetheart! First stop? Where are you?”

“I thought you two were tracking me,” you say as you get out and fuel up the car. 

“We are, but I’m driving.”

“Columbus, Nebraska. I’m fuelling up and then I really need to pee. Luckily I already had snacks, although I still want a PB&J!”

“You can make one as soon as you get to Bobby’s,” Dean says.

“Hey, we know that’s not a short drive, especially by yourself. I know you’re not supposed to be drinking coffee or energy drinks at the moment, and I know Dean’s ready to punch me for even suggesting this, but you might need to consider it. It’s not safe to sleep on the side of the road alone, nor can we guarantee any motels.”

“Thanks for the advice, Sam, but I’d rather risk it at a motel than risk the baby’s health by binging on caffeine.”

“Only you know what’s best for you-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I know really gotta pee!” You rush to the women’s bathroom keeping them on the line but telling them to shut up. You check the stalls finding them all empty before going into the first one and locking it. You listen carefully for anyone else coming and going but it’s quiet. So you do your business and get out as quickly as possible. After paying for the fuel you get back in the car and drive off. 

“I’m back on the road now. I’ll call you next time I stop.”

“Be safe!” they both say in unison.

“I love when you talk at the same time. You two be safe too! Oh, and I found the mixtape, love of my life,” you say before hanging up.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

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[your-daily-biaswrecking]

I wanna say that namjoons dad bestfriend drabble was so freaking hot….🥵🥵🥵 maybe part 2? 🙏 when they make out in family house of yn? And her dad is next room 👀 i am so dirty pls forgive me😂

can't believe it took me so long to answer this... okay, so, my requests are not open but i decided to clear up my inbox a bit, starting with this one. as for this part 2... i know it could have been just a short scene with pure smut, but i wanted the drama of the plot, okay? also i'm not doing another psa: this is wrong and pls don't do this, it's just fiction

part 1

Namjoon knew he had to stop this. This... Whatever it was the two of you had. He had found excuses to come see you multiple times throughout the winter, always missing you too much and being unable to stay away for too long. But when you surprised him, secretly coming back to your hometown to be with just him for a week, he wasn't as happy. It was the first reminder of how different your worlds were; he was a grown man minding his career, at an age where he should be seeking marriage and kids. And you? You were skipping school to see your crush.

"I think my daughter has a boyfriend," his best friend casually told him one day soon after that. Namjoon froze, his heart the only thing reacting to those words. But his friend went on nonchalantly, pointing to his ignorance. "I don't mind, of course. I've only told her one thing, and it's not to get pregnant. I don't want her to go through what her mother and I went through, you know? She's at this age... you know? She needs to enjoy her age."

Namjoon... The grown man who should be seeking marriage and kids was fucking this girl. All those times he came inside you, filling you up a little too aggressively– as if deep down he wished he'd knock you up and keep you to himself forever.

He had to end this.

When he told you those same words –you need to enjoy your age, you need to be with a peer– you seemed more mad than hurt. But perhaps you understood. You weren't stupid, you too knew this was wrong. Perhaps you were just waiting for it to happen, waiting for the excitement of doing something against the rules to die out and the realization of the responsibility to hit him. You didn't blame him. But you were still annoyed. Stopped talking altogether, the only news he got from you now came from your father. You did get a boyfriend, or so he was told. And you were doing well with your studies and you were generally living a great student's life.

Summertime and you were here again. Along with your so-called boyfriend. Namjoon was so pissed off when he saw the skinny, mussy, sweaty boy that seemed to either be very slow or high off his ass all the time. And you seemed pleased with yourself.

"You really had to bring him here?"

You chuckled– an evil laugh, he thought. "I thought you'd be happy to see me dating someone my age." When your eyes met his, you made him feel like your positions were switched. So confident while he was almost throwing a tantrum. "What about you?" you asked. "Dating anyone your age?"

On that topic, Namjoon had more than enough women showing interest. And your father, for some reason, was dead set on finding him a wife. All those blind dates he had to escape from! He was simply not interested. He didn't want to admit it was because he was still thinking about you; that no one else would ever be a good replacement for you. He didn't want to because he didn't plan on coming back to you; he had to be the adult, the mature one, and stay away. It was the logical and the right thing to do. He didn't want to admit that, despite all of his intelligence and reason, he still thought about you... Because if he did this would no longer be just some attraction, just some fucking around. If he admitted it was more, what would happen then?

No... this was good. You had already moved on. Enjoying your life the way you were supposed to, a life he had no room to be in. All he had to do now was follow your example.

"Namjoon..."

That text was sent past 2 am on a rainy night in October. The only text he had gotten from you in months. That was all it said yet it made his stomach tight as if you had moaned his name in his ear. As if he knew exactly why you had texted him; needy in the middle of the night, that measly boy surely unable to satisfy you, knowing exactly who could help you at that moment. Fuck... Perhaps if he replied right then things would go back to how they were a year ago. He didn't. And you didn't text him again.

"Joon! You are staying for the holidays, right? You should spend Christmas with us." Your father was more than happy to share that day meant to be with family, with his best friend. Namjoon was like family anyway, wasn't he? When he tried to come up with an excuse, the other insisted. "See? If you were married now you would have someone to spend Christmas with, but you're not, so you'll come to spend it with our family. My daughter's coming home tomorrow, too. Ah. Could you pick her up 'cause–"

"No. I can't. Too busy."

The man laughed. "It's okay. But I am expecting you for dinner on Christmas!" he said with a pointing finger. "I'm not taking no for an answer."

And so there he was. Sitting right across from you at the table. In the months that had passed, you had gained some weight and he thought you had never looked better. Your face a little fuller, your jeans straining against your round thighs and hips, your breasts fitting your curves just right. The body of a grown woman. All Namjoon could think about was feeling you against him again. And he was mad again... Did your stupid boyfriend have the chance to fuck you like that? He didn't deserve you.

"You didn't bring that boy with you this time..." he commented.

"What, Eric?" your mother answered for you. "They broke up."

Namjoon raised an eyebrow, eyes never leaving yours. "Really? How come?"

The corner of your lips turned upwards. "He was just... Too much of a kid."

He hated the way he sighed in relief, the way excitement bubbled in his stomach. He shouldn't be as happy to hear that as he was... He glanced at you again, your hair that had grown longer pushed back to expose your neck. It was getting harder and harder for Namjoon to keep his mind from wandering off to inappropriate things. Along with other parts getting hard.

And then your father spoke. "Joon. You know she's graduating next month, right?" His eyebrows shot up high on his forehead because no– no, he didn't know that. "She's looking for an internship and I thought–"

"Dad..."

"–you could help her get in your company? Maybe you could put in a good word for her?"

"Dad!" Your tone and the way your eyes widened towards your father's way betrayed the fact that the topic hadn't been new, and that you were clearly against the idea.

He looked at you until you finally turned back to face him. And surprising both himself and you, he said: "Yes, of course."

"I'm going to sleep," you announced after the dinner was over and you had helped clean up the table. You gave Namjoon a long glance before you disappeared down the hallway. Your parents had moved to the couch, TV on for some music and a game of cards keeping them busy when their friend asked to go to the bathroom. And you heard a soft knock on your door. "I'm assuming you know that's the wrong door you're knocking at," you spoke before you opened. Already in your sleeping outfit that consisted of an oversized t-shirt and just your panties.

"You knew it was me?" Namjoon whispered, eyes still stuck on your thighs.

"My parents don't knock."

You let him in, closing the door behind you and leaning on it as you looked up at him through your lashes. You both stayed silent for a moment, your breaths the only thing filling the empty, badly lit room. You noticed how he wet his plump lips and bit them while he was examining your face. So close you could smell his aroma, the one you never forgot.

“You don’t have to… you know,” you spoke, referring to your father’s idea. “I know you want to avoid me.”

Namjoon exhaled from his nose as if he was annoyed. “I- It’s not that I want to…”

“I know.” You gulped, finding your mouth wetting too much at the wish of kissing him, along with other parts getting wet. “You don’t want to— you have to.” You dared place your hands on his chest, and instead of pulling away, he leaned into your touch. Feeling his heart beat fast under your fingertips like the way he was breathing. He was slowly losing his mind but he knew he wasn’t the only one. “You don’t have to push me away,” you continued in a low tone. “I know what I’m doing. I’m the one coming to you.”

“Little one…” he rasped, and it had you catching a moan in the back of your throat. Oh, how you longed for his pet names, his voice calling to you lovingly. He stepped even closer. He knew he shouldn’t be there, he shouldn’t be doing this right now… But how could he stop? He wanted you so bad. His hands cupped your cheeks, lips just a breath away from yours, brushing against you as he whispered: “Come work with me… I wanna see you every day.”

The fabric of his shirt pooled in your palms as you grabbed him, closing the tiny gap between you. Both of you sighing in a mixture of relief and impatience as your lips crushed together. The softness only lasted a few seconds before you were moaning and Namjoon was pinning you on the door, deepening the kiss by slipping his tongue in like he was trying to devour you. Your arms wrapped around him while his hands traveled down your body, groping you like you were his stress relief toy. Your hips, your ass… He broke the kiss and buried his face in your neck.

“Ah- daddy,” you whined, grinding on him.

Namjoon felt like he was about to cry. “I missed you so much!” he choked out right before latching his teeth on your skin. Your naughty fingers were struggling to unzip his pants quickly and it made him chuckle instead of sob. “Fuck—” he growled. And he pulled back to stare at you with dark eyes. “Such a little slut, so desperate for my cock.” There he was; the Namjoon you knew so well. His words made you shiver.

“Please, daddy. I need you right now.”

He placed a hand on the door right next to your head, while he freed his dick with the other. “Your parents are right outside.”

Ignoring his words, you discarded your panties and took him in your hand, biting your lip. “I can’t wait any longer, need you to fuck me right now, plea-ase!” you whined a little too loud and Namjoon growled, grabbing your legs and lifting you until you straddled his waist, back on the door.

“Gosh, you’ll get daddy in big trouble, baby.” Tip of his cock brushing your wet folds, making your mouth drop. “They might come looking for me.”

“Quick,” you sobbed. “Be quick, please, just— ah!”

He slipped inside and you both gasped. Your legs were shaking at the feeling, eyes rolling back and a moan as quiet as you could manage rumbled through your neck. He got as deep as he could, face scrunching as if he was in pain. You kissed him.

“I’ve missed you, daddy. I’ve missed this so much.”

His head was spinning as he was trying to find the right words, the words that could describe exactly how he felt about you. “I- I-”

Laughter echoed through the house— your mother. You both froze. Namjoon glanced at the doorknob, and then he grabbed it; your parents could walk in at any moment. He didn’t stop though, nothing could stop him now. He angled his hips and started thrusting into you; fast and sloppy because the clock was ticking.

“Daddy…” you mewled, unable to do or say anything else.

Namjoon clasped a hand over your mouth. “Shh,” he demanded. “You better not start screaming like the little whore you are, or they’ll hear us.”

His words had the opposite effect of what he wanted; making you moan harder. And the fact that he had his big hand over your mouth made you not care to keep quiet. Your choked whines along with the wet sounds of his dick slipping in and out of you could definitely be heard from the other side of the door, perhaps even from that couch your father was on had it not been for the music.

“Shit, you—” he growled. He finally dropped his hand from your mouth, wanting to grab your ass to lift you higher, fuck you better.

Your head fell on his shoulder before you decided to bite down on it to stop yourself from screaming as Namjoon’s thick dick drilled into you with no mercy. “So-o good…”

“Yeah?” He sounded out of breath already, yet cocky. “Did you forget what it’s like to have a real man fuck your pussy, baby? That little boy didn’t do shit, did he? He can’t fuck you as good as daddy, right?”

Your nails dug in his back and you felt your brain so rotten like he was about to fuck you to sleep. “I… don’t know…” you mumbled.

Namjoon stopped. He pulled his head slightly back but he couldn’t see your face. “What?” Your body squirmed, trying to chase that high he had just denied you. “What do you mean—”

“I don’t know what he was like,” you whined. “I only thought of you.”

Another laughter, loud voices coming from that couch. It didn’t scare him that much this time, his heart was already racing and he only gave that direction a glance before he was pulling your head back to look into your eyes. Only then did he notice the tear stains on your cheeks, and you sobbed, choked as he thrust into you again.

“I only thought of you, daddy…” you repeated with a whimper. And it had his eyes rolling to the back of his head, pumping into you a couple more times, hard, before he spilled his seed deep inside.

A whisper. “Fuck…” Panting and groaning as he was trying to come to, and you watching his glistening face as he grimaced and bit his lip. He let you down, resting his forehead on the door while he still struggled to collect himself, and you basked in the pride it gave you. You tucked him back in his underwear and zipped him up with a smirk on your lips, seeing how he finally started to be able to focus his eyes on you.

You opened the door slightly and peeked out; your parents were still playing cards on the couch, they didn’t notice you just like they probably hadn’t noticed how long Namjoon was gone for.

“You should go back,” you whispered as you came back into the room. Namjoon kissed you quickly like he was trying to catch you off guard. And then he grabbed your chin, staring down at you, breaths still coming out too hard.

“Don’t fall asleep, baby. I’ll come back to finish what I started when your father goes to bed.”

You smiled, pushing him slightly back yet he wasn’t budging. “Go…” you prompted as you started feeling his cum sipping out of your cunt and slowly running down your thighs.

Namjoon smiled too. “Really. I’ll eat you out till you pass out, baby, I promise.”

In the dark of the room and the rush of the moment, you decided you had no reason not to let your thoughts slip out. “I wish you could just come to sleep in my arms.”

He got a little serious. And he kissed you again, slower than before. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He left through that door, meeting your parents that were happy to see him yet didn’t even bother to point out his long absence. Sitting next to his best friend while his breathing was still shaky from fucking his daughter.

Shit… That girl will get him in so much trouble…

Masterlist

[sambvcks]

crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter one // body’s working on empty

summary: bucky isn’t as receptive to this new life of his as everyone had hoped. he’s cold, sharp-tongued, and closed off. except to the tenant across the hallway from him, who always wears pajamas and bakes a dozen too many of his favorite cookies

warnings: food, nothing too bad this chapter!

word count: 1.5k-ish

author’s note: i thought my marvel phase ended five years ago...here we are again. i haven’t written in awhile so please be kind! title and chapter titles taken from hozier’s ‘work song’.

[ read on ao3 | series masterlist | inbox | join my taglist! ]

[ NEXT ]

Five minutes into their first session, Bucky decided he was going to make Dr. Raynor’s job as difficult as he possibly could.

It wouldn’t be an impossible task, seeing how this whole ordeal depended on him opening up and talking, two things that he had abandoned decades ago. Her unwavering stare was nothing more than a challenge, these fifty-minute sessions once a week were nothing more than a slight inconvenience to his lackluster day to day routine. He would play along, do whatever exercises she asked, and feign stability until he never had to see her again.

“Since this is our first session together, we’ll take it easy.” She promised with a forced upturn of her lips before whipping out her notebook.

Suddenly, it felt like he was encased in bulletproof glass in Berlin again. He remembered that the last time he had been forced into receiving psychiatric help, it hadn’t exactly gone to plan. His chin fell to his chest, hands wringing together as he thought of any excuse to request a different doctor. 

“Let’s begin.”

It was already getting too hot to wear leather gloves and his heavy jacket. New York’s heatwave was supposed to be the highest on record this year and while kids popped open fire hydrants in the street, Bucky would be settled on the hardwood floor in the back corner of his apartment, waiting.

Waiting for what, he wasn’t quite sure.

It was a fairly nice apartment, newly renovated and practically barren. Government issued and funded, of course, and he had spent the first night pulling the furniture from the walls to the center of the room in search of bugs and cameras. He found thirty-four, destroyed them under a rolling pin, and they hadn’t come to replace them. Message received.

The one thing he really liked about the apartment building were his neighbors. The price tag for a one bedroom was substantial to say the least and only older couples could really afford it. No children, no dogs, no outsiders. The only break from his undisturbed routine would be occasionally helping Mrs. Johnson down the hall carry her groceries as she struggled to get the door unlocked with her brittle hands.

They affectionately called him James and the older women were quick to get a hold of his arms, saying things like “They don’t make them like you anymore, James!”. He swallowed the bile prickling at the back of his throat as he nodded, and they moved on to telling him about their single granddaughters.

It was almost nice, his routine. Almost.

Outside of those small encounters, he spent most of his waking hours jogging in the park and cooking the same three meals. He had his appointment every Wednesday with Dr. Raynor, but that was it. He’d take two trains back to his apartment and wouldn’t emerge again until he needed groceries two days later.

It was when he was returning from one of his biweekly grocery trips, a paper bag settled on his hips, that he spotted you outside his door.

He stilled in the hallway, taking a quick step back to peek around the corner without being spotted. His breath stalled, his ears picking up your soft humming and the crinkle of plastic as you set a bundle of cookies at his doorstep, the only one without a mat. His eyes flicked to the other doors, where identical bags of cookies sat propped up, tied with blood red ribbons.

His shoulders relaxed. No threat.

The bottom of his grocery bag suddenly gave way, fruit rolling in every direction. Bucky fell to his knees, glove clad hands snatching up everything he could reach as quickly as he could manage. You were faster, though, and scooped up a plum that had rolled your way, offering it over as he tried to balance the rest of his groceries in his arms.

“Thanks.” He was quick to sweep past you, hand digging in his pockets for his key.

“James, right? Ms. Robinson downstairs is like, in love with you.”

“Yeah, but, uh-“ Dr. Raynor’s instructions from their last session rang in his head, as much as he tried to tune her out: make connections. “You can call me Bucky.” He cleared his throat. “And Mrs. Robinson is far too good for me.”

“Bucky it is then.” You trailed him down the hallway, “Y/N.”

Bucky tried to sneak a glance at you from the corner of his eyes, which was harder to inconspicuously do now that he had gotten a haircut and couldn’t hide his wandering eyes behind long tresses. Young was Bucky’s first thought. much younger than the other renters in the building. Bright was next, followed by much too smiley for a Tuesday morning.

Pretty, he admitted as he turned his back to unlock his door. Maybe in another life he would have lingered in the hall, his so-called effortless charm seeping through as you swooned at the very thought of a date with James Buchanan Barnes. But that life was long gone, and instead he rushed to retreat.

“Oh, don’t forget these.” You swooped down to collect the bundle of cookies you had left at his door, handing them to the hand that wasn’t delicately balancing the pile of groceries he still held against his impossibly broad shoulders. “Oatmeal raisin, super-secret family recipe.”

He was back in the doorway of his ma’s kitchen, watching his little sister balance on a wobbling stool as she struggled to crack and egg with her little fingers. He can so distinctly see the pale green of the cabinets, remember the fight his parents had when she begged for that shade of green while his dad had wanted white. Of course, she won.

“These are your brother’s favorite.” His ma whispered to his sister; her flour covered hands reaching for the age faded index card with their grandmother’s script detailing the ingredients. “Our family’s recipe. One day, you will make these for your children. And your children’s children.”

Rebecca, still so young and with a hatred for smelly boys deep in her bones, giggled at the mere thought as her fingers fished out the bits of eggshell that snuck their way into the bowl. She wiped it away on the spare apron tied twice around her waist, much too big for her. 

Bucky would never see her grow into it. He would be drafted only a few months later.

In the meantime, he would bundle half a dozen of them in a tea towel and split them with Steve on the walk to the movie theater. Steve would begrudgingly admit that Buck’s ma made the best cookies, but his made the best brisket. They’d sneak in through the back door and do it all again the next weekend, until they ran out of weekends together.

“Oatmeal raisin are my favorite.” He admitted, accepting your offering like a stray cat does to the first scrap of food from a stranger.

“I think you’re the only person under the age on one hundred to ever say that.” You teased, backing away to the door adjacent to his, “Anyway, don’t tell me things like that. I’m a stress baker and with finals coming up…” You winced at the image of the dozens of batches you would surely be whipping up in the coming weeks.

“Finals?”

“Law school, one semester left.” You fished your own keys from your back pocket. Bucky barely held in the scoff at the shiny Spider-Man keychain that dangled from your fingers. “You?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t been in school in what feels like…a century.”

“Well, I’m all alone here and as much as I would love to, I can’t eat everything that I bake. So, expect a few dozen muffins and cookies every few days.”

“No arguing from me, doll.”

You both lingered in the small hallway, only a few steps apart, each leaning against your respective doors. Keys in each hand, with no intention of using them any time soon.

“Law school, you said? How do you afford a place like this?” Bucky was sure he was the only recently pardoned fugitive under this room.

“Well, this used to be my grandma’s apartment and it was handed down to me in a maybe no so legal way. If the landlord asks, I’m an eighty-year-old woman who doesn’t know how to work her answering machine.”

He huffed a laugh, mostly because that wasn’t particularly far from how he felt with today’s tech. The flip phone that Dr. Raynor had described as archaic sat heavy in his back pocket with only three names programed into his contacts. Don’t get him started on his television.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

With that, you each stepping into your respective apartments. Bucky stalled at his door for a moment, listening as you locked and dead bolted your door behind you. He sighed, dumping his half-ruined groceries on his barren kitchen island.

The next day, he’d have another appointment with Dr. Raynor. This time when he’d say I’m trying, as he did each week, it wouldn’t be a complete lie. His phone buzzed in his back pocket.

2 New Messages

From: Sam

You coming up this weekend?

Don’t ignore me this time. He’s getting worse, Buck.

[meltwonu]

| 𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔩 𝔦 𝔪𝔢𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 |     [CHAPTER 4]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x reader

this chapter’s notes; fratboy!wonwoo, fingering, littlest bit of dirty talk, praise!kink, soft soft soft FLUFF hours, a bit of a filler chapter before the last chapter!! 😭 I can’t believe it’s almost ‘over’... This chapter has the least amount of smut yall will ever see with fratboy!wonwoo so don’t get used to it ☠️ LMAO 🤣🤣 also... it’s been a garbage week(boring work drama) for me so I’ll answer inbox msgs and stuff on sunday, I need to get away from the internet(and people) for a day dkfjhskh 😭💕 Ya’ll thank you for so much love and support with Caffeine and Until I Met You! It means so much to me and I appreciate every like, reblog and comment I get on it 🥺💕 No I will never be ending my fratboy!wonwoo au so don’t worry about that hehe 💕 For now, enjoy this soft ch 4 and I will see yall on Sunday! I love you, have a great weekend! 💕

[mood for this chapter: more than enough - alina baraz]

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - x

“So…”

Wonwoo sighs - re-shelving another Edgar Allen Poe book. “So, what?”

Mingyu tilts his sunglasses down, eyebrows raised at the older male that continues to do his job instead of give him the time of day. “What’s going on with you, hyung? You’ve been… weird.”

“Okay, define weird.”

The younger male pouts as he takes his sunglasses off, pocketing them as he leans up against the bookshelf that Wonwoo is currently still shelving.

It only takes one utterance of your name for Wonwoo to stop in his tracks - fingertips on the spine of another book as he turns to Mingyu. “What about her? Did she say something to you?”

“No, but do you like her? I mean, ‘like’ like her.”

“Is it not… obvious? That I do? Did we not all collectively have that conversation about me giving her a set of keys to our house?”

Mingyu grimaces slightly as he mentally goes through all the times he’d even seen the two of you together and he’s only able to conjure up a few select memories - none of which were anything necessarily romantic. “Well… I wouldn’t say ‘obvious’, I guess. The two of you aren’t exactly the ‘kiss and hold hands in public’ kind of... people. More like the, ‘sneak off to fuck in a public restroom’ kind... Which, uh, isn’t really... romantic.”

This time, Wonwoo crosses his arms and leans up against the opposite bookshelf as he sighs.

It’d been a few days since he’d seen you and you’d been swamped in so much class work that you didn’t even have the time to come by the library or the frat house. And even while Wonwoo stood in between the bookshelves having a conversation with Mingyu, you were finishing an art project with Minghao that was due by the end of the day.

“I know. I told her it’d be kind of a slow crawl for me.” He plucks another book from the cart, staring at the glossy text as he simmers in his thoughts. “Mingyu, am I awkward?”

“Erm, well, I wouldn’t say that necessarily.”

Mingyu steps forward, patting Wonwoo on the shoulder as he smiles.

“You like her and you’re trying even if you’re not used to it. You gotta start somewhere, hyung. Even if you’re a fish out of water. But that’s okay, you can ask me for help if you want!”

“When are you gonna put a ring on Wonwoo-hyung?”

You snort at Minghao’s question - reaching for a clean paintbrush as he stands across from you in the large, empty studio. “First of all, can you not say it like that? I’m not gonna marry him, okay.”

The male rolls his eyes as he steps closer to you; his own hands and clothes covered in a colorful array of paints. “So you’re saying you never imagined hyung in a suit, hair slicked back and his buff arms carrying you off into your honeymoon?”

“W--wh--n--no! No, I haven’t!” You avoid his piercing stare as you focus on your end of the large canvas instead.

No, but I dreamt about it once.

“‘Hao, would you hurry! We’re supposed to be collaborating on this and it looks… like it’s 5 different art styles.”

“Don’t change the subject on me. And anyway, I like what you’re doing to hyung. Breaking him out of his shell, y’know? He’s just shy, that’s all. Needs a little work in the bold department.”

You bite down the urge to laugh because to you, Wonwoo was everything but shy when it came to the bedroom. Although, Minghao was right with everything else. “Yeah, I know. We went for breakfast together after I, um, stayed over a few nights ago and he kinda just sat there zoned out, picking at his waffles. He’s really cute when he wakes up in the morning though. Pouty and whiny.”

Grinning at Minghao, he pretends to gag in response before taking a seat next to you.

“Disgusting. Tell me more.”

Wonwoo makes an effort to check in with you throughout the day before he heads back to his room - asking you if you’d had your meals and if you’d finished your project on time.

You’d answered sporadically as you and Minghao raced to finish.

‘I’ll eat late probably… rly gotta finish or else my ass is failing lol’

‘Just don’t forget, okay? It’s not good for you to skip.’

Wonwoo lays down in his bed; yawning as he sets his phone onto the nightstand next to himself.

His eyelids feel heavy and he’s quick to give in to the tiredness that takes over him once he gets comfortable.

When Wonwoo finally decides to shift during his nap, he finds it difficult and extra warm.

“Mmh…”

His bleary eyes adjust to the, now,  slightly darkened room as he makes out your figure tucked underneath his arm. He calls your name softly - waking you up from the nap that you’d apparently joined him in.

“Mmh… Wonwoo…” You snuggle in deeper, voice still laced with sleep. “You didn’t even budge when I came in…”

He chuckles softly as he readjusts to spoon you from behind instead; his strong arm wrapped around your waist to keep your body flush against his own.

“I’m surprised you came by, sweetheart. I would’ve just stayed awake had I known you were coming over.” His voice is groggy and laced with sleep as you sigh softly in return as you blink away the sleepiness.

“How was your day at the library? Miss me yet?” Wonwoo smiles into your shoulder before he tilts his head up to kiss the shell of your ear.

“Always, sweetheart. Although, Mingyu decided to keep me busy today.”

“Oh? Anything fun?”

He plays with the hem of your shirt, “Well… Fun isn’t the word I’d use to describe what that was. Nosy was more like it.”

This time you can’t help but snort in response. “You too? I think some people were being ‘lil moles today.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it. Did you end up just coming back here with Minghao from the studio?”

“Wasn’t planning on it, to be honest but… S’been a rough day.” Placing your hand over his arm, you squeeze slightly as you pull his arm around you tighter. “Our professor came by while we were working in the studio and said our project wasn’t up to par with what Minghao and I usually submit for projects. She didn’t fail us on the spot but she said we need to redo it for less credit or take the failing grade.”

Wonwoo nuzzles your neck; peppering small kisses on your clothed shoulder. “I take it the two of you are going to redo it?”

“Mm… We spent so long coming up with a concept and now we’re both stressed about coming up with something new. I walked over here with ‘Hao and he locked himself up in his room as soon as we got here. Figured I’d come hang out with you and found you napping… With your glasses on, no less.”

The two of you share a laugh; Wonwoo’s embrace making you feel more at ease.

“Can I help you de-stress a little, sweetheart?”

You stare at the opposite wall, nodding gently as Wonwoo’s hand leaves the hem of your shirt in favour of the waistband of your shorts.

“Just want you to feel good,” he whispers. “You deserve it. You’ve been working so hard, baby.”

He teases you softly; fingertips ghosting across your skin as you shiver. “Ah, Wonwoo…”

“You worked extra hard today too, didn’t you? I’m so proud of you for what you accomplished today.”

Your body heats up at his praise and you can’t deny that his deep, soft voice sends thrums of arousal pouring over your body just as he dips his hand into your lounge shorts. He touches you over your panties - fingertips ghosting against your mound as you moan his name shakily in return.

“I know your new idea is going to be great, baby. I believe in you.”

Soft whines threaten to spill as Wonwoo strokes you over your panties - slowly working you up as you find yourself trying to grind against his hand. “Y-yeah… ‘m p-pretty sure ‘Hao’s already working on it…”

Your voice is barely above a whisper as Wonwoo continues to stroke you gently; making no efforts to rush or add pressure to his feather-light touches.

A disappointed noise falls from your lips when he starts to pull his hand out of your shorts but it quickly turns into a content sigh when he starts teasing your chest instead.

“Mm, so soft…” Muttering against your shoulder, his eyes stare off into the dark room as he massages your body. “And all mine~”

You hum in response, “We should go on a date sometime…”

“You want to? We can go this weekend. After you’ve redone some of your project. I’ll take you somewhere nice for a job well done.”

You giggle softly; images of a wedding day’s Wonwoo dancing in your mind after the conversation you’d had with Minghao earlier. “I’d like that. We should do something for the whole day.”

“Whatever you’d like, baby.”

Wonwoo’s hand flits down your body again - snaking into your shorts and, this time, into your panties as you whine. “Do you wanna cum or go back to sleep, hmm?” 

You ponder it for a second as the drowsiness equates the urge to cum on his fingers. 

“Both? I wanna cum and then sleep a little more... If that’s okay?” 

Wonwoo hums in agreement as his fingertips drag through your folds - collecting the wetness on them before he teases your soaked hole. “Only a little teasing gets you this wet, hmm? So cute.” 

“Ah, f-feels good when you go slow t-too...” 

He stores that away in his head for later; chuckling against your shoulder as he slowly starts to dip his middle finger into your cunt. 

You feel warm and content when he starts a slow pace - thumb on your clit rubbing soft, slow circles while he pumps his finger into you. 

“O-oh, Wonwoo...” 

“You’re always good for me, baby. Always such a good girl.” 

“Ah, Wonwoo...”

“You can cum whenever you want. You deserve it.” 

He adds his index finger - thrusting both fingers into you as you mewl and arch away from his warm chest. Your toes curl and your thighs clamp and trap his hand between your legs as you start to grind down onto his nimble fingers.

“...W--Wonwoo...” 

“That’s right, baby. Call my name, let me hear your pretty voice when your cumming for me.” 

You turn your head - cries muffled into his pillow because despite his slower than usual pace, you find yourself already on the brink of cumming with his fingers knuckle deep inside of you and his thumb on your clit. 

“Mmh... Ah... Feels s-so warm... and g-good...” You mutter, eyes blinking drowsily. “Gonna c-cum...” 

He doesn’t say anything in return as he focuses on you and your pleasure; fingers scissoring and curling right into your g-spot as you clamp down onto them in a vice grip. 

Wonwoo knows when you’re about to cum when he feels your hand coming down on his forearm, holding onto him for dear life when your orgasm still hits you just as hard. 

“Ngh, Wo---Wonwoo!” 

Your walls flutter around his fingers and make it harder for him to thrust them in and out with how tight you get. 

“That’s my good girl. Cum for me, baby~” 

His deep voice makes you whine - nails digging into his arm and body trembling as the pleasure steadily washes over you. 

“Ah, bet your face is so pretty right now too~” 

“Mmh, s-stop...” Your cheeks burn in slight embarrassment from his constant praise but you can’t deny the way it goes straight to your core and only prolongs your orgasm. 

“Don’t be so shy, baby. It’s only you and me here.” 

Wonwoo leans away slightly to kiss the crown of your head - still working you through your orgasm as you sigh contentedly in his arms. 

Various thoughts run through his head in the moment, but the one that sits at the forefront of his mind is definitely how to make sure he kept treating you right. 

Starting with your date that he would spend time meticulously planning.

‘Ah, I should ask Mingyu for some advice.’ 

[ymiwritesstuff]

Dare

So I wanted to write this quick Josuke scenario, whose plot was actually made by a friend of mine some time ago. I loved the idea so much that I decided to finally write it! After this I promise to empty my inbox, my last exam is on Monday and then I’m finally free! Thank you for your patience and I hope this Josuke scenario is to your liking. (PS. I may or may not start officially writing for him in the future...)

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 4: Diamond is Unbreakable

Josuke Higashikata x Reader

Summary: A simple game turns into one of the most stressful things Josuke has ever had to do. Things seem to get even more difficult when he runs into you.

Notes: Slightly suggestive language and themes

“Alright, Josuke! It’s your turn!”

Okuyasu turned towards his friend who straightened his posture and prepared for the question with a wide grin on his face. “Truth or dare?” The pompadour-haired teen thought of his response for a few seconds before confidently replying. 

“Dare! Better make it a good one!” Josuke laughed and widened his grin at Okuyasu’s reaction. There was an obvious glint of mischievousness in his eyes as he thought of a dare for his friend. “Nothing illegal, okay?” Koichi reminded, knowing just how unpredictable Okuyasu’s mind could be. Josuke looked at him in anticipation, anxiously waiting for the response that could be absolutely anything. The tiniest part of him was already regretting his decision.

“Ya see that store over there?” He finally asked, pointing at a small store just across the street. Josuke and Koichi both looked at it over their shoulders, raising a brow in confusion before turning back to Okuyasu. “What about it?” Josuke asked, dreading what lied in his friend’s mind. Okuyasu smirked and let out a high-pitched, impish chuckle. 

“You better have some money on ya! Because you’re gonna go in there and buy a magazine!” He chirped, which caused the two other boys to be even more confused. But before either of them had a chance to voice a question, Okuyasu threw his arm over the blue-eyed teen’s shoulder and lowered his otherwise loud voice.

“The dirty kind.”

Josuke’s face turned a bright shade of red upon hearing his words while Koichi was quick to protest.

“Okuyasu!” The silver-haired boy yelled, his cheeks quickly being dusted with crimson as well. “You can’t make him do that! He’s not even 18! There’s no way he can just buy something like that!” 

“Oh come on, Koichi!” Okuyasu exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “Ya really think Josuke here ain’t gonna pass for a grown-up?” He inquired, pointing at Josuke who was still processing the dare given to him internally. “Besides, he’s gotta do it. I don’t make the rules.” There was yet another smirk on his face, as he looked over at Josuke. “Or are ya gonna chicken out?”

The dark-haired teen was quick to regain his posture and looked at his friend confidently. “Hell no! It’s no big deal,” Josuke stated as he stood up, checking his pockets for change. “It’s like you said, I’m pretty sure I look like an adult anyway.” His lips were stretched by a fearless grin as he looked at the store, but internally, he was more than nervous. “Get goin’ then,” he heard Okuyasu say behind him as he turned towards the small boutique.

On his way there he could feel his friends’ eyes boring into him as well as the imaginary judgmental stares that he thought the bystanders gave him. His heart was beating faster than it should have and he tried to convince himself that this wasn’t a big deal. However, the fear of embarrassment and awkwardness made him more anxious than necessary.

Once he entered the store the clerk’s greeting almost made him jump. It was a small store, with little to no shelves to hide behind and the more Josuke looked around, the more he began to regret accepting the dare. There were no other customers and it made his stomach churn. His eyes spotted the section that held the lewd magazines and his eyes immediately glanced at the clerk, who fortunately had his attention elsewhere. He exhaled sharply. He could do this. All he had to do was to get over there, pick up a random magazine and pay for it. Simple as that. No biggie.

With careful steps, he neared the shelf that held the current bane of his existence. Josuke was so focused on his ridiculously stupid quest that he didn’t register the door of the shop opening and closing, indicating that someone else had entered. His lightly trembling hand reached for the corner of a magazine, trying not to pay attention to the cover of it as the steps of another person next to him went unheard by him until a voice brought him out of his thoughts.

“Josuke?”

His blue eyes immediately shot up and looked to the side where he saw you standing, wearing a pleasant smile on your face. He was quick to stand up properly and tried to use himself as a shield to hide the magazine collection he was just looking at. There was no way he could let you see what he was thinking of purchasing. Trying to appear as normal as possible and conceal his embarrassment, he returned your smile but internally cursed at his bad luck.

“A-ah, (Name)! What’s up? A-are you here to… uh… Buy something?” He stammered, unable to keep the redness on his face from forming. You giggled at his silly response.

“No, not really. Just checking. What about you? You seemed to be pretty intrigued by the-” When you tried to get a better look at what was behind him, Josuke suddenly took a step forward, fortunately moving your attention away from the shelves. He figured you hadn’t seen his previous source of interest properly when you stumbled upon him. Thank goodness.

“Well I- I’m just checking as well! Weird huh?” He chuckled sheepishly and mentally punched himself using Crazy Diamond because of how utterly awkward he sounded. You raised your eyebrow in puzzlement at his strange demeanor. “Sure, I guess… Uh… Josuke are you feeling well? You’re acting a bit strange-” When your eyes moved towards the forbidden shelf Josuke quickly grabbed your shoulders and made you face him, making your eyes look into his instead.

“Actually! I- Um…” Josuke quickly tried to come up with something to say to take your attention away from the sinful magazines. You looked at him questioningly, the close proximity making your face heat up somewhat. 

“I was wondering if… If you wanted to grab lunch with me!” He quickly said, which made you look at him with wide eyes.

“You mean… Like a date? You asked, raising your eyebrow at him rather suggestively. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t want to go out with Josuke, in fact, you had been thinking about asking him yourself.

“Yeah, exactly! How about later today? I’ll come pick you up!” He asked, voice filled with genuine excitement, though he hadn’t forgotten about his dare. 

“Oh, so soon?” You stared at him. “I’ll have to go get ready!” You exclaimed and looked at the front door of the store before turning your gaze back to him.

“So it’s a date?” He asked, a pleasant smile spread across his lips, rid of any signs of nervousness. You nodded in response.

“It’s a date.” You confirmed, smiling as you did. “See you later,” you said before placing a gentle kiss on his cheek and heading towards the entrance. Josuke watched you go, the place on his cheek that your lips touched tingling pleasantly. When he couldn’t see your form anymore, he remembered the reason for his trip to the store and quickly turned towards the shelf with a sigh.

“What’s taking him so long?” Koichi wondered, nervously moving his gaze between the store and Okuyasu. “Do you think he got caught? I told you this wasn’t a good idea!” The dark-haired teen merely leaned back on the bench.

“Relax, he’s probably just tryna pick one with nice lookin’ chicks,” He stated with a smug smirk. “Ain’t no way they’d think he’s underage. Have you seen how tall he is?” Koichi sighed and rolled his eyes at his friend’s remark.

“It’s not about height, Okuyasu.” He once again glanced in the direction of the store. “He looks young. And it’s been a while. And I’m definitely blaming you if we get in trouble for this!”

“Hey! It ain’t my fault if he- Hey there he is!” Okuyasu glued his eyes on Josuke who walked towards them, magazine in hand. Koichi’s eyes filled with disbelief and Okuyasu began laughing hysterically. 

“You actually did it, you bastard!” He yelled as Josuke approached them, a pompous smirk decorating his face. He tossed the magazine into Okuyasu’s lap. “There’s your jerk off material.” Josuke watched as his friend let out an excited howl and began skimming through the pages.

“We’ll have to continue this game some other day,” Josuke said to Koichi, who raised a questioning eyebrow at him. He noticed the faint shade of pink dusting his cheeks. “What do you mean?”

Josuke smiled at him suggestively before letting out an excited giggle.

“Well, I can say that at least something good came out of this stupid dare.” Koichi raised a confused eyebrow at his friend.

“I have a date tonight.”

[pinkjeanist]

“cooking by the book!” || katsuki bakugou

     ⇥ When Bakugou teaches 1-A how to bake a cake for an upcoming festival, you can’t help but notice how he treats you a little nicer than the others. But that’s just your crush on him talking...right? [1.6k words]

a/n: this is named after that remix of “cooking by the book” from lazy town bc no other song captures the pure essence of bakugou and reader’s relationship. this was also largely inspired by the difference in how gordon ramsay treats kid chefs vs. adult ones.[navigation]

You should have known that taking cooking lessons from Bakugou wasn’t going to be easy. However, with the way he taught you differently from everyone else, you had to admit: it could have been a lot harder.

“You’re gonna bake a cake, today.” You looked down at the empty mixing bowl before you, biting the inside of your cheek. You’d heard that baking was somewhat difficult to begin with, including (but not limited to) cake, and for Bakugou to choose that as your first proper baking session ever made you a bit intimidated (though whether you were intimidated by him or the cake was unclear).

Another school festival was coming up, and your class was expected to bake for the guests, which would have been okay if both halves of your class were competent enough to use an oven. So here you were, standing behind one of the many kitchen counters, trying not to stare too much ahead at Bakugou. You caught yourself doing that a lot on the daily, and even if you sometimes caught him doing the same, it was rude on your part. So, long before you’d even stepped foot in the kitchen, you decided that you would put your feelings aside and focus on the task at hand (which was already proving difficult).

After preheating the ovens, you all went back to your stations. You reached for the apron on the counter and slipped it over your head. Next to you, Kirishima asked his friend, “Are we supposed to do that?”

“Are you kidding me? Is that a question?” You paused in tying the apron behind your back as Bakugou raised his voice. “Yes, you dumbass! Who the hell doesn’t bake without an apron?!” 

You nodded even as his shouting wasn’t directed towards you, and again attempted to tie the apron behind your back until you realized it just wouldn’t stay tied. You almost asked Kirishima or Mina to help you before Bakugou came over to grab the strings and do it himself. You went still, and didn’t quite hear him the first time when he mumbled, “Is that too tight?” 

You swallowed. “It’s fine, thank you…” 

He moved back in front of the counters again and tied his own apron. “You each have a recipe in front of you. Don’t use it unless you need it. If you listen to me, you won’t need it at all.” 

You nodded and put your hands behind your back, not sure what else to do with them until he instructed the ten or so of you to find the flour. The others scrambled to the part of the kitchen you knew had flour somewhere around it, but you distinctly remembered there being another, smaller bag of it in a different pantry, so you went there instead. You retrieved it and presented it to Bakugou.

“Is this flour?”

He blinked. “No. That’s sugar.”

“Oh…”

“You’ll need it. Take it back to your station.”

“Oh, okay!” You smiled. Turning on your heel, you did as he instructed, and waited patiently until you were told to find the sugar (which you already had), baking soda, baking powder, cocoa, salt, and espresso powder. You tried to keep the list of the items in your mind as you turned to search for them, but found yourself at a loss. 

It was your fault for only partially-listening when Bakugou had given the instructions, but were you really to blame? He was wearing a sleeveless shirt under an apron that hugged him tight enough to show off his tiny waist. How were you supposed to have paid attention with that in front of you? 

But you wouldn’t say any of that to him- never in a million lifetimes- so you were as quiet and unassuming as possible as you took the recipe from the countertop and went over it. You knew where the flour was, and you had the sugar, but looking around the kitchen, you couldn’t spot anyone with espresso powder, which you didn’t even know was a thing that was supposed to go in cakes, but that wasn’t the point. You stood, biting your lip, until Bakugou came over again.

“What are you confused about?” His voice was a lot softer than you expected it to be, seeing as how he’d done nothing but yell at everyone else (you couldn’t blame him. Cooking was just that big of a passion for some people), but you couldn’t complain. You looked down at the recipe to avoid his eye.

“I’m not confused, I just- I don’t know who has the espresso powder.” 

Bakugou put a hand on your arm, and you tried not to melt under it as he shouted over your shoulder: “Who has the espresso powder?!”

“Is this it?” Kaminari lifted a large jar of brown powder over a sea of other bakers-in-training, which drew another rant from Bakugou about kitchen safety and do you want someone to get a concussion when you drop that?!, but you were still too focused on the weight of his hand. When he got done yelling, he squeezed your arm gently before looking down at you, and you swore you felt your heart stop before beating out of control. 

“Go and get a teaspoon of espresso powder. I’ll announce everything else, but if you forget the measurements, just look at the damn recipe.” 

You nodded and said, “Okay. Thank you, Bakugou.” 

Walking away, he muttered a quiet “you’re welcome,” and you could only smile to yourself as you looked back down at the recipe. 

Bakugou called out the measurements, and eventually, you had everything in the mixing bowl, and whisked through the powders until combined as instructed. You were then told to add milk (Bakugou measured that out for you without you needing to ask) and add two eggs (he did that for you, too) with vegetable oil and vanilla. Once you had everything in, you began to stir it, but apparently, whatever you were doing was wrong, because he moved behind you to take your hands in his on the side of the bowl and on the paddle. 

“You have to be more rough with it,” He muttered, moving your hands at a faster pace. “Or you’re gonna be standing here for three hours until it finally mixes.” 

You couldn’t even find the words, anymore. The voice that constantly nagged you in the voice told you that you were doing everything wrong, and that you were helpless for needing his assistance with each and every step, but you really couldn’t complain. Another voice told you that you were actually doing well and that he was helping you because he wanted to, not because he felt obligated, but you pushed that thought back. You knew that wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. (Could it, though? (No. No it couldn’t.))

After he decided it was mixed to his satisfaction, he stepped away and went to observe Kirishima’s bowl.

“Is it supposed to be this kinda poop brown?”

“Never fucking say that again about food. And what the fuck is this? Stir it!” Bakugou grabbed the bowl and stirred it with vigor while Kirishima stood by and laughed. He didn’t hold Kirishima like he’d held you. And as he went around to stir the bowls of others, he didn’t even lay his hands on those faring worse than you. You furrowed your brow, but elected to continue stirring to keep yourself busy. 

You were then told to put the batter in the two prepared pans in front of you, with the word “evenly” stressed after the fact. Bakugou again walked over to you as you got done. “Is this okay?” 

He huffed. “This one has more batter, but it’ll do. Go put them in the oven.” 

You nodded and put the pans in the oven, nearly dropping and spilling one on the way before catching it- but other than that, they went in smoothly. Over the next half hour, you took Bakugou’s advice and used a toothpick to check the center of the cakes, and sat on the flour-covered counters in the meantime while they baked. Bakugou came to sit by you while you twiddled your thumbs.

“You did a good job today.” 

You looked at him, then immediately back to the oven with wide eyes. “Oh. I-I feel like I messed everything up, to be honest…” 

“You did fine. You didn’t mess anything up.” He didn’t look at you, so you both kept staring at the oven, afraid of eye contact.

You hesitated before saying, “Thank you for helping me.” After a moment, you added, “You’re a really good teacher.” 

“I know.” His head whipped over to where Kaminari was about to eat a spoonful of cinnamon, and chucked a wooden spoon at his back. “Not in my kitchen, asshat!” 

You actually giggled at that, which was even more embarrassing with him looking at you afterwards. You quieted yourself soon after and shoved your hands into your lap. 

“Why do you do that?”

You blinked. “Do what?”

“You always stop laughing. You laugh enough with your friends but never with me. Stop doing that.”

“Who says you’re not my friend?” You asked before you could stop your tongue, then meeting his eye. You desperately wanted to look away, but the need for a connection with him was too strong. “You are. My friend, I mean. Uhm.”

“So laugh if I do something funny. It pisses me off when you don’t.” He hung his head to mess with his hands, and you grinned shyly to yourself as you turned away.

“Okay.”

When the cakes were pulled from the oven, Bakugou was by your side the most, helping stack the layers and frosting it with chocolate buttercream. In which, when your hand brushed against his as you frosted the cake, you didn’t shy away from him. You each stole little glances, meeting one another’s eye every now and again (which was starting to become less uncomfortable each time). 

You thought your cake was a little dry. He said it was the “best fucking thing” he’d ever eaten.

-

taglist: @keigos-dove​ @knifeewifee​ @wesparklebitch​ @bvnnyclouds​ @hanniejji​ @katsukis-sad-angel​

other tag/s: @pixxiesdust​

- dm/inbox to be added or removed from a taglist. 

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

bright lights and baseless worries - q. hughes

When ya girl is finally on a monthlong break from school, she’s able to get in more than one piece a week. I knew I wanted to do some holiday piece for Quinn, and 100% got this idea in the shower the other day and just sat down and got to writing. In my totally unbiased opinion, it’s very cute, and I’d love to hear what you think - I love reading the tags on reblogs and having y’all in my inbox!

word count: 3.3k+

“Do you want to meet my parents?” 

Your fork stopped halfway to your mouth, the spaghetti threatening to fall off the end. “Do I want to what?”

Quinn laughed, taking a sip of water as he sat across from you at his dining room table. “Do you want to meet my parents? They’re flying in after the next roadie, in a week and a half or so. They really want to meet you, but I get if you don’t want to, or you feel like it’s too soon. I’ll make up an excuse for you, say you were called into work for some big project or something that you can’t get away from.” 

You weren’t sure if there was some unspoken protocol for when was too soon to meet your boyfriend’s parents, but you were pretty sure six months wasn’t pushing it. “Quinn, I’m still in university,” you said with a laugh. “There’s no work for me to get called into. And I’d love to meet them, if you’re sure that’s what you want. I don’t want you feeling like you have to because your parents want to meet me. I want it to be because you want it too.”

“Of course I want you to meet them,” he said, smiling softly at you. “Almost more than that, I want them to meet you. Sure, you’ve seen each other over FaceTime and they know what I’ve told them about you—”

“All good things, I hope?” You quipped.

The corner of his lips twitched. “Nothing but the best. But you’re incredible, and I want them to be able to meet  you, so they get to see how amazing you are in person and don’t think I’m crazy any more for how much I talk about you, So there’s that.” 

You ducked your head, tapping your fingers against the dark grain of the table. “Well, I’d love to meet them, Q. Anyone who’s spent any length of time around you knows how much you love your family, and I’m so excited to finally get to know the people who raised you into the incredible man you are today.”

Quinn blushed shyly. “It’s going to be great.”

---

Vancouver in December had always been one of your favorite things. Vancouver any time, really, but the holiday season really let your hometown shine something special. Literally. From the first of the month, all of downtown was decked out from tree to storefront to lamppost in yards of bright, sparkling lights. And then there was the massive, hundred-foot tall Christmas tree that lit up the square in front of the art gallery, throngs of couples and little kids running up to its branches in a bid to get their picture taken. It had finally started to snow a few weeks ago, so a light dusting covered the sidewalks, giving way to the shoe prints of the hundreds of passersby. 

Downtown was where you found yourself now, wandering around on a Wednesday afternoon after you had been let out of your final, your purse on your shoulder and nothing but sheer worry in your heart. Quinn had come back from the road trip that morning; his parents were set to fly in tomorrow morning. His parents were set to fly in tomorrow morning, well under 24 hours away, and you had no clue what to get them. You had been in clothing stores, homegoods stores, souvenir shops, but were no closer to figuring out what to buy. You had been about to buy a nice bottle of wine, one of yours and Quinn’s favorites, but then you wondered if maybe it was weird to give wine at a first meeting, or if they’d look at you funny for gifting a bottle of pinot grigio when you were only 21. And it had to be something they could bring back on the plane, so nothing that was too fragile or something that might spill or anything with over 3.4 ounces of liquid. You should have thought about that before considering the wine. 

You had texted your roommates in a panic, but letting them know that i’m meeting quinn’s parents tomorrow and I have no idea what the FUCK to get them please help hadn’t yielded any particularly useful suggestions. Aliya had suggested a tie for his dad, which Sara had vetoed immediately, saying that a tie was both far too formal and far too strange a gift to extend. Sara, who was the apartment’s resident caffeine addict, had recommended a few of her recent favorite types of “artisan, hand-roasted coffee.” It had seemed like a good idea at first, with everyone and their mother getting into craft versions of every drink imaginable, but then you started overthinking it, thinking that maybe they wouldn’t like the roast, or the undertones, or it would be too bitter and they’d drink it and hate it and then they’d hate you and — 

You huffed, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes and leaning up against the column of some storefront you had spent less than five minutes in. Quinn chose that exact moment to call, and his timing couldn’t have been any more welcome. “God, I’m such a mess right now,” you said by way of greeting. 

“Everything good?” He asked lightly, but you could hear the concern laced under his voice. 

“Yeah,” you said, nodding, “but I’ve been to at least a half-dozen stores in downtown and I’m starting to get worried because I still have absolutely no clue what to get your parents tomorrow and nobody seems to have any good ideas.”

“You realize you don’t have to get them anything, right?” Quinn asked. “Seriously, they’re not expecting it, and I promise they won’t think any less of you if you don’t.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Q, my mom’s going to skin me alive if she heard I showed up empty-handed to meet your parents, but that’s besides the point. I want to make a good impression.” Your voice cracked. “I really want to make a good impression.”

He sighed on the other end of the line. “I know you do, babe, but I guarantee that no matter if you buy my dad a Rolex or show up in your pyjamas, they’re going to love you.”

“But how do you know that?”

“They’ll love you because I love you.” He spent a few more minutes on the phone with you, trying his damndest to reassure you that Jim and Ellen weren’t nearly as scary as you somehow thought they were, that they’d welcome you with open hearts and open arms just like his brothers had. The Devils had played in Vancouver the month prior, and much to Quinn’s delight, you and Jack had gotten along like a house on fire. Jack had made good on a promise he had made while he was in British Columbia, sending you a cache of Quinn’s baby photos as soon as he got back to his apartment in New Jersey. 

You slid your phone back into your pocket after ending the call, feeling marginally more reassured that his parents wouldn’t immediately demand you break up with their son if you didn’t spend the equivalent of a year’s tuition on welcome gifts for them, but nervous nonetheless and no closer to your goal than when you drove into downtown hours before. 

---

You tapped your heel nervously on the floor of Quinn’s living room, fingers nervously twisting your rings around as Quinn leaned up against the couch, glancing between you and his phone. “Mom says they’re almost here.” Quinn would have picked them up from the airport himself, but he had had a morning practice, and then they decided to get settled into their hotel room, so them coming over to his apartment before you were all set to go out to dinner was the first time either of you were going to see them. He looked at you, your brow still furrowed from overthinking. “I know you’re still worried, and I get that, babe. I was terrified when I met your parents for the first time. But you’re going to do amazing.” Your parents lived in Surrey, forty minutes away in the same house you’d grown up in, so it was a much less formal affair when they had asked to meet Quinn. You went over to their house for brunch one weekend, and that was it; Quinn was right, though. That hadn’t meant he was any less nervous. If anything, it only amplified his worries because if he wasn’t able to make a good first impression in one of the most low-stress environments a person could think of, what would that say about him? What would your parents think? But just like he said, it had been such a non-issue that by the end, he was wondering what he had been worried about in the first place. 

“I know it’ll be fine,” you conceded, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “It just seems different, somehow. Like, I’ve met people’s parents before, friends and exes and people at school, and of course I wanted them to like me. I think it’s just…” You paused, looking up at the ceiling and trying to gather your words, “I think it’s because I see this, us, going somewhere. I see it lasting. So if you’re going to be in my life for the foreseeable future, then so are they, so it just seems that much more important that I like them and that they like me.” 

Quinn bent over, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Don’t worry.” The doorbell rung, and you took the thirty seconds it took for Quinn to go over and open it to turn your phone on, checking in the camera to make sure you didn’t have a piece of kale stuck in your teeth. You didn’t, but you really should have known better. Quinn would have told you. 

You stood up, plastering a smile on your face as he pulled the door open and his parents stepped into the entryway. His dad had just hugged him when his mom pulled him in, rubbing his back as she greeted him. “So good to see you, Quinn, Chag sameach.”

“Chag sameach, Mom,” Quinn said back, before stepping back and nodding to you. You stepped forward hesitantly, Quinn’s warm hand on the small of your back quelling your fears as much as he could. 

He had barely opened his mouth to introduce you before his mom burst forward. “Is this her?” 

You relaxed slightly, nodding. “In the flesh. So nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Weinberg-Hughes.”

She waved you off. “Ellen, seriously. Don’t worry about it. It’s so nice to finally get to see you in person!” She pulled you into a hug that looked just as heartfelt as the one she had given her son, and it only took a few seconds for you to relax into her touch. 

“Jim,” his dad greeted you with a warm handshake. 

You turned back towards the coffee table. “I, uh, got these for you two when I was downtown the other day.” You handed his mom a gorgeous bouquet of flowers and his dad a potted succulent, something you originally hadn’t been too sure about but Quinn had assured you his dad would love. “It’s got a travel-safe box that came with it, so it’ll be good to go on the plane ride back,” you said. 

His dad smiled. “Quinn told you I’m not much of a green thumb, hm?” Quinn’s eyes widened; his dad laughed. “It’s true, I love plants but I seem to somehow kill everything I touch, so this really is a wonderful gift. Thank you.” 

“Did you light the candles yet?” His mom asked. 

Quinn shook his head, nodding to where his menorah sat on the sideboard. “I wanted to wait for you.” If his mom was going to be there for the first night of Hanukkah, he was going to wait for her if he valued his own well-being. The candles were already in a box off to the side; Ellen opened them and placed first the shamash, then the first candle all the way to the right as Quinn went into the kitchen for a lighter, coming out a second later. You made to move out of the room, unsure if it was disrespectful to stay. You got your answer quickly. 

“Stay,” Quinn said. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

“It’s part of the tradition that the whole family — whoever’s around, obviously, stays for the lighting. That’s you, now,” Ellen explained. Your cheeks burned, but not out of embarrassment. Out of the fact that Quinn had been exactly right, just like you knew he would be, just like he had told you he would be. His parents welcomed you quicker than your own best friend’s had, and five minutes after meeting them in person for the first time his mom had already all but called you family. You were giddy inside. You perched on the couch as she and Quinn recited the Hebrew blessings, a soft smile on your face as you watched the interaction. You knew your boyfriend loved his mom. That much was clear, from the times you were both on FaceTime to the phone conversations you overheard to the way that he spoke about her with Brock, or Elias, or really anyone who would listen. But it was something special. 

You gathered in the living room after the menorah was lit, your heels abandoned by the door and your body curled into Quinn’s as the four of you waited for the candles to burn down. Ellen and Jim supplemented Jack’s childhood stories of Quinn with some of their own, one of which had your boyfriend groaning into your shoulder, asking his dad if you really needed to know that story in particular. Jim just laughed, clapping his son on the back, telling him that the embarrassing anecdotes were really a litmus test of sorts. “If she doesn’t run after hearing this one, you’ll know that she’s a keeper,” he said while winking at you. You stayed. 

You had a 6:30 reservation at a restaurant downtown, some place one of the other guys’ girlfriends had recommended when you sent a message in the group chat earlier asking where to take Quinn’s parents because I def don’t want to seem pretentious but like they also need to know that I have taste. He drove with his dad in the passenger’s seat, leaving you and his mom to share the second row. “Have you ever seen his freshman year roster photo from Michigan?” she asked, pulling out her phone. 

Quinn groaned from the driver’s seat. “Mom, do you really need to show her?”

“You’re so young, it’s cute!” Ellen protested.

“I was 17 and didn’t know how to do my hair yet and was so nervous for the photographer to take it that my smile looks like it was frozen onto my face.”

You ducked your head, poorly concealing a snort of laughter. “Okay, if it’s half as good as Quinn makes it seem, I’ve got to see this one.” Ellen handed her phone to you just as Quinn pulled into the parking lot; you handed it back a minute later, the grin on your face still evident as he parked the car, walking around to your side to open your door. 

Picture didn’t scare you off?” he asked jokingly. 

You stood up quickly, pressing a brief kiss against his cheek. “Not at all.”

The food was incredible, not like you had expected any less. The salmon was maybe the best you had ever had, and the crème brûlée you and Quinn shared was nothing short of spectacular. You had left the last bite for him, knowing how much he loved the dessert, but he shook his head with a small smile, gently pushing the bowl back to you. The gesture hadn’t been missed by his mom, who had poorly concealed her happiness at her son’s kindness. You headed back to Quinn’s apartment after a walk by the harbor with his parents, a little after nine. “We got you two a little something,” his dad said as his mom reached into her purse. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” you said quickly as Ellen pulled out a small, flat wrapped package.

“It’s nothing big,” she promised. “Just something we thought would look nice in here,” she gestured around the living room with her spare hand., holding it out to you. “Happy Hanukkah.”

Your face burst into a grin as Quinn looked over at the photo, his thumb moving absentmindedly over your shoulder. “Happy Hanukkah, Ellen.” You ran your thumb carefully under the seams, popping open the paper with as much precision as the moment was affording you. You unfolded it, looking up at your boyfriend. “Hang on. Is this…?” 

He nodded. “I think so.” You were looking down at a picture, set in a silver frame that shone so much you could see your reflection. But it wasn’t a normal picture, one that you’d throw up on your Instagram story or delete from your camera roll without a second thought. It was from that September, a few months after you and Quinn had started dating and the first time he had taken you to meet the boys. You had already met Brock and Elias a few weeks earlier when they came back into town for training, but it was the first night he had really let you into his life in that way, started to take down some of his walls and trust you with every part of himself. You had been curled up with Quinn on a couch in Brock’s living room, towards the end of a party he had thrown to welcome everyone to the start of a new season. You didn’t even remember what Quinn was talking about, but as you looked down at the photo, his arm wrapped loosely around your waist and your head resting on his chest, you realized that it could have been Poptarts or Disney movies or the deepest darkest secrets from the furthest parts of your soul, because it was you, and it was him, and that’s all that mattered. You didn’t even realize you had started to tear up until Quinn handed you a tissue. “Thanks,” you mumbled. You looked back up at his parents, crumbling it in your hand. “Seriously, Jim, Ellen, thank you for this. I don’t know why I’m reacting like this, but thank you for getting it. It means a lot.” 

His dad gave you a hug as his mom moved over to Quinn’s kitchen, plucking her bouquet out of a vase and walking back over to hug first her son, then you. “Don’t worry about it. If you’re half the woman Quinn says you are, and I think you’re more, then you deserve the world.” 

Your cheeks heated as they walked through the front door. Quinn gently took the picture from you, admiring it as he padded over to the sideboard and placed it next to the menorah, whose candles had long since burnt down. He walked back over towards you, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. He pulled back, a wry smile on his face as your foreheads pressed together. “Do you finally believe me?”

He didn’t even have to explain his words, because you knew. Finally believe him that you didn’t have anything to worry about, finally believe him that his parents would love you, finally believe him that thing you had going on wasn’t one he wanted to give up on. Not now, not ever. Your head nodded before your words could catch up to you, spilling out of your mouth like they had always been there. “Yes.”

[amydancepants-peralta]

in the spirit of 4/28: if you’re willing to write non-peraltiago POV, could you maybe write the moment(s) that leas terry to decide he needed to tell jake to propose?

Terry loves love ♥

It all comes to Terry a few weeks after the squad captured the fugitives, on what seems like just another Friday night at Shaw’s.

(Which hardly feels like the ideal setting for an epiphany, but Terry supposes that’s what makes it so … epiphanic.)

It had been a long week - New York seemed to be feeling particularly felonious lately - and he was doubly tired from spending his Wednesday off helping Jake move apartments. With Sharon and the kids staying overnight at her mother’s, and high odds for a sleep-in the following morning, Terry’s plans didn’t stretch much further than washing his week away with a glass of whiskey or six.

That is until Terry noticed, about an hour into the squad’s drinking session; that a suddenly quiet Jake had removed himself from their booth, relocating to a seat by the bar where he could keep a close eye on the entrance. Amy was late - a rarity for any Santiago, but doubly so for Amy - and as Boyle plonks a fresh glass in front of him; Terry remembers watching her bolt out of the bullpen a few hours ago, a sudden lead on an otherwise dormant case too important to delay.

Terry hadn’t heard any updates since then; but given the lack of detailed reports landing in his inbox, and the look on Jake’s face whenever he checked his messages, he would have to assume the lead hadn’t panned out the way Amy hoped.

He’s in the midst of an argument with Rosa over which Friends character was superior (clearly Ross - Terry does not get all the Ross Hate) when Amy arrives ten minutes later, and Terry watches from his position in the corner as she heads straight towards Jake’s outstretched arms, her sense of defeat stretched clearly across sunken shoulders.

As though reverting to his detective days, Terry continues to observe the couple as Jake orders his girlfriend a beer, leading her over to another booth and sliding alongside her until their heads bow in quiet conversation. He thinks, as they talk and he sips, that there was once a time where Amy would have spent the rest of her evening at the precinct, pouring over paperwork, certain it’s the reason why they can’t catch the perp. Just as Jake would have taken the opportunity to boldly declare how he could have done it better - consequences (and unintentionally, feelings) unconsidered.

But now, Amy laughs with her head thrown back while Jake beams with pride; and in the past year or so has been known - after three drinks - to steal her boyfriend away to a slightly more secluded corner of the bar, dancing cheek to cheek to music only the two of them can hear.

It truly was the greatest thing to see, and part of Terry wishes he’d picked up on it sooner.

He watches Jake and Amy for the rest of the evening - even if they weren’t in the bullpen, these people were his work family, and Terry would look out for them anywhere - and as the empties begin to pile up at the squad’s table, the most simplest of truths comes to light. Somewhere along the way - in-between fire extinguisher roller chair derbies, robot captains and covert jimmy jabs - Jake Peralta had transformed into the man that Terry had always known he could be.

Gone was the promising detective that hadn’t quite figured out the puzzle on how to grow up, monopolising too much time in Terry’s therapy sessions. And in his place was one of the 99’s greatest detectives: a brilliant mind at solving puzzles, and a gentle soul who brought two extra gifts to last year’s Secret Santa, ‘just in case Scully and Hitchcock forgot again’.

Who's grin grew impossibly huge each time he’d said the words ‘our apartment’ since the move three days ago. A man who couldn’t get over Amy after that very first crush - no matter how hard he tried - because just like when Terry met Sharon, and they talked about Meatloaf until the bar closed around them; your heart always knows when you’ve found The One.

Jake had grown into someone that finally understood how worthy he was of love, and had a world of it to give in return. A man that was clearly ready to marry the love of his life - the one and only Amy Santiago - and her eyes already sparkled with an unspoken yes to any question of forever.

He thinks about the conversation they had that day in the squad car, racing to find escaped convicts and venting about wasted acrylics; and Jake’s muttered ‘Cool. Basically telling me to never get married or have kids’ in response. Terry hadn’t been lying - a march towards the closet does begin with a single step - but he’d neglected to mention all the great things that came with that closet.

Like coming home to see Sharon and the girls dancing to Destiny’s Child in the living room, or late afternoon naps with tiny heads snuggled into your side. Chaotic mornings filled with stress that melted away the instant you heard “I love you, Daddy”; and treasured moments of peace with Sharon, the couch, and a bottle of wine.

Terry would give up all the acrylics in the world for a hundred more moments just like that - and as the last drop of whiskey drains from his glass, he knows exactly what he needs to do.

***

Terry calls Sharon on the way home - waiting until he’s said goodnight to each one of his angels before telling her his plan. “So. I think Jake should propose to Amy.”

He can almost hear her smile down the phone line, and it makes him wish they’d be back from Sharon’s mother’s sooner. “You do?”

He shrugs into the otherwise empty interior, flexing his grip on the steering wheel out of habit. “Yeah. They’re clearly in love with each other, and … you know. He has that look.”

Sharon laughs - the same laugh Terry heard from his kitchen one morning, a year into their relationship, and just knew that he wanted to hear it for the rest of his life - before asking, “What look?”

“You know. The one I kept giving you when we first started dating. Like I’d finally found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. So excited and completely scared that somebody could try and take it away.”

“Mmm, I know it well. And when it comes to Jake and Amy, somebody almost did .. right?”

Nodding, Terry thinks of the afternoons he’d find Amy crying in her car, the devastation of another day not knowing where Jake was hiding too hard to conceal for another minute. “Yeah. Almost.”

“Well … if you didn’t try and play cupid, you wouldn’t be the man I married, Terrence Jeffords.”

Terry’s shoulders bounce as he breaks into a tiny happy dance, and he grins. “Terry loves love, baby. Almost as much as Terry loves Sharon.”

“I love you too, baby. And we’ll be back home the day after tomorrow, just in time for you to hatch a plan on how to play matchmaker with my god-husband. I have a pretty good instinct he’ll make a great actual husband … and hopefully it’s someday soon. I am ready for a night of serious dancing.”

* * *

Terry wears his lucky red tie the following Monday, settling into his desk to focus on paperwork as the question of exactly how his plan will unfold remains unanswered at the back of his mind.

Before it’s even 10am, he manages to catch five not-so-secret glances between the two lovebirds (a private joke of some sort dancing in their grins); and pretends to be pre-occupied with his work when Amy sneaks in a quick good luck kiss before Jake leaves for the interrogation room. Terry watches it all with a suppressed grin, switching between several versions of his How To Encourage A Proposal plan as he signs off on the last form in his tray.

These two were clearly in love - and Terry couldn’t wait to see them take that next amazing step.

He catches Jake in the kitchen an hour later, watching as the detective rescues the puzzle section of Scully’s newspaper from certain destruction, placing it on Amy’s desk with a grin. As they stop to discuss Ocampo - a dealer that Jake and Rosa have just begun to tail - all of Terry’s pre-conceived plans of a casual topic change fall quickly by the wayside. As it turns out, telling a person they should propose is not something that comes up easily on it’s own.

And then he opens the fridge for his next scheduled snack, and realises that all this time, Terry’s inspiration was waiting in the very things he cherished the most.

The blueberry and vanilla yogurt containers feel cool against his fingertips, and with his stomach growling at the promise of a delicious meal, Terry nudges the door shut with his hip and calls out to his detective.

“Hey, Jake. Let me show you something amazing.”

(Terry really does believe that yoghurt is the solution to everything.)

[mydekuacademia]

Isn’t It Lovely?

Moving into the dorms seemed like a dream come true for (y/n). They could finally live free from their bleak home life, or so they thought. A Todoroki x reader fic loosely inspired by Lovely by Billie Eilish

Warnings: inappropriate touching, abuse, sucky parents, overall angst, cussing. Please, please don’t read if any of this could be triggering to you!!!!

-----------

Howdy! Yet another unrequested fic I’m writing instead of emptying out my inbox (don’t worry, i’ll get to those too!!)

Going to UA was the greatest accomplishment of your life. You had spent years honing your skills in your quirk usage and general hand-to-hand combat - you were good. You’d made it into class 1A without issue, comfortably situated among the top in the class, but not so showy as to appear overconfident. It wasn’t long before you caught the eye of the son of the #2 hero - Todoroki Shouto.

It wasn’t until your fellow classmate, Midoriya Izuku, broke through Todoroki’s walls that the stoic boy began opening up to you. Within a few weeks of your friendship, he told you about his home life - the story behind his scar, the loss of his oldest brother, the intense training sessions. As you held his shaking form close, you realized just how important he was to you. You wanted him to be able to tell you anything, and you wanted to tell him everything too.

But you couldn’t. Not when he already had so much on his plate.

Soon after Todoroki, Midoriya, and Iida battled Hero Killer Stain, you decided you had to tell Todoroki how you felt. Your high school career was obviously going to be much more dangerous than anticipated, so who knew how much longer you’d have to say something? Much to your surprise, after a moment of tense silence, he muttered that he returned your feelings, a light blush coloring his cheeks. Thus started the best relationship of your life.

The events of the year didn’t make your relationship easy. It seemed like one of you was always injured or training, but you did your best to make time for each other. Just when you began to get tired of being pulled fifty different ways, the dorms were implemented.

Your parents were none too happy about you moving out at such a young age, but Aizawa managed to convince them it was for your own safety. You didn’t know how to tell your teacher that your adamant agreement was for reasons other than villain attacks.

You were overjoyed to find out that your dorm was on the same floor as Shouto’s; finally, you could have more time together! You dreamed of study dates in the common room, movie marathons in your dorms, quiet mornings before your classmates woke up and calm evenings after they went to sleep. You could calm him down when he woke up from nightmares, and maybe you could finally tell him everything you hadn’t gathered the courage to before. Maybe you could actually work up the nerve to let yourself be weak in front of him.

Unfortunately, life had other plans for you.

The day you were set to move in, your mother got called in to work unexpectedly, meaning she would be unable to help you bring your belongings to the dorms. That meant your father would have to help you instead. When you found out, your breath caught in your throat - this was exactly what you were trying to avoid. You never wanted him to know which building was yours, let alone which room. There was nothing you could do now though.

You walked into the common room of the 1A Heights Alliance, arms loaded with boxes and head lowered. You almost made it to the staircase when a soothing voice spoke from behind you.

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?” Shouto asked. You instantly dropped your boxes and hugged him around the waist, burying your face in his collarbone.

“It’s nothing, Shouto. The move is just stressful, you know?”

He hummed in response, wrapping you up in his arms and kissing the top of your head. “Is there anything I can do to help? I can carry some of those boxes.”

You shook your head and pulled away just enough to kiss his cheek. “They’re not heavy. Thank you though.” The moment was broken by a honeyed voice coming from behind you.

“Who’s this, (y/n)? A friend of yours?” 

Your face instantly hardened, and you pulled away from Shouto and stiffly lifted your boxes from the floor. “Do you have my stuff?” you asked with a steely tone.

“Of course! Lead the way.”

You were about to open the door to the stairs when Shouto spoke up again, quieter this time. “Who is this, (y/n)?”

You barely glanced up to meet his eyes. “My father.”

He stood a few inches taller than you, with an athletic build and domineering presence. You had his nose and mouth, but not much else to give away your relation.

“I’ll see you later, Shou.” With that, you entered the stairwell and began the trek up to the fifth floor, your father trailing behind you.

“Was that young man Endeavor’s son?” your father asked innocently. 

“Yes.”

“Todoroki Shouto, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And what is your relationship with him?”

You exited the stairwell and walked to your door. Your father grew irritated.

“(Y/n), I asked you a question.”

You continued ignoring him and opened the door to your new room, which was disconcertingly bare. You hadn’t gotten two steps in when you heard the door slam shut behind you and felt yourself being spun around. Your boxes hit the floor with a dull thud.

“Are you dating him?” your father growled.

Now, this didn’t phase you terribly. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a rare occurrence at home. This was what you never wanted Shouto to know about. Your father was just as bad as his.

“I paid for years of the best training there is, I got you into the prestigious UA, and this is how you repay me? By whoring yourself out to the first pretty boy you see?” His volume was rising with each word.

“Father, please, we’re in public,” you mumbled.

A vein bulged in his temple. “You don’t get to tell me what to do! I’m your father!” With that, he brought a hand up and slapped you with every ounce of his strength. Your head snapped to the side, and you fell to the floor, landing on a small box and badly bruising your side and hip.

With a small whimper, you begged your father to stop. “Please, someone could hear. Please, stop.”

He dropped to his knees next to you and tugged your shirt up just enough to reveal the waistband of your pants, eyes crazed. “Maybe if I tighten your belt, that boy won’t be trying to take your pants off.”

Your eyes widened dramatically, hardly seeing anymore due to your panic and pain. “Dad, stop! Please! What the hell are you doing?”

Before he could make any more to follow up on his statement, your door burst open, revealing one very angry Torodoki Shouto. Frost climbed up his right hand, and sparks danced on the fingers of his left hand. “Get your fucking hands off them, right now.”

“Ah, if it isn’t the pretty boy himself. Come to use my pathetic child?” your father replied, undeterred by the furious glint in Shouto’s eyes. 

Ignoring your father’s words, Shouto swung his right arm in front of him, sending a wave of ice at your father and freezing him to the wall, leaving his head uncovered. He then dropped to his knees next to you and helped you into a sitting position, arm behind your back and other hand on your shoulder. 

“Aizawa is on his way. I told him your father was acting suspicious,” Shouto said quietly. “He’s not going anywhere for the time being. Let’s go, okay?”

You silently nodded and allowed him to help you to your feet. Aizawa made it to your room just as you limped out.

“(Y/n)? Are you limping?” Aizawa asked lowly. You nodded and stared at your feet. “Where is he?” he asked in a growl.

“I froze him to the wall. I walked in on him hurting (y/n),” Shouto explained tightly. “I’m taking them to my room. You can find us there when you’re done.” Aizawa must have nodded, because Shouto placed an arm around your shoulders and led you to his room. When you got situated on his futon, he grabbed your hand and lifted your chin so you were eye to eye.

“How long has this been going on?”

You shrugged. “A while, I guess. Few years.”

Shouto’s eyes widened for a moment, before narrowing a bit. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped get you out.” His pained tone made your heart ache.

“You had enough to deal with as it was. You didn’t need this too,” you whispered.

“I would have done it for you, though. Anything for you.”

You leaned into his side and buried your face in his neck. “I was going to tell you after we got settled into our dorms. I thought this would be my way out, that maybe I could move on. But he- he never goes away. I hoped to actually make it out someday, but I guess I just got my hopes up. I guess I’ll never actually be free, huh?” You chuckled bitterly. 

“You can be free with me,” Shouto whispered. “I’ll keep you safe, always. He’ll never get near you again as long as I’m around.” He lifted your chin and placed a light kiss on your lips. “Stay here with me for a while, okay? I’m sure Aizawa won’t mind. And if he does, screw him.” He wrapped his arms securely around you and pulled you into a tight hug. “Welcome home, (y/n).”

[dracosearlgreytea]

indelicate marks (16)

indelicate marks: chapter sixteen - the admission

A/N: okay, i know it has been months, but i am back with another chapter! this fic has got a little attention over the weeks and honestly, all i can say is THANK YOU SO MUCH. i love to see people enjoying my work more than anything in the world, and bless you all and your patience for waiting for the next part. i am hoping to post a new chapter within the week! please feel free to drop by my inbox with any questions about the fic! i love you all very much - ivy <3 

warnings: language, very mild descriptions of scars, nsfw implications, punching, a little spicy drama

lovely tags: @h-annahayy @okaydraco @fanficflaneuse @thatoneasrastan @biinspiration @honeymelon22 @bitch-im-a-fangirl @erinisbadger @strawberriesonsummer @accio-rogers @candune @contentobsessor @darinaioana @bbeauttyybbx @letssingintherain

indelicate marks index 

And so the weeks began to slide by more easily. Ignoring the ominous words Draco had offered you that night was easier than trying to decipher them. That, you had more or less figured out in the first week of trying. In fact, ignoring most things that festered away and gave you that constant sick feeling was easier than having to acknowledge them at all. Not bringing them up to the boy you continued to meet more and more also appeared to be easier, and for a while, it stayed exactly that way. Until, that was, he went missing again. You'd agreed to meet at the classroom during your joint free period of the day. With Draco's 'task' growing only further demanding, nightly meetings were much more rare. Instead, you stole your moments with him throughout the day - although, you avoided broom cupboards. This time, his disappearance was much more concerning. Whilst doubt lingered from the last time Draco managed to vanish, you were quite sure that things between you were okay. You hadn't argued. You hadn't even pushed for more information on his involvement with the Deatheaters. By lunch, you knew something was wrong. Shaky, you sat at the end of the Slytherin table. It was summer, and the weather was nice, so most students had opted to go sit outside or take a trip to Hogsmeade, leaving the hall almost empty. What bothered you, however, was that Pansy Parkinson and the rest of Draco's 'gang', were sitting unnaturally quiet a few benches away. Parkinson did look particularly disgruntled, hair a mess and skin a shade paler than usual. You waited for as long as you could stand it, hands twitching as you stared at your plate, food untouched. The thoughts inside your head were loud, and sickening. If something had happened to Draco - did someone find out about his mark? Did Lestrange find him in my thoughts back in Easter? Fuck, Draco, where are you - Parkinson stood, as did the rest of the Slytherin group. Without a second of reluctance, you shot out of your seat. Anxiety clawed at your throat, but you bit it back, calling her name before you could change your mind. "Parkinson!" She paused. Pansy didn't even glance at you the first time, and for a second you thought she was going to ignore you. But, then, she turned, eyes flashing with a concoction of hostility and surprise as they met you. "Uh - Y/L/N?" Her eyebrow arched, scanning you with her renowned glare. Self-conscious washed over you as she did so, but you kept your features steely. "Can I help you?" "I - yeah." You stumbled, inwardly cursing. The group that usually gravitated around her and Draco had paused, putting you on the receiving end of several dangerous stares. Pansy was silent, only watching you with her perpetual, irritated look. "Just wanted to know where Malfoy is - that's all." "Draco?" You noticed the way she froze for a second, before you registered his name on her lips. Quick, you nodded, glancing back at the group, who seemed to be inching back towards you. Heart rate frenzied, you eyed Pansy with what you could only label as a pleading expression. Her eyes narrowed, suspicious. "What the hell do you want with Draco?" Oh, shit. "I gave him my Potions essay for him to copy off." You lied, hoping it came smoother than it sounded. Pansy's face stayed eerily set, almost reminiscent to the way Draco appeared most the time. "I need it back." Pansy was silent, again. "Pansy!" Blaise Zabini yelled from the doorway, shooting you a look as you stared at them. "Hurry up." Pansy didn't even acknowledge him, still scrutinising you. Then, she took a small, but intimidating step forward, setting you with a hard, guarded look. "You're a good liar." She muttered. "But you're behind on school gossip." You stayed silent. You didn't trust yourself not to have a complete breakdown there and then if you opened your mouth. Finally throwing a glance over her shoulder, she returned to look at you in a swift motion. "Potter cornered him in the bathrooms. He's in the hospital wing." No. Teeth grinding together, you stared at her, sharing a look between you. It was an odd feeling, hot, in your chest. The terror of not knowing exactly what had happened to Draco, the rage at Potter, and - and the unusual relief in the understanding of Pansy's eyes. Perhaps it was a skill she had, appearing like she knew everything, every little piece about you. Yet, the glint of recognition in her gaze told you otherwise. Before you could speak, she had turned and strode back towards her group, leaving you alone by the Slytherin table. It took you a second before the realisation of Draco's injury set in. Then, you were launching yourself down the corridors, straight to the hospital wing. "Miss Y/L/N?" Madame Pomfrey called as you rushed in, setting your rather terrified eyes on the professor. You knew her well, by now, after so many visits - you had no reason to shy from her temper. "Draco Malfoy." You said, without a second of hesitance. A bed at the far corner of the hospital wing was cornered off - whatever had happened in the bathrooms clearly wasn't a secret amongst students. How the hell did I miss this? "No visitors." She spoke with a firm tone, setting her eyes on you as you had to take in a breath. "You know I wouldn't come here for just anyone," You murmured, drained. The emotion, and worrying must have shown on your expression, resonating in the way her eyes softened in the slightest. "No visitors, Miss Y/L/N. I can't make exceptions." Stubborn as ever. "Then - I - is he okay?" "Yes." She sighed, lips dragging down in the slightest. "He'll live, dear. Now, please make yourself scarse, before Professor McGonagall thinks you're causing a scene." Madame Pomfrey began to gesture you back to the doorway you had sped through. Yet, before you could bite them back, a last, desperate attempt spilled from your mouth. "Can you at least let him know I tried?" Her lips etched further down in the tiniest. Your heart murmured in disappointment - but, as you were about to give in hope, she gave you a singular, firm nod.   "Fine. Now, out of my hospital wing, girl." The tone of her voice was enough for you to know you had pushed her to her limit. "Thank you." Your reply came as a breath you weren't quite sure was at all audible, soon to make it back out of the hospital wing. Draco was at least getting tended to - and Madame Pomfrey didn't seem too stressed. All good signs that whatever had happened wasn't too drastic, at least. Still, that persistent nausea remained, stubborn. You were definitely not in the mood for a mind numbing lesson of a History of Magic, that was for certain. The Classroom it is. At least if Draco gets out of the hospital wing I'll know if he stopped by to see me. So lost in thought on the way to the classroom, you could have almost missed it. The three famous faces of Hogwarts, huddled together, but speeding towards what you assumed would be the Gryffindor common room. If you'd have been paying more attention, maybe you would have noticed Harry Potter's laboured, terrified breathing, and Hermione's furrowed brow. But they didn't need to have been wearing Gryffindor robes for you to see red. For once, you didn't feel your usual jittering anxiety. You didn't weigh up what your actions would mean, what your reputation would do. Your strides became quicker, poised. Fists curled up, you bared your teeth and let out a yell. "Potter!" He didn't even turn to look at you. No, it was his two bodyguards that spun. Expressions tired, they looked ready to face another barrage of questions from nosy students, only to drop. Hermione's eyes lit up with panic at the sight of you, most likely looking a little deranged. Her lips shifted to say something, but your thoughts were too loud. He hurt Draco. He hurt Draco, and now I'm going to hurt him. Harry turned to face you at the last minute. Bringing back your arm, you swung your fist directly into his face. "Don't you fucking dare touch him again!" Your voice didn't even feel like your own as you glared down at Harry. He stumbled back, Ron quick to his aid and preventing his fall. "Y/N-" "No, Harry Potter, you fucking listen to me." Hissing, you pushed Hermione away from you as she attempted to pull you back, despite Harry's lack of retaliation. "You stay away from me, and you stay away from Draco." Your eyes glinted, taking in every inch of shock across his face. "Or I will do a lot worse than give you a black eye." "Y/N, go." Hermione urged, gaze pressuring and a little dangerous. It was only then that you realised there were a lot more eyes on you than you once noticed. All around the corridor - students of every year, every house. Staring. Whispering. Jaw grinding together, you threw another glare at Harry for good measure. Then, you stepped back, getting away from the corridor before anything could escalate. For once, there were no scalding, angry tears to follow your mistake. There was no pounding heartbeat, or panicked breathing. For once, as you made your way to the classroom, there was only the sting of your knuckles. And, the odd satisfaction of knowing you'd at least done something for Draco. You'd stood up for him, like he'd stood up for you - and whilst, yes, there was also the concern of him being angry at you for doing so - you knew it was all you could try and do. If Draco was going to get himself killed, you'd be there to try and prevent it to any measures necessary. You'd been sat at the window ledge for hours when Draco finally made an appearance. Dusk was setting in, casting the room that warm orange you felt so comfortable within. The moment the door clicked unlocked, your heart jumped, and before you could rush to the door he was already pushing it open, eyes locking with yours instantly. Swallowing, a second of silence settled between you. There was a million words coming to mind, yet they vanished. All you could do was take in the note of his familiar grey-blue gaze. "Evening." Finally, he spoke, twitching a corner of his lip upward as he slipped into the room and locked the door behind him. That. That was all it took. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, you complete and utter idiot-" You'd scrambled to your feet in a second, eyes darting all over his body as you marched towards him and pulled him into a less than gentle embrace. Draco let out a grunt, but then you pulled back again, setting a hand either side of his face. "What the fuck did you do? Merlin, are you alright? I've been fucking worried sick about you all day, I had to speak to Pansy bloody Parkinson just to find out where you are-" Draco's lips cut you off, his own hands coming to rest over yours. Your heart leapt as he did so, and despite his cool skin, you flushed warm. Every little bit of stress dissipated at the action, swiped away by his touch. Pulling back, he prized your hands off of him, although kept them tucked into his. His eyes glimmered with a certain tone of pride - one you hadn't seen him wear often in the last few months. "You gave Potter a black eye." Draco's face pulled into a grin as he spoke, as though he couldn't help himself. Chest fluttering, you realised - Draco was proud of you. "Well - yeah." You felt your own, faint smile play along your lips. "He put you in hospital, Draco. Fuck, are you alright?" Straight back to panicking, you searched him again, the sight of him standing so full in front of you almost thrilling after such a long day. "Can you stop fretting for one second?" He pressed. "No, I cannot! What happened?" Demanding, you set him with a firm look. "You gave Potter a black eye, that's what fucking happened!" Draco exclaimed, eyes alight and wide. "I'm aware. I did do it myself, you know." You sighed, finally accepting that you were not going to find anything out about Draco's injury anytime soon. "You're bloody brilliant." He murmured, kissing you again - this time, a lot more hastily, so much it took you by surprise. You allowed him to wrap his arms around your waist, your own hands grasping at the back of his hair as his lips played atop of yours. Only, for them to travel across your jawline, breath hitching as they did so. "I wish I was there to have seen it." Draco whispered, voice dark, tempting. "Stop sexualising my violence." You muttered, evoking a chuckle from the back of his throat. The sound so close to your ear that it made you shiver, his fingers dug into your waist a little deeper. Still, you pushed the feeling away. "Draco, please tell me what happened." Finally, Draco faltered, an echo of a sigh escaping his lips as he shifted back to take you in. "I don't think you want to know." Heart stumbling, you swallowed, eyes dropping to where your hands splayed over his shoulders. "Trust me." Your eyes flickered back to his. Gradual hesitation was breaking through his previous, much more playful gaze. "I want to know." A silence settled between you. Endless amounts of tension managed to fill the small space between your features. It was the type of tension that already made your heart clench in your chest, the type that made you not want to breath. Draco's expression had fallen, a mixture of withdrawal and unexpected dread - one he would usually try so hard to cover.  It was unnerving, seeing someone usually so hardened, so steely, dropping back into the terrified boy you only caught glimpses of before.   And, eventually, he spoke. "He knows." Your breath caught in the back of your throat. "He saw - saw the mark, when I went to visit Myrtle. Shot some spell I've never heard at me." Draco, once avoiding your glossy eyes, finally met them again. "Nearly killed me." Merlin, his tone was something you'd never even attempted to imagine, coming from Draco. Both haunted, yet accepting, as though he was comfortable with his own fear - and it terrified you, deep into your core. In any other situation, you would have noticed your own terror. The idea of Draco dying, without you having even known - it was unthinkable. He was everything you had, everything you'd ever wanted or needed after a life spent within your own head. If he died - But you didn't. No. For once, it was only anger. Draco's expression was only a spark to a fire pit built many years ago. Built the day you stepped inside Hogwarts, brimming with hopes and dreams, only to be met with rejection.   It took a moment for you to realise that Draco was still watching you, uncertain, brow furrowed in concern. For you. Not him, not the one who had almost died only a few hours ago. And so, you let out a careful breath, holding his face in your hands as though it was the most precious thing to exist. "I won't let that happen." You murmured, meeting his complex grey faze with a fierce one. Swallowing, Draco watched you a moment longer, as though trying to read the intensity of your words. "I know." His brow jolted in as he spoke, as though he were wounded to say it. There was an underlying tone to your admission, one you both appeared to ignore. But then, Draco pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, squeezing your waist tight in his grip. The movement brushed away the tension before you could even attempt to hold onto it. It left you feeling a little unhinged, blinking. "I'm alive, though." Draco reassured, catching your eye once again. "Madame Pomfrey fixed me up quite nicely." A soft chuckle left you as he spoke, breaking through the stiffness of your features. "Really?" You raised an eyebrow, teasing. "Any battle scars?" His lips twitched, gaze warm. "You're just trying to get me undressed." Shaking his head, you laughed again, watching as Draco shifted away from you to tug his shirt upward. There was a slight stutter in your chest as he did so, a sudden childish nervousness at the exposure of skin. But, as your eyes swept across the healed, rugged lines across his chest, it faded. Leaving you instead, with both a tinge of worry - and, a slight desire. Draco, however, seemed to note your expression. He didn't allow his shirt to fall back down till your eyes met again, except this time, they were a little darkened. "Like what you see?" A smug smirk plastered his features, but you only rolled your eyes. "Cocky as always, Malfoy." You teased, unable to stop yourself from smiling as he pulled you in closer again. Pressing short kisses to your jaw, he earnt a sharp intake of breath from you. "I never denied that." The mood, somehow, managed to stay warm for the rest of the evening. Settled on the window sill, soaking in Draco's presence and rare good mood - your anxieties faded. His arms were so tight around you, soft lips finding your skin, over and over. It was as though you were dreaming. The anger, however - the anger never quite left. You weren't quite sure if you wanted it to, either.

[riceccakes]

for @savethewaffle (we won’t talk about the prompt you sent me in my inbox😅)

-

She planned everything, down to the pencil she would use to write notes during the orientation. It was the only way Adora could maintain her stress, the only way to ease her anxiety, and while it helped, the pit in her stomach only grew heavier as she neared the university.

No amount of mechanical pencils could calm her down now.

She studied the orientation agenda, prepared her answers for all the “Get To Know You” questions, Adora even knew what she would order in the university cafeteria. So, how could she have forgotten to look at the school map?

After stepping foot on the campus center, Adora looked left and right, noting the millions of signs saying all the same things: “This way.” This way to what? How could there be so many arrows? Which signs was she supposed to follow? How was everyone else not as stressed as she was?

Adora checked the time, orientation check in would start soon. Coming early was out of habit, needing to maintain her schedule and follow her checklist bullet point for bullet point. Now, it was a blessing because the extra time would be used understanding where the hell she was going.

Her heart rate was increasing, if she didn’t move, Adora knew she would explode. She let her feet guide her, walking down the concrete path until it rounded a corner. Ahead of her were a group of girls. Their relaxed expressions and comfortable laughter let Adora know these girls were older than her. She looked at the time again, she wanted to be one of the first people on the check in line; she needed to know where to go.

Mustering up all the courage in her system, Adora walked up to the girls just as they finished laughing again. Each one of them turned their heads towards her, a silence fell over them.

“Um, hi, I’m Adora,” she began, losing focus as she eyed one of the girl’s biceps, “do any of you know where to go for orientation?”

They exchanged looks, a particularly mischievous smile grew on the girl in the center. She was much shorter than her friends. Adora’s breath caught in her throat, did all girls have smiles that pretty? She saw the girl’s tail waving behind her.

“Yeah, Huntara, she needs her Orientation ID number, right?”

“You’re absolutely right, Catra, that’s all she’ll need.”

Orientation ID number? Did Adora miss an email? How could Adora have forgotten so much? She didn’t know her Orientation ID number, she didn’t even know she had one.

“Oh, I, uh,” Adora felt her tongue dry up. Catra draped a piece of her hair behind her shoulder, how could something so simple be so beautiful? “I don’t, um, I don’t think I know my Orientation ID number? I must have missed something or It....”

Huntara and Catra bursted into another fit of laughter while their other friend rolled her eyes.

“I’m sorry about them, they always mess with the freshmen on Orientation day.”

“Oh, you’re no fun, Scorpia,” Catra stepped forward, putting a hand on Adora’s wrist. She whispered, “I would’ve kept this up if that weren’t the cutest reaction from a freshman we’ve seen.”

Catra’s hand left her skin but her tail wrapped around her fingers for just a second before she stood again with her friends, “If you go through these doors, follow the hallway all the way down and take a right, you’ll see a table with a big Orientation sign, check in there.”

Adora stood there for a second, staring at this group of girls, at their smiles (warm, strong, alluring), at their eyes (friendly, powerful, mysterious), at their demeanors (welcoming, dashing, confident, self-assured, Catra, Catra, Catra). Suddenly, Adora realized her mouth was hanging open.

Catra laughed again, her head falling back. Adora didn’t even know she walked closer to them until she felt Catra’s touch again, blessing her shoulder, “Go on, dummy. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.” Adora felt her squeeze her shoulder lightly, why did her arm feel like jelly now?

Had Adora completely lost her mind? Before she could even say goodbye, the outside campus turned into concrete walls covered by posters and sign up sheets and Adora desperately wanted to get one final look at Catra. She looked down at her feet, they were clumsily moving, one in front of the other, following the directions Catra gave her. 

Catra; The velvet sound of her voice echoed in Adora’s mind, the way Catra’s head fell back when she was laughing played over and over. The universe must’ve loved Catra, as it had sent a perfect gust of wind to blow through her cascading hair. The tingling sensation in her arm hadn’t gone away, but what even was this tingling sensation? 

“Your name?”

“Huh?” Adora looked down at the table in front of her, Adora looked at the woman sitting with a clipboard and glasses resting on her nose. “Oh, sorry, uh, I’m Adora,” the woman continued to stare at her and Adora’s felt her tongue dry up, “Grayskull. Adora Grayskul?”

The woman checked her in, gave her a name tag, and a university tote bag before sending her through the double doors on the left. Adora found an empty table and started looking through the tote bag. Some pens, a pair of university sunglasses, and the upcoming semester’s directory. Adora had to do a double take, wholeheartedly believing Catra was on the cover in a cheerleader’s uniform. Upon second glance, the girl looked nothing like Catra.

What was going on? Why couldn’t she think straight, why could Adora only think of Catra?

And why did Adora keep breaking her pencil lead? All during the orientation, Adora would be ready to write down whatever the speaker said but slowly found her mind wandering back to the little fang that hung outside Catra’s mouth when she wasn’t smiling or laughing or doing anything for the matter. She thought about her jelly arm, how even after Catra’s been gone, the lingering sense of her touch etched itself into her skin. How could one encounter, especially as short as theirs, short circuit Adora’s brain? 

The pit in her stomach was no longer from anxiety but rather, the pit in her stomach grew out of aching to be near Catra again. Just thinking of Catra’s tail lingering on her fingertips, of her soft hands on Adora’s skin, of the way her eyes captivated Adora beyond compare; it made the pit heavier and heavier and Adora couldn’t bear to carry the weight, so why couldn’t she stop thinking? She imagined getting to be the one whose hand touched Catra, watch her fingers gently flow through her hair and twirl a piece in hopeless spirals until it fell out of her hand. Could she hug Catra? Just a quick embrace? Could she bury her head in the crook of Catra’s neck and take a deep breath of her scent she wished she knew? (All three girls smelled wonderful, as much as Adora didn’t want to admit she had been taking deeper breaths the closer she was to them.) Could she hold Catra’s hand, let their fingers intertwine, have Catra show her around campus and bring them to the back corner of the library where no one could see them and push her up against the books and-- 

What was Adora doing? Half the orientation had gone by and all she had written down was the date and a few scattered lines from when her pencil point broke. This needed to stop, but how? Perhaps, seeing Catra again would help. Maybe it would stop her brain from grinding its gears and she could get her final taste and then get a grip. Even if just to see her for a moment, in passing, in a glance; her daydreams were too much for her to handle. 

Paranoia wasn’t the right word, was Adora having delusions? Some sort of foolish fantasy that made her think Catra was around every corner, behind every open book, sitting in every chair of the classrooms they visited on the campus tour? Her heart rushed everytime she thought she saw Catra, any time she thought she heard that angelic laugh, and everytime she learned it wasn’t that godforsaken girl, her heart twitched and panged and fingers desperately wanted to find the girl for just one touch; couldn’t they make it even?

She wasn’t even sure how she answered the small group questions, she couldn’t even remember the other students’ names. She wished she could, it felt incredibly rude not to, but Adora was far too occupied with how Catra would look next to her in pictures. Too much, Adora thought, too fast, let’s scratch that. Instead, she thought of Catra in front of a camera, that smize being the perfect picture to capture, how that one look could say the million words Adora needed to clear in her head. None of her thoughts formed sentences, everything was hazy, she was too entranced with Catra’s whole entire being to even try and sort out what was going on.

It had been a few hours since she ate breakfast, maybe all she needed was food. She was thankful for the lunch time, grabbing every boxed lunch that looked good to her and found a seat in the corner. It faced away from the general crowd, her mind needed to rest, it needed to refuel; eating the Italian sandwich, chicken nuggets, burger, slice of pizza, cookies, chips, salad, grapes, and four juice boxes would help, right? It would be enough food to last her the rest of the day, through the night, hopefully through the rest of her existence because if this didn’t stop her from thinking about how beautiful Catra was, nothing would.

“Hey, Adora.”

Mid bite on her burger, Adora stopped and looked up. She blinked and blinked and blinked until Catra’s eyebrows furrowed and her face frowned. Was it really her, was she not dreaming? 

“How do you....”

Catra’s head twitched in confusion, “You told me earlier? And,” she pointed to the nametag on her shirt and Adora thought she would pass out right there. “Okay, dummy, why don’t we put this down,” Catra said, taking Adora’s arms and helped place the burger back down on its tin foil and taking a seat next to her. “Do you always eat this much?”

“I,” Adora just finished the third juice box, how was her throat dry? “I’m just hungry.”

Catra snorted, crossing her arms, “Clearly.”

Adora stared at her, her memories hadn’t done justice. Did she even actually look at Catra the first time they met or did Catra just get more beautiful in the few hours they were apart? Adora couldn’t breathe, her face felt hot, her hands were clammy, hell, even in her tee shirt and leggings, Adora felt like she was in a sauna with no way out. Catra stayed with her arms crossed, surveying the cafeteria around her, effortlessly looking like she had walked out of a fashion magazine. Was she even real? No one else in the cafe joined them, and Catra and her friends looked like Greek goddesses, could she be dreaming? What if she was still in bed, curled up in a little ball, drooling on her pillow while her mind decided to be a big asshole and make her think her cause of death would be heart failure from meeting the prettiest girl on Etheria.

What a jerk her brain would be.

But, another student passed the table, saying hi to Catra before walking out the door. Catra only waved, bringing her eyes back to Adora and smiling, “You gonna keep staring? Maybe I should charge you if you’re gonna stare at me like that.”

“What? I,” Adora tried to break the eye contact but she was drawn in, far too deep to return to reality. 

Catra exuded confidence, like she didn’t give a single fuck about what anyone would think of her. In that moment, Adora decided this was why she was fawning over the girl. Adora had never been the confident type, she never walked into a room like she owned it. It was something she’d wanted since she was a little girl, to be looked at and think, “She knows what she’s doing.” It was why she planned for hours, days, weeks for this Orientation that would only last a couple more hours and still, she failed at following through with her hopes. Catra wouldn’t have, Adora thought, Catra couldn’t.

Catra laughed, leaning forward and pulling her phone from her back pocket. She cleared her throat, placing her hand out. Adora stared at it and almost gave Catra her own hand but was thankfully stopped when Catra passed her phone over. Adora found hers and put it in Catra’s hand, watched as she typed and snickered and took a picture of herself before giving it back. She looked at her own phone and gestured to use it, Adora shook her head and wiped her hands, putting in her contact info. 

She passed the phone across the table, Catra frowned and Adora thought she was about to die and that wasn’t what Catra had wanted.

“No picture?”

“Oh! I, well,” Adora tried to push a piece of hair behind her ear but there was no such piece to do so; her ponytail was perfectly kept and there were no loose strands. What was she doing? She looked like a complete fool in front of Etheria’s most beautiful person, what kind of first impression was that? Adora gulped, wishing she could start this day over and prepare herself to be an idiot. “I’m not the best with photos.”

Catra waved her off, pointing her phone towards Adora. She scooted some of the food further up the table and leaned back, smiling as she brought her phone back down. She showed Adora the picture, it was awful and embarrassing and Adora wished she could erase it but Catra’s smile was bigger than she’d seen it earlier and it was everything Adora had wanted to see for hours.

“Gosh, you’re such a dork,” Catra laughed, locking her phone. “Good for pictures, though.” She got up, pushed in her chair, leaned over and placed her hand on the side of Adora’s chair, “Text me, okay? I’ll give you the real tour of campus, I’ll even pay for lunch.”

As Catra turned around to leave, her tail lingered on Adora’s hands in her lap before she disappeared through the doors and out of the building. Adora stared at the doorway, suddenly understanding why honeydew and mint would be her new favorite scent.

Catra was beautiful, Catra was breathtaking, Catra was everything Adora wanted and fuck, did she want to kiss her.

[secret-rendezvous1d]

how about an alex first christmas home with his wife or gf? if your uncomfortable writing this prompt i completely understand

Hello, hi!

Welcome to Blogmas 2020. A couple of days later than I promised, and I apologise for that, but here we are. 

Hopefully, the idea of how Blogmas 2020 is planned out will become a little clearer than how my very poor explanations explained it, haha.

Many more blurbs, many more chats and a lot more festivities to come; my inbox will be open all through December this year for blurb prompts for Blogmas so don’t feel afraid to pop in a prompt to get written for tis year; all I can say is that if you’re asking for a lengthy prompt, I’m not the right person right now, haha. 

I’m welcoming absolutely anything for this year; any AU, any characters, any ideas.

Reblog, like, comment and share your thoughts with me. Please let me know what you think because feedback is always appreciated on here; much more appreciated now given that I’ve not written a lot in a long while. Please let me know what you think.

Enjoy! 

A song to listen to throughout the second scene; Bing Crosby, I’ll Be Home For Christmas

“Look at the size of those toms,” Alex gushed in awe, rushing from his place at the kitchen cabinet, where the kettle was whistling on the stove, to grab the woven basket full of fresh garden vegetables from his wife’s arms, saving a couple of apples and pears from becoming bruised by the floor. “They’re massive.”

“There’s something in the soil, I think,” YN teased, wiping her soil-covered fingertips on the pink and white polka-dot apron tied around her waist. Traces of wet mud and dry soil clinging to the material, tiny specks falling to the floor but nothing bad enough that couldn’t be sweeped with the brush and pan. “You should see some of the runners growing in the corner. Nice and long, they are. Perfect for dinner tomorrow eve.”

“How are the potatoes coming along?”

“They’re good, I was going to dig them and the carrots up tonight before the nighttimes cold comes in,” she said softly, standing beside her husband as he unpacked the fruit and placed them in the empty fruit bowl. The kettle coming to a gentle boil, soon being warm enough for them to make a warm cup of tea to drink by the fire to warm themselves up.

The vegetables left in the basket - varying from cabbage and cauliflower to Brussels sprouts and onions - needed a good brush down and a wash under water but looked good enough to enjoy as part of their meal the next day. A meal that would be enjoyed by her parents, Alex’s parents and a couple of good friends who hadn’t had time to make it back home for Christmas, missing the last train out of London for a few days and unable to find a kind-hearted soul to take them two hours up north. It was also a meal that YN had been panicking over for almost the entire month of December… her first time cooking a Christmas dinner and she wanted it to be as perfect as possible to end a year that needed some cheer.

With the war coming to an end, for a second time, she felt safe and happy. Much safer and much happier than the last time a war was declared to have finished.

Maybe it was the fact that the four-year long terror of air raid sirens and bombings and unexpected blackouts had come to its end; maybe it was the fact that Britain had won the war and there was no more fear to live by; maybe it was the fact that her husband had been one of the lucky ones to come home safe and sound, able to celebrate Christmas as normal without worry that he was going to be called back to fight in the trenches and on the frontline; maybe it was the fact that everything was slowly going back to how it had been and life was on track to getting better.

“Dad’s always saying they taste and cook the best after a night in the cold,” Alex shrugged, taking a bite of an apple and feeling the juice trickle down his chin, something that YN’s thumb caught and wiped away, “I’ll go and dig them up tomorrow morning.”

“I wanted to start peeling and cutting them now,” she frowned, looking at him with furrowed brows, “go dig them up for now, please, darling?”

He mirrored her expression and folded his arms, half-bitten apple still in his hand, a smile toying his lips.

“Do I have to? It’s getting cold out there, I’ve got no jumper on and I’ve just put the kettle on,” he playfully whined, pouting his lips.

Her own eyebrows furrowed deeper on her browline, a silent plea for him to do what she said because she was stressing enough and didn’t want to be panicking so early tomorrow morning. All along he was going to do what she asked him to do, no word of a lie, but he found pure enjoyment in giving her the idea he had no intentions of helping. He placed his half-eaten apple on the kitchen counter and took a step towards her.

“Alright, as long as you do me the best cup of tea possible.”

“Of course, aren’t all my cups of tea the best?” To which he nodded and she grinned, squeezing his cheek and leaving a blush pink behind on his cheekbone, “I love you.”

“I love you the most,” he hummed, pressing a kiss to her cold forehead, reaching around her to grab the basket and tuck it under his arm, “I’ll have a look at these nice, long runners you’ve been speaking so highly about, too.”

*

“Mum called earlier. She’s grown some strawberries and rhubarb and said she was making a pie for our dessert tomorrow. I told her that with how hard you’ve been working with the garden, on all the veggies, we won’t need a pudding to eat because we’ll be so full of Christmas dinner,” Alex chuckled, peering over the newspaper in his hands to catch a glimpse of a smile on her lips, eyes still trained to the book she was reading in the gentle, almost, silence.

The radio crackled quietly in the background of the living room, playing a Christmas song that had a frequent place on the station they had programmed to work properly. Adding a sense of merriment to the room they were sat in; tinsel hanging on a scarce Christmas tree, with ornaments made from paper and cardboard, and Christmas cards on the windowsill from family and friends. There wasn’t much they could do but it was enough for them.

“Your mum makes a good pie though,” YN admitted, placing her finger between the pages she’d gotten to, “she didn’t have to do that though. She’s already done a lot for me this year and the last four so tomorrow is, kind of, all about giving back to her and your dad and my parents, too.”

Alex’s family had been a huge constant in her life during the wartime.

His mother had been non-stop on the phone with her about new gardening tips that her friends had told her about and seeds to share amongst themselves to grow a healthy batch of fruits to bake with - because they baked, a lot, and his mother had sent her back home with a brain full of new treats to bake and recipes to try out - and they took care of a flower patch in the front garden of Alex’s home, which seemed to pass the time. His father had been just as helpful to her, whenever he wasn’t in factories or working in machinery, coming by to put shelves up for her or to fix a hole in the roof that had begun to leak. Always popping by with a loaf of bread from the bakery and a tin of meat, that YN would put together as a sandwich and they’d eat until he knew his wife would be questioning his whereabouts. They allowed her to stay when she was feeling lonely, always looked out for her during the raids and insisted she stayed with them to wait it out, always insisting that she stayed with them until Alex was home so she wasn’t suffering with loneliness or panicking when blackouts occurred.

It had always been his mother cooking a Christmas dinner, promising she didn’t have to do anything but sit at the dining table and enjoy a healthy meal with family, with no worrying or getting upset that her own husband wasn’t there to enjoy the family festivities.

So it felt surreal when YN saw Alex dressed in his uniform, on the train station platform with a bag swung over his shoulder, in and amongst crowds of reunited families, knowing that they were about to have their life back on track. A Christmas together.

“My dad’s made a good sherry for us to have. Mum said he’s been working on it for almost a year now. Growing currants in the front garden and chasing kids away when he saw them picking at his bushes as they passed,” Yn giggled softly, because the image of her father chasing active youths down a street was rather amusing to her, reaching for her bookmark to keep her place in the book resting on her lap, “she says she’s barely seen him because he spends his time at the allotments, with his friends.”

Alex snuffled a laugh and folded his paper up, setting it on the floor beside the crackling fireplace.

“We should get an allotment. Could build a shed there to hide in when it rains, have you come and sit and watch me dig the veggies up, let you grow some flowers there. We’d be the best there,” he grinned, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, “what do you think?”

“I think it’s a great idea, baby.”

“Christmases only get better from here,” he stood to his feet and wiggled his fingers in her direction, “let’s have a dance.”

She smiled shyly and stood to her feet, toes all toasty and warm from the fire, reaching for his hands as he twirled her under his arm and let her dress, all dark green and red (which she insisted was her most Christmas-y dress in her wardrobe) billow out at the knees. With the occasional step on his bare toes, and a trip over his own feet, they managed to move themselves around the room with such an elegant sway to their hips as the gentle voice of Bing Crosby filled the room, with the ever so delightful song that YN imagined must have felt so personal to so many around Britain. And she couldn’t help but think of how many others were dancing, singing and crying as the tune filled merry homes, both happy and sad.

And she didn’t want to let her mind wander to the agonising pain of not having a loved one, let alone a husband, arrive home safe for Christmas… but it was planted there and she never ever wanted an experience so heartbreaking.

“You’ve gone quiet,” he hummed and it was in that moment that he felt a dribble of tears against his neck, his feet coming to a stop as the music carried on behind them, “hey now. No crying, we said. This is a happy end to the year, eh? A happy one.”

“I know but,” she choked on a tear and pulled away to look at him, “I’m so lucky you came home to me. To us. But, some women, they never got to say goodbye to their husbands, their brothers, their fathers and grandfathers. They never got to see them for Christmas this year, last year and the years before that. They never knew what was coming,” she whispered with a hushed voice that felt like if she spoke too loud, she’d have the entire country hearing her, as if the music was bad enough to bring out the emotions.

“I promised you, didn’t I, baby?”

She nodded softly and his thumbs wiped away her tears, collecting moisture on the tips of his pads, their eyes locking for a brief second.

“I promised you I’d make it back to you and I did, safe and sound,” he held her face in his hands and brushed the tip of his nose to hers, his warm breath flushing over her face as she sniffled and sobbed, “I’m never leaving you again. Never ever. I promise, no selfish bastard is going to keep us apart, not even for Christmas.”

[rosesvioletshardy]

life as we know it - b.h. chapter 11

here it is chapter 11, sorry it wasn’t posted yesterday i was busy and hadn’t finished writing the chapter until almost maybe 2 am pst

i really hope y’all like this chapter because i have no clue what i wrote if i’m being honest and i didn’t know how to end it

masterlist

summary: when their two best friends die, it’s up to ben and y/n to take care of their goddaughter and face the challenges with it

# of words: 3,922

warnings: fluff, angst, language

taglist: @myfatbottomedgirls , @evemarie05 , @suckerfor-fanfics

 inbox me or message me if you want to be added to the taglist for the series

---

gif credit: @benhardyispretty

while waking up, y/n felt more refreshed than she has ever felt before. it was most likely for the fact that she felt more free now that she was single. although she did love ben, she still couldn’t confide in where her feelings stood for ben. half of her loved her, but the other half knew she couldn’t. she walked down the stairs to find the house empty besides her, charlie, and frankie. when she reached the kitchen, she saw a note that was taped on the coffee pot from him

went to filming, had to leave early, you can come if you’re not busy. extra breakfast is in the fridge as well as coffee in the pot :)

she smiled at his note and his messy handwriting. when she opened the fridge, she saw 

 for her, it was the little things that for her that mattered like remembering a favorite song of the persons or how they like their breakfast in the morning. today was odd though, y/n didn’t know what they were filming today and ben would’ve usually told her what scene they were filming and what it was about without giving too much away that they weren’t exactly supposed to talk about it to others that much.

---

while y/n was loading up her car, she got a text from ben asking where she was. 

“hey are you on your way?”

“yeah we’re just about to leave”

“alright, you’re really gonna like what we’re filming today ;)”

“what are you guys filming?”

“Ben?”

“hello???” 

“asshole”

she gave up on trying to get an answer from him seeing that he probably had to go film. She got into her car and started it and played some soft music for charlie so she wouldn’t be cranky when they got there.

 ben on the other hand was in his trailer chilling until he had to get called into costume and makeup. he was excited to film today but the only problem he had with this costume were his thighs. he tried to get roger’s physique but he played too much rugby growing up. y/n didn’t do sports much growing up, her parents wanted her to try ballet, she tried soccer for a year, swim for a year, then volleyball for another year, until she realized sports weren’t for her. during that time she also did piano for several years and that was pretty much it for her. she snapped out of her thoughts when out of nowhere she started to pull up to the lot at the studio. not understanding how she managed to get there without getting into an accident, she told the security guard her name and told him she was a guest of ben’s and went inside. 

putting charlie in her stroller, and grabbing her diaper bag, she began to walk around until she found someone she recognized or at least found ben’s trailer. she spent what felt like hours but was only minutes, she just decided to ask someone. walking toward someone who had black, maybe shoulder length hair and a pink shirt and black skirt, she tapped on their shoulder. as the person turned around after feeling their shoulder get tapped, y/n immediately lost it. it was rami, dressed as freddie for the i want to break free music video. she covered her mouth as rami turned around giving her the full view.

“oh my god, you look amazing.”

“thank you, darling” rami said in his freddie voice causing her to laugh

“wait does that mean ben?”

“yes it does mean that. i can take you to him right now if you’d like? he’s getting into his outfit and hair in makeup right now.”

“oh please take me. i think we need to see this.” she tells him as rami began showing her the way after putting his robe back on

“so how’s everything?”

“stressful. as much as i love filming and playing freddie, it’s a lot you know? what about you? how are you and ben doing?”

“we’re doing great. charlie’s doing great. her birthday is coming up soon, you and the guys can come if you’re not busy filming that day”

“we’d love too, she’s already a part of the family.” he said smiling at her

when they reached the hair and makeup trailer, rami went in first to tell ben something 

“hey ben, there’s something outside for you?” “what is it?” 

“i’m not sure, i think it’s some sort of package for you.”

“alright, i think you’re done. you can go, i’ll still be on set knowing that all of you will mess it up.” his makeup artist told them

“thanks, now what was it?” 

ben followed rami outside where y/n and charlie were waiting for him with her phone ready to document what she thought was a  legendary moment. as ben stepped out, it took him a moment to realize that it was her.

“Oh wow, this is great. you look like rogerina. holy shit.” she laughed after taking a few pictures

“i look beautiful, don't i?” ben said fluttering his eyes and dramatically flipping the hair from him wig

“oh yes you do.” she said giggling and covering her mouth

ben reached down and picked up charlie who started whining, not recognizing him that well with the full face of makeup. at this point everyone had started to stare at all of them wondering why a baby was on set and why it was crying. he tried to console her and calm her down and making sure that people stopped staring at them before letting out a deep sigh and doing what he knew would be the only thing that would calm her down: singing. he didn’t sing often and would only do it if he were pissed drunk or if he were putting charlie to sleep or calm her down. y/n loved ben’s singing even if he wasn’t the best. 

“you had your time, you had the power

you’ve yet to have, your finest hour, radio

all we hear is radio gaga, radio goo goo

all we hear is radio gaga, radio blah blah

radio what’s new? radio, someone still loves you” 

as ben finished, all eyes were on him and were clapping but all he could focus on charlie and how her head was now laying on his shoulder as she played with the tie on his schoolgirl costume. he kissed her head and handed her back to y/n when the guys were all called on set and she followed them to watch. she loved every second of them trying to act like the band from the music video. she started to laugh at them, especially when ben landed on joe and he started to hit ben’s butt. everyone was thinking the exact same thing and it was that the boys were having too much fun whenever they filmed scenes like this. y/n loved the way they were all so in character and wanted to make sure they live up to the expectations of the band without fully imitating them. 

ben continued to film till the nighttime and y/n had left home early with charlie seeing that they could sense the director was getting annoyed despite her being in ben’s trailer for most of the time so they could film without any distractions bothering all of them. When they got home, the first thing she needed to do was put charlie down and get them both some food. knowing that ben was going to come home late, she ordered take out for them and got out a jar of sweet potatoes and peas with small bits of meat for charlie. while trying to feed her, started to become fussy and began to spit out everything she was given to eat. 

“Come one girl, there isn’t anything you like tonight?” she asked already getting frustrated

“okay, let’s take a walk around the house, you really seem to like that”

after wiping her face from the spilled food, she took charlie out of her chair and put her down so she could walk around, frankie followed close behind them. while charlie walked around there was a knock on the door signaling that her food was here. paying and tipping she quickly put the food in the kitchen and her wallet back before walking around the house to find charlie. almost losing her by finding her halfway up the stairs, she followed her up the stairs and walking to the family room that was upstairs. y/n hasn’t really stepped in the room that much besides only to clean and dust it. ben has been in it a few times but only to look around. while charlie began to climb the couch to get on it, she found something that was in the tv stand; it was a laptop. specifically lennon’s laptop. she recognized the case cover with flowers all over. 

taking it out, she walked over to the couch and sat down with charlie on her left. she took a moment and stared at it for a few moments before taking it out and turning it on. there were lots of memories that were hard for her to look through before sucking it up and typing in the password. the screensaver started to make her tear up. it was a picture of her, lennon, christian, and ben from one of the days they hung out together. she saw all the files that were for her classes and some that were for memories. 

ben walked into the house and it was all quiet. Not even frankie was coming down to greet him and she always did. throwing his jacket on the couch he walked into the kitchen to find bags of takeout but unopened as well as a plate of food for charlie. still confused, he walked up the stairs to find y/n and charlie cuddled up watching what he thought was a movie on the couch. he walked over to them and set next to her and looked over to find them watching videos from the last couple of years.

“hey”

“hi”

“why you up here?’

“charlie wanted to walk around and she came here and i saw the laptop and here we are” she told him as she wiped away a tear that escaped from her eye

“you miss her a lot don’t you?’ he asked her already knowing the answer. she couldn’t talk so she nodded

“i miss chris too. i honestly miss the way he would dramatically sing the national anthem already pissed drunk. he never could hold his drinks and was always a lightweight dickhead”

this caused the both of them to giggle as a video of lennon was playing the day she gave birth. they remember the day vividly. one minute they were arguing on how they were going to paint the room while christian was trying to finish building the crib.

“remember how much we used to hate each other?”

“i felt like our constant fighting was driving them insane.” 

“lennon felt like she’s seen more fighting from us than she’s seen while teaching.” ben laughed as he picked up charlie and put her on his lap

the video continued to play before it cut to lennon and christian in the hospital as she was trying to control her breathing

“and here we have your mother, looking beautiful as always. we can’t wait to meet you babygirl.” “hopefully you’re not as stubborn as your father.”

“well that’s something she got wrong” ben said as he blew a raspberry onto charlie’s cheek causing her giggle

“that’s your mama and dada sweetie. you would’ve loved them so much. your mama was the craziest person we knew but still grounded and your dada could talk and argue his way out of everything for days. they kept each other grounded and sane.” y/n whispered

“da”

this caused ben and y/n to stop what they were watching and look at her and to each other

“did she just?”

“i think she did. can you say that again baby? dada?’

“da..da”

“oh my god she did it! she said her first word!”

“she really did! christian would be over the moon and bragging that her first words were about him” ben said picking her up and spinning her around

the rest of the night was spent eating their dinner and watching a movie before charlie was nearly passed out. ben took her to bed while y/n cleaned the area up. she knew she was hurting herself by watching more of the videos before she landed on a one that involved lennon, christian, and charlie. it was a few days after charlie was born and they were back home and in her room. lennon and christian had started to argue because she could still smell the paint on the walls and was concerned that charlie would breathe them in. christian had told her that the windows had been opened so it could get the smell out and that he wouldn’t have had charlie in the room if it still have paint fumes. Ben walked in to find her with the laptop again and watched with her.

“you know, we loved playing rugby all the time and i kept getting injured and became bored with it and christian told me about the local drama club and spent almost all the time practicing with me until i went off to drama school. even then he would still practice with me during our exam seasons. he never got a full chance to study because of me and knew that i would make it as an actor and he still managed to be one of the best lawyers in london while still in his 20’s. he didn’t care how cheesy the scene was and always came to support me at my shows whenever he could. i can’t leave him alone when he needs me. and he never left me alone when i needed him. even if he’s gone.”

“i started watching these because i just wanted to hear their voices, see them for a minute you know? when you were putting her down, i found this one” she said pressing play

“ta-da! pretty great, huh? We went with the lavender and the blue sky. When y/n and ben were at the hospital with you, i finished some few touches”

“when did you paint this room?”

“like i said, i finished it the second day at the hospital.i wanted to surprise you.”

“i can still smell the fumes chris” lennon said trying to cover charlie’s nose so she didn’t breathe it all in

“it’s been dry for days now l-” christian tried arguing

“it hasn’t been drying long enough”

“we’re really getting so critical right now. it’s not even wet paint.”

“she’s not sleeping in the bedroom tonight”

“i wouldn’t bring a baby, let alone ours, into wet paint room”

“of course it’s not wet but does it smell for days afterwards?”

“no, it doesn’t. it’s totally aired out. do you know how much work y/n, ben, and i put into this?”

“you didn't do any of this, when have you painted a flower or a cloud this detailed?”

“okay, i oversaw what y/n was doing-”

“she can’t sleep in here, move her crib”

“Of course she can, this is her room!” christian said following lennon out

she then paused the video and ben began to speak again

“so what you’re saying is, that it’s okay that we’re horrible parents and that we want to kill each other half the time but also tend to make out every now and then?”

“Two-thirds, actually. i feel like we should keep doing what you said before. that we stop trying and stop trying to fit ourselves into their lives.” she said

“i actually hate this place. it’s like a mausoleum. there’s pictures of them everywhere. and i really hate that painting up there.” ben told her as he pointed to the cowboy on the wall.

“yeah, he’s really creepy right?” she stated pulling a face of disgust

“if we’re going to live here, we have to stop tiptoeing around like they’re coming back soon.

“well then, let’s get to work.” ben said as he got up and offered his hand for her to take

the first thing they did when they got up was take down the cowboy painting and ben went and put it the garage, specifically where they can’t see it whenever they go down there. y/n looked for pictures of her and ben that they could hang up in replace of the ones of chris and lennon. ben was with her until he found one of them together at the wedding. that was one of the few times they complied and took pictures together. one of them in particular, ben was staring at her like she was the only girl in the world. they both hung up a picture of them at the hospital with charlie when she was first born.

“wait, a little to the left--no no no, a little back to the right--wait right there. perfect” 

ben went back to y/n and put his arm around her shoulder and she leaned in while he kissed her head. they stood there for a few minutes admiring it before deciding to head off to bed. they had a lot to do before a party on the weekend which meant planning and making sure that they knew what they were going to do and it was all scheduled and ready to go. 

---

it was the weekend. which meant a birthday party for a now 1 year old. y/n had make a small cake for charlie in the morning so she could have some fun with it before the actual party. everyone in the neighborhood and joe, gwilym, rami, allen, and lucy were coming according to ben. she felt close with the cast after being introduced to them. she hadn’t met allen until a few days before when they had made a visit to the set. 

“here comes the birthday girl” ben said while he walked into the kitchen as she finished icing the small cupcake for her

“who’s the pretty birthday girl right in front of my own eyes?” y/n asked putting the pipping bag down

ben grabbed a small candle from the cabinet and his lighter and put it on the cupcake and set it on the tray. he took out his phone and began videoing as him and y/n began to sing her happy birthday. he sent the video to her when they finished and posted it on instagram. once he posted it, comments began flooding in wishing her a happy birthday. 

“so what is on the agenda today?” ben asked drinking his coffee

“well, we need to definitely give her a shower because she has frosting all over her. then, we have a couple hours to set up before everyone comes over  at 2, tyler is bringing the cake over around the same time, the face painter is coming over around 1:30 to set everything up, jack and melissa’s flight landed last night and they are going to be here to help soon.” she told him

“wow we are going to properly pass out tonight. this is going to be a lot. is there at least going to be some booze?” 

“yeah, it’ll be somewhere where the other kids don’t mistake it for their drinks-” she began talking before getting cut off by the door opening and closing

“hello? is anyone awake?” a voice yelled

the two adults recognized the man’s voice as jack before melissa scolded him

“be quiet, they could still be sleeping” melissa told them taking off their coats

“no, we’re not asleep. we’re wide awake. Hi jack, hi melissa”

“hi sweetheart. how ya doing” melissa asked rubbing the sides of y/n’s arms

“i’m good, how are you guys? how was the flight?”

“it was good, the both of you really didn’t need to put us in a really fancy hotel, others would’ve been fine.”

“we don’t want to hear it, you both deserve the best after all you’ve done for us and charlie. how are you jack?” ben asked shaking his hand

“good, still retired, still down at the golf course. here’s the birthday girl. my is she getting big.” jack said as ben handed her to him

“she is. she actually started walking and said her first words this month.” she told them as they all moved to the living room and  brought out some coffee for them

the fours adults continued to talk as they recounted memories over time of lennon’s and y/n’s birthdays including the time where she ended up roller skating into the cake. in her defense, she didn’t know how to stop at the time. jack and ben went to set up the grill while melissa started to decorate so charlie could get cleaned up. the weather was fortunate enough for it to be nice and sunny that day instead of cloudiness and rain. 

“y/n sweetie, i need to ask you something.”

“what is it?”

“how are things between you and ben?”

she knew that this question was going to come up sooner than later before everyone came. y/n knew in her heart that it was always ben that she was supposed to be with but her brain was telling her otherwise

“things...are going great. We’ve managed to work some things out. he was with me when i broke up with sean.”

“listen to your heart. your brain will tell you otherwise but it’s truly what your heart wants. if he doesn’t see what a great person you are, it’s on him and i know he’ll regret it later.” 

“thanks mel. i wish i had what you and jack have.”

“please, married 30 years and he always forgets when our anniversary is” melissa mentioned as she chopped up the lettuce for the salad

“men, what would we do without them?” she remarked causing the both of them to laugh

--

the party went better than they thought it would go. the only problem was ben not liking the idea of getting matching face paints but only doing it for y/n and charlie. joe had managed to get a picture of them and posted it. they had convinced jack and melissa to go back to their hotel and told them they could deal with the cleaning. it was quiet in the house now and they felt like they could just pass out and never wake up. she found ben outside smoking and nursing a beer before she went and wrapped her arms around him. he got rid of the cigarette and turned around and kissed her forehead.

“i thought you were going to quit.”

“i am, as soon as filming is over.” he announced before continuing

“’s nice out. wish it would be like this all the time” 

“it is. today was good, i’m glad people enjoyed themselves even after she went to sleep” “yeah the guys seemed to enjoy themselves. same with you tiger.” y/n laughed seeing the paint smudging off of his face 

“hey take a look at yourself too. The things we do for her.”

“i know i make a pretty sexy tiger” 

this caused ben to turn red and start stuttering over his words. all she could was just laugh it off and walk off

“c’mon, let’s go to bed. you have filming tomorrow”

[tales-of-spring]

morning siren | Chapter 2: The Baker

Pairing / Ship: Steve Rogers x neutral reader

Featuring: Steve Rogers, mentions of Sam, Bucky and Tony

Words: 2349

Category: Writing Challenge, Fic, Vanilla, Soft Fluff

Warning: Steve who is completely smitten and shy, baker!reader, compliments, light flirting, first time meeting, Steve’s POV

Summary: While on trip in a new city, Steve visits a bakery and is startled when he meets the baker working behind the counter.

Author’s Note: Part two for my entry for @finleyjayne​‘s Rainbow Writing Challenge! I chose the prompt ‘’Apples and Oranges’’ paired with Steve Rogers, enjoy! Part three will follow soon, so keep your eyes peeled! 

Steve’s heart was racing in his chest as he stepped outside of the bakery. He breathed the cold morning air deeply in through his nose in an attempt to calm himself down. This has never happened to him, not like this, not since.. 

He breathed out through his mouth and looked around him, glancing into the shop window to find that you had already disappeared back into the kitchen. He blinked for a moment, not knowing what to do. You really got him good, but alas, he managed to snap out of the trance and return to what he was gonna do. He climbed on top of his motorcycle, but couldn’t help himself to wait till he was somewhere else to eat the cookies he bought. He opened the paper wrapping and grabbed one of the cookies, biting slowly into the baked sweet..

Earlier that morning..

It was five am, Steve’s usual time of getting up. It was a matter of routine, and he did it ever since he joined the Avengers. And even though he was on a relaxation trip, he had no intention of shedding the routine that worked so easily for him. To be quite frank, sometimes Steve’s routine was the only thing keeping him sane. It reminded him of his..past days, in the war. It comforted him greatly and so every morning he got out of bed, put on his work out clothes, and did his exercises. Just because he’s a Super Soldier doesn’t mean he shouldn’t keep up his condition, or stop combat training. He was made into a sharp blade and it was his job to keep it that way. He was sad however, that he couldn’t beat Sam or Bucky in his laps, or on the mat, or in weightlifting. Steve figured that sometimes being alone creates more focus, and he went on his way.

He’s been to this city a few times so he knew a decent route to take, it didn’t compare to the one he takes in New York though. Steve liked a good scenery whenever he was jogging, and there was nothing better then NYC. This was not too shabby though. The traffic was unusually quiet and peaceful; only some buses, bikers, people walking on the sidewalk here and there. It was nothing compared to the bubbly booming streets of his home city, he liked this though. He even passed a a few young people jogging, all with headphones in of course. Steve appreciated that the youth were doing something useful, but why block out nature’s music with whatever next hip-hop, rap, dubstep song was on the number one chart’s this time? Steve liked natural ambience; people talking, vehicles driving, animals in the water, tree branches rustling. 

When Steve was back at his temporary home - a vacation house owned by Tony - he had already broke out a sweat, his heart was racing and he was simply dying for a hot shower and breakfast. Steve undressed and put the temperature of the shower on hot, and stepped in. This is the second place on earth where Steven Rogers could ‘’relax’’; the hot shower. He could wash all the worries, all the responsibilities, all the stress, all the pain, right off of him. He sighed out deeply as he washed his body with his usual shampoo. He had already shaved so once he stepped out of the shower dressed for the day, he made a straight B-line towards the kitchen. 

Steve decided on a light breakfast this morning, he had planned to go into the city and do some sightseeing, some shopping and he didn’t want to skip any chances of tasting the city’s cuisine. Some pancakes with cereal and fruit would suffice. The sun was already out shining brightly and it made his light toned blue blouse look more navy colored. 

Chewing away the pancakes he made, Steve checked if the team had left him any messages or updates, but nothing, his inbox was empty. He sighed in a slightly disappointing manner. He didn’t mind the whole relaxing-doing nothing-taking-your-time thing - which was the idea of his team - but there was something about sitting still for too long that made him a bit restless. He puffed out his cheeks and finished the rest of breakfast. 

The leather jacket hanging near the door was once of the few things that reminded him of his past, so it was no surprise that Steve brought it with him. He took a bag with him in case he decided to buy some things, you never know what you’ll see once you step foot in an American shopping centre. With the bag in hand, the jacket hugging his broad figure and the keys of his motor cycle pocketed, he left. 

Steve was so used to the busy atmosphere of New York that once he stepped outside, he froze out of surprise at the sight of the streets; they were still nearly empty. What time was it? Around 9:30 he believed. By then, his home city would’ve been crawling with cars, taxis, people. Here just a few slow driving cars passed by. Steve saw a total of three buses pass in the last thirty minutes and the most action he saw on the street was a pigeon flying over an old lady and almost hitting her with his poo. He blinked, this city couldn’t be anymore unusual. He shook the odd feeling off of him and hopped onto the motor cycle. The engine roared which secretly made him smirk in excitement like a little boy in a candy store. 

For some reason, Steve was craving something sweet. He’d get those urges sometimes to indulge in unhealthy foods. Today it was sweets, but not like licorice or candy. No, something else was needed to satisfy Steve’s yearning for sugar. He looked around, hoping to find something, and out of the corner of his eye he spotted a white-painted window frame. His head turned, his eyes now resting on a corner building that stood out due to it being completely white and made of brick. It was a cute sight, the building had flowers growing near the windows and on the walls. Dainty tables and chairs were spread in front of it. A sign hung above the door, and in big and swishy letters colored with pale yellow and soft pink, it read; ‘’The Mad Batter’’

He chuckled at the reference to Alice in Wonderland. Finally, a reference he did get. He squinted his eyes in doubt, should he go there? So far it was the only place to even have the lights on. Everything else usually opened around elven, which he learned from a kind woman who was walking down the street and saw Steve’s confusion. He road up to the building and parked his motorcycle besides the empty sidewalk. 

He pushed the door open gently, which made a little bell ring above of him. He proceeded to step in and look around. From somewhere in the back, perhaps a kitchen, came a rather pleasant sound. Or..no wait, not a sound, no. Steve frowned in focus and tried to listen more clearly. It was someone singing, singing along with the radio perhaps. He knew this song..

’Whisper in my ear, baby..’’

It was from Paul Anka, Steve thought to himself. It was released after he got stuck in the ice, sure, but he discovered it when he resurfaced and went to research all of the music that was released from up to that point, particularly in the jazz genre. He licked his lips, whoever was singing along had some serious talent. He closed his eyes for a quick, sneaky moment, and imagined himself slow dancing to this song. 

’Words I want to hear..’’

If only he could see who was singing it. Were they the only employee around? Steve snapped out of his trance and looked around him. If it wasn’t for the emptiness of the store, Steve would’ve been very embarrassed, the building was completely empty except for the two of you. 

’Tell me, tell me that you love me too..’’

God, Steve was quite smitten with that voice. He looked around, stood on his toes to see if he could capture a quick peek through the circular plastic window in the door that separated him and this mystery siren. He bit his lip and doubted if he should ring a bell, or knock on the counter. He wanted- no, needed to see you, but he didn't want the singing to end. 

Steve Rogers got what he wanted though. The door opened and in walked the baker that serenaded him without them knowing it. Everything for Steve went in slow motion the second that door opened. He stared at bakers face, their hair, their eyes. Oh god, they were one of the cute ones. The baker had some flower on their face, their hair a little messy but non unprofessional. The sun shined perfectly through the windows and reflected onto the counter, making the baker bask in a glorious morning glow. Steve’s breathing slowed down and all he could do was take in the sight before him. 

‘’I-I’m very sorry sir, usually no one comes in until 11 and I was so caught up in my routine that I-..’’ Steve had unnoticeably snapped out of the bakers spell and realized that they were apologizing. For what could such a beautiful being apologize for, Steve wondered. He crookedly smiled at the baker trying to somewhat lighten the situation. ‘’It’s okay, really. It happens to the best of us, it’s really no problem.’’ Steve had shook his head and waved off the apology, but not in a mean way. Silence ensued as the baker nodded apologetically towards him. Steve felt himself staring at them again. He felt them staring at him too. He carefully examined the baker’s presence, which was nothing but pleasurable and enjoyable to be around. The silence, the staring, it stayed like that for a little while. Both pair of cheeks grew red but eye contact remained. 

‘’Uh- uhm, can I- can I get you anything?’’ The baker awkwardly  stumbled on his words, probably due to nerves Steve figured, which only added to how much he had already taken an interest in this person. Steve - as even awkwardly as the baker - fiddled his wallet out of his pocket and threw a quick glance on the glass counter an the chalkboard behind the baker. ‘’Uhm, yeah, what’s your uh, your specialty?’’ Steve could see the baker had to think for a second. He almost admitted it was because of, well, him, but he didn’t want to assume anything. Secretly though, Steve knew the baker was in the same boat as he was. The baker walked over to the edge of the counter and explained that yesterday’s specialty - a French orange tart with whipped cream - was still available, and that today’s specialty, an apple pie, was being made currently. Oof, apple pie sounded very attractive to him right now, but it would be a ready later. Of course he could just wait here, but that just seemed awkward. 

Steve licked his lips in anticipation to make a decision, his eye jumped across the different rows of baked goods and sweets. ‘’I can also- uhm, put down your name and reserve a piece of apple pie for you if you’d like.’’ A warm feeling was triggered in the middle of Steve chest and he felt his eyebrows raise in surprise. He could come back here a second time, talk to the baker again, maybe even dare we say... make a move? 

‘’Uh- yes. Yeah, that would be great, thanks.’’ But that didn't still his current hunger though, he needed something small to eat enough space will be left for the pie. His orbs flew over the rows again and they landed on a single row of cookies. Bingo. ‘’In the mean time I think I’ll just get two of those..chocolate chip cookies, please.’’ The baker began wrapping them up, opening the counter and grabbing a notepad in lighting speed. He laid the cookies onto the counter, Steve grabbed a five dollar bill, already knowing it’ll be too much but the baker could keep the change. They blushed at the small sentiment and put the bill into the register, closing it after. 

Steve grabbed onto the cookies and turned around, making way for the door but he was cut off by the baker’s voice. ‘’Wait, sir!’’ Did he forgot to give through his name? Oh god, way to make an impression, Rogers. Steve turned to the baker halfway. ‘’I need your name for the- the apple pie.’’ He chuckled and walked back to the counter, to them. His eyes immediately went back to theirs, a somewhat equally romantic and amazed look plastered on his face. ‘’Of course, my apologies, it’s uh..’’ Steve ran his tongue across his lips, the nerves were getting to him. ‘’My name’s Steve. Steve Rogers.’’ He saw how the baker wrote down his name and tore the piece off the notepad. Maybe later today they could exchange phone numbers. Just maybe. ‘’I’ll come back later today for the piece, okay?’’ He ensured the baker and they nodded. Steve nodded back and finally made his way to the door once again.

But it wasn’t time just yet. God, could the tension get any higher? ‘’Steve.’’ The baker called out. He turned his body halfway, his head turned so he looked over his shoulders to them. ‘’I’m Y/N.’’ Steve felt himself smile at hearing their name. ‘’Gotcha, so you’re not just a pretty face?’’ He said the words before he even knew what he was saying, and he damned himself from saying it. Was it too straightforward? Too extra? He hoped he didn’t ruin it. Y/N’s reaction was priceless though. A red glow on their cheeks accompanied by a shy look to the ground. Steve smiled and quickly slipped out of the shop, already waiting impatiently for later today.. 

[edelvonhresvelg]

Aww Byleth wearing El's house leader cape around the monastery would be so adorable! Poor Edel would be confused on where it went until she saw it around Byleth's shoulders and would just start blushing on the spot lol. Post-timeskip I think it would actually be super sweet if Byleth wore it as none of the house leaders keep theirs and it would be unique. It would become a symbol of how much El trusts and loves Byleth by giving her the old cape. And a reminder of their old school days as well.

asdfghjkl oh my DAYS.

okay 1) it’s moments like this that make me really wish I could draw, and 2) I have a sneaking suspicion you put this in my inbox in full knowledge I would have no choice but to write it instead. 👀

- - - - - - - - - -

It was last thing in the day when Byleth finally stood up from the chair sheʼd dragged behind her desk in the Black Eagles classroom -- her students long gone from the lessons that had ended hours before, and many others around the monastery surely having retired for the evening.

Stretching her arms out as she walked, she suddenly stopped at the second row of desks, having to do a double take at the flash of red that caught her eye. Frowning, she stepped over to the fabric draped over one of the seats, only realising what it was as she picked it up: Edelgardʼs cape.

Byleth blinked at the cape in her hand. It was in Edelgardʼs preferred seat, for sure, but for the life of her Byleth couldn’t remember the house leader having taken it off.

A thought occurred to Byleth, and she found herself looking around. The short cape was her favourite part of Edelgardʼs uniform -- was she even allowed to have a favourite part of her studentsʼ uniforms? -- and she had wondered on more than one occasion what it’d be like to have a cape herself. A proper cape, that was; her jacket, the way she wore it, often felt how she imagined one would, but a jacket just wasn’t the same.

Before she knew what she was doing, Byleth was shrugging her jacket off, folding it up and placing it on the table. She should return the cape to Edelgard, and of course she would -- but it was late, and the house leader, along with most others, was probably in her quarters. There was no point in disturbing Edelgardʼs evening, and surely no harm would be done in holding on to it until the morning...

A few other justifications ran through her head as she fiddled with the fabric. It was a very nice shade of red -- sheʼd always admired it. Finally, she had it on and secured. A cape! It felt...good.

Twisting and turning, holding it out in every direction, Byleth admired her new -- albeit temporary -- accessory from every angle. Eventually stopping and picking up her own jacket, she took one last look around, before resuming her walk out of the classroom, a rather mischievous smile on her lips. It was only a short walk to her own quarters, anyway.

Meanwhile, Edelgard had turned her room upside down. The feeling of stress had crept up on her. Where was it? She couldnʼt remember where she had taken it off, or even why -- she never did! This is exactly why, a voice in her head scolded her.

Then, like a flash in her mind -- the classroom! It had to be. If not, she didnʼt know what she was going to do...

The house leader had taken off at a jog. The monastery was empty enough, bar the guards -- it was late, after all. How could you have gone this long without remembering?!

The condescending voice in her head was getting irritating, but then she turned a corner, and lilac eyes widened at the flash of red. The sight of someone walking away had brought her to a halt and plunged her into doubt, but the more she looked, there was no mistaking it -- that was her cape!

But then she noticed something else, even through the gloom of night -- the hair that hung down the stranger’s back, the colour unmistakable... No, it couldnʼt be...

“P– Professor?” Edelgard called out as she set off on another, slower jog to catch up with the woman.

Byleth had instantly froze, almost midstep. Wide blue eyes stared at nothing straight ahead. Soon, Edelgard rounded her and stood in front, meeting the professorʼs wide gaze with her own surprised lilac eyes. There was an unmistakable tint of pink in the house leaderʼs cheeks.

“I– Professor, I wasnʼt sure it was you, but... Well, I misplaced my cape, and...” The colour in Edelgardʼs cheeks got slightly darker -- while Byleth could only stand there, staring and unmoving -- before she raised a gloved hand and hesitantly gestured. “Is that...youʼre wearing...?”

Byleth swallowed. “Edelgard...” Well, at least her voice was working. “Yes, this is... You’d left it in the classroom. I thought it might be too late to find you this evening, so I had planned to keep it safe until morning.” It all sounded rather rehearsed -- even Byleth could admit that, even as she wished the ground would swallow her up -- despite it being the truth.

“Well, that is...kind, though it doesn’t quite explain...” Edelgard had averted her gaze, a gloved hand raised to her head. The more she looked at Byleth wearing her cape, the harder it became for her to think straight. The whole situation was so awkward, she wished she’d never taken the damn thing off -- but at the same time, there was something about it all which she rather...liked.

“Oh, well,” Byleth had tucked her own jacket under one arm and, having regained the use of her limbs, was hastily fidgeting with the cape. “I didn’t want to...risk it losing itʼs shape, or...” Finally, the cursed fabric came loose, and she hurriedly attempted to fold it in some orderly way before holding it out. “Here.”

Edelgard dropped her hand and lifted her gaze, eyes widening once again at sight of the cape. Hesitantly, she took it. “Th– Thank you, my teacher.” It was the house leaderʼs turn to swallow nervously, and once again she turned away.

Part of her wanted to just walk away and leave it at that -- but her mind wouldn’t rest, putting words on her tongue which she fought with. It looked good on you! or You quite suit the colour!

Yet rather mercifully, before she could say any of them, Byleth had already pulled her own jacket back on and was practically walking away. “Well... Apologies, Edelgard. Iʼll see you tomorrow.”

Edelgard could only watch the Professor walk away -- her cheeks still burning and hands numbly holding the cape. A sigh of relief escaped her when she thought of what would have happened had she spoken any of those ridiculous words...though she would surely still think about the multitude of scenarios whilst trying to sleep.

Byleth, on the other hand, doubted she would get any sleep at all. She was fairly certain she may die of embarrassment before even making it back to her quarters; though in the event she survived, she was already contemplating not getting out of bed the next morning...the sheer thought of facing Edelgard in class again was enough to fill her with an uncomfortable mix of emotions.