#they bruise like bananas it always made me chuckle

[turrondeluxe]

i was also thinking about the 2012 injuries list the other day and i think technically mikey “dies” the most and is knocked out the most times. so we can safely say that 2012 mikey goes through a fair amount of the horrors (but not enough times for me because i am sadistic and i want more Pain and Trauma for my favourite turtle lol)

I HAD NO IDEA THERE WAS AN INJURY LIST LOL

tho yeah! if we are talking about physical injuries mikey is actually the one who gets injured the most times across the show :0! but by horrors i meant both physical and psychological horrors that show their consequences and dont get dismissed after one scene/end of the episode 😔👊

[gayerthanevertbh]

angry individual.

pairings: older!natasha romanoff x fem!reader

n.r masterlist | navigation | n.r one-shots masterlist  

summary: natasha isn’t always a jealous person, until she sees her sister flirting with what’s hers.

anon request: can u write a one shot of like freinds to lovers kinda troupe with gp tasha but yelena also has a thing for y/n but nat is crazy about y/n and gets super jealous at one of starks party seeing yelena and y/n together so she storms off and reader goes to look for her and nat is so angry and slams y/n against the wall and is being so controlling saying reader shouldnt be near yelena then it leads to nat telling y/n how much she wants her and then its angry sex

warnings: angry sex (kind of?), g!p natasha, breeding kink, daddy kink, pet names, dirty talking, slapping, natasha just being mean, face paiting - 18+ MINORS DNI.

word count: 3.5k

author’s note: hopefully this is okay with you, anon! also, will be closing my requests again BUT i’ll be doing the requests that you guys have sent me. enjoy this one for now!

“Mmph,” Natasha moaned into your mouth as she cradled you in her lap, her hardening appendage visible through her sweatpants. She pulls away from your lips, gasping as she feels your warm, covered core on her lap. “I could feel you from here; are you that desperate for me?”

“If you wouldn’t stop making out with me I wouldn’t be this wet,” you smirked at her.

“My, my,” she whispers with a sultry voice as she chases for your lips, her hands slipping through your shirt as she scratches your back. “You are so naughty, aren’t you?”

Natasha continues to assault your bruised lips as she grips onto your waist, causing you to roll your hips to feel her hard cock through her sweatpants. What’s even funnier is that you were in the compound’s living room, out in the open where everyone could see you making out with your girlfriend. But neither of you cared, you were desperate for one another. It’s almost as if you were obsessed with her as much as she was obsessed with you, and honestly it turned you on more.

As she continues to lather her tongue onto the roof of your mouth, her sister Yelena comes onto the scene with a snicker coming out of her mouth. Instead, you quickly turned over your shoulder as you removed yourself from Natasha’s lap, sitting beside the older woman with a reddish look evident on your face.

"You know this is a public space, right?" the younger assassin inquired, munching on her banana in peace. Natasha rolled her eyes, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and closing her legs to control her erection.

“Yelena, no one’s here except you.”

“Steve is just in another room while Tony is probably somewhere,” said Yelena with a smirk on her face. “Did I disrupt your sexy times?”

“Please don’t ever say that,” the older assassin asked pleadingly. You chuckled lightly and kissed her right cheek. “We’ll just go back to our room then–”

“You must really love my sister, huh Y/n?”

“O-Of course,” you replied with a stutter, along with a small nod. “I love her very much.”

“If I came along sooner you might’ve fell for me,” she quirked back, her voice seemed to be a little flirtatious as you noticed. “Natasha back then was a sex addict, she could fuck anyone and leave them the next day. I wouldn’t do that to you, Y/n. I could never hurt you like that.”

“This is getting a little insensitive,” Natasha murmured, noticing that her voice was a little on edge. “I’m different now, Lena. Y/n is good for me.”

“Sure, sure. But I’m just saying, I could treat her better.” she responded back with a chuckle, causing your face to turn red even more.

Yelena was a beautiful woman who was your age, so the two of you clicked immediately. Natasha didn't expect you two to get along at the time, but knowing that her partner was getting close to her sister made her heart happy. Everything seemed platonic and friendly at first. Until Natasha became more needy and refused to leave your side, Yelena began to be a little flirtatious from time to time, which you didn't like. Of course, you were flattered, but you knew your heart belonged to Natasha.

“Don’t listen to her,” murmured by your girlfriend against your ear as she squeezes your thigh gently. “She’s just playing with you.”

"Are you going to drink tonight, pretty?" Yelena inquired, with a small smile on her face. You could hear Natasha grumbling as she breathed, which you never expected a response like that from her. She wasn’t typically a jealous person, causing your relationship with her to go smoothly, but you couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of her being envious over her sister.

“I guess so, why?”

“Nothing, I just want to see you there that’s all.”

"You're flirting with my girlfriend, Yelena." Natasha pointed out, her face expressionless as she stared at her sister.

Yelena rolled her eyes and walked away, mumbling, "Possessive bitch," as she passed you two by. You could hear Natasha sighing with relief.

"I'm sorry about that," Natasha apologized, bringing your hand to her lips and kissing it. “She’s just a loser.”

"I think it's cute," you said. Natasha raised an eyebrow as you lightly hit her upper arm, softly laughing. "I'm kidding, but I'm sure she's just being nice."

“That’s not nice,” she grumbled. “That’s called flirting.”

“Everyone flirts these days, including yourself.”

"But only with you," she sighs, kissing a sliver of skin on your neck. “Never with anyone.”

While the sun was setting, you and Natasha continued to watch a movie. While your girlfriend was enthralled by a particular scene, you were perplexed as to why Yelena was flirting with you. Did she like you as much as Natasha does? Why are you here in the first place? Maybe she was just being polite, you reasoned. But months passed, and Yelena's actions became increasingly out of control, to the point where Natasha became concerned. You sighed quietly to yourself as you rested your head against Natasha's shoulder.

You began to feel anxious as the floor began to fill up with more people you didn't know. You don't do well at parties, so Natasha was always by your side, especially when you had to drink alcohol - which you both know you can't ever recover from. Natasha was serving drinks to the other Avengers when you sat a few feet away on the barstool. You had a margarita in your hand because you didn't like vodka, and you sipped it occasionally while watching other people talk to other people. Tony was on his couch with a group of ladies, Steve was in the corner talking to Bruce, and you were alone with Peter, who was babbling about his web shooter.

“I asked Mr. Stark if he could help me to fix it, but he kept telling me he’s busy,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Do you think he hates me?”

“I don’t think so,” you said. “Maybe he’s just busy.”

“Maybe,” he replied quietly, sipping on his scotch. “By the way, Ms. Black Widow makes the best drinks ever. I love her for that.”

“Ms. Black Widow?” you giggled, causing him to nod vigorously.

“She is the Black Widow!” he exclaimed happily as the alcohol consumed through his body, which you could tell from afar. “You’re lucky, Y/n.”

“I am,” you agreed, looking at your girlfriend solemnly while she serves another drink for a man. “I am very lucky.”

“How about me?” you turned around to see Yelena interject from your conversation with Peter, smiling at you. “Do you think it’s luck that we both met?”

You sheepishly smile at her as you give her a hug. “Hey, Yelena. I thought you weren’t going to join.”

“Sorry about that, I was a little late.”

“From errands?”

She shook her head. “No, I was with Kate Bishop, helping her move furniture in her new apartment.”

“Ah,” you clicked your tongue, dragging the glass near your lips as you take another sip. “How is she doing? Why isn’t she here?”

“She’s too lazy,” she chuckled, placing her hand onto your knee as she squeezed it. You looked down briefly to see what she was doing, and you knew your girlfriend was right. She was, in fact, flirting with you. And you didn’t know how to respond to that. “Are you okay there, sweetheart?”

Natasha looks in your direction and notices her sister touching you, causing her veins boil with anger and jealousy. Jealous? Why would I feel jealous towards my own sister? Natasha thought crudely in her head. She’s just being nice, she’s just being…

"Y-Yeah," you laugh as she takes another step closer to you, her face a few inches away from yours. Natasha was even more envious because she was away from you and saw her sister flirt with the girl she loves. Somewhere deep within her, she felt possessive of you. You might not notice, but every time someone flirted with you, Natasha felt compelled to own you or something - which she knew wasn't healthy at first, but she couldn't help but feel that way. She cleans the last glass from the counter and walks away slowly, her gaze fixed on you.

“I wish we’ve met sooner,” Yelena said, sighing through her nose. “I would’ve been good for you.”

"I don't think Natasha would appreciate what you're saying right now, Yelena." you responded, feeling a little uneasy about the conversation and where it's going. Yelena only smiled, and you couldn't tell if it was a flirtatious or genuine smile.

"She's not here," the younger assassin said, looking to the left to right. “See? I could flirt with you all I want, and one day you'll fall in love with me. I know it.”

Natasha could hear what she was saying as her hand balled into a fist and her throat bobbed with pure rage. Jealousy begins to seep out of her, and she wonders if anyone else will notice. She takes a glass of vodka and dunks it down her throat, not even flinching at the bitter taste. She keeps an eye on your movements, wondering how you'll react to her.

“I should probably find her,” you stood up from the stool and gave Yelena a pat on her shoulder. “Hopefully you’ll find someone to flirt with here, Yels. Just not me.”

You were on your way to the compound's corridors when you suddenly felt your body turn as the woman behold you was staring at you angrily through her eyes. You gulped in fear and excitement.

“N-Nat!” you let out a trembling breath as you tried to kiss her cheek, but she flinched away from you. “W-What–”

"Shut the fuck up," she snarled, her voice venomous. She grips your wrist tightly in her rough hands as she leads you to her bedroom, closing and locking the door. Natasha slammed you against the wall, her nostrils flaring and her face inches away from yours, before you could ask what was going on. You closed your eyes but were forced to open them when Natasha's lips touched your neck and bit into your skin.

“I’m so angry at you right now,” she grumbles, slipping her hand through your skirt as you feel her cold fingers on your thigh, causing you to whine pitifully. “I said shut up! You did this to yourself, and you knew the consequences. Tell me, did you like the way she flirts with you?”

“N-No, of course not!”

“Then what did I see there?!” she exclaimed with rage, her hand wrapping around your throat as she squeezed it, not giving much care when you could feel yourself losing air from your lungs.

“Nat,” you begged, trying to push yourself away from her body. “P-Please–”

“It’s Daddy, little girl,” she whispered close to your face, spitting on your mouth. “Fucking lick it all up before I spank you so hard you might have to run to the police.”

You swallowed her spit, biting your lower lip as you were aroused by the way she was staring down at you with so much possession roaring out of her – it’s almost as if you find it intriguing, which it was. You were lying if you say this didn’t turn you on, because it was. And when you try to move away from her, her grasp on your waist gets tighter and tighter until you feel like you are pinned by the wall.

"Are you trying to get away from me?" you felt her hand grab the back of your head as she yanked it, exposing your neck for her pleasure. She sighs deeply as she leans down to smell you. "You have no idea how badly I want you, Y/n. How much you want me to move the world for you, to give everything up. You think Yelena is a better person for you? You're wrong, little girl. You're too stupid for her, and especially for me."

Before you could say anything, you felt her hand on your underwear, dragging it down from your legs to your ankles. She leans in for a hard kiss, moaning as her tongue slips inside your mouth and she feels your warm breath against hers. You two kiss each other harshly and slowly, battling for dominance with both of your tongues. But she was stronger, and you could feel her tongue in the back of your throat.

"D-Daddy," you yanked away, both your lips smacking, moaning as you felt her fingers rubbing your clit hard. “P-Please, I’m sorry!”

"Shh, give your body to Daddy," Natasha says as she pushes your silk tank top against her hand through your bra, gasping at your hardened nipple. “You want this, don’t you? Do you want Daddy to hurt you this badly?”

"Ah!" you felt her finger thrust inside your cunt, crying with an insane amount of pleasure seeping through your body, but Natasha didn't want you to have all of that pleasure - she wanted her own pleasure for herself. So, as you continue to moan in ecstasy, she slaps the inside of your thigh loudly.

"You don't get pleasure," she growls onto your lips, kissing your lips hard once more. She slaps your thigh again before unzipping her pants, her cock springing out as the head hits your covered abdomen. "Only I am capable of that."

"I'm sorry-"”

"Shut up," the woman mumbled, turning you around with your back to the wall. You tried to look over your shoulder, but you felt her hand pushing your face against the cold concrete. You began to cry, unsure whether out of pain or pleasure, but you didn't care. "I'm going to beat this pussy up until it's the shape of my cock if you make too much noise, got it?"

You nodded ruthlessly, and she grinned evilly back.

“Good, now open up for me, slut.”

Natasha spreads your pussy lips open as she grabs the tip of her cock, bringing it to your entrance and teasing it, moaning to herself. She has been wanting this all night, her head filled with naughty thoughts of you being submissive to her. She could feel herself growing another inch, since you were this wet for her. God, she could just break you in without any restriction.

You felt the older woman slipping inside of you within a minute, causing you to scream with delight. When she heard this, you felt a pair of hands cover your mouth tightly as she pushed you against the wall until your ass was pressed against her pubic bone. You could hear her whispering, "Fucking hell," as she felt your warmth around her cock, your walls gripping her so tightly that she could barely move.

“You like my cock inside of you, baby?” she whispers, her breath trembling as she pulls back and pushes back in with a harsh thrust, your body hitting the wall once again. “You like Daddy fucking you like this? Huh? You’re such a whore, flirting with my sister as if I don’t mean anything to you.”

This was completely false. It's all jealousy talk. You weren't flirting with Yelena; you were simply being nice to her. Natasha, on the other hand, saw it differently. You tried to speak, but her dick kept thrusting back into you, until your inner walls were bruised by the shape of her penis.

She expertly rolls her hips against you while roaming her other hand across your stomach, reaching for your other breast and squeezing it so hard that you almost think it's going to bruise. "You feel every inch of my cock inside of you?" mumbles the older woman, kissing your neck with such desperation within her. “Huh? You feel me, little girl? Do you feel Daddy filling you up this much? Oh, fuck… I want you so much.”

I want you more, Daddy.

Natasha moves at a brisk pace, her cock thrusting inside of you while she uses you as a fleshlight, her cock barely slipping out of you. She throws her head back as she feels her tip graze your cervix with each pounding. She licks your neck again, desperately rutting into you, unable to let go. You could hear her grunting with each hard thrust into you, and you realized you were having an orgasm sooner than you thought.

"Y-you say you're sorry, but you're not," she snaps at you, biting your skin so hard you could feel blood drawing from your body. “Defiling me, aren’t you? Kotenok, you look so good... So fucking good. So fucking tight.”

She didn't slow down. Instead, she was ruthlessly thrusting inside of you, as if she were a wild animal. Your wet skins were slapping each other, filling the entire room as the thick air swirled around your bodies. She clutched you tightly, as if she wouldn't let you go in a second. You could barely speak because every inch of her dick was thrusting wildly into you. You were moaning into her hand, wishing she'd slow down a little, but she didn't care because she needed this more than you.

"I'm so close," she grumbled, ripping your tank top with her strong hands while kneeling both of your covered breasts into her hands and rolling her hips into you. "You're going to make me fucking cum, Ugh... "Oh my god, my little doll, you're gripping me so tightly..."

You struggled to breathe every time she jackhammered into your pussy, almost passing out from the insane amount of pleasure both of you were experiencing. Natasha gives your neck kitten licks, but every now and then she ends up kissing your skin with her open mouth, smirking to herself when there's a dark purplish spot on your neck - knowing she did it. She pulls away from you and turns you around, pushing you up against the wall and easily slipping inside of you.

"Please kiss me," you begged. "Kiss me, please. I'm sorry, Daddy. It will never happen again."

"I know," she said, grabbing your neck and kissing you hard, her tongue slipping inside your mouth as she mumbled, "Now shut up and give yourself to Daddy."

"Fuckin' slut," she growls as she thrusts up into your cunt, her ass clenching with each hit. She ruts into you, faster than you could’ve ever imagined, until you hear her say: “Gonna explode into you, get you pregnant with my babies, and let Yelena know that you’re fucking mine!”

"Daddy-No!" you screamed, attempting to push her hips away, but she slaps you across the face, bringing you closer to your orgasm. "D-Do not do it, please-"”

“Fine, then I’ll just cum over your face then.”

She pulls out a little, the head of her penis inside of you, as she jerks herself off. “You’re mine,” she whispers. “You’re all mine, no one could have you except me. Remember that, or else I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them all.”

She pushes you down onto the floor and locks your head between her thighs, throwing her head back as she slaps the head of her cock onto your forehead, rubbing her length against your face, before you can even respond. She humps your face while holding your neck, moaning each time your mouth was pressed against her tight balls, begging for its release.

“Gonna cum,” she mumbled with a high pitched moan, grabbing her long thick penis as she jerks herself faster, you both could hear the fapping sound coming from her appendage. “Daddy’s gonna cum all over your face, you’re gonna be so ruined for me…”

A minute later, she brings your face close to hers as she pours thick white milk all over your face. "Oh, my baby! Fuck..." She leans against the wall as her penis continues to spurt cum, mostly coating your lips and face. She presses her hand against the base of her cock, then pulls her hand back up to extract more sperm from the tip. "Open your mouth," she commands, and you gladly comply. Two more strings of cum landed on your tongue as she placed her cockhead on it and slipped her length into your mouth.

“Suck it,” she commanded with a low voice, still jerking herself off but slowly this time. “Suck all of my fucking cum, you bitch.”

You suck hard on her tip, your cheeks hollowing out. As you move your head up and down, she licks her lips, continuing to swallow all of her excess. She then slowly pulls your head back and watches her penis flaccid. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she raises your hand and allows you to touch her cock, chuckling when you couldn't.

“Gone dumb for me?”

You nodded and smiled quickly. While your hand was still touching her dick, she lifts you up and kisses your lips. You two kiss in her room as the music from the party area begins to blast. Even though it was muffled, you two were not disturbed.

"You're mine," she says softly, licking your cheek. “Okay? You're completely mine, doll. Yelena could never have you.”

"And she won't," you said, your voice becoming dry. She only laughs softly and pulls you to the edge of the bed, where you automatically sit on her lap. “I’m all yours, Tasha Bear.”

“Good.”

how do we like this one lol

[estellxli]

Banana (Kazuha x Reader)

It was just an afternoon, like any other, with the winds blowing a soothing tune from the outside. The room warmed from the invited sun. A piece of ham plops into the sizzling pan accompanied by another. With a spatula in one hand, Kazuha’s thoughts drift elsewhere.

His brows furrows and the grip on the spatula tightens. The heat coming from the pan did not compare to the rage building inside him. He mindlessly flips the two hams over and takes a deep breath. Maintaining a cool mind. Nonetheless, if any of his suspicions were true he would—

The kettle's loud angry scream drowns out the sizzling; disturbing Kazuha with his thoughts. 

His hands move to put out the fire, for both the pan and the kettle, and grabs an empty plate. The spatula transferring the ham to the porcelain plate. Kazuha moves swiftly in the kitchen , preparing sweets, sliced cheese and a newly made sandwich all placed in a wooden tray. 

He grabs the now calmed kettle and works his way into making a matcha latte. One that he bought after arriving back in Inazuma from his trip with Beidou. Apparently, it helps in menstrual pain, something about an acid that helps relax the muscles of the uterus… or something along those lines that a saleslady said to him. 

Kazuha makes way to your bedroom with the wooden tray in his hands. He uses the door ajar to his advantage, his foot placed in between the space created by the door and the wall and using his hip to open the door wider. 

You were on the bed just the same as he left the room. All curled up in the blanket like a pita pocket. 

“Y/N.”

You turn to him, with your head barely popping out of the thick fabric. The corner of your lips immediately turn into a big smile as you squeal. Cries from your insides all momentarily gone as you sit up and excitedly pat the empty side of the bed. 

All because of Kazuha. 

… 

Mostly because of the food. 

Your boyfriend chuckles at your childish actions. You eyed at the wooden tray as you felt the bed embrace his weight. The chocolates are your first pick. 

Kazuha’s eyes remained on the bruise that stained your skin as you took a bite of the chocolate. Lips still curled upwards while chewing. 

“Is it to your liking?”

“Very.”

His eyes drop on the tray, noticing the ripples of the matcha. “Here, try this one too, I heard it helps with the cramps?”. 

You grab the chawan cup from his hands, nodding at his warning that it's still hot. The matcha warms your insides, something that the hot compress laying at your stomach couldn't do. 

Kazuha gulps. 

“Y/N”

“Hm?” You look at him innocently, palms still embracing the warm cup. 

“Is someone bullying you?”

Your doed eyes turn into confusion.

“Look, if someone ever tries to harm you, you know you can always come to me. I'll burn them with hot iron, slice —”

You chuckle at him, his turn now to be confused. You chuckle even when you hear the seriousness in his voice. When he's offering help and protection. 

“Kazuha, no one is harming me. Whatever makes you think that?” you say as you place down the cup

“Your bruises.” he says, soft and stern altogether. 

“Ah… that.” you stare at the bruise painting your skin, and you giggle even more. 

You turn your eyes into another direction and cover your lips to stifle the laughter, but you couldn't help it.

“Sorry, sorry.. it's just.. pfft…”

You look back at him, your lips still smiling. 

“I promise no one is harming me. I mean that genuinely. It's just that… I bruise very easily whenever I'm on my period.”

Kazuha’s brows furrow even more into confusion. 

“I'm serious!... Every woman has different symptoms when they're on their period. Some don't feel cramps, some do to the extent of fainting. Women bruising easily isn't common, but they exist.”

“I see.” 

Kazuha’s confused state now returns to his usual one. He raises his hands and hides his chin over his index. 

“Mhm!” you exclaim happily with the misunderstanding out of the way. 

He looks back at you and smiles, his hands now reaching for a piece of chocolate. 

“For you to bruise easily like that, you're practically like a banana.” he chuckingly teased. 

“A what!?”

Kazuha grins, carefully shoving the chocolate into your opened lips as he mouths, 

“A banana"

[noctumbra]

peaches: nine [part two]

summary ─ a kiss sealed their love once again, but it was only filled with adoration and love this time. 

pairing ─ dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes x reader

warnings ─ smut, +18, age difference (reader is 21, bucky is 39 40), cockwarming, hand feeding, light d/s dynamics, anal sex, plugs, dirty talk, kissing, fluff, pet names

a/n ─ it took a little while to post this, i know, i’m sorry. BUT THIS IS THE END. THE FINAL PART. WE’RE SAYING GOODBYE TO THEM. I’M EMOTIONAL. i really hope you like this final part! so please, please, leave a comment if you do and tell me what you think! thank youuu <33

series masterlist ─ part one

FINAL

It was little past three when they woke up. Both of them had collected some of the energy they’ve lost during the round one.

Bucky was in the kitchen, making a fruit bowl, when she walked in only in her underwear. Her hair was a mess, she had bruises adorning her thighs and her lips were swollen from all the kissing and the stubble Bucky was sporting. “Hey,” she murmured, sleepy tone was heavy in her voice. Bucky looked up with a soft smile.

“Hello, baby,” he greeted her and gave her a kiss on the forehead. She hummed. Her arms were quick to wrap themselves around his waist, she plastered her naked torso against Bucky’s bare back.

“How you are so damn warm all the time, I don’t even know,” she grumbled, rubbing her cheek against the muscle. “No complaints, though,” she added, eyes closing. Bucky chuckled lightly.

“Mm,” Bucky hummed. “You’re welcome to use me as your personal heater, honey.” She made a noise that sounded very much like ‘duh’ and then tightened her arms. Smiling widely, Bucky went back to cutting the strawberries in half. After he was done with them, he moved onto the bananas.

“Can we melt some chocolate, too?” She asked, peering up at his work at his side. Bucky nodded. He knew he had some chocolate they could melt somewhere in his kitchen.

“Sure,” he agreed. “Gotta find it first, though,” he added. She made a sound of approval and stayed in her place, on his back and hugging him. Bucky, feeling content and happy with her body in contact with his, started humming a song to himself silently. Not too long after, he was done with the bananas and now it was the time to search for the said chocolates. “Wanna help me locate the chocolates?” He asked even though he knew the answer.

“Nah,” she grumbled. Bucky shook his head fondly.

“Gotta let me go so that I can find’em, love,” he murmured. She whimpered, the thought of being away from him even for a minute was something she did not want to do. “I’ll be quick, c’mon.” Bucky gently led her to one the chairs in the kitchen and made her sit down. He pressed a kiss on her forehead, stroking her cheek with his thumb. It didn’t take him even a minute to find them; they were in his junk food drawer. Bucky did a quick job to melt them and gathered everything on a tray.

Both of them walked back to the bedroom. Carefully getting on the bed, Bucky placed the tray on his night stand. He could sense that she was trying to find the right position, but Bucky had other plans.

“Nuh-uh,” he said, patting his thighs. “Come up here.” She felt the warmth licking her face as she looked at Bucky. He smirked. “Yup,” he nodded. “You gonna keep me warm while I feed you, that alright, baby?” Choosing to staying silent, she nodded as well. She climbed on Bucky’s lap, settling over his groin, and barely surpassed a moan when she felt he was half-hard already. Bucky hummed. “Lift up,” he said and tapped her ass. She did, lifting herself on her knees, Bucky grabbed his member and lined it up. “C’mon.” She took a shaky breath as she lowered herself on his cock. His half-hard length getting enveloped by her silky heat, he was fully hard in matter of minutes. Bucky let out a satisfied groan.

“So good, baby,” he whispered as he stroked her bare thigh under his hand. Leaning a bit forward, he stuck his fork into one of the strawberries and dipped it in the chocolate. “Open.” Obeying his order happily, she let him feed her with chocolate covered fruits in peace. The silence between them was calm and nice; it felt like their bond was somehow getting stronger. The soft smiles on their faces were a proof of how happy they were to be together. Between the hand feeding and exchanging soft smiles, his hard length into her pussy was forgotten. It wasn’t about pleasure, the way she was seated on that thick cock, but about the trust and skin-to-skin contact. Their bodies were touching from head to toe, and both of them were loving it.

“Sometimes I wish,” she started, her voice held a sleepy tone but she wasn’t sleepy, just serene. “that we could stay like this forever.” Bucky hummed as he put the fork into the empty bowl and settled deeper into the bed.

“Recently I started wishing the same thing more than you can imagine,” he whispered, the truth spilling from his lips without a hesitation. “I’ve been thinking about talking to your parents about us.” She froze briefly on top of his body, and then her head turned and her eyes found his.

“You think it’s time?” Bucky knew her long enough to tell that she was scared, and he could understand why she was feeling that way. Her parents were Bucky’s long time friends if not his only friends. If they didn’t approve his relationship with their daughter, it was most likely to be over and that meant both of them losing the other. Not that both of you wouldn’t fight for each other, making them understand what their relationship was based on, but even if it would be brief, it would hurt you both very much.

Neither of you were ready to lose the other.

“I’m tired of hiding,” Bucky said. “I’m tired of not being able to hold your hand or hug and kiss you the way I want to. I’m tired of sneaking around. I want to take you on dates where we don’t care if someone we know would see us. I want to show you off, want to introduce you as my girlfriend, my partner. I just want to live my life with you and show my love for you to the whole world freely.”

“Bucky…” She whispered and pressed a kiss on his neck. Bucky sighed when her lips moved to his jaw to his lips. The kiss they shared was chaste and soft but carried their delicate love and their strong lust in itself. She wiggled on his lap; widening the stance of her legs, she wrapped her arms around his neck and looked him in the eye. “I love you so much.”

Bucky smiled. His eyes were a little red with sudden rush of tears. His hands moved from her waist to her cheeks, and he cradled her face gently. “I love you so much, too, peaches.” With a small whimper, she kissed him.

Their eyes were closed, chests heaving as they kissed and kissed. His hands stroked her cheeks, slid into her hair and then to her waist. Bucky held her against his body gently. Although they had the rush of pleasure in their actions, the love and tenderness were there. Both of them were yearning to be even closer to each other.

“Bucky…” She sighed when his lips moved to her neck, sucking small, barely visible hickeys on the sensitive flesh. Her hands were in his fluffy hair, nails scratching his scalp and fingers sometimes pulling his hair. “Sir, I need you, please,” she begged sweetly.

“No begging, baby,” Bucky whispered to her lips. “You gonna get whatever you want tonight. I want to give you everything you want, alright?” She nodded, breathless. Bucky gently laid her on her back. His cock still inside her, Bucky settled in between her thighs even more securely as he leaned in for another kiss. “You always gonna get whatever you want. ‘m always gonna give you anything you want or wish or need, okay, sweetheart?” She nodded again, eyes a bit teary. Bucky smiled and kissed her cheeks. His thumbs were stroking the soft skin of her sides, making her whimper in his ear.

“Sir,” she panted lightly. “Kiss me?” It was Bucky’s turn to whimper and give in, lips finding hers without missing a beat.

This kiss was dirty, rushed and sloppy. The lust between them got intense when their positions changed. Bucky’s tongue was licking her lips, inside of her mouth and making her moan with the control he was performing for the kiss. It was so easy to dominate her, so easy to control her, especially when she was letting him, it made Bucky dizzy. Bucky moaned.

“Baby,” he whispered. “Tell me what you want, hm?” His lips moved from her lips to her jaw, nibbling on the flesh and rubbing his scruff all over. You whined lightly.

“Your other present, Sir,” she said, making Bucky moan loudly. “Want you to open it.” Bucky pulled back just a little. “Want you to be the first and last.”

Bucky wanted to scream.

The way she was giving herself to him felt so damn good, Bucky didn’t know how to deal with the feeling. It was so intense and mix of bunch of other emotions: He wanted to hug her and never let go, maybe hide her in his chest, and he wanted to leave his marks on her so that everyone would know whose she was.

Instead, he started with loving on her the way she loved.

“Okay,” he murmured. He slowly pulled out, leaving her empty and gaping. His hands roamed her beautiful body as he helped her flip on her belly. She did so with a moan: Face buried in a pillow, arms placed on both sides of her head and her ass up in the air. She looked so gorgeous, so ethereal and his, Bucky wanted to mark her.

So, he did.

He leaned forward and bit harshly on one of her ass cheeks. She gasped. Her hands fisting the bedding, she closed her eyes. Bucky pulled back to look at the mark he left behind: It was a perfect brand of his teeth sitting on her ass cheek. He hummed. He slapped the other cheek lightly to make it burn and to watch it jiggle.

“O-oh,” she moaned. The little sounds she was letting out were driving Bucky mad in the most beautiful way. Biting down on his lip, Bucky trailed one finger from his teeth marks to the plug sitting nicely between her cheeks. It was teasing him, luring him in to look at it, and Bucky fucking loved it. She was letting him have her this way, she chose him to the first one there, and honestly Bucky didn’t know what he had done to deserve you.

“I’m gonna pull it off, a’right?” He whispered and saw your head moving up and down. His fingers grabbed the base of the small, heart shaped plug and pulled it off just a little before tucking it back in. She hummed. Wiggling her ass, she pressed against the heat of Bucky’s body.

Bucky played with the plug; pulling it back and pushing it in, he made her groan throatily into the bedding, made her move her hips and chase the pleasure. He could see how wet her pussy was, it was literally glistening. Bucky wanted to bury himself in there, but he did that already. It was his first gif. This time, it was going to be this small, other hole which she presented to him beautifully.

Humming to himself, he pulled the plug but did not push back in, this time. He pulled it off slowly. As soon as the widest part was off, plug fell onto the bed, winking innocently at him. Bucky groaned when he saw her loose hole. He needed to prep her a bit, but he was okay with it.

“Love,” he called out to her gently. “Grab the lube from the drawer for me.” Whimpering slightly, she lifted herself onto her arms and opened the drawer, finding the lube immediately. Bucky extended his hand and explained what he was going to do to her as she passed it. “You’re loose, but I’m gonna prep you a bit more, okay, baby?” She nodded. “I don’t wanna hurt you.” He leaned forward and kissed her tailbone. She shuddered.

Bucky squirted some lube in his hand; his fingers found their place over her hole, Bucky started circling the still tight muscle. Bucky slipped one finger inside gently. It was loose enough the let it in in one go. He hummed again, but thoughtfully. He slipped in another finger and heard her sigh deeply.

“Y’alright?” He asked, immediately stopping. She nodded, humming appreciatively.

“Feels good,” she murmured. She was rubbing her face onto his pillow, and Bucky felt his heart swell at the sight even though he was two fingers deep inside her ass. Scoffing lightly, he shook his head.

“Okay,” he said. “Tell me if I hurt you, please.”

“M’kay, Sir,” she whispered.

Bucky petted her side before continuing to prep her. As he moved his fingers in and out, adding more lube and fingers, he felt her hole loosening up bit by bit. Soon, she was moaning and whimpering and grinding her hips against his touch.

“Sir,” Bucky heard her whining. He smirked.

“Yes, peaches,” he answered casually. His fingers were moving relentlessly in her.

“Siirr,” she whined again. “I’m ready, Sir, please─” Bucky crooked his fingers, causing her to cut herself off with a loud moan. She felt ready, and he knew he couldn’t hold it any longer. His cock was hard as fuck for some time now. Groaning, Bucky grabbed a condom. He moved quickly to put it on, hands trembling slightly with the excitement.

“Y’ready?” He rasped. His hands were holding her cheeks open, making her glistening loose hole to wink at him cheekily. She nodded. She looked far too gone to talk with sentences, and Bucky could understand. He was about to lose words, too, he could feel it. “Mmm, okay,” he whispered. He grabbed his hard cock and lined it up.

The slide in was slow. Torturously slow.

She could feel every ridge and vein as Bucky slid in slowly. He threw his head back. The groan that got ripped deep in his chest was loud; she trembled. It was so fucking hot to hear him moan and groan and losing himself like this.

“Oh, fuuck,” Bucky moaned. He was looking at where they were joined, watching himself slide in her virgin hole and was desperately trying not to come too soon. “Fuck, sweetheart─” He gasped when he felt her walls ripple around him. He stilled. He was panting and was only halfway in. He wanted to take it slow, didn’t want to hurt you, but it was really hard not to just slam in.

“Bucky─” She whimpered. “God, shit, move.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” Bucky breathed. Sweat was beading on his forehead and chest already, and his body felt like it was on fire.

“You won’t,” she hissed. “Just fucking move─ Fuck─” Groaning, she wiggled her hips, clenched around him and wiggled a bit more. Bucky’s hold on her hips tightened. He started to move his hips again. He was fucking in half an inch more with his every thrust. She moaned. “Yeah, move, Sir, fuck yes, move!” Her hands found the back of his thighs, her nails dug in deep as she pulled his hips against hers.

Both of them moaned loudly as Bucky buried himself to the tilt with her yanking. Her thighs were trembling, walls were rippling like crazy around his cock, and they were both on the verge of coming.

“Shit,” Bucky hissed. She felt so fucking good around him. It was tight as fuck, hot and wet and tight. Bucky was about to lose his goddamn mind. He leaned forward, covered her body with his as he closed his eyes and tried to calm down. Kissing her bare shoulders and neck, Bucky smiled dopily. “Not a virgin in there anymore,” he whispered before kissing her cheek. She giggled breathily. She took one of her hands from his thigh and tangled it in his fluffy hair, pulling him in for a filthy little kiss.

Bucky moaned as he bit on her lip, licked in her mouth and just kissed her as sloppily as he could. His hips were moving back and forth a little because he still felt like he was about to come, and he didn’t want this to end so quickly.

After what felt like an hour but was actually ten minutes, Bucky started to slam his hips harder and deeper. His cautious pace was now replaced with hard and deep and a bit filthy one which got her moaning and whimpering under him so prettily.

“You love it, don’t you, love?” Bucky whispered in her ear as he slapped her ass cheek lightly. “You love how full it makes you feel, hm?” She nodded vigorously. He did feel so good in her, made her feel so damn full, she never wanted him out of her. Bucky slapped her ass cheek again, this time digging his blunt nails. She gasped. “You’re drippin’,” Bucky murmured and trailed one of his hands from her ass to her pussy and slid two fingers inside.

She screamed.

“Yeah,” Bucky groaned. “Sing for me, baby, c’mon.” The pace he set up got harder and faster. The sound of skin slapping skin and obscene wet sounds were so loud. Like it was possible, Bucky was getting more turned on with each thrust. “Your ass is a fuckin’ wonder,” he hissed. “A peach for fuckin’ sure, sweetheart.” Snarling, he moved on the bed. He wrapped his hands on her knees and spread them even more apart as he pressed the outside of his thighs to her inner legs. She was practically sitting on his lap now.

“Oh fuck!” She cried out. With this new position, Bucky slid in even deeper and was now stroking something sensitive in her with his each thrust. He still had two of his fingers in her pussy and now a thumb was pressing on her clit. “Oh shit, ‘m close!” She moaned. “’m so close, Sir, fuck!” Her hands flew and grabbed his ass. Her nails dug in deep as they pulled his hips against hers harder. “Yes, yes!” Throwing her head back, she bared her throat to him.

Bucky snarled as he placed his mouth on the exposed neck. He wanted so badly to leave some marks there, but he couldn’t, he knew it. Not yet.

“Come,” he ordered, voice rough and hoarse. “You come on my cock now, and I’ll fuck your pussy after, feed her with my come.” She swore, groaned and whimpered. Her eyes rolled back as Bucky pinched her clit, and she came screaming.

Bucky’s whole body trembled, and he collapsed on the bed with her body under his. The clench of her ass on his cock was so tight, he thought he might come any second if he even dared to breathe.

She shivered, her body shook violently and her muscles twitched. The orgasm that rolled through her body was very strong and intense, she felt herself floating. With a sigh, she relaxed under Bucky’s body and moaned happily. She could feel Bucky’s hands roaming all over her, fingers stroking her hair.

“Mmm, fuck,” she grinned happily. Bucky kissed her shoulder.

“You back with me?” He asked, and she nodded. She looked so blissed out, Bucky felt proud. He kept peppering kisses on anywhere he could reach. She hummed.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, and Bucky obeyed immediately. Their lips met in a chaste and loving way, and both of them sighed. It lasted for only four seconds, but it was a very sweet kiss. Then, she pushed him back lightly, signaling him to pull out and off. He did. He slid out of her abused her as carefully as he could and sat back on his haunches.

“You promised me something,” she murmured. Flipping on her back, she spread her legs. “Feed me.”

Bucky choked on his next breath. “Baby,” he gasped. “I’m an old man now, don’t spring shit like this on me.” She giggled. Smiling, he walked between her legs again and took the condom off, ditching it somewhere. He leaned in to kiss her cheeks as he slid into her dripping pussy. Bucky groaned.

Her ass was so damn amazing, but he knew he’d always prefer her pussy because goddamn.

“Mm, c’mon, Sir,” she mewled, her hands grabbing onto the muscles on his back. “C’mon, she’s hungry, feed her, please.”

“Fuck,” Bucky whispered and started thrusting at a mad pace. He was chasing his relief, not bothering with his technique or something. All he needed was to empty his balls and lose himself in the throes of pleasure.

It didn’t take him too long. With a loud groan which he buried into her neck, he came inside of her. His cock twitching and releasing stripes of come in her pussy, Bucky sighed and plopped himself onto her. She huffed. Not saying anything, one her hands immediately started playing with his hair while the other started its trailing down on his back and up. Bucky shivered.

They stayed like that for a while. Skin-to-skin, serene and post-coital, they laid there on the bed. Outside was chilly, wind was howling, but neither of them cared about it because they had each other’s body heat to stay warm.

“Are we really gonna tell my parents about us?” She asked. Bucky hummed.

“Yes,” he said. “I don’t wanna hide anymore. I’m an old man, now.” She snorted as Bucky grinned.

“You can’t play that card every time,” she grumbled. “I don’t wanna hide anymore, either,” she whispered then. Bucky kissed just above her breasts.

“I want you to be mine officially,” Bucky whispered, lifting his head up and looking at her. “And you will be.” She smiled fondly. Her nails scratched his beard, stroked his cheeks and ran through his hair.

“Okay,” she murmured. “Happy birthday, baby.” Bucky smiled widely, the crinkles around his eyes showed themselves, making your heart beat wildly.

“Thank you, peaches.”

A kiss sealed their love once again, but it was only filled with adoration and love this time.

──

“Um, Dad? Papa?” She called out softly.

“Yeah, sweetie?” Steve said, Sam only humming as he put his book down. She walked into the living room with Bucky slowly. Her heart was beating so fast, it felt like it was about to burst. Bucky brushed his hand against hers in a soothing manner.

“There is something I want to tell you something,” she announced. “Actually Bucky and I wanted to tell you guys something.” Both Steve and Sam sat up straighter, their eyes trained on you intently. Bucky held her hand.

“Y/N and I have been seeing each other romantically a little longer than a year now,” Bucky said. “It started out with only one night, but then feelings happened and…” Bucky’s eyes found hers, a fond smile forming on his lips. “I love her.” She felt her cheeks heating up, but she was so nervous that she couldn’t even feel the butterflies moving happily in her stomach.

She took a deep breath and tightened her hold on Bucky’s hand. Her parents were looking at them without blinking. The silence was almost deafening, she just wanted them to say something.

“You know what, Barnes?” Steve suddenly said, and the instant fear took a hold of her body. “I fucking hate you.”

“Gimme my five hundred bucks,” Sam grinned as he extended his hand out to Steve. “Oh, and that vacation you promised, too. I could really use one.”

“W-what?” She whispered. “You’re not mad?”

Steve let out a surprised laugh. “Mad? Honey,” he chuckled. “Sam and I knew for a while. You guys aren’t so subtle, y’know.” Bucky blinked a few times.

“What.”

“The day we were gonna make a barbecue? You both were in the garage and you said that you were helping Bucky to unpack or something?” Steve said. She nodded. “I saw the car windows and Bucky’s face.”

“Oh, at the New Years,” Sam chimed in. “We knew you were kissing because Y/N’s lipstick was sort of visible on your lips.”

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “What! You knew!”

“Yes,” they both said, grinning.

“And we’re okay with it,” Steve added immediately. “We know how supportive Bucky is, and although the age thing sort of weirded me out at the beginning, I’m okay with it now.” Steve paused. “It’d be a hypocrite of me to judge you for that since me and Sam have like nine years of age gap between us.” He shrugged.

“And,” Sam said. “We know Barnes for a very long time and to be honest, he’s been really happy this past year. It’s good to see him enjoying the life for once.” He smiled. “Although that doesn’t mean that if you make her cry or sad, I’ll kick your ass no matter what, you hear?”

Bucky chuckled. “I hear, Wilson, I hear.”

“Good,” Sam nodded and then he grinned. “C’mere you two.”

The hug they shared was a sort that only families shared. With Sam and Steve’s paternal love and Bucky’s protective, loving arms around her, she felt at peace.

No secrets. No hiding.

They were officially a family now.

fin

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons.  Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie. 

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.  

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Planting a sneaker clad foot on his ass, you shove. Hard.  

“Bucky, we talked about this. Remember how you agreed to lower the drama and keep things in perspective? I thought we were under attack.”

“If I don’t get a green gum-ball,” he declares dramatically, “there will be an attack.”

Throwing the cloth bags at his face, you stomp off to retrieve a shopping cart, plunking your purse in the front and hunching over the handlebars.  

“I thought you said you were a millionaire now. Buy your own gum-ball.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Like I carry loose change,” he scoffs. “C’mon, just one quarter. Please?”

This time, he gives you the Look. That patented Bucky Barnes stare, with the wide eyes and full pouty lips and faux innocent expression, and if this man wasn’t the love of your life you’d quite happily stab him in the heart.

Instead, you open your purse and fish out a quarter, flinging it at his frustratingly pretty face. It bounces off his forehead and he scoops it up with a grin.

“So just to clarify. You came to the grocery store covered in knives, but you forgot to bring money?”

Giving you an indulgent smile, he jams the quarter into the slot. With a twist and shake, a gum-ball rattles free, and Bucky crows with delight when he sees the green candy. He pops it in his mouth. 

“I didn’t forget. I made a conscious decision to remove the temptation. If I bring cash, I’ll spend it. You know I ain’t great with that whole self control thing.”

“How encouraging to hear, from the man with knives pouring out his ass.”  

Jumping to his feet, he throws an arm around your shoulders. 

“Ass knives sound painful.”

“Depends on how sharp they are,” you mumble, pulling a carefully folded sheet of paper from your jacket.

“Excuse you? My knives are always perfectly sharpened, thank you very much. What kind of expert assassin runs around with dull knives? Damn baby, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Ignoring him, you flatten out the paper and smooth the edges, sighing happily at the block letters and structured diagrams drawn in deep blue ink. 

Here it is, your masterpiece. A monument to productivity. The gold standard by which all optimization models should be benchmarked. This isn’t just any list, this is The List.

Everything is grouped, first by aisle, then by product location within the aisle, and then from top to bottom shelf order, to maximize efficiency. This is the dream list. The kind that inspires jealousy. The kind people hold up at TED talks when they talk about time management techniques. Marie Kondo wishes she had this list. 

Bucky snorts when he sees the carefully printed boxes.  

“God, you’re such a square,” he says adoringly. He plants a sugary wet kiss on your temple and you grind an elbow into his ribs.

“We discussed this, Bucky. Don’t mock my lists.” 

“Sorry babe, I ain’t mocking. Your lists are beautiful, they always get me all hot and bothered,” he agrees, dipping lower to lick behind your ear. “And I really love that list you keep with all those dirty, filthy, sex things you wanna do to me.”

“I don’t have a list like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs, “and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop here.”

Reaching under his shirt, you rub his belly consolingly. “Okay then. This weekend I’ll sit down and make you a special list. One so disgusting and dirty and depraved, it would make Wade Wilson cry.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes you tighter. 

“About damn time honey. I’m equally parts terrified and horny. So where’re we headed first?”

“Produce,” you answer promptly, plowing forward, Bucky still chuckling beside you.

The whole scenario was ironic, actually. There was no need to grocery shop - automatic ordering mechanisms  across the Avengers tower rendered the task meaningless - but sometimes it was a welcome relief to partake in such an ordinary thing. Unable to sleep after one particularly terrible mission, you found yourself wandering the aisles of your 24-hour supermarket, dressed in pineapple adorned pajama pants and one of Bucky’s rattier sweatshirts, searching for ice cream. The unexpected symmetry of products arranged along the shelves, the rainbow hued produce, the hint of baking bread wafting from the ovens, all those everyday trappings of normality, they washed over like a soothing balm. Soon enough, the boiling bad thoughts simmered to nothing more than a cache of blurry memories.

When you got home, sleep came fast, deep and dreamless.

One month later, the idea struck again.

After 36 hours of Bucky tossing and turning, dark shadows bruising beneath weary blue eyes, you took his hand and led him down the dark street for a midnight adventure. He was skeptical, disbelieving that something so simple could chase away the insomnia. But he dutifully followed you, strolling aimlessly through the aisles, throwing odds and ends into the cart. 

The tension gradually eased, he began to relax, and suddenly? 

He was hooked.

An hour later, after arguing the health benefits of frosted Cheerios over oatmeal, poking each hunk of cheese in the display, and loading the cart with every single flavor of spaghetti sauce on the shelf, the heavy weight of remembering began to ease. When he collapsed into bed, he slept for eight hours straight.

I don’t know what that was, he swore the next morning, munching through his third bowl of frosted Cheerios, but it was magic.

And with that, a midnight ritual was born. Sometimes you make the trek alone, sometimes Bucky does the same, but whenever life permits you go together. This small slice of domesticity brings a warm comfort to this strange life.   

There is no doubt, this is your favorite area of the entire store.

Barrels filled with tart oranges and smooth red apples. Tables piled high with bananas, some just shy of yellow, others sunshine perfect, and a few with speckles of black (which are the best). Shelves lining the walls, overflowing with bundles of herbs and lettuce, all coated in a fine layer of mist. 

Bliss. 

Heading straight for the apples, you plunge into the Gala pile, rummaging until you come up with ten perfect ones. Peaches follow, fingers rubbing along the delicate pinky-orange fuzz. Squeeze, smell, squeeze, smell. Five are chosen for a pie (Sam pleaded shamelessly until you agreed to make him one), and in the cart they go. Heading toward the wall of herbs, you’re reaching for the basil when a metallic bang makes you jump. Spinning around, you find Bucky lobbing coconuts into the cart.

“We need these.”

“We really don’t, Buck. I hate coconut, it tastes like suntan lotion.”

“They’re not for eating,” he grabs an apple, wipes it on his shirt, and takes a juicy bite. “They’re for security.”

Sticky juice drips from his lip, catching in his beard. When you reach over to swipe it away, he nips your finger with a grin.

“Explain please.”

“See it’s like this. We’re just here shopping, doin’ our thang -”

“Don’t say thang.”

“- when someone attacks. What happens? BAM. One of these furry beauties breaks their face. Problem solved.”

Giving him a slow perusal, you raise an eyebrow.

“Were the 47 knives you’re carrying not enough to deflect this attack?”

Finishing off the apple in three sloppy bites, he carefully tucks the price sticker in his pocket so he can scan it before leaving and sets the mangled core beside your purse.

“Babe, these are my back-up plan. A good soldier always has a back-up plan.”

While you grab a bottle of extra-pulpy orange juice, Bucky picks two jugs of chocolate milk, snaps one open and takes a swing. Ever the thrifty shopper, he pulls a familiar bag from his back pocket, fishes out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and dangles it before you.

“Found a coupon for this,” he says gleefully. “Buy one, get one free. It’s called a BOGO. A BOGO. Hilarious, right? Fuck me, I love the future.”

Still laughing, he takes another long drink of chocolate milk and smacks his lips.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you discovered this particular habit. Walking into the living room, you found Bucky buried in a sea of Sunday newspaper, tongue between his teeth and scissors in hand while he clipped coupons. He wasn’t picky, if it was remotely interesting, it went into the YES pile. It was one of those random things that brought him inordinate levels of joy, so of course you encouraged it. On his last birthday, you gifted him with a green zippered bag decorated with angry looking owls and official looking letters stitched across the front:

Bucky’s Coupon Bag  Thriftn’ Machine Since 1917

He laughed for five straight minutes and then stuffed it full. The bag accompanies you on every trip and the sight of Bucky excitedly rifling through his wad of coupons still makes your heart swell.  

Setting aside his BOGO, Bucky continues down the aisle, leaving you to pause in front of the yogurt. While you contemplate the merits of blackberry vs strawberry, Bucky slides over holding three cans of Reddi-Whip. 

“Are you actually planning to eat that? I thought you said whipped air is for, and I quote, ‘spineless, tasteless trash heathens’?”

Bucky shakes the can of spray whipped cream and wiggles his eyebrows, leveling you with a sultry stare. 

“Hell no I’m not eating it. This is for the bedroom. Last week I watched this god-awful movie where some blond guy - who looked exactly like Steve, by the way - made himself a whipped cream bikini for his girl. Decided I’m gonna do that for you. You’re welcome.”

“That sounds gross and unsanitary.” 

“If by gross and unsanitary you mean spicy and sexy, then yes. Yes it does.”

Whistling what sounds like the theme music from a bad porn, he adds two tubs of honey swirled Greek yogurt, pats your butt, and strolls ahead, throwing a roughish wink over his shoulder. Imagining the melted whipped cream soaking into your bedsheets, you mentally add more laundry detergent to the list.

“Hang on, turn here.”

Tugging the cart behind him, Bucky stalks toward the feminine hygiene display. It takes him a minute to scan the products before squatting down to the bottom shelf. Grabbing two jumbo boxes of tampons, oddly enough the brand you prefer, he pops back to his feet.  

“Dare I ask why you need these?”

A faint pink flush crawls up his neck.  

“Well, you know, two reasons. They’re really great for stopping bloody noses, you know? Just poke ‘em up there and they soak it all up.”

 He mimes the execution and adds a thumbs up.

“And the second reason?”

Squinting at his boots, he shuffles his feet a bit. The pink flush deepens. 

“Um, you know - I know you’re out, since I stuck the last one up Steve’s nose last week, and yeah. Anyway. It’s about that time. Of the month. For you.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches for his chocolate milk, but you grab his wrist.  

“You know when my period’s going to start?”

He shrugs self-consciously and fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.  

“Well yeah. You think it’s just a coincidence when all your favorite candy shows up every month?” Looking up, he shoots you a crooked smile and leans over the cart to kiss your forehead. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you haul him in for a real kiss instead and his startled laughter tickles your lips. When you break away, those bright blue eyes are shining. 

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmur.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers. 

This is the aisle where the cart officially explodes.

Lasagna noodles.

Egg noodles.

Spaghetti noodles.

Penne.

Linguine. 

Fettuccine.

Literally one of every noodle is selected, because Bucky Barnes is a self-proclaimed noodle slut. 

As you organize the boxes and search for orzo, you see him furtively add an extra bag of elbow macaroni. A quiet cough hides your laughter.

The last time Sam’s four-year-old niece came to the tower, she and Bucky spent hours making glittery elbow macaroni necklaces, which they ceremoniously gifted to everyone. When Sam casually mentioned her enthusiastically telling everyone at pre-school about her friend Bucky and how much fun she had visiting him, Bucky ran to a craft store and bulk bought supplies of glue, string, paint, and glitter, just in case she comes over again.

Months later and the entire team are still finding puddles of glitter all over the tower, but the delight on Bucky’s face anytime someone mentions that arts and crafts afternoon? 

It’s worth the mess.     

Gathering up brown sugar, instant oats, and chocolate chips, you turn to drop them in the cart when Bucky makes a strangled noise. Glancing over, you find him bouncing on his toes, vibrating with excitement.

“Babe. Babe. Are you making monster cookies?”

Adding a can of raisins, you search for the good vanilla. The kind that actually tastes like vanilla, not a cheap car wash air freshener. 

“I promised I would,” you remind him. Bucky plasters himself against your back, wrapping you in an enthusiastic hug and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love those fucking cookies,” he declares. “They’re my favorite thing ever. Next to you I mean.”

Finding the vanilla, you spin in his arms and return the squeeze.  

“I know you do. But you have to share them this time, okay? You can’t just eat them all yourself like the last two times. Agree?”

“Agree…to disagree. They’re wasted on other people, no one else loves as much. It’s for the best when I eat them all, it’s proof how much I love you. I’m doing it for you. I’m supporting you. Because I love you.”

“You’re completely full of shit,” you reply.

“I swear I’m not! Just listen!”

The excuses grow longer and wilder as Bucky outlines his rationale against sharing, walking backward and dragging the cart with him as he pleads his case. He’s diving into the science of super soldier metabolism levels and caloric requirements and the fact that his sister never shared anything with him, when he bumps into a tall display. 

He pulls up short, eyes narrowing. Plunking his fists on his hips, he growls a disgruntled sigh and glares at the rows of packaging. 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Lined up in neat rows, you see boxes of Jell-O organized by color and flavor. On the cover of each are an assortment of familiar images.  

“Are these Avengers themed Jell-O?” you ask, picking up a box with Sam’s image and the words Wild Berry Wilson. The rows extend further, filled with Lime Green Hulk and Blue Raspberry Rogers and Black Cherry Widow and Strawberry Lemon Stark. Exasperated, Bucky grabs the Sparkling Orange Spider flavor. 

“Is this for real? The kid gets one and I didn’t? Someone in PR is getting fired.”

“Well there’re only so many flavors, Buck,” you point out practically, but Bucky’s not in the mood for logic. Instead, he swipes an entire shelf of Jell-O flavors into the cart.  

“I swear to god, I have to do everything around here. Fine then. I’ll make my own flavor, Blackberry Kiwi Soldier or Winter Watermelon Rainbow, or something.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ll work on the name. But I’m bringing it to dinner tomorrow night and everyone is gonna eat it.”

He dumps in a bag of mini-marshmallows and grabs sprinkles for topping, before marching down the aisle. Cringing at the volume of sugar in the cart, you make another mental note to schedule a dentist appointment.

“Go do your manly duty and find the meat. We need two 5lb rump roasts.”

“I like your rump roast,” he instantly responds and reaches over to smack your butt again. Anticipating the move, you catch his arm and twist it behind his back. He barks out a breathless laugh and you slap his ass in return.

“Your innuendos are tragic.”

Releasing him with a gentle shove, Bucky snatches up his three coconuts and ambles away, laughing while he juggles them. When he returns, he has the requested rump roasts, several packages of bacon, and a bundle of cocktail shrimp.

“If my innuendos get better, then can I touch your butt?”

“Maybe. But they better be real good.”

An added benefit to shopping at midnight? Not a soul in line.

Loading everything onto the conveyer belt, you automatically organize for bagging. Boxes together, produce together, meat together. Bucky adds a pack of batteries, a tin of mints, and some trashy magazines.

The last three items in the cart are his coconuts. They rattle around until you toss them at him, motioning back to the produce department. 

“We made it out alive. Go put them back.”

Still chomping his tasteless green gum-ball, he shakes his head and plops them down. 

“Nah, I have another idea for them. Got all those craft supplies at home, I’m gonna make you something.”

“Should I even ask?”

Bucky blows a huge, wet bubble and looks you up and down.

“Have you every worn one of those coconut bras? Like on TV, with the ladies in grass skirts? I’m gonna make you one. I already have string and glue. And glitter.”

“I think you may be overestimating your crafting abilities.” Digging out your credit card, you wait for the final tally. 

“Well, if it’s terrible then you’ll just be naked. Either way, I win.”

Shaking out your grocery sacks, he packs everything with Tetris-like efficiency and slides all of them up the vibranium arm.   

“How about I make you a deal. I’ll wear a coconut bra, if you’ll make yourself something to wear as well.”

Bucky blows another sugary bubble, pondering the idea.

“Like a coconut man thong?”

“Exactly like a coconut man thong.”

“Deal. Add it to that special dirty list you’re making me honey. We got loads to do.” 

Outside, the night air smells sweet and cool, the barest hint of a spring rain and fresh grass lingering on the breeze. Already, your eyes are feeling heavy, tonight’s quiet adventure ushering in that sought after peace. 

In your right hand, the three coconuts swing gently in their plastic sack. Humming under his breath, Bucky yawns, reaching for your other hand. His warm, calloused palm squeezes tight, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin.

He turns to you with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

Midnight and coconuts.  

It always does the trick.

***

[dontworrysunflower]

You Make It Better | h.s.

warnings: DEPRESSION, i apologize if i do not portray it correctly, i wrote what i could figure out from the internet. if this triggers you PLEASE DO NOT READ OR READ WITH CAUTION, nudity (? idk they shower together), very cheesy sorry

a/n: this is something i wish i had rn because even thought i’m not diagnosed and definitely think am depressed so ig that is where this came from. please, if you ever need someone to talk to, my messages are always open and i have no life so i’ll answer as soon as i can, asks (anonymous too) are always open. also i’m bad at endings so excuse that. (and writing his accent but we’ll ignore that)

word count: 2.9k

feedbacks/reblogs appreciated

masterlist

It was a late Saturday morning when you realized it was going to be a really hard day with your depression. You had woken up earlier than Harry, which was very rare. His arm was tucked between your neck and the pillow, hand laying softly on your arm, your head just below the right swallow tattoo on his chest, the inked butterfly on his stomach stretching with every even breath he took in his sleep.

It wasn’t much longer until he eventually woke up, his fingers suddenly grazing your arm as he fully opened his eyes to look at you. He lets out a guttural groan, stretching his legs under the blanket.

“G’mornin’ lovie,” he said groggily, voice rough as he bends down to press a light kiss to your hair. You don’t move, only your nail lightly scratching his side. His face scrunches up in confusion, and you knew if you were to look up at him you would burst out in tears just from how cute he is. “(y/n)?” He asked, moving down on the bed to be face to face with you. “You okay, baby?” His nose nudged yours, but again, you don’t react. You don’t even look him in the eyes.

All you do is shrug to his question, a little hum falling past your lips.

Then it struck him, and you see the exact moment when it does. But his face doesn’t change to a sympathetic look, he doesn’t frown at you with a sorry look.

Instead, he gives you a small and sleepy smile and pushes a strand of your hair away from your face. He scoots closer to you, moving you to sit on his lap, his boxers laying low on his hips, his inked fern leaves peeking through.

“Another one of those days?” He asked quietly as he moved to put his head right next to yours, his eyes looking up at you.

“Yeah.” You mumble, reaching over to grab the pendant of his necklace, rubbing the green cross with your soft finger.

“How bad?”

You continue to drag your finger over his cross pendant, eyes fixated his chest hairs. You sigh heavily before parting to answer. “Nine.”

“Hmm.” He kissed your forehead. “What made it a little betta’?”

You finally looked up at him, his emerald eyes still had a glassy look, still not fully awake. You’re hesitate to speak, your mouth opening and closing, thinking whether or not you should say what’s on your mind.

Very early in your relationship, you told Harry that it was hard for you to open up to people. You told him your illness made you feel like a burden towards everyone you know, you told him that there may be days where you wouldn’t want to see him because you’d feel like you're getting in the way.

But unlike the other people you’ve been with, he understood and was patient with you. And even though there were days that got really bad, he stayed by your side.

“You can talk to me, baby.” Harry took your hand that was holding his pendant, his finger grazing the skin of your thumb.

Your lips slightly quirk up, but not enough to really show that you were happy. But he could see it.

“You make it better.” You maneuver your hand that was in his to now hold his hand, bringing it closer to your chest and play with his ringless fingers.

When he doesn’t say anything, you look up at him worriedly, scared you’ve said the wrong thing.

But when you do, his face was the definition of happy. He was smiling so wide, his dimples were showing. There was a light hue on his cheeks, bringing his face to life.

You wish you could be that happy right now.

He brought you closer to his chest and pressed his lips to your matted hair. “Wanna just stay in bed all day?” You nod against his chest. “Whatever you want, love.” His arms tightened around you, bringing you impossibly closer, giving you a silent message of I’m here for you.

“Do you want something to eat? Some tea, maybe?” He asked sweetly as he started to pull away, his feet hitting the wooden flooring on your shared bedroom.

You looked up at him, hesitating to answer, but his fingers scratch your scalp in encouragement, his green eyes looking down at you sweetly. “Could-” you hesitate. “Could I just have some tea, please? Peppermint, if we have any.”

He nodded, bending down to press to place a kiss to your nose. “Anything to eat?”

You shake your head and bring the duvet to your face.

Before he can get too far, you grab his hand, getting his attention as he starts to walk away. “What’s up, baby?”

“Can I have a kiss?” you asked shyly, afraid he’ll reject you.

Instead of answering, he just leans down to peck your lips, but you hold his jaw and keep his close.

You give him one last peck before you pull away slightly, lips bruised to a pink color, faces still close.

You peck him one last time then back away, bringing the duvet to your chin.

“Don’t be too long.” You mumble.

He chuckled and kissed your head before walking out of the room.

•••

He comes back a couple minutes later, two mugs in his hands, a banana in between his lips.

You sit up against the headboard, the duvet just under your stomach that’s covered in one of Harry's old striped shirts.

“Thank you.” You mumble as you take the pastel orange mug from Harry’s hand.

You both sit quiet as you sip at your hot beverage, Harry offering you a bite of his banana after a while, but you decline.

Harry takes your empty cup and leaves it on his side table, the banana peel hanging from the rim of his mug.

“Do you wanna do anything?” He asked beside you, taking your hand in his.

“Ca-” You hesitate, scared he’ll say no or you feel like you're being selfish for what you're about to ask. “Can we just cuddle?” You asked with a pout, looking down at your lap.

He lets out a little giggle, getting under the white duvet. “I’d never say no to your cuddles.”

He pulls you close to his chest, the hair on his legs tickling your silky ones. His tattooed arm comes to lay over your stomach.

After a while, your eyes begin to sting, your sight becoming blurry, tears falling down your cheeks.

Harry seems to feel your salty tears fall on his chest. He plays with the ends of your hair and then rubs your arm. “Let it out, baby.”

Your shoulders shake as you sob, uncontrollable tears falling down your cheeks.

Harry held you tighter as you hiccuped, breath evening, eyes shutting as you fall asleep.

•••

When you woke up, the room was drastically darker. Harry’s side lamp was the only source of light.

Harry’s torso was against the headboard, one hand tangled in your hair, the other holding up a book as his eyes scan every word on the page.

When you shuffle under his touch, he closes his book and lays it by his side. “Hi.” He leans down to kiss your head, his hand now by your waist, playing with the hem of your (his) shirt you’re wearing that has risen up.

“What were you reading?” you asked meekly after you yawn, moving your arm across his fern tattoos.

“Love is a mixtape.”

“You love that book.” Your head moves up and down with his chest as he laughs. “Can you read some to me?”

“Sure, baby.”

•••

He had read a chapter or two when you realized, a small gasp leaving your lips. “Weren’t you supposed to go to the studio today?” You held up your weight against your arm, your hand digging into the mattress under you.

Your face scrunched up in guilt, your mind racing with the thought of getting in the way of Harry’s music, never wanting to be the reason he stopped working.

He just hums and and folders the corner of the page he was on before closing the book and leaving it on his side table. “I called Jeff when I was making the tea that I wasn’t going to make it today.”

“But why? You were excited to-”

“No one that matters, baby. There was no way I would’ve left you here by yourself.”

“I would’ve been fi-”

“No, you wouldn’t have and you know it.” His voice changed completely, more firm and stern than how he was talking earlier today. “Baby,” he started, he shifted in his spot on the mattress, turning completely towards you, taking your hands in his. You’ve always loved when you held hands. Loved to feel the comparison in size from your to his and your thumb always grazed his cross tattoo. You always get butterflies when he touches you, and that hasn’t changed since the beginning of your relationship that felt like so long ago.

“It’s okay to not be okay. I know it’s a struggle and everyday I wish I could take this pain from you, but I can’t. The best I can do is be there for you and hold you. And you may feel like you don’t deserve it, but you do. You deserve happiness and more. You may feel like every little thing you do bothers me and others but you don’t. I love you with my entire being, (y/n), and I’m surprised you haven’t gotten tired of me.”

You scoff through foggy eyes, but his dimples and freckles are still prominent in your vision.

“In the rare times that we’re not together and I’m with other people, the first thing people ask me is how you’re doing. Shit, I even get asked about you in interviews and fans I meet on the street ask about you.”

You’re full on sobbing now, his pretty words too much to handle, an overwhelming feeling of love and gratitude and happiness filling your chest.

“You’re not a burden, baby.” He said softly as he pulled you into his lap, his rough fingertips sipping the salty tears from under your eyes. “Say it, please.”

You take in a shaky breath, but an even, firm breath comes out, the ache in your chest a lot lighter, less painful. You lick your chapped lips before speaking, “I’m not a burden.”

His lips press to your temple, the warm skin. You both cry, holding each other tighter than what you thought was possible. You nuzzle your face into his neck, breathing his warmth and scent.

He sighs and gingerly kisses your forehead, his finger twirling the ends of your hair.

“Wanna go take a shower?” Harry asked, your legs tangled with his under the comforter. “We can watch a movie or something after, yeah?” He pushed back the stray hairs that had fallen out of your ponytail, the tie loosening its grip on your hair as you moved around the bed throughout the day.

“Yeah.” you mumble, eyes droopy again, energy slowly fading as the sun faded from the sky.

“C’mon, baby.” He wiggles away from you, standing on the side of the bed, his hand out for you to grab.

You move the duvet off you, goosebumps forming on your exposed legs and arms because you were only wearing one of Harry’s old shirts.

He takes your hand as you scoot closer to the edge of the bed, your feet softly landing on the wooden flooring of your bedroom.

Harry raises your intertwined hands and tenderly pressed his lips to the back of your hand, his dimples smile forming when he sees a blush form on your cheeks. “C’mon, love.” He leads you towards the bathroom, quickly turning on the light.

You walk behind him as he makes his way further in, opening the glass door of the shower to turn on the water, letting it get warm before he turns around to you.

He lifts his own shirt up, exposing his tattooed chest. “You too, love.” He chuckled at you as you just stood there in front of him.

He drops his shirt before tugging at the hem of yours, his eyes looking into yours for approval. You give him a small nod before he brings it up your torso.

He helps you undress the rest of the way, which was quick because you only had your underwear left.

You stayed close as Harry quickly undressed. The butterfly on his stomach expanded as he took in a deep breath, his hand reaching towards you again to lead you to the spraying shower.

The foggy glass door springs open and Harry steps aside for you. “Ladies first.”

Harry’s hand leaves yours to lay it on your back as you step into the steaming shower.

•••

Harry just finished washing your hair, his fingers raking through your wet strands, his chin resting on top of your head. Your hands mindlessly run up and down his back, your cheek against the swallow tattoo on his chest.

His thumb rubs against the side of your face, catching your attention. You look up to his green eyes looking down at you already, his dimples lightly denting his cheeks. “You’re pretty.” He spoke softly, his eyes shifting around your face.

You sheepishly look down at his chest, lightly tracing the butterfly tattoo on his stomach.

He chuckles at your shyness and kisses your forehead. Even though you can’t see it, he looks at you like you hung the moon, he looks at you like a goddess even though you have demons on your shoulders. “Which one’s your favorite?” He whispered in your ear before pressing his lips to it.

You hummed as you leaned back, Harry’s hands on your hips still keeping you close. Your eyes scanned his body, your mind at battle.

You suddenly lift yourself up on your toes, holding on to his shoulders for leverage as you look at the tattoos that cross over, inching close to his back muscles.

“The little guitar doodle, thing.” You said before you unknowingly let out a little giggle, you finger lightly grazing the darkened skin.

“There’s that laugh.” He spoke softly, a small grin widening on his face. His emerald eyes shining in adoration. “I missed it.” His fingers curl the ends of your hair. Your hands move to his face, delicately holding his gorgeous face against yours.

“I love you. Thank you.” You said quietly, tears fogging your sight.

He shakes his head without hesitation, wet curls falling between you. “Nothing to thank me for.” He lifted his head to press a hard kiss on your nose, making a small giggle leave your lips. “There’s that beautiful sound again.” He roughly kissed under your eye, your giggles getting louder. He pecks the corner of your lips before migrating slightly to nip at your pink lips.

Your shoulders relax as you sigh into the kiss, your fingers lightly grazing the skin on Harry's shoulder, his around your waist, giving you a small squeeze.

The warm water cascades behind you, flowing through your hair and falling down to your feet.

He slowly pulls away, so slow that it seemed like he didn’t really want to pull away. Wet strands of his hair fall into his face, your fingers quickly leaving his shoulder to rake them back. “Wanna finish up and get to bed?” He asked quietly, his chipped fingernails faintly grazing the skin of your hip.

You nod, backing up as Harry moved closer to turn off the water behind you. The steamy glass door opens with a pop, Harry’s feet stepping onto the white floor mat to grab towels hanging on the wall. He quickly wraps one around his waist, droplets of water descending down his inked frame, some falling down from his hair onto his shoulder.

You slowly step out of the shower beside Harry, grabbing the towel from his hands and unfolding it to dry your hair and body before wrapping it around yourself.

“Do you want one of my shirts, love?” He asked as he walked out to the bathroom (still completely wet with a water trail behind him) to his dresser, looking through his casual wardrobe.

“If it’s okay with you.” You stayed in the bathroom, watching him move around the bedroom.

“Of course, lovie. That’s why I offered.” He comes in front of you to hand you some clothes, just a pair of his boxers and his old ‘Hot n Hard’ shirt. “Always want you in my clothes. He pecks your nose and pulls away, a small dimple piercing his cheek as he smirked. “Also like you with no clothes.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and pushed at his shoulder, shaking your head at him.

By the time you slid on the shirt he gave you, he was leaning against the doorframe, pink boxers hanging loosely under the fern tattoos. “Can I help with your skincare?” He asked shyly, his cheeks turning the same color as his boxers.

You don’t hesitate to nod, stepping farther into the bathroom to let him in.

He pats the counter, his other hand going to your back. “Sit for me, baby.”

You jumped onto the counter, silently watching him as he gathered your different products, you had too many to count (and didn’t need).

You sat quietly as you watched his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, tongue poking out of his lips. His rough fingers gingerly patting stuff on your face, laughing at your whines when he was dragging down your face instead of smoothing up. “It’ll give me wrinkles!” You groaned.

So now he’ll do the same with his skin.

What? He doesn’t want wrinkles either.

•••

yay!!!

@chillingonlife @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @letsgoparty-ah-ah-ah-yeah @tom-hollands-wife @acciosiriusblack (i know some of you probably only meant the instagram things but i hope this is okay)

(lmk if you want to be added/taken off taglist)

[jinx-jade]

When A mother's & A father's world's collide Chapter 1: Dick meets Marinette

Dick couldn’t help but wonder how he got here as a fist made contact with his jaw. The punch confuses him enough for the goon to get the upper hand, slamming the young Robin into the cement. He truly thought this was the end, his only hope being Batman noticing he was missing from his bedroom. The chance of that being slim since Bruce’s girlfriend Talia was staying at the manor.

Robin closed his eyes, waiting for the final blow, only for it to never come.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, hoping that Batman had come to his rescue. Hoping that his mentor had cared enough to check on him after the fight they had.

  To his surprise, it wasn’t his mentor that stopped the final blow, it wasn’t even a vigilante or hero that he knew of.

It was a woman dressed in almost all black.

Her combat boots, tights, skirt, and leather jacket were all shades of black, while her shirt was red, the only colored bit of her outfit.

“Hey, kid, are you doing ok?” The woman asked, crouching down next to him.

Dick wasn’t able to give a response before blacking out. He wasn’t sure why, but his nerves seemed to have calmed in the woman’s presence, eliminating his adrenaline and fight or flight response.

When he came back to consciousness, he was still wearing his mask, but his uniform was changed out for a pair of sweatpants.

His chest, arms, knuckles, and face were covered in bandaging, and he seemed to be in some type of medical area.

“Glad to see you’re doing better,” the woman claimed as she walked in.

“Where am I?” Dick asks, confused.

“Secret temple, somewhere in Tibet.” the woman answered with a shrug.

“What?” Dick stared at her blankly.

“Don’t worry about it kid. All you need to know is that my name is Marinette, and this is my home. Oh! And you have a few bruised knuckles and ribs, nothing was broken though, but you should still be careful.” Marinette claimed.

“Why are you helping me?”  Robin questioned. It was strange for anyone in Gotham to help out like that unless they were a hero or a vigilante.

Marinette simply gave him a shrug before gesturing for him to follow her. Having nothing else to do but sit in bed alone, or follow the random person who was helping him, Robin chose to follow Marinette.

They ended up in what seemed like a kitchen, but a few things seemed too out of place for it to be a normal kitchen.

“Do you have any food allergies or preferences on what you want for breakfast?” Marinette asked while gesturing to a stool at what was probably the kitchen island.

“Uhh… No food allergies… Can I have pancakes?” The masked child asked in a hopeful tone as he took a seat on the stool.

“Sure! What kind do you want? I can make chocolate chips, blueberries, cinnamon sugar, strawberries, bananas, or plain vanilla.” Marinette questions as she began taking out the base ingredients for pancakes.

“Can I have Chocolate chip with lots of toppings?” He answered unsurely, causing Marinette to smile softly at him.

“Of course!” Marinette says before grabbing a pen and paper to hand the young robin. “Here. I’m sure your guardian will be worried about you, but I’m not comfortable with letting you leave while still injured if you’re just gonna go back to fighting recklessly.”

Dick took the paper, unsure what to write.

Should he tell Bruce that he was injured and a stranger had come to his rescue and also seemed to be taking care of him till he was healed? 

No.

Bruce would only care that he disobeyed the grounded order.

Did his mentor even know he was gone?

Would Bruce care that he was gone or missing?

He probably wouldn’t notice till it was pointed out to him.

Alfred might notice.

Who was he kidding it was Alfred of course he would notice.

Would staying here to heal cause problems for Alfred?

How does someone explain that they didn’t run away from home but were simply beat up badly?

Does he make it seem like he ran away?

What should…

Dick’s train of thought was interrupted when a hand softly landed on his shoulder. Not enough weight to feel trapped, but just enough weight for the young vigilante to ground himself.

“Hey,” Marinette spoke softly, her bright blue eyes having the same calming effect they had before he had passed out after the fight that had brought him here.

“There we go, just focus on my voice, sweetheart. Take a breath in.” She instructed him while moving her hand from his shoulder to his hair, lightly combing her hand through it.

“One two three four. Out, two three four. In, two three four. Out two three four.” Marinette spoke softly, at a calming pace.

“You’re doing such a great job,” Marinette says with an encouraging smile.

“I… Sorry… I didn’t… I…” Dick tried to explain his thought process but couldn’t find the words.

“Shhh. It’s ok. You have no reason to apologize. Do you want help writing the note for your guardian?” Marinette questioned.

Dick didn’t answer for a while, unsure what to say.

“You know, when I was little, I used to have the hardest time doing things for myself. I even created a happy-go-lucky persona that I would use whenever someone was around because it made them more comfortable. This persona helped to comfort others even when I felt like breaking. The people who understand this, and know the real you will have no problems with you taking a mental health day or week.” Marinette said as she moved away to continue making breakfast.

Dick took a deep breath, before beginning to write.

_____

Hi B.

Not sure when you will find this note, but leaving a note makes it so you don’t need to worry. Look I need time to breathe. I’m sure you think that your way of thinking is universal or something, but it’s not. It doesn’t even come close to how I process stuff. So I decided I’m gonna take a few days or weeks for myself to calm down. Please don’t look for me. I plan on returning to the manor but I just need space right now.

Dick Grayson

_____

During Dick’s stay with Marinette, he felt like a spoiled brat. Marinette seemed to always know what to do or say to make him comfortable. She even did gymnastics with him when she deemed his injuries healed enough to do such a physical activity.

When it came time for Dick to go home, he felt bad for not wanting to leave. This random, secret, temple, somewhere in Tibet, felt like more of a home than Wayne manor did sometimes.

Marinette wasn’t too happy about his leaving either, but gave him a necklace with a bluebird sitting on a branch. She claimed that all he had to do was ask the bluebird to bring him home. Wherever he deemed home to be, in other words, the necklace would serve as his way back and forth from the manor to the temple.

While this didn’t seem possible, Dick had already suspected Marinette of being magic, so this was just confirmation to him.

Dick gave Marinette a tight hug.

“Hey, this is only a see you later, not goodbye,” Marinette informed him with a smile.

“I know…” Dick said with a pout.

Marinette smiled at him before making the, go on, gesture.

“Oh! My name is Richard Grayson, by the way.” Dick said before disappearing after the bluebird.

Marinette only chuckled to herself at the boy’s seemingly random idea to tell her his real name.

Upon Dick’s return to the manor, to his surprise, he was greeted with a hug from Bruce and no Talia Al Ghul insight.

Dick froze at the unusual contact from his mentor.

“Uh… Hi?” Dick said quietly, a little confused. He looked to Alfred for help on what to do.

“You were gone for quite a long time, Master Richard. I do believe Master Bruce was worried when he noticed your suit was missing and none of your trackers were working.” Alfred informs him before walking off to presumably make breakfast.

“I… left a note?” Dick tells Bruce, still a bit confused.

Bruce released Dick from the hug with a sigh, unsure what to do next.

“Do you want to spar while we wait for breakfast?” Bruce asked.

“Sure!” Dick lit up with a smile. It’s been a while since he was able to spar with anyone.

[lonely-lost-soul]

Slumber Party

Request 4: C!Ranboo and his best friend just having a calm like self-care sort of night? Like just some fluffy friendly content- maybe the reader playing with his hair? 🥺 I thrive on platonic content so so much

Requested By: Anonymous 

(PLATONIC!Ranboo x Reader) 

I felt like this one was better written in HeadCannon style hope that’s okay!

Marching through the Tundra the snow crunched under your feet, this was the first time you had made the journey out to visit Ranboo. 

You two had been inseparable since he came to the country of New L’manburg, Tubbo had introduced the both of you and you were attached at the hip ever since. You were one of the first names under the best friends category in his memory book and you had a locket with his face inside it labeled best friend. 

So it was only natural that he had made sure you were the first person who had direct permission from Technoblade to be on his property. 

The pigman had warmed up to you surprisingly quickly, mainly because you had brought him a housewarming gift.

(The gift in question was some of your world-famous homemade mashed potatoes)

He took it stiffly and gruffly, turning away from the both of you to walk back towards his house. 

Ranboo rushed to assure you that, that’s what he does when he appreciates something.

You chose to ignore the weird reaction in favor of following Ranboo to his home.

Ranboo’s pets remembered you and it was a joyful reunion between all of them. It ended in many snuggles and pets from both parties. 

Eventually, Ranboo suggested you both move away from the pets and do something more fun. Mainly he wanted to officially show off his new powers to you, keeping them a secret had been immensely challenging.

The both of you sat across from one another on the floor, in front of you he placed a grass block. 

“Ready?”

“Considering I don’t know what you’re doing sure.”

You almost screamed when he broke the grass and it was still...well grass. 

“Do it again! Can you do it to other blocks or just dirt? What else can you pick up?

He couldn’t help but preen at all the praise and you were happy to dish out the compliments. 

Ranboo explained how he went around with Techno to do some little experiments with what he could pick up. 

You could care less about the spawners but the cake was another story. You made him pick it up about five times, eyes sparkling about unlimited cake. 

Finally, to distract you away from the cake he asked how you were doing living with Tubbo in Snowchester.

“The nukes freak me out a little but other than that it’s peaceful. Tubbo and Jack’s shenanigans are super entertaining, I love living by Charlie! His puns make me laugh and he feels like he’s having a permanent mental breakdown. Which is again, very entertaining.” 

Ranboo gave a soft chuckle, “Yeah I mean understandable whenever I visit there’s certainly never a dull moment.”

The only thing that did worry you was how weird Jack Manifold was being around Tommy. There was just a weird vibe you couldn’t quite put your finger on and Ranboo frowned in distaste. He felt it too.

However, today was a good day. No sad or worrying thoughts and certainly no dwelling on business that wasn’t either of your own. 

Ranboo watched your brow crease in worry and immediately wanted to steer your thoughts away from any negativity. 

RANBOO SAYS THERE’S NO SADNESS ALLOWED IN HIS HOUSE UNLESS IT’S HIS OWN

“You wanna braid my hair?” He ended up blurting and watched you blink in surprise your sadness fading away and it was replaced with a look of confusion.

“Is...Is it long enough?” You tilted your head to the side, now officially eyeing his multicolored hair. 

“I don’t know...You wanna try?” 

“Yeah! Totally!” You chirped as he nodded, you both moved to shift into a more comfortable position. He sat in front of you, you could barely see over his shoulder to even reach his hair you had to sit up on your knees. 

“Hold it!” Ranboo paused turning to look over his shoulder, “put a pillow down.” He mama henned you, “you’re gonna bruise your knees.” 

You grabbed a pillow with an eye roll and put it beneath your knees as he instructed.

You gently put your crown off his head and placed it on your own, you began to run your fingers through his hair.

How was it so soft? It’s way softer than yours! That’s not fair! 

Ranboo felt you huff against him, and he smirked to himself but his face immediately melted into a relaxed expression as you ran your fingers through it. 

You began to softly braid the strands of hair, waiting curiously as the stray stands of white and black got intermixed with one another.

You ended up making two small pigtail braids and tying the ends with rubber bands to make them stay in place. You had placed his crown back on his head and smirked proudly. 

He turned to face you and your smirk turned into a proud grin, 

“How’s it looking?”

“You look amazing. I’m amazing, the talent I have is immense.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He declared moving over to look in the mirror, he had to admit you didn’t do a terrible job at all.

He turned back to face you and declared it was your turn for him to play with your hair.

So the both of you switched positions, you sitting comfortably in between his legs as he brushed his fingers through your hair. 

In the end, Ranboo couldn’t figure out how to do anything other than put it in a small ponytail. 

You snickered at his misfortune but assured you loved the new hairstyle and decided you’d wear it for the remainder of the night. 

“You don’t have to.” Ranboo sighed shoulders slumping forward, “your hair will only get tangled-”

“Too late I’m wearing it all night and you can’t stop me.” 

“(Y/n) please.” 

“Never. It’s my new style now, permanent hair doo.” 

“Please no.”

An idea struck you suddenly declaring the both of you make the night a self-care experience

Ranboo had no idea what that meant but decided he’d follow your lead. 

You snickered, he had no idea what he was in for, you told him to give you five minutes and everything would make sense.

Unfortunately due to his Enderman traits, Ranboo would experience the warm water of a pedicure so you’d make due.

You came back arms full of the so-called self-care supplies you’d mentioned earlier.

The first thing you declared that you were going to paint his nails, you demanded he picks the colors he wanted and he hesitantly picked out a soft red color.

You painted his claws swiftly, he adored it immediately seeing the first nail completed. 

Once all of his nails were finished he held his hands out and wiggled his fingers, his eyes lighting up in childlike wonder.

“Let’s do more self-care. Right now!” 

You laughed happily and promised him there was more to come, and not to worry.

Eventually, the sun began to set over the hills and both of you were clad in a face mask, cucumbers sitting atop both your eyes.

You were sipping a strawberry smoothie, and Ranboo was sipping on peanut butter and banana. 

“Can we get Tubbo in on this next time? He seems like he needs it.” Ranboo asked suddenly a cucumber sliding off his eye to stare at you. You looked back at him with a hum,

“Absolutely. Maybe Tommy can come too.” 

“This is why you’re the smart friend.” He complimented, “Although we couldn’t have it here for reasons that look like a half pigman.” 

“That’s alright my house is big enough to fit everyone. Plus I have more self-care stuff there anyway.” You turned to face him this time popping off the cucumbers on your own eyes yourself, 

“I’ll tell Tubbo and you find Tommy?” Ranboo hummed, “Does next weekend work for you?”

“I do nothing like all the time so yes. It works.” 

“How do you stay away from everything, all the drama, and the fighting?”

“I only talk to like three people,” You let out a small laugh rubbing the back of your neck, “Can’t get into drama and wars when you’re barely noticed.” Ranboo frowned a little nudging you with his arm, 

“First of all, you are noticed. Whenever I gush about you everyone knows who I’m talking about,” He watched you flush a little at the inclination that he talks about you, “Second I will not have my friends talking bad about themselves or they’ll have to fight me.” You gave a little laugh and Ranboo held up his fists, “I’m gonna fight those negative thoughts.”

“My hero,” You cooed holding your hands to your chest and he smiled fondly at you. 

“Plus staying drama and war-free means you’re safe and that’s what’s important.”

“But I want you safe too.” 

“I… trust me.” He lied and you could tell there was something he wasn’t telling you but you knew Ranboo and it wasn’t good to press the boy, so for now...you let it go.

“You know I do, always will Boo.” You rest your head on his shoulder and he let you snuggle up close to him, he rested his chin on top of your hair. “Just don’t get hurt okay, I need you in my life.”

“I don’t plan on leaving you behind. Don’t worry.” Ranboo promised and watched as you held out your pinky towards him. 

“Pinky promise,” you whispered and he melted, 

“Promise.” He interlocked his long pinky finger with your own, from that moment on he knew he had made the right choice to join the Syndicate. He wanted to protect you, and being apart of the Syndicate would certainly allow him to do so, he had to fight to protect the ones he loved. Tubbo, Micheal, and you...he’d go against the world for them, even with his memory problems and his Enderwalking his only goal was to protect his friends, and that’s what he was going to do even if it killed him.

[whump-town]

The Blood That Haunts Me

post-scratch fic

no pairings

Hotch has a bad heart

word count 6k

In Savannah Hayes’ experience, Saturday’s are typically for parents with screaming toddlers looking for emergency medicine to soothe their fears about whatever toy their child has shoved up their nose or to ask an aged nurse what to do with this croup that just won’t go away. It’s scrapes and bruises from a fender bender with kids just learning to drive and roughly two to three broken arms from seven-year-olds learning to ride a bike without training wheels. With any luck, there will be only one underage kid in a banana bag and the college kids will be in and out for stitches and gone as quickly as they come. There’s always the regulars - older men and women that buzz with the opportunity to be out of their houses even if it’s to withstand the pain of stitches and staples on their thin skin.

Rarely has Savannah faced a Saturday where she knew someone being pulled into her emergency room. Virginia isn’t the biggest place but her friends are young and healthy and Saturdays are for squirmy children and stupid teenagers. When she sees him with his ankles stretched out over the end of the stretcher and a large hand weakly fighting with the paramedic to hold the oxygen mask over her face she’s certain of his identity. She’s good with faces and his is unmistakable.

“You shouldn’t be on break yet, baby.” Derek picks up on the first ring, the sound of Hank babbling loudly in the background making him chuckle deeply as he moves. The phone pinched between his shoulder and cheek, she can hear him pick up their son. Talking back to the baby.

Savannah is sitting in the emergency room, camped out behind the desk as she catalogs patient information. Despite it being a Saturday, the hospital is startlingly pretty timid (knock on wood). When there is a new patient the clatter is noticed. So when Hotch came in, supine but weakly fighting against the oxygen mask pulled down over his mouth, Savannah noticed. Even drugged and combative, he’s distinctly himself.

And as Savannah tells Derek, describes the man she’s quite fond of, he doesn’t believe her. Hotch doesn’t go to the hospital and no one’s heard from him in forever, he’s probably not even in Virginia. Garcia said Jack started high school last fall and if they were home and situated again with no contact then… Well, what are they supposed to do? “Derek--” Savannah can hear the pitch change in his voice. Derek goes from dismissive to genuinely worried and now pulling at strings because no one has talked to Hotch in months (nearly two years) and the idea of seeing him now is terrifying. “I am positive that it’s Hotch.” She leans around the monitor, frowning as she watches some nurses she knows buzz around him. Throwing out words she can’t make out entirely but she can see what they’re doing and it makes her heart jump a little to hear medications that they put orders out for.

Hotch makes a noise - it has to be loud for her to hear it from the distance she’s at. “Baby,” she stands and it makes her heart do a weird clenching thing when she catches a glimpse at his face. Sees that he’s crying and clearly upset. “Derek, he’s getting all kinds of agitated. I’m gonna call you back in a second, okay?” She doesn’t wait for an answer and tosses her phone down on her chair before calling out for one of the nurses she recognizes with a wave.

The nurse smiles when she sees Savannah - she’s got a particular gift with patients like Hotch.

“I know this one,” Savannah says, approaching the bed. “What have you got?”

Savannah doesn’t have all the details on the accident that occurred in 2009 with George Foyet. It’s not Derek’s story to tell and it’s not exactly the easiest one to bring into conversation. She’s aware of vague things like his collapse a few years later from scar tissue that caused him to bleed internally and that Hotch's ex-wife was killed by a serial killer. Mostly, she knows that Hotch is dependable and secure and that when he went into witness protection nearly two years ago his absence had crushed them all. Even if the likes of Emily Prentiss and her just as stubborn as hell husband would never admit it.

“Mild tachycardia and respiratory depression -” The nurse tells her about Hotch’s underactive thyroid, something he’s supposed to take medication for ever since the stabbing damaged the organs function. How it’s throwing his heart into tachycardia and it’s getting worse, not responding to medicine yet.

Savannah may not know what happened with George Foyet but she knows Derek regards Hotch as this infallible wall of a man. One she’s come to understand he thinks can’t ever fall down and one that, despite how fondly he’ll speak about him, annoys the hell out of him. Personally, Savannah thinks Aaron Hotchner is just a sweet man. She likes him and his little quirks. He’s quite the odd pairing when he gets together with Emily and Dave but they’re a funny crowd.

What she isn’t expecting is the mess of scars littering his chest. Experience allows her to date some of them by sight - their distinct shape and coloration clustering them into the same time frame and she can’t imagine how someone gets over half a dozen wounds like that at once. They don’t end there. On his right side, there’s a nearly faded out of existence scar from a chest tube. A puncture wound- something blunt she’d assumed by way of its roundness. Even a few rougher-looking, jagged scars that she assumes are shrapnel because Derek has nearly identical ones.

Savannah is a few moments too late to prevent Hotch from being pulled down by a sedative but he’s fighting it, blinking slowly to try and remain awake. “Hey,” she greets softly, turning his wrist over so she can see IV sight in his elbow. It’s secure and there’s nothing special to note but it’s going to bruise. “Long time no see Agent Hotchner.” She squeezes his fingers, smiling at the recognition behind his eyes even if his lips only form a silent mouthed version of her name.

With a smile - remembering the first time they met and how gently he’d taken her hand before shaking his head and admonishing “everyone calls me Hotch” - she reaches down and fixes his hair. He’s let it grow out since he left the BAU. Derek had been livid when he got word that Hotch wasn’t coming back despite the fact that he too left the unit. “How are you feeling, Hotch? Can I call someone?”

His eyes slide shut and for a moment she thinks he’s given in, sunk down low where his pain and his ailments can’t get him. He taps a finger against her palm and she understands he’s still here. “Morgan?” he rasps.

She nods, “Derek already knows you’re here. I imagine he’ll have the whole crew here in no time.” He grimaces, cracking an eye open to give her a look she understands entirely. She’s only ever faced their smothering worry once when Hank was born but she knows it’s a lot. It’s hard to imagine they’re going to somehow be less present and attuned with him than they with her. He’s not looking forward to that and it’s understandable. “Don’t worry,” she promises, “I’ll have your back when they get here.”

He nods, dull eyes sinking back under his eyelids. She holds his hand until she’s certain he’s fallen asleep.

“So,” the nurse asks softly. She moves and tubes and wires around so that they’re not laying against his bare skin. Folding the blankets over Hotch’s hips and leaving his chest bare. He’s still tachycardic, breathing laboriously through inflamed lungs. “How do you know this guy?”

Savannah sits down on the edge of the bed, taking Hotch’s hand into her own. Working her thumb in gentle, hypnotic motions between his knuckles and smiling sadly at the relieved rasping sigh that leaves his parted pale lips. “Family,” she answers because she’s not sure what the answer really is but in some way… yeah, family.

The nurse nods, going about what needs to be done while Savannah stays on the edge of the bed. She does what she can until she clears her throat. “Hey,” the nurse smiles, sympathetic to the soft faraway look in Savannah’s eyes. “Doctor Hamilton admitted him so I need to take him up to the--”

Savannah stands immediately, nodding. “Yeah,” she lays his hand back down on his chest. Stepping away from the bed, “sorry.” She shakes her head, stepping back as the brakes come up and he’s set into motion. “Second floor?” Savannah assumes.

The nurse nods, “he’ll be in room one seventeen. I’ll let the desk know he’s one of yours.”

Savannah watches him disappear down the hall, met at the mouth of the hall by other nurses and staff nodding as they take him to the right floor. She’d been there long enough to see his heart monitor and to identify the ventricular tachycardia plaguing him. He’ll likely need a pacemaker and she’s already racing to a solution. He’ll need to be monitored after surgery but can go home. Hank’s a little too small still but they have the guest room. If Derek cleans up the mess he lets Hank make in there--

Savannah’s heart sinks to the floor and she turns around. Hit with the sudden memory of the last event she saw Hotch at and remembers slowly that Hotch has a son and someone needs to find him.

All morning something had been off, Hotch didn’t have to say it for Jack to know. The oatmeal was made oddly, Hotch’s hands trembling so much he’d gotten the measurements wrong. Too much brown sugar but Jack hadn’t seemed to mind it being too sweet. He’d been distracted by his oatmeal and unalarmed by signs he hasn’t learned to be aware of. If Hotch had gotten up late or made breakfast and then laid down on the couch then Jack would have noticed. Bad days come frequently and like most storms look and sound distinct.

High anxiety days are an early rise, the sound of lights being turned on and off as Hotch fails to get comfortable in any room. Coming out of his room and finding his father curled up on the couch. His knees drawn up and a pillow pressed into his chest, a heated blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon. It’s lightly tiptoeing around the house so Hotch stays asleep and avoids him once he does move and allows his aching back to stretch out. Jack knows to keep his music down and to call Jessica if Hotch locks himself away.

Though time has dampened it’s severity it’s not impossible to find his father trying to work through untreated PTSD or ride out an intense wave of depression. Leaving him immobile or desperate for a distraction. Jack knows those things. He understands them and, like the blasting siren that screams out before a tornado, Jack knows when to duck for cover and ride out the storm.

But Jack had no idea what a heart attack would look like. What to expect or even if a heart attack had been what he’d seen.

Hands over his ears, Jack Hotchner sinks into the emotionless walls surrounding him. Trying to find the place past his body where everything ceases to exist. Insistently, against his will, he’s pulled back to a decade ago. To the sound of gunshots tearing through the only home he’d ever known. To Emily wiping his tears away with the palm of her hand, their backs to the carnage his father created in the fall. To a hospital not unlike this one where his father was patched up - open wounds covered and drugs numbing his rough edges - until Jack had finally been able to see him. The feeling of his father’s chest, broad and forever, solid as he’d curled his legs into his lap. His father cried softly as he explained what happened, what he’d done.

“Mommy isn’t coming home, buddy.”

Pinching his eyes shut, Jack rocks himself back and forth. He can’t go there. Not alone. He can’t go back to Foyet. He’s too old for those silly games. Too old for nightmares and monsters hiding under his bed. Unaware of the ones still crawling out of his father’s closet, wrapping their cold fingers around his ankle and threatening to pull him into the darkness with them.

You’re never too old for monsters.

Spencer had found the time to confide in Jack about being raised by a mentally ill single mother. His intent was to demonstrate to Jack that not only did he understand the pre-teens intense fury with his father but that the emotions would abate and Jack would have only a few moments to decide what to do next. How Spencer had turned eighteen and had to have his mother committed to an institution. A decision that haunted him but that he ultimately understood it was simply the only option. One day, Spencer clarified, Jack would understand the way his father worked.

Until that moment, Jack had been more or less paying attention. When it came to all things Uncle Spence, Jack typically has a longer attention span and all the patience in the world but the moment Jack realizes this was a one-on-one sort of deal he was done. He wanted out. But Reid stuttered. That one day, and the words had come out so quickly if he’d had a chance Reid would have stopped them, Jack would realize just what that meant. He’d look at his father and all the magic of his childish love would fall away and Jack would be left with his father’s bare bones. And it would be terrifying but, often, that’s all love is: all the bits bleached down to their true forms.

He gets it now, okay? The nutty academic parent with bouts of deep depression, an obsession with their jobs, and no idea how to say I love you like everyone else. He gets the comparison now. Can he be done? He wants to go home. He’s done learning this stupid lesson about love or whatever bullshit this is supposed to represent. When does it end? It’s going to end, right?

Derek Morgan falters in the doorway, stalled like an engine as he stands at the edge of the messy room. Hank hums in Derek’s left ear, bouncing his foot against Derek’s hip as he stands stationary and trying to wrap his head around everything happening. It’s overwhelming. Derek hasn’t seen Hotch in two years and if the sight of him alone - laid out right here - doesn’t bring its own intense wave of anger and longing then the sight of his uncovered chest is it’s own thing as well.

Hotch is on the bed, curled slightly to his right with the blankets leaving his pale chilled skin open. Even with his face turned into the pillow behind his head, he looks deathly pale in comparison to the white bedspread. Entirely too limp, too still as he lays there pulling in breaths audible over the hiss of the canal running under his nose. Nearly drowned out, consumed by the natural hums of the hospital and constant motion of the monitors to his left and the dissatisfied beep of the blood-pressure cuff around his right arm.

Savannah warned him of what he’d find once he got inside in case she got called away to a patient when he got there. She told him the buzz around the staff, what Hotch’s cardiologist thought and it stung to hear her warn him ahead of time what Hotch looked like, worse, she imagined, than what Derek was imaging. Weaker, she’d said as if the word was some sort of betrayal. He’s weak and Derek can’t push him and he’d wanted to advocate for himself but he couldn’t.

With tears in his eyes, he’d promised to be on his best behavior and Derek realized just how awful he and Hotch could be towards one another. How everyone sees it. He’d wondered if… Well, if Hotch hated him for it. They’d been close once. Partners. Haley used to joke she half expected he’d steal Aaron away from her. That old joke used to make Jason laugh so hard, the two of them together were the cause of all his worry and stress. Now…

Well, now Derek is standing in a room that can’t be more than a 120-foot space with far too much equipment in it feeling like he’s never been so far away from Hotch. So disconnected.

Hotch makes a soft sound from the bed, twitching his nose and flexing his fingers. There are more drugs than blood in him, keeping him weak and tired and unable to pick apart his surroundings. Hazy eyes blink open, peeled apart like they each weigh twenty pounds, and the simple act of keeping them open burns. He can’t make out the world around him very well but he sees the empty chairs on his left and the expanse of white all around. The hospital, he knows, and no one showed up.

Maybe they finally got wise and are leaving him to his own devices. Leaving him to rot where he won’t be missed. Sinking into the fibers of the bed and disappearing. They’ll stop pumping him so full of drugs and just let him wilt away. He wants it, craves the nothing he knows he’ll find. No masks or deception or this anger he feels burning and rearing its ugly head. Just nothing.

Derek steps into the room, sniffling to draw in some noise before he steps into Hotch’s line of sight. Hoping not to startle him, as he clears his throat, meeting Hotch’s gaze for only a moment looking down at his shoes. “Just me and Hank,” he offers. He tucks his hands into his pockets. He can feel Hotch still looking at him, hearing those painstakingly slow, labored breaths. He wishes he hadn’t come. To escape all this restless vulnerability.

Hotch’s eyes sink back shut, pale lips parting to mumbling, “Derek,” under his breath. Savannah told him Hotch wouldn’t even likely know he was there. The drugs are affecting his mental facilities, sedating him to keep him calm while they run tests. When he can remember what’s happening he’s scared and when he can’t… he has a baseline memory that hardly differentiates friend from foe. It’s the latter of which Savannah needs him to be aware of because Hotch’s heart can’t handle the stress. His mind is too clouded and his body too weak, he just needs someone to hold his hand. Someone to distract him.

Derek’s expecting a conversation. For Hotch to say something. To apologize for running off or to pay Hank some sort of mind. There’s not even a stiff silence, Hotch looks so weak, so pliant Derek isn’t sure he can even speak. He realizes that despite all the hefty warnings, despite everything that he was told he still walked into this room expecting Aaron Hotchner. He wanted, he needed the man in the suit, with that stern scowl, and gravelly voice. He’d needed the mask and instead he got the man. The man without the armor, just blood.

And it scares him.

It scares Derek that Hotch can’t put up his shields, that he can’t hide and play their cat and mouse game of anger and misunderstanding. They only have blind defeat.

Derek sits down in the visitor’s chair, shushing Hank when he squirms with agitation. Hank immediately starts touching everything in sight. Reaching and leaning dangerously out of Morgan’s lap, to touch the bed and smack his hand against the rail. A sound that makes Hotch’s eyes peel open to slivers before they shut again, unbothered. “Don’t touch that,” Derek pulls Hank into his lap, redirecting his attention.

He knows, from the low whine Hank lets out, that this isn’t going to work for very long. Mercifully, there’s a knock at the door and Savannah peeks her head in. Waving at Hank who fights his limbs out of Derek’s hold to be placed on the floor so he can propel his body in the direction of his mother.

“Hello baby,” Savannah scoops him right up. Grinning at that way he toddles, that quick toddler pace because he doesn’t know how to pump the brakes. How to set himself into motion that isn’t just guided by leaning forward and running.

Derek stands from his chair, clearing his throat and glancing down at Hotch before looking back to his wife and son.

Savannah can see his hesitation, his worry. “Why don’t we go to the cafeteria and get a snack? Hmm?” She jogs Hank up in her arms and he brightens at the offering - knowing pudding or a cookie is coming his way. “Derek?” She offers out her hand to him, “come on. I’ll explain everything to you downstairs.”

“Ugh--” all he can see is Hotch shivering. His skin slick with sweat from the strain on his body but the way he’s curled into the side. Trying to produce warmth where it isn’t. “Just give me a second.” Derek knows he can’t just throw the blanket over Hotch and he works himself up, gets upset just thinking about the mass of awful scars keeping his friend held together. All the old scars are bare for anyone and everyone to see. If Hotch had the presence of mind for it, he’d be upset.

With a gentleness born with great amounts of stress, Derek gently works the lower half of the blanket over Hotch’s leg. He folds the lower half over and hesitates, stares at Hotch, and wonders just how much he’s allowed. Hotch is cold and Derek knows that means his arms too but that crosses their line. They’re never spoken out loud, only shot through glances about trust and touch but Hotch is asleep or maybe lost to his haze of drugs (and Derek’s not really sure if there’s a difference between those two things). So, he picks up Hotch’s hand, swallowing against the uncomfortable swell of his throat when he feels just how cold the other man’s skin is. He tucks Hotch’s hand carefully against his chest.

Hotch’s face twitches, a grimace that makes him jerk his head but he doesn’t move his hand so Derek leaves it. Carefully, still watching and waiting for some explosive reaction but none come. Derek turns the heated blanket up to the highest setting, making sure even Hotch’s shoulders are covered. Tucking the blanket just under his chin.

Hotch groans from the back of his throat, a startling noise that comes with blinding panic. His eyes fly open, darting around the room and to Derek but not seeing. Derek can’t tell if it’s pain or fear but the machine over his shoulder picks up pace, reflecting Hotch’s distress. Hotch swallows thickly, mouth opening and eyes flicking around the room. Twisting, fighting his body in a futile battle where he loses no matter the outcome. Kicking out and dislodging blankets as he’s blinded by his pain.

“Step back Derek.” Derek just stands there, frozen. Savannah grabs him by the arm and pulls him back, allowing other people to come into the room. “He’s okay,” she mumbles, eyes glued to Hotch. He’s fighting blindly, anything and everything. His heart can’t take it, her eyes flick from his bare skin to the monitors. To the staff also taking note. “Derek, we can’t be in here.”

They pull the crash cart close, preparing vials of medicine before their eyes.

“What’re they--” Derek can’t move. He stands there watching them move blankets out of the way. Listening as they pull open a drawer and settle a machine on top and he knows what it is. Doesn’t need to be told what’s happening next. “Savannah.” He stumbles back, shaking his head. The machine wines, a high-pitched squeal that makes Derek’s heart pick up.

He doesn’t see, doesn’t watch.

He’s standing in the hall when the machine fires off. Can close his eyes but can’t unhear the sound of Hotch’s low groan, a punched-out sound but he’s alive. Still pulling in breaths.

“Morgan?”

He was still a baby the last time Morgan saw him. Quickly trying to climb to his father’s height but every bit as graceful as a colt, and angry. Angry with his father for falling into this same repeated history and questioning what he knew. How much of his father’s strength is something else? What does he really know about the man who raised him? Because he got himself a chunk of history, started to understand the man he’d always blindly turned to. His hero. Instead, he got glimpses, stories about the boy his mother knew and he could no longer recognize him.

But standing here now is a whole teenager. Blonde hair grown out and even taller, built unmistakably like his father with all height in his legs and pale.

“Jack.” Morgan stumbles back when Jack collides into him, long arms wrapping around him. “Oh my God,” he whispers. “When the hell did you get so big?” He’s standing there, a whole armful of the kid he used to give piggyback rides to.

Jack pulls away and wipes his eyes, furiously wipes his eyes so that Morgan can unsee the tears streaming down his face. “My-- My dad,” he asks. “Did you see him?” Jack looks at the room, alerted by the sounds coming from within, but Morgan steps in the way. “Morgan is he-- is he in there?” Jack worms his way out of Morgan’s arms, a whole tangle of long limbs.

Hotch would be proud to know Jack is exactly like him, real scrappy. A lot of fight for such a lanky person.

“Jack,” Morgan pulls him away from the door. Despite how much he wants to go to Hotch too, that’s not where Jack should be. That’s not what Jack should see. “Come on, kid. We can’t go in there. Come on.” The fight leaves him easily enough, he’s really just a kid standing there looking for someone to tell him what to do. Anyone to point him where he’s supposed to be.

Jack still wants to turn, as if pulled by strings.

“I called Rossi,” Morgan offers. Something to distract him, something good. “Everyone else? Reid and Garcia and Emily? They’re on their way, okay?” And even with loaded promises Jack can’t find the nerve to respond. Their names used to be a solace. Someone to call when he needs help with his math homework. To show up with books on whatever cool thing he’s into this week. His family.

People he hasn’t seen in forever.

They do come.

Hank’s ambling about, babbling to Morgan as he pulls his father around the waiting room. It’s his excited squeal that alerts them to the other’s arrival. To Reid holding the door open so the others can pass. The pile-up that happens, shocked inhales and silence as they stand there and look at the carnage. At Jack’s tear-stained face and Morgan going where Hank pulls but empty, fearful.

“Uncle Dave?” Jack stands up, wiping at his face with the back of his hand.

Dave smiles, “hey kiddo.” He doesn’t argue against the armful of Jack he gets, just closes him up. “Christ,” Dave whispers. “You’re a giant.”

“What is he feeding you?” Jack turns around and finds Emily and all she can do is laugh as he hugs her too. Finds herself all wrapped up in his long arms. “I’m going to give him a piece of my mind,” she whispers, “letting you get so big.” She squeezes him tight, cups the back of his head.

There’s not much more time for reunions, never much time for anything.

“Aaron Hotchner?”

Never get used to this part either. The sitting. The waiting. The calling.

Savannah was right about the tachycardia.

“With your permission - ” and it’s important that detail be added. That Hotch can’t make this decision for himself anymore and it’s resting entirely on the shoulders of Jessica or Dave and Emily alternatively. That doesn’t mean it’s not like a kick to the gut. A cruel taunt. “We would like to prepare him for the surgery now while he’s stable.” Stable? Is that what he is? Laying back there with defibrillator pads on his chest and sedated to the point that Morgan wasn’t sure Hotch could even recognize him.

Jack sniffles, ducking his head and whispering to Emily. Attached to her hip, clinging to her. She shakes her head and brushes his hair back, “it doesn’t work like that, Jack.” Jack’s lower lip trembles and it breaks Emily’s heart so she interrupts the doctors. Despite the voice at the back of her head telling her this isn’t a good idea. Despite the sour twist in her stomach. The way she knows Hotch wouldn’t want this. “I know there are strict rules,” and that alone should be enough to know they’re likely to be shot down. “Is there any chance he can go back before the surgery? This is his son, he’s fifteen. He’ll be sixteen soon. You’re hardly breaking the rules at all.”

Soon is a bit of a stretch. Jack’s an October baby.

The doctor looks at Jack and sighs like this is really putting him off but nods. “Yeah, quickly. Five minutes, do you understand? You can’t be back there long,”

And Jack thinks he’s won something grand. That he’ll be faced with the same mirage Morgan was expecting. His dad will be sitting back there tall and strong, probably just tired like he’s sick. But he takes one step into the room and wishes he hadn’t come. Hadn’t asked.

They haven’t removed the defibrillator pads on his chest just pulled a blanket over his stomach but that only minimally covers the damage. There are still visibly warped bullet wounds and jagged surgical scars to be seen. But Dave has seen all that. He’d been there to watch the blood spray out when the scar on Hotch’s shoulder took place. Shouted as the gunshot sprayed out and Hotch grunted, being sent back into the wall behind him. But that was… God, that was a lifetime ago when Hotch was just a kid.

Dave turns behind him and sees Jack frozen in the doorway, eyes wide. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Jack nods but he can hardly move, can’t force himself to move further into the room. He’s seen his father shirtless, not enough times to really gather anything but he’s seen the damage of years of this job has caused. But this is different. Jack isn’t six, isn’t watching him shave. He’s standing there watching him pull in laborious breaths, struggling to keep living.

“You know,” Rossi sits down in the visitor’s chair. “When you were born he cried so hard that Gideon had to call me.” He looks back at Jack, watching his face for some inclination that he’s going to either come into the room or run away. “Haley was exhausted but… She was beautiful, always was. No matter if she was showing up at the office to haul your father home by the ear in her pajamas or crying her make-up off in the waiting room waiting for your knucklehead father to get out of surgery.”

But he’s missed the point.

He chances a glance to Hotch, watching his pale face twist in discomfort. “You were born at eleven at night and by that point I was already in bed and done for the night by ten kind of guy.” He can still remember sighing and almost ignoring his phone when it had gone off. “I got to the hospital and your dad was sitting on the floor just outside the room, sobbing so hard I thought he’d pass out.” It’s still pretty surprising he didn’t pass out. “Didn’t think he could do it. You were so small, small, and pink and screaming your little head off.”

Jack huffs, smiling as he kicks at the ground. Looking everywhere but his father or Dave.

“But I picked him up,” grabbed him by his shirt and forced him to his feet. Managing the tough love Gideon couldn’t bring himself to enforce. “I don’t think he stopped crying until he fell asleep. Just sitting there with you in his arms crying.” Rossi sighs shakes his head. “Honestly, you were tiny. Had a-- Had a thing with your heart and…” Rossi had held Jack after Hotch and Haley finally managed to catch some sleep. A nurse had figured he or Gideon one had to be a grandfather, why else would they be there? They’d sat there with Jack for about an hour just gushing over how small and cute he was. Trying to keep the baby content so Haley could get some sleep.

Drowsily his voice cuts through the silence, nothing but a ghost of a whisper. “An atrial septal defect.” It’s all he can manage but it’s enough to get their attention. Jack had been born with an atrial septal defect and they knew about it in advance just after Haley’s pregnancy got tricky. It was just a tiny little hole in his atrium, closed before he was a whole year old. That doesn’t mean it didn’t scare the hell out of them first. Leave them to check his bassinet every few hours. To make sure he was okay, still breathing.

“The doctor said I shouldn’t play soccer because of it.” Jack manages a few steps and comes to the very end of the bed. His fingers just barely touching the bed frame. “But you let me play anyways.”

Hotch clears his throat, shakes his head. “I didn’t. Jessica did.” He grimaces, shifting uselessly to find a position that doesn’t hurt. “Said-- She said if you were anything like me you’d find a way.” He’s talked himself breathless, gasping and fighting to breathe. “Might as well-- Might as well make it easy on myself. Just let you do it.” So he had. He signed Jack up for soccer despite his own fears and went to every match he could. Every practice. Until he was the only parent paying attention.

He coughs softly, setting off a weight and ache in his lungs. “Jessica--” he cuts himself off, coughing until he holds his breath and fists the sheets in his hand to keep from still.

Jack looks away, fixes his eyes on the floor.

Dave calls it. Hotch won’t admit he’s not okay and Dave would venture Jack has that same stubborn-streak, doesn’t want to think that Hotch isn’t okay.

“Come on,” Dave motions for Jack to follow him. “Times up, better get out of here before they kick us out.” Five or so minutes, that’s all they had and that’s passed. “You’ll be fine,” Dave promises.

He struggles to get his breath, to say something coherent. “Wait,” he grabs Dave’s shirt. Hospitals are so cold, they’re scary and miserable and he doesn’t want to be here. He wants to go home. “I’m sorry,” he manages. “I’m sorry.”

Dave pulls Jack on, can’t leave him behind, and can’t stay any longer.

“What did he mean?” Jack asks. He keeps looking back, looking over his shoulder to the room. “Why’d he say that?” He has to run to keep up with Dave’s pace. “Dave, please. Why’d he say he was sorry?”

Dave stops and just stands for a moment, looking at the hall before them. “He’s scared,” Dave answers, finally. “He’s just scared, that’s all.”

He doesn't think he’s going to make it. That’s the horrible ugly truth. That’s why he apologized. Just in case.

“Come on,” Dave holds out his arm. Smiles a smile that doesn't even try to make it to his eyes and wraps an arm around Jack. “It’s going to be okay. You know that?”

Jack looks back over his shoulder once more, to the room. He doesn’t buy it for a second but he nods anyway. “Course,” he answers.

“Good. That’s good.”

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Hope you'll write more Lucian/10th Doctor, they're fun!

Here's a little something of them for you, anon!

I also got another ask, wanting some hurt/comfort with a ship of my choice, so I'm mixing these two asks together for that.

On with the fic!

--

"Sir?" Said one of the guards around the outside of Castle Corvinus, catching Lucian's attention.

"Yes, what is it?" He asked, really not in the mood for anything tonight, it was just one of those sort of evenings and he would rather be alone.

"We found someone trying to break in, he claims to know you."

This brought Lucian pause. "What does he look like? Did he say his name?"

"He looks human, doesn't... smell quite right. He's dressed strangely as well, and claims to be called the Doctor? Do you know anything about that?"

Lucian nodded and moved past the guard, heading for the gates, he was sure that his unexpected guest was probably there. And yes, he was, being help by two lycan soldiers, struggling to get out of their grip.

The Doctor stopped his struggling when he spotted Lucian and seemed to get very excited. "Lucian! Hey! Can you tell your friends to let me go, I think I'm gonna end up with some bruises, and I bruise like a banana!"

Lucian looked at the two men and nodded. "Let him go, he's a friend of mine, he's alright."

They released the Doctor, who stumbled, almost falling on his face. He pouted, dusting himself off, before turning to the lycan leader. "I probably should have sent word first, yes?"

"I think that would have been your best option." Lucian said, a bit amused. He motioned for the Doctor to follow him into the courtyard, the man following close to him. "What brings you here? Last I saw of you, it was when we were preparing for the invasion."

That had been a very unexpected visit, being pulled aside by the Doctor and warned to watch his back, to be careful, and that he should still keep his guard up, even after everything is said and done. The Doctor always spoke like that, like he knew something before it would happen.

"Came to check on you, see how you were doing! It's been... three years?" He licked his lips. "Yep, three years, five months, four days."

"How do you do that?" Lucian chuckled.

"I have my ways." The Doctor grinned, gently bumping Lucian with his shoulder before they walked over to where Lucian's work station was. It still stood, intact, and clearly was still being used since there was a fire still burning.

"You still make your own weapons." He commented, taking a seat on a chair set up inside as Lucian pulled curtains around them, preventing others from looking in. As if any of his pack would bother him, they knew better, but it didn't hurt to have some privacy in his work station.

"I enjoy it, doing work for myself rather than for the vampires." Lucian said before standing before the Doctor. "It gives me something to do."

"I understand that, I like to keep busy too." The man replied before tugging on the ends of Lucian's vest, a request.

He was more than happy to respond with what the Doctor silently asked for. He leaned down, kissing the strange man gently. He felt a tongue lick against his lips, hands going for his hair, tangling long fingers in thick locks, while Lucian gripped onto the Doctor's arms, desperate for this.

It... it still hurt, what happened just years ago, but there was one lover left, one who was safe. Sonja was not forgotten, not at all, she was still so very much alive in his heart, and in Lucian's ambitions to do what they has wanted, to unite their species.

His heart still weeps for her, every day, but there was the Doctor, the strange man who had also made a place in his heart. He could never understand it, it was almost like he had grown up with this man as well as her, even though the Doctor never aged, never changed.

"Lucian..." The Doctor pulled back, touching his cheeks. "You're crying."

"I'm sorry..." Lucian sighed and the Doctor kissed his forehead.

"No, I get it, I... I know how much it hurts to lose someone who means so much to you. I can never have..." The Doctor stopped, there was such an ache in his voice. "She's gone too, but we have each other."

"You'll leave again."

"I always come back."

"Why can't you stay?"

"Because I'll hurt you worse if I stay, and you have so much you have in your life to do, but I'll always be there." He pulled Lucian close, running his hand up and down the lycan's back.

Lucian sighed, closing his eyes. He hated to cry, especially in front of others, but he was alone with the Doctor, and he trusted this man so much, only he could see this moment of rawness.

"Let me come with you." He said softly by the Doctor's ear. "Let me travel with you."

"You wouldn't like it." The Doctor said as softly. "You need to be with your pack."

"One trip. You always talk about how you'd like to show me places, show me how you travel the world, the stars."

There was a small laugh from the other man, and he held Lucian closer. "I will, I know I will, but right now, you need to take care of your people."

He kissed the side of Lucian's head. "I'll let you know when I can show you the stars."

"I'll be waiting." Lucian replied as he pulled back, rubbing at his face.

The Doctor smiled at him. "I know. So!" He slapped at his thighs. "Distraction! Care to let me try using your blacksmith equipment?"

"As long as you don't make something explode again."

"It was once! Once! And it wasn't even here, I told you, I tried it on a star!"

[fellowbrock]

Gone Wrong-Colby Brock

summary: requested by a very kind anon!! “Hi! Can you please do an imagine where the reader is Colby’s girlfriend and he’s really protective over her and one of the roommates plays a prank on her, but it goes wrong and she gets hurt and Colby gets really mad at them. Can you make it really sweet and fluffy at the end please? Thank you!” 

masterlist

Being around the trap boys most of the time, you became accustomed to their antics. It wasn’t a normal day around the four of them if there wasn’t some kind of prank, party, or some sort of insane video being filmed. There was always something new going on at the house and it was honestly one of your favourite parts about seeing them all the time. There was never a dull moment. 

Since the boys have moved into their new house their energy has been mainly focused on getting it presentable and finished. You always loved hanging around them and had a great relationship with each of the boys in a different way. Since he’s your boyfriend, obviously you’ve always been closest with Colby. He’s your dream guy to an absolute T. Colby has always been so protective of you, making sure you always enjoyed yourself and that you were safe. He always gushes about how much the other three boys love you. You spent a lot of your time at the trap house and it made you feel so much more comfortable that the boys enjoyed your company. You felt like one of the guys around the four of them, but you also loved the trap girls to death as well. 

Colby was always super protective of you, never letting any harm come your way. He steered you clear of prank wars, and people that weren’t positive to be around. Never in a million years did you think the boys would do or say anything bad against you. That was until a specific day. 

You were upstairs with Colby, curled up in bed, head laying on his chest as you both watched one of your favourite shows. Colby was running his hands through your hair and you were completely engrossed in the show until you had received a text from Sam, telling you the postmates the group of you had ordered had arrived. As you moved to get up, Colby pulled you closer. 

“Don’t goooo,” He whined, dragging his words out. You giggled and ran a hand through his hair. 

“I have to go get our food bub, it’ll get cold.” you replied, prying his arms off you. He sighed dramatically and looked up at you. 

“We have a microwave, just stay.” You laughed at his neediness and continued to laugh as his stomach began to growl. 

“Clearly you want the food.” You shook you head in amusement and kissed his cheek, heading downstairs. As you walked towards the kitchen you could hear the other three boys deep in conversation. You didn’t think anything of it, but stopped when you heard your name fall from their lips. 

“Yeah, y/n is here a lot.” You heard Corey say, to which Jake replied with, “It’s kinda annoying, like god give Colby a break.” You inhaled sharply as Sam and Corey hummed in agreement, and Sam proceeded to say, “Sometimes i don’t know what he sees in her.” That was the breaking point in you. Instead of fleeing upstairs to Colby, you fought back tears and marched straight to the kitchen, fuming. As you entered the kitchen, your feet moving faster than your mind, you not only tripped on an empty white claw but also ran into clear tape running from one side of the entrance of the kitchen to the other. In that moment you looked like you were in a cartoon, slipping on a banana peel. You slammed into the floor, pain rushing from your butt, up your back as you cried out in pain. You let the waterworks flow and not only was the pain causing you to cry, but also the things you heard come from the mouths of the boys you thought were some of your best friends. You heard them rush to you, spitting out apologies. You also heard Colby trample down the stairs to get to you, immediately crouching down and wrapping his arms around you. He looked from you to the boys and noticed the clear tape, his expression quickly changing from concern to anger. Colby stood up, facing the boys as his hands balled into fists. 

“What the fuck is this?!” He questioned, ripping the tape down and throwing it towards the three boys standing there, terrified. 

“It was just, we were um pranking y/n.” Jake struggled to get out, taking a step backwards. 

“Look! You think that’s funny?! It’s good content that you hurt my girl?!” Colby interrogated them, pointing at you as he spoke. Sam, Corey and Jake were speechless. They had never seen Colby this mad. They just kind of stood there, staring between you and Colby. Colby turns to you, helping you up and rubbing your back, making sure you were okay. He gave the boys a dirty look and kissed your forehead. 

“Y/n we are really sorry, we didn’t think you would get so hurt.” Sam said, apologizing on behalf of himself and the other two. You looked at them with tears in your eyes. 

“Did you mean what you said about me?” Colby’s eyes widened and he demanded to know what they said. They frantically shook their head, apologizing again and saying how much they loved you. Colby was tired of hearing it, being still angry with them for hurting you. He marched over, grabbed your food and brought you upstairs. He helped you into the bed, being overly careful just to make sure you were okay. Colby kept mumbling under his breath about the boys being assholes You chuckled at his protectiveness, unwrapping the food you ordered. 

“It was just a prank, you can calm down now love.” You tell him soothingly. Colby sits beside you on the bed, resting a hand on your thigh. He moves his hand to your lower back, where you were very sore from the fall you took, he lightly rubbed your back as he looked at you for any sign of pain. 

“I’ve always told them pranks are off limits for you because of this reason. I don’t want you getting hurt.” He confesses as he kisses your cheek. You smiled and leaned against Colby, letting him rub your back. 

“I’m okay, the worst I’ll get is a bruise, you don’t have to worry.” You tell him, hoping he’ll listen. 

“Okay, i’m glad you’re okay. But I’m still annoyed at them.” You giggle at your boyfriend’s protective nature, it’s something that always secretly made you really happy, knowing he cared that much. Jake rushes in, interrupting your quiet moment. 

“So uh, are we okay to post it? I’ll do some crazy ‘GONE WRONG’ title just for you y/n.” He inquires, staying close to the door since an angry Colby can be unpredictable. Before Colby can even think to give a snarky response, you burst into laughter.

“Fine, go ahead, just make sure to link my new merch for all the trouble.” You tell him lightheartedly. Jake smiles and gives a thumbs up, heading out of the room. 

“Wait Jake,” Colby speaks up, “You hurt her again.. prank or no prank, I’ll kill you brother.” Jake assures that he understands and promises to relay the information to the other boys, leaving you two alone. 

“You’re my hero Colby Brock.” you giggle, snuggling into him and leaving sweet kisses on his neck and cheek. He smiles, getting red and pulling you closer to him. 

“Anything for you, my love.” 

[thorniest-rose]

reddie halloween prompt #6 pumpkin

Eddie had lived in denial for a long time. It was a denial that had clung to him since he’d been a little boy. Never letting himself get dirty. Being scared of falling ill. Not letting his eyes linger too much on the handsome men he saw in the pharmacy or at the grocery store. And never letting himself enjoy food. Because food meant gluttony. It meant allergies and intolerances. It meant turning out like his mother, who he watched grow bigger and rounder every year.  

He spent years like that, not letting himself enjoy anything. Convincing himself he was so frail that all he could eat were egg whites and leafy greens or the leanest chicken with a plate of boiled vegetables. No gluten. No sugar. Hardly any fats or carbs. For more than 20 years he was as austere as a Puritan. And he told himself it was for the best. 

Until Richie, that was. Until they had finally defeated the clown. 

Things started to change then. Slowly at first but surely. Eddie left his sham of a marriage; he came out of the closet; he admitted to Richie one night, as the two of them shared a bowl of ice cream by Richie's swimming pool, that he was in love with him. And then, after he let himself try a slice of challah one day at a coffee shop downtown, toasted gently and spread with honey, Eddie let himself fall. 

First, Eddie made banana bread using some old, overripe bananas on their kitchen table. Then he baked chewy oatmeal cookies one morning after he’d served up their overnight oats. Before Eddie knew it, he was cooking up a storm: he ordered cookbooks, watched videos, bookmarked blogs. And he started to love the act of cooking. Looked forward to planning out their meals and going grocery shopping. There were fluffy ricotta pancakes in the morning; a cheese and spinach quiche with salad in the afternoon, chicken thighs baked in white wine, olive oil and parmigiano reggiano in the evening. And then, teasingly, a silky mousse or sliver of cheesecake.  

Richie, who had the biggest appetite out of anyone Eddie had ever known, scarfed down everything Eddie made as quickly as a dog. He'd been happy to see Eddie enjoy food more and actively encouraged his cooking.

What Eddie hadn't expected was how sexy Richie had found it. How he watched Eddie cook with his blue eyes lit up with some kind of mischief. Sometimes coming up behind him so he could trail his hands over Eddie’s hips as he cooked, snaking a hand around his chest to tweak a nipple through his t-shirt, or to press the flat of his palm to Eddie’s lower stomach in a vaguely territorial touch that had Eddie half-panting as he stirred. 

Eddie always kicked Richie out eventually, swatting him away with a wooden spoon or elbowing him in the stomach. But it didn't stop Eddie from growing ruby-cheeked or getting hard in his pants. Something Richie definitely noticed as he chuckled and said, "You feeling okay there, baby?"

Which is probably why he should have seen this coming. Not that he thought it would happen that morning, as he prepared a homemade pumpkin pie for the first time. That he’d end up pushed up against the counter in their spacious, airy kitchen with Richie's jeans shoved down his thighs and his cock balls deep inside Eddie's ass. 

The pie looks good. Eddie had completed the crust, and he’s busy with the filling: mixing eggs, spices and fresh pumpkin purée in a bowl. Or at least he was trying to. Because Richie’s cock was nudging his prostate, and every time Eddie tried to focus on what he was doing, Richie would tilt his hips slightly and brush up against his sweet spot.

Richie had spent the whole time cooing into his ear, telling him what a good boy he was, as he stroked Eddie's hips like he was a skittish, easily frightened domestic pet.

The whisk clatters to the counter as Eddie lets out a high-pitched moan. 

“I can’t do it,” he says, his head hanging down between his shoulders. 

Richie leans in and swipes his tongue against the bare skin at his feverish nape.

“I think you can,” he says. “Come on, baby, you’re doing so well.”

Richie hadn’t fucked him that morning like he usually did, making the excuse that he had an important Zoom meeting. That he had to get ready for some presentation with the big suits about the future of his show. Eddie had said okay, that made sense, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed as Richie kissed him on the cheek and disappeared out the room. 

But it turns out this was why. Richie had been saving it for this. 

Eddie tries not to moan at how deep Richie is inside him. There’s nothing between them, not even a layer of latex, and it’s almost too much. Richie’s cock is stretching him wide - with a shiver, he can imagine how obscene his hole must look around Richie’s cock - and on each small thrust into him, Eddie can feel Richie’s balls brush against his thighs. 

“I hate you,” he mutters as his arms tremble, hands clenched so hard around the edge of the counter that they're porcelain white.

Richie tsks against his neck. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to your finance, is it? When he takes such good care of you.”

Eddie laughs, and it sounds manic. “Is this what you think taking care of me looks like?”

He expects a joke, or a witty retort. Instead what he gets is Richie’s fingers tightening to a bone-bruising grip on his hips. Eddie would cry out, goes to, except Richie shoots out a hand and shoves three thick fingers into Eddie’s mouth, stifling the sound. 

With an edge of steel Richie says, “Why don’t you stop talking back and do as you’re told?”

Eddie starts to say “okay”, only he can’t, not with Richie’s fingers in his mouth, how they press down his tongue. So he nods his head as much as he can to get the point across. He’ll make the pie. He’ll be good. 

“That's better,” Richie says.

He pushes his fingers deeper into Eddie’s mouth, getting them wet to the knuckle, the force of it making Eddie gag. It feels like a warning. That Eddie better be good because he's not in the mood to play. Then he pulls them out as fast as he’d pushed them in, bringing them back to Eddie's hip.

"Go on then," he says, but this time there's the hint of a laugh in his voice. Like he finds humiliating Eddie like this funny.

Eddie feels winded, the corners of his mouth feel bruised, but he picks up the whisk again and starts swirling the filling. It’s not as fast as he’d usually do it, but it’s the best he can do. Behind him, Richie starts to pick up the pace a little, pulling out and pushing his cock deeper into Eddie’s needy, clenching hole. He hits his prostate again, making him arch back against the tall line of Richie’s body. 

“R-Richie, I can’t,” he says, on the verge of dropping the whisk again. Of abandoning the pie and begging Richie to fuck him. 

But he knows that won't do.

From behind him Richie says, “Why don’t you shut the fuck up? I thought you could be good? Do you want me to pull out?”

Eddie shakes his head. He doesn't. Even though it was maddening: the torturous, slow push of Richie’s cock inside him, the feeling of his zipper rubbing up against his ass, the drip of precome at the end of Eddie’s dick where he’d grown flushed and hard against the counter. But the thought of Richie pulling out and leaving him there while he went to the bedroom to jerk off was even worse. He has a thought of Richie coming all over their bedsheets, of wasting his come instead of depositing it deep inside Eddie where it belonged, and he almost whines.

“No Richie, I want it so bad, please. Please don’t pull out,” he begs, in a voice he doesn’t even recognise. Something high and wanton. A voice he didn’t even know he could make until Richie laid him down on his bed one night all those months ago and pushed inside him for the first time. 

“Beautiful boy,” Richie says sweetly. “Finish it, come on,” he murmurs.

So Eddie does. As Richie continues his slow, tormenting pace, Eddie finishes whisking the filling and lifts the bowl with shaky fingers so he can pour it into the pastry shell. He almost drops it, but manages to right the bowl at the last second. Afterwards he stares at it: the beautiful, flaky, butter pastry crust with its autumnal filling, and that floaty feeling of satisfaction comes over him. He’d done good. He did exactly as Richie told him.

“I’ve done it, Richie,” he sighs, his voice sounding faraway. “I’ve finished the pie.”

He melts when Richie kisses him on the side of his neck, scraping his teeth over his pulse point where it jumps rapidly.

“I knew you could do it, Eddie, I knew you could make me happy.”

And Richie rewards him for it. With one hand he pulls Eddie’s hips back and with the other he pushes Eddie’s cheek down against the counter until Eddie's bent at an obscene angle. At a fuckable angle, Eddie thinks with a shiver. But that’s the last coherent thought he has for a long time because a moment later Richie’s pulling out until just the tip of his dick is spearing Eddie open, and then he does what Eddie’s wanted all this time. He shoves back inside, the squelch of the lube pornographically loud in their quiet kitchen, and he rails him hard, letting that hidden, ferocious side come out.

It’s the hardest fuck Eddie’s had in days, and fuck it feels so good, his ass bouncing off Richie’s sharp hips on every thrust, Richie's cock punching his tiny hole open, and the low-pitched growl coming from Richie’s throat making his dick drool at the tip.

It's something he can't believe he's denied himself for so long.

"I kind of want to eat this pumpkin pie out of you," Richie suddenly says. "Would you let me do that? Just finger it inside of your dumb cunt and then eat it out of you?"

And it shouldn't sound hot. It should sound ridiculous. But it doesn't stop Eddie from crying out or his balls drawing up.

"I'm going to-"

He cuts off on a high whine as Richie reaches around and grabs him in warning.

"You better not. Not until I say."

Eddie nods, and Richie starts fucking him again, hammering his prostate on every push inside him, muttering so filthy it makes Eddie flush all the way down to his chest.

And when Richie finally tells him to come he does, clenching around him until he shoots sticky white all over the counter. 

“Good boy,” Richie says as he pulls his cock out to smear the sticky head against the sore skin at his hole, making Eddie quiver. “Now let's go for that money shot. How much do you think you can make Daddy come?"

And Eddie, with gusto, shows him.

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Knitting You a Home - 7

Pairing: Wolf Hybrid Namjoon and Human Reader

Word Count: 3,158

Genre/Rating: Hybrid AU - Established Relationship - Angst - Fluff - Smut - Rated PG-13

Overview: Things have changed for you and Namjoon. It’s been a year since the two of you got together, and despite a rocky start, it was impossible to deny the bond and love you shared for each other. But ever since Hoseok had been separated from his Mate, Namjoon has been withdrawing himself from you and doesn’t come home until late at night.

With questions far larger than either of you imagined, you can’t help but wonder if he’s let his past and old fears come back to haunt him. You had shown him that it was possible to have a home and be loved once before, but will you be able to do it again?

Warning: Discussion of cheating - Discussion of a child being abandoned in the past.

Music Playlist:

Main Master List:

Knitting You a Home Master List:

Mated Love is Never Easy Series Master List:

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - ?

©thatmultifandomhoe  Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

You barely looked up from your knitting as the timer on your phone shrieked in the kitchen, declaring that the cookies were done baking. At least this batch was. It was day two of the vacation Grandmother insisted you take and already you were out of your mind.

In an attempt to distract yourself from the perfume that Namjoon had come home wearing, you spent the entire day yesterday cleaning; all of his clothes were immediately tossed in the laundry first. It was satisfying when the shirt he had worn that night no longer had a citrus scent to it, but reminded you of the lavender fabric softener you loved.

By the time midnight came, the whole house was clean. Not that it was filthy, but there were a few things that had been pushed back by both of you due to work, and perhaps some laziness when it was late and the last thing you wanted to do was be an adult. Unlike the night before, Namjoon didn’t come home early.

He wasn’t home by the time you fell asleep either.

There were a few minutes this morning when he came to give you a kiss goodbye before heading out to work, and even though he chuckled at your attempts to coax him back to bed, in less than five minutes he was once again gone, and you were left alone. For years you had lived in this house alone, but with Namjoon gone, it hauntingly quiet. There was a window in the bedroom that looked out to the front of the house, and as you curled up on his side of the bed to be surrounded by his warmth that lingered, you watched his figure grow smaller as he walked off in the sunrise. It wasn’t until that he was gone that you tried to go back to sleep.

Sleep evaded you though and within an hour you were – regrettably – wide awake and on your third cup of coffee. Since there was no rush, you brewed up coffee grounds instead of the instant k-cups, the kitchen now scented in the smell of your favorite dark roast.

With the cleaning all done, the newfound free time and silence allowed you to think about the very last thing you wanted to even dwell on. All you had to do was ask Namjoon about the perfume, but each time the thought crossed your mind, your throat felt like it was closing up and it became harder to breathe.

So, you turned to one of the other few things that you were good at to take your mind off it. Baking.

That had been at eight thirty.

The timer rang out again so you set your knitting back on the couch, deciding to count the stitches when you came back. You tapped the stop button on your phone, silence once again filling the house as you opened up the oven, the heat hitting you right in the face as you carefully took out a tray of chocolate chip cookies.

It was only after you set the hot tray on a cooling rack that there was a loud knock on the door. You frowned in confusion, grabbing your phone to check the time. It wasn’t even noon. Standing by the table, a smile slowly grew as a single person came to mind and you hurried the rest of the way to the doorway, not surprised at who was leaning against your door-frame, but that she was here.

“You can only imagine my surprise,” Luna greeted, grinning at you. “When I went to Grandmother’s shop only find out that little Red, was back at home on vacation.”

Gleefully laughing, you pulled Luna in by her hands, tightly hugging her as she returned the gesture. Unable to let go of each other, the two of you waddled backwards into your home as she kicked the door shut for you.

“She insisted that I take a vacation,” you answered. It was only then that you broke the hug, “What are you doing here?”

Luna rolled her eyes, the easy smile still present. “As surprising as it might be, I do have my days off from the Homeless Center.”

You leaned back in suspicion, only to break out into giggles once more. “You caught me in the middle of baking, so come on.” Walking back to the kitchen, you began to transfer the cookies onto the cooling rack. “Is it a tea or coffee day for you Luna?”

“Coffee.”

Pointing at the pot with the spatula, you set the now empty tray on the counter next to the remaining bowl of dough. “Already brewed. Make me a fresh cup too?”

She already knew where everything was. Her visits tended to last hours, and over the years, your home had become a place where Luna knew that she was always welcomed to come to, whether it was early morning or late at night.

“Either you’ve decided to run a bakery inside your house, or something happened,” Luna said, barely glancing at you as she refilled your signature blue mug, taking a black one for herself. Instead of sitting back at the table, she leaned against the counter, holding her mug in both hands as she watched you move the wire rack to the table for the time being.

You hummed in amusement, focusing on scooping out more dough. When she didn’t say anything else, you glanced up, seeing the knowing expression on her face as she waited. It was the same one you’ve given her countless time when she came over at odd hours in the early morning.

“What’s wrong,” Luna prodded again. “You’ve made what…six batches of cookies, and a dozen muffins?”

Shrugging, you put the tray in the oven and set the timer on your phone. “I’m bored and love to bake.”

“Yes, but you’re over-baking. The last time you did this was when Sue came back.” Raising the mug to her lips, she gave you a pointed look. “I still have banana bread in my freezer from you.”

Your body tensed at the mention of Sue, easily recalling the multiple times that Namjoon had come into the kitchen, nuzzling your neck as he hugged you in an attempt to get you to stop baking for the night and come to bed.

Luna gently touched your shoulder, your grip on the counter tightening right before loosening up. “What’s wrong?”

Taking your coffee, you barely met her gaze as you sat at the table. Luna settled down across from you without another word.

“It’s Namjoon,” you finally answered. Giving Luna a weak smile, you traced the rim of your mug. “He’s been, acting different. Ever since Sue.”

“Different how?”

You shook your head. If there was anyone who might know what was happening, it’d be Luna. She worked directly with Hybrids every day; it was bound that she’d pick up knowledge on their habits over time.

“At first, he was overprotective and there was an increase in skin ship, but then it went back to normal when Hoseok and Sarah were reunited, then it changed again. It was like hitting reverse. He isn’t affectionate anymore, or if he is it’s only a little bit. He’s at the studio working all the time, comes home late. I basically never see him these days. Last night he even…”

Your eyes stung, voice halting as it finally hit you. The entire time you’ve only been thinking about, about the possibilities of what was turning Namjoon away. Never once did you speak it out loud because you hoped that things would have gone back to normal.

“He even what?” Luna gently asked.

Bottom lip trembling, it felt like your heart was breaking, the Mate Mark on your neck suddenly feeling like a weight on your shoulders. Namjoon…he had asked you so many times if this was what you wanted. To seal the bond between the two of you, guaranteeing a life time with each other and that when it was done, you’d never be able to see another man romantically again. Namjoon was your one and only.

“He came home,” you slowly spoke, trying to catch your breath. “reeking of another woman’s perfume.”

Through blurry eyes, Luna’s face shifted into understanding as she moved her chair next to you, her cup softly setting on the table. “Oh God, don’t cry honey, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

You thought you set your mug on the table, but apparently it had been closer to the edge than you originally thought and it crashed to the wooden floor, coffee pooling onto the floorboards but neither of you rushed to clean it. Instead, you leaned into Luna’s hug, your hands gripping her shirt as she rubbed circles into your back.

She didn’t stop you, didn’t say that your tears were useless. Luna simply waited, letting you cry until no more tears were able to leak out, even if it meant having your voice go hoarse. As grateful as you were that Luna was here, a part of you wished that it had been Namjoon who came to comfort you, even if he was the reason for your tears.

When they finally stopped, you sat up, rubbing at your eyes with the heel of your hands. “I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Luna shook her head, reaching over to grab a napkin. “You’ve been there for me, for every phone call and visit in the middle of the night. You have nothing to apologize for.” Handing you the napkin, she watched to make sure that you were done crying before cleaning up the broken mug.

Still, guilt swirled around inside you as you wiped at your eyes, trying to calm down. It felt like a bat was breaking every bone and bruising all your organs to say out loud what you’ve been thinking. That Namjoon had possibly considered, or even acted on cheating on you.

When she returned, she wiped away a few tears that you had missed. “I know it hurts hun. Have you talked to Namjoon about it?”

“When?” You weakly asked. “When can I ask him? He’s never home long enough for us to even talk.”

“True,” Luna agreed. “But how will you ever know the truth?” Licking her lips, she leaned back in her seat. “Do you want my honest opinion about all this?”

You nodded with a sniff. Now that you finally spoke your thoughts, you needed someone to tell you the truth. The last thing you wanted was for someone to just play along with your worries and let it continue to hurt you. Luna was always there to tell you the truth, even if it hurt because if it did, she was by your side to help carry it the weight.

“Namjoon explained to you about the Mate Mark, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then you know that Hybrids have only one true Mate that they’re destined to be with.” Luna smiled at you, leaning forward to gently tap the Mate Mark on you neck.

When she did it, you merely flinched at the sudden touch. It wasn’t like when Namjoon touched or kissed it, and it sent tingles running through your nerves and a warm fire in your heart. It was, strange to have someone else but Namjoon touch it.

But Luna did it again, a gentle smile appearing on her face. “Wolf Hybrids especially believe this considering the DNA they share in addition to all the lore around werewolves, their animal counterparts heighten the desire for a one true partner. Now I know that it took Namjoon a while for him to realize that you were his Mate, but when he did…honey the bond took effect immediately.”

Wetting her lips, Luna leaned back in her seat, trying to find the right words to explain this. “He is so in love with you. Even before he gave you his Mark, when you took him in and showed him what it was like to be with someone who cared, the bond between the two of you formed and grew stronger than anything I’ve seen before.”

“But the perfume…”

She shook her head, unable to come up with an answer that would chase away those fears. “I don’t know. Maybe there’s someone at the studio that wears an unhealthy amount of perfume? What I do know, is that Namjoon would never consider cheating on you. Hurting you is the last thing he’d ever want to do. You have to talk to him about this, it’s not healthy to keep this all bottled up” Luna glanced over your shoulder, smiling in disbelief. “Nor is it healthy for those of us who will end up eating all these treats.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, you chuckled at her joke, knowing that the moment you ran out of cookie dough you were moving on to brownies.

Her words swirled in your mind and as relieved as you were to hear someone else say what you knew was true in your heart, it only made you wonder what was really going on. Was what happened with Hoseok, having this much of an impact on Namjoon that he was already preparing for the two of you to be separated? Just like they had been?

You stayed quiet as Luna wrapped her arms around you like a blanket. Just like you’ve done for her, time and time again without fail.

“Can…can I talk to you?”

Lifting your head, you were surprised to see Luna staring at her untouched mug, her gaze seemingly going through the tea you had made.

“Isn’t that what we’re doing right now?” you asked, gently smiling in an attempt to bring her back from wherever her mind was racing to.

It worked a little bit, but when she looked up at you, her eyes were overflowing with tears. You dragged your chair next to hers, coaxing Luna to rest her head on your shoulder as you hugged her. It had been a while since her last late-night visit and you were surprised that she had stopped by with Namjoon staying with you. But you would never turn her away.

Even though she asked to talk, she didn’t speak.

Wetting your lips, you ran a hand through her hair. “Was it a work thing, or a relationship thing?” You softly asked. Depending on which it was, you might have to go explain to Namjoon that Luna was staying the night.

“A work thing,” she croaked out. You relaxed your arms enough for her to turn, allowing her to bury her face in the crook of your neck. Wet tears slid down your neck to your shoulder as she shook in your embrace, her cries growing in volume even as she tried to reign it in.

“He’s not even a year old,” Luna cried, her voice breaking as she attempted to talk through it. “I…I was throwing out the garbage when they suddenly drove up. She dropped him in-in my arms and ran off.”

Your eyes closed as you pieced together her sentences, your own emotions wanting to take control. But you couldn’t. One of you had to be strong for the other.

“He wasn’t even crying. It was like he thought they were coming back for him.”

There had been a time when you asked Luna why she continued to work at the Homeless Center for Hybrids all these years. It had been after she told you a story similar to this one, but it had been with a Hybrid girl who was in her early teens. Luna had a heart of gold and despite the fact that the Hybrids who entered the Center were there because they had nowhere else to go, and had a reason to be upset and angry with humans, she gave it her all to go the extra mile and make their time there filled with hope.

Suddenly feeling a hand on your shoulder – Luna’s were still wrapped around your waist – you blinked your eyes open and looked up, surprised to see Namjoon standing next to you. He had reached the point of being comfortable enough for the occasional hug and touch, but that was when you usually asked him. This was the first time he had touched you.

His eyes weren’t guarded and his ears were lowered against his head, a tell-tale sign that he had overheard. Instead of speaking, he glanced at Luna before walking into the living room to grab the throw blanket that was over the couch. His footsteps were silent when he came back, gently covering Luna with the blanket and you as well.

Luna lifted her head at the touch of the blanket, wiping away her tears as she gazed up at Namjoon with watery eyes. Namjoon simply crouched down, his hand holding on to the chair to maintain his balance.

“It’s better to have something like this, happen when he’s young.” Namjoon softly spoke, capturing both of your attentions. “I’m not saying what happened was good, it’s a terrible thing no matter how you look at it. But he won’t remember it, not like how a lot of Hybrids do. All we can do is hope that he’ll get adopted into a loving family, who will treat and raise him the way he deserves, so that he will never have to remember this day.”

Even though the situation was serious, you were in awe of how Namjoon was able to comfort Luna. Despite being friends with Luna for years, some of the stories she’s told you left you speechless and unable to think of the right thing to say. But Namjoon, he found the words immediately.

“I’ll talk to him,” you whispered, shaking your mind from the memory. Covering your mouth, you coughed in an attempt to clear your throat and bring your voice back.

Luna let you move out of her arms, a gentle smile appearing as she watched you nod in determination, even repeating yourself as you wiped your eyes for the last time. She knew that you would, that you

’d eventually decide on talking to him. You weren’t the type to let things just…settle in the mud. You were strong, but sometimes you needed an ear to listen to your fears and a voice to lead you in the direction that you knew you needed to go in.

Sometimes, you just needed that little push.

“Good,” Luna agreed. Reaching out, she took two cookies from the cooling tray and handed one to you. “But first, let’s test out these bad boys. Okay?”

Staring at the cookie, you suddenly chuckled as you took it, taking a bite out of it. It was soft and warm, and you knew that Namjoon would be going straight to these when he came home. Chocolate chip cookies were his absolute favorite after all. Maybe then you’d be able to talk to him.

[pastelgoogie97]

I Thought We Said No Yelling At 3 AM? || jjk

~I wrote this because I’m crying over Jungkook right now, thought I’d share with everyone ;-; Genre: FLUFF Warnings: None, I think there’s literally like one cuss word in here Word Count: 2.5k Pairing: Roommate!Jungkook x CollegeStudent!Reader Info: Friends to Lovers :,) Jungkook is such a CUTIE PIE istg I love him so much, reader is sleepy and just wants to go mimi’s but Jungkook loves playing overwatch so much he has to SCREAM ABOUT IT ~Hope you enjoy, sorry if there are any errors, it’s literally three in the morning for me and I’m D Y I N G

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

She needed to pay rent. That’s what Y/N kept repeating in her head as she listened to her roommate Jungkook roar with laughter as he played Overwatch with his friends in his bedroom. 

Y/N was a foreign exchange student from America studying abroad in Korea. The language had always sparked her interest, so when she was given the opportunity to actually learn not just the language, but about the culture? She packed her bags and her flight as fast as she could and got on the next flight thirteen hours away and over the ocean from her home. 

She rubbed her tired eyes and looked down at her phone to check the time. 3:49 in the damn morning. The worst part of this whole endeavor was she couldn’t even get mad at Jungkook if she tried. Not only was he the nicest boy she’d ever met in her life, but his looks seemed to make it harder on her. 

With one look around her room, Y/N realized she wasn’t going to be getting any sleep until Jungkook got off his computer. Normally, she wouldn’t even care. What’s weird is that she’s actually a really heavy sleeper. She could sleep through hurricane Katrina if it meant she could sleep for a second longer.

“I JUST NO-SCOPED REAPER!” Jungkook shouted happily.

Y/N giggled slightly, rolling her tired eyes as she pulled herself out of bed. She headed into the kitchen, her slippers lightly dragging against the tile floor of their dorm lazily. The bright light of the fridge made her wince as she pulled out two containers of banana milk, poking a straw through one of them to sip on. The other was for Jungkook.

When they both moved in together, they decided to lay down some ground rules. They weren’t really rules per se, just obvious things that needed to get set. They were allowed to have friends as long as they weren’t too loud, anything in the fridge was theirs unless the container was labeled with their name on it, don’t make a mess, or if you do just clean it up. But one that they both agreed on right away? ‘No yelling at 3 in the morning, especially during exam season.’ Yet here Y/N was, sleepily sipping on banana milk while on her way to Jungkook’s room.

She swallowed the sweet milk and closed her eyes before knocking on his door. The sound of his soft voice almost lulled her to sleep had he not opened the door. 

In all his glory, there he was. Headsets hanging around his neck, hair messy but still fluffy and floppy against his forehead, and those doe-like orbs that she just couldn’t get enough of. She almost audibly sighed at the sight of him, especially since he was wearing those grey sweatpants that almost made her risk it all during one of their movie nights. 

“C-can I come in?” Y/N spoke up quietly, her voice hoarse with sleep deprivation.

“Of-of course!”

Y/N walked into Jungkook’s bedroom, the sound of his door shutting behind her making her shoulders slump. She looked at his computer and saw the game still going on. She figured she’d watch and see what the hype was about. Especially since Jungkook had been shouting at it since he got back from class. 

He flopped back into his gaming chair in front of his desk, but he didn’t pull his headsets over his ears. Instead, he turned around to look at Y/N. His eyes looked guilty and she could hear her heart whine at how cute he looked.

“I-I didn’t keep you awake did I?” He pouted. “I’m so sorry, I lost track of time and I didn’t even know that I was being that loud,”

She giggled and held her hand up in front of him. He stopped talking and he smiled softly at the gesture. Well, at least she wasn’t mad at him.

“I got you some banana milk, do you want it?” Y/N offered, shoving the carton into his hands before he could even agree.

“I was literally just about to get some,” He chuckled. “Get out of my head dude,” 

The girl giggled and got comfortable on his bed, looking at the screen behind his head. It was a loading screen, he was probably waiting for another match to start. Her eyes scanned over the bright colors on his screen, reading each of the words to see what was so fun about the game or even try to make sense of it.

“So what’s the point of the game?” Y/N began. “Is it like Call Of Duty?”

Before Jungkook could answer, Y/N heard the sounds of his friends on his headsets roaring through the speakers at her comment. She smiled and craned her neck forward to try and hear what they had to say about it.

“Ask her if she plays video games, Kook!”

Jungkook looked up at her knowing that she’d heard the question. The way he was looking at her nearly made her forget what was being asked. After realizing she had been staring at him a bit too long, she shook her head to snap herself out of her thoughts.

“Yeah, I play! I’m not the best at everything I play like you are, but I’d say I’m a pretty decent player!” She admitted as honestly as possible.

“Maybe I’ll teach you how to play sometime then,” Jungkook suggested with a smile. “It’s basically a first-person shooter game, but it’s so much fun!”

The match started and Jungkook excused himself, throwing his headsets on to talk with his friends again while Y/N watched from behind. To say that Jungkook was good would be an understatement. He could play for an E-sports team if he really wanted to. His character was moving so fast and the way he was quick scoping everyone just screamed how good of a player he was. She couldn’t help but get lost in how fast his aim was and how precise his shots were. 

As the game went on, Jungkook could feel Y/N’s gaze on the screen and he couldn’t help but smile stupidly the entire time she watched him. His feelings for her had been bad, but the second she mentioned she played video games too? He was ready to get on his knee and propose right then and there. 

The room was quiet. Jungkook could hear Y/N move on his bed, and then her feet hit the floor. He figured she was going to head to her room and try and fall back asleep again. But she didn’t.

Y/N’s head found itself in Jungkook’s lap, watching the screen and waiting with him for the next round to start. He felt her yawn against his left thigh and he didn’t want to make any sudden movements. She was getting comfortable and he couldn’t help but dream about how she would feel in his arms. His head was spinning and his brain went cloudy at the feeling of the girl of his dreams resting her head in his lap.

“Hey guys, it’s late,” Jungkook began. “I’m gonna log off for tonight, but I’ll get back on tomorrow, sound good?”

Little by little, his friends started to agree, and soon enough, Jungkook was taking his headsets off and shutting his PC down. Y/N looked up with puppy-dog eyes, wanting to watch more game-play despite how droopy her eyelids were.

“You look really sleepy, don’t you wanna go to bed?” Jungkook inquired, his voice soft and clear in the air. 

She stood up and stretched her limbs out, eliciting another yawn from her throat. She felt like she could sleep on a pile of bricks comfortably at this point and Jungkook could tell. 

“I-I’M NOT TIRED,” Y/N shouted slightly, trying to make it seem like she wasn’t ready to pass out on the floor.

Jungkook jumped slightly at her sudden change in tone and started laughing, ruffling her hair slightly to tell her to calm down. She pouted at him and his heart soared.

“Hey, I thought we agreed on no yelling at three in the morning, hm?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and listened to him chuckle before protesting. “Says the one who was screaming since he came back from class and kept me up all night,”

She yawned again and felt her eyelids slowly start to lose the will to stay open any longer than they needed to. 

“You’re lucky you’re so cute, or I would’ve raised hell,” 

Her eyes were wide open now. She slapped her palm over her mouth and took a step back to register what she just said. Meanwhile, Jungkook’s heart was doing flips and his stomach was filled with butterflies from wall to wall. He smiled brightly, barely able to believe what just came out of his roommate’s mouth.

“I-I’m so sorry, that was inappropriate, oh my god I can’t believe I just said that,” She apologized. “I-I’m just gonna go to my room,”

He couldn’t let her slip away after that. So, he did what he thought was best.

Jungkook grabbed Y/N by her wrist, pulling her into his chest and holding her so she couldn’t escape his grasp. And before he knew it, he was stooping down to her height to press his lips against hers. Her lips tasted like the vanilla bean chapstick she always carried around with her. The sweetness of it all was nothing compared to how soft her lips felt against his. He swore he was in heaven the second he felt her kiss him back. 

Her hands flew to the back of his neck, her digits twirling strands of his wavy hair. His hands slowly moved down to her hips, his fingers gripping them with such ferocity she was sure that he was going to bruise them into her skin. He was holding onto her like she was going to escape if he didn’t pull her closer to him, but somehow she found comfort in feeling this way. So vulnerable in front of him and falling for every trick he pulled from the book. He felt amazing. It felt so right.

When they both pulled away to breathe, Y/N couldn’t help but stare into his eyes, seeing a whole galaxy of stars just waiting for her to dive into. The way they shone even in the darkness of his bedroom made her swoon and she felt drunk off of how good he was treating her. How touch starved she used to be and how he so easily took all of that away and showed her what it felt like to be loved.

“I am so glad I moved in with you,” Jungkook admitted breathlessly. “From the first day we met, I thought you were the most gorgeous girl I’d ever seen in my life, other than IU of course,”

She giggled and shook her head playfully.

“You really love IU, don’t you Googie?”

He sighed at the pet name she’d given him since they first moved in, shaking his head with a chuckle before rubbing his large, chocolate orbs.

“Let’s go to bed now, how does that sound?” He offered, pulling back the comforter on his bed and patting the mattress for her to lie down.

“That sounds amazing,” She sighed dreamily, closing her eyes the second her head hit his pillow.

Jungkook crawled in right next to her, throwing his hoodie over his head and snuggling close to her. His skin felt warm, his body was just radiating heat and she felt like a moth drawn to a flame. He wrapped his arms around her and she couldn’t have felt safer anywhere else other than in his arms.

All of the dreaming he’d done, the imagining of how perfect she’d feel curled up next to him never could have prepared him for this moment in time. He thought all of the cliche bullshit about fitting together like puzzle pieces in their lover’s arms was so stupid, but there was no other way to describe it than just that, and he didn’t hate it at all. Not one bit. 

“Googie,” Y/N began, the rumble of his soft hum against his chest making her heart grow in size. “What does this mean for us?”

He sighed and pulled her closer.

“It means that I finally have the girl of my dreams right where I want her,”

He paused. 

“And that we need to cross out ‘No yelling at three AM’ on our list of rules,”

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Getting away with it (10/?)

Summary: August Walker was dead. At least that’s what people believed for almost 2 years. When the CIA found reason to believe that he was alive they made it their top priority to find him. Including sending one of their best female agents to recruit his twin brother. Walter Marshall.  

Pairing: August Walker x Reader (Walker) + Walter Marshall x Reader (Walker)

Warnings: angst, implied smut in the flashback, cursing

Wordcount: 2.139

A/N: And we’re back. Thank you for sticking around and waiting. I hope you have “fun” with this. Updates will be thursdays from now on. And because I don’t want to pressure myself I won’t promise weekly updates. Just know that I still have big plans for this. There’s a year of plot to get through until the last chapter and we’ve barely covered two months with these 10 chapters so buckle up lol

Masterlist

Previous chapter

two weeks later, CIA Bootcamp

“What’s up with you today, Walter?” He heard his trainer ask, while Marshall rubbed a hand over his jaw. He wasn’t fully there today. Not after talking to Walker for hours last night.

He shook his head.

“I’m okay. Let’s just get over with it.”  Marshall sighed, before he brought his arms up in front of his face, widening his stance, promising to himself to pay attention to what his trainer said.

Sometimes he couldn’t believe it only had been three weeks since he left Walker and Evie on their own. Ever since Walker answered his daily phone call in tears, after August was there with her, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. Guilty for not being there to protect her. Guilty for leaving to get ready be able to catch his own twin brother, even if right now killing him was the thought that came to his mind, knowing fully well that wasn’t what he was supposed to do. He wanted to bring him to justice. 

He never had been a violent person, but the more he learned about August, the angrier he got. 

But it wasn’t just August who he was angry at. He was also angry at Walker. He was angry because she let him in. She let him touch her. She let him fuck her. And he knew he had no right to feel that way. Because he had no right whatsoever when it came to Walker. Strong and beautiful Walker who he dreamed of in his lonely nights. Wondering how her skin would feel on his, how she would taste when he kissed her. What would make her whimper against his lips.

Breathing in deep, he shook his head. It was another lonely night. Walker would call soon, and he had to get himself in control.

He knew that deep down she still had feelings for August. How couldn’t she? They were married. She thought they would spend their whole lives together, only to find out that she married a crazy person. Yet he couldn’t understand why she let him fuck her.

And he couldn’t understand why he was jealous it wasn’t him who got to fuck her.

“Get a grip, Marshall.” He groaned to himself. 

He felt his phone buzz and smiled as he read his daughter’s name. Was it weird, that he seemed to talk to her more as he was far away?

“Hey Dad.” Faye smiled 

“Hey you. How was your math test?” He asked, making himself comfortable in his hotel bed.

He saw her make a face.

“Don’t know. Not feeling good about it. And I studied so much. God I hate school.” She groaned, making Walter almost chuckle.

“We will see. And hey one day you gonna miss school.”

“I highly doubt it.” She rolled her eyes.“Oh I have news!” She said excitedly.

“Do tell.” Walter smiled.

“Mom agreed that I can spend one week of the holidays with you.”

“That’s great. I have to check in with Walker first though, you know that.”

“I know. But… I wanna see you Dad.” Faye sighed.

“I wanna see you too, Munchkin. I need someone to take over Frozen duty for me. It’s all Evie talks about.” He shook his head.

“So… You and Walker… Do you like her Dad?” Faye asked, catching him off guard.

“Uhm… She’s a friend.” He said.

“But is she a friend or… a friend friend.” Faye wiggled her eyebrows, making Walter laugh.

“Missy, aren’t you a little young for talks like that.”

“I’m not…. I….” She pressed her eyes closed. “I kissed a boy today, Dad.” 

She opened only one eye to look into the camera, to see Walter’s reaction. Walter in the meantime was speechless. His first instinct was to freak out. Because his little innocent daughter got kissed by a boy and he wasn’t around. But the longer he thought about it, the prouder he was, Faye told him about it. So Walter sighed, seeing Faye open her eyes looking hesitantly at him.

“Do you like this boy?” Walter asked.

“I… really like him, Dad.”

He looked at his daughter. Who would turn 14 years old in only two months. He wanted to tell her that she knew nothing about liking someone, that she should go back to watching Frozen all day. But his little daughter was growing up. And much faster than he liked to admit.

“I wanna meet him when I’m back.” Walter said, watching as she breathed out in relief.

“I think you know him already. It’s Ethan….”

Smiling softly Walter ended the video chat with his daughter. He had to admit that it was kind of adorable seeing her have a crush on someone. Even if deep down he still wanted to check the boy out. She was right. He knew Ethan. Walter went to school with his parents, which was a plus, cause he knew they were good people. His phone buzzed again.

Still awake? A text from Walker.

Barely. He wrote back.

Can you talk to me until I fall asleep? She wrote back. Walter sighed, before he pressed the dial button.

Langley, Virginia, the same time

Hopeful, Walker stared at her phone screen. It was late, and she knew it, but somehow hearing Walter’s voice until she fell asleep was the only thing that kept her sane at the moment. She had gotten in bed with Evie until she was asleep and then busied herself with sorting out her office.

After the CIA basically took everything from her office after August was in her house, she now had nothing left other than her computer and some books. She knew right away what files had been missing when Miller sat her down in her living room.

Her dead husband was now on top of the most wanted list because the CIA suspected he was  planning to release anthrax. They just didn’t know where.

As soon as they found out they had sent a team to secure the scientist August had been searching for, only to find him gone from the facility he had been in for the last years.

She felt so guilty. Guilty for not noticing earlier that he had been there. Guilty for not stopping him. Guilty for not killing him. Guilty for enjoying his hands on her body. Guilty that she let it get that far.But mostly she felt guilty towards Walter.

He had stayed on the phone with her until Miller knocked on her door. Somehow Walter had informed him of what happened. She still didn’t know how. He was close to just canceling the boot camp to rush to her side. In a weird way she felt like she had cheated on him. Which was insane because he wasn’t more than just a friend to her. Probably the closest friend she had made in the last 10 years. And she didn’t even notice it.

Her phone buzzed, showing Walter calling. A smile sneaked to her face.

“Hey.” She answered.

“Hey yourself.” She couldn’t help but smile as she snuggled herself into her bed.

“How’s Evie?”

“Oh she’s fine. She actually painted something for you. I can send you a pic tomorrow.”

“That would be great.” There was a pause on his end of the line.

“How are you today?” He asked softly.

“I haven’t cried the whole day.” She chuckled. “The bruises are fading. At least the ones on my body. But I don’t want to talk about that today. Did Josh kick your ass?” She asked, making Walter groan.

“I can’t feel my arms anymore.”

Her phone was still in her hand when she woke up the next morning. It was saturday and she only woke up because someone was tickling her feet. Opening one eye she could see Evie hiding at the end of the bed, giggling as quietly as possible. Walker groaned as she turned to lay on her back, pretending to be still asleep. Through hooded eyes she could see Evie sneaking closer. And just before she could tickle her again, Walker pulled herself up, catching Evie by surprise. The girl shrieked as Walker put her arms around her and pulled her on top of her.

“Moooommy.” She giggled, making Walker smile.

“Good morning sweetie.” Walker yawned.

“I’m hungry.” Evie grinned.

“You’re always hungry.” Walker chuckled.

“Can we have pancakes? Like Walter’s?” She asked.

“With bananas and strawberries?” Walker asked. Evie nodded.

“I can do that. Go brush your teeth and I’ll be right down.” She said. Evie kissed her cheek, making Walker smile before she climbed down the bed. Walker looked after her daughter for a while before she got out of bed too. Stretching her muscles on her way to the bathroom, she sighed when she saw herself in the bathroom mirror. The bruises August left on her body were all gone, except for the bite on her shoulder. She could still see it every time she looked into the mirror. Pulling her shirt further up she leaned down to wash her face. 

Today she wouldn’t think of August. Today she would spend quality time with her daughter. And face time with her and Walter. Because Walker wasn’t the only one missing him. Evie was too.

unknown location, same day.

“We’re gonna touch down soon, better buckle up.” The man next to him said. A pilot August had paid to fly them to the other side of the country. He nodded at the man before he turned around and looked at the scientist who was sleeping peacefully as if nothing had happened in these last two weeks.

August looked out of the window into the dark sky. It was the middle of the night and he could see so many stars, he was reminded back to the night in Russia with Walker in the middle of nowhere. Walker.

He still couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. That she wouldn’t welcome him back with open arms was a given, but using her safeword during sex? That had never happened. And they had done all kinds of kinky shit back in the day.

6 years ago, New York

“I won’t break August.” She smiled up at him.

“What makes you so sure of that?” August smirked, letting his hands wander up her thighs as she sat on top of him, already naked and so inviting.

“No one ever succeeded.”

“Well, you’ve never been dominated by me, haven’t you?” He smirked, his hands grabbing her perfect tits, squeezing them in his hands. They were the perfect size, her nipples poking against his hand.

“Mmmhh… yes.” She began to slowly roll her hips on top of him, and he could feel himself getting hard again. What was it about this woman that made him this aroused? Why did he care if he hurt her? Deep down August knew the answer, but he wasn’t ready to acknowledge it yet.

“What is your safe word?” He asked.

“I don’t have one.” She frowned, biting her lip as one of her hands sneaked in between her legs, playing with her clit. August was mesmerized by the sight in front of him.

“Then think of one. It could be anything. I will stop immediately once you say it. Promise.” 

“Hmm….” She sighed. He slowly pulled himself up, catching her left nipple in between his lips, nibbling on it.

“Glitter.” She breathed, closing her eyes.

“Glitter?” He asked against her skin, before he bit over the soft skin of her breast, making her moan loudly.

“Yes. Glitter is my safeword.”

Present day

In all the years they had been together she had never used her safe word. Not when he fingerfucked her under the table during one of her CIA meetings, and not when he had spanked her so hard, she couldn’t sit properly for three days.

But this? This was enough for her to call it? He couldn’t forget the look in her eyes as she sank down on the kitchen wall, tears in her eyes as she screamed at him to leave her be.  

The woman he loved seemed to have nothing but hate left for him. Had another man living with her and he still didn’t know who exactly he was. 

The woman he loved had no sign of him left in her life except their daughter who had no idea who he even was. 

His precious Evie.

The girl he gave up everything for. 

For her future.

The ground came closer as the plane approached landing. Looking behind him he caught the eyes of the scientist who now was awake before he looked up front again.

If everything went right, in only a few weeks he would be reunited with his daughter. Even if it meant getting rid of the woman he loved. 

-> Next chapter

[bubbleshowerlalalala]

Bad boy!Iwaizumi x Reader

Disclaimer: GIF doesn’t belong to me.

Summary: The entire school fears Iwaizumi as he is rumored to be the scary bad boy, but you think rumors are dumb and was proven right.

Genre: Fluff, AU

Word Count: 1.6K

Iwaizumi was feared by everyone in the school, he had a temper and a scowl that seemed to be his only expression. He always came into class bruised and sat at the end of the class next to the window. And so, he was labeled as the bad boy that no one wanted to cross.

Since mostly everyone was scared of him, he had a few friends, one that was the opposite of him, Oikawa Tooru. His best friend was loud, popular with the girls, and always got his flat ass beat by Iwaizumi. But they were best friends regardless.

You thought his bad boy rumor was stupid since he sat behind you and never caused you any trouble. In fact, he was always gentle if you needed to tell him mundane details about class duties. Another reason why you didn’t believe rumors was because you had one about you. People around you seemed to think you were stuck up since you never really dated. It’s not like that at all, you just weren’t interested in trying to date for fun when you didn’t have any feelings for anyone.

It was the first class and everyone was out of it. Iwaizumi was fast asleep behind you, you could tell by his soft breathing. Spacing out, you doodled on your note and hoped time would go faster.

Lunch break came at last; you quickly got your lunch box out of your bag and got out of class. “Ah, it’s like time slows down during classes,” Your friend yawned as you both walked through the corridor. “I know,” You whined as you stretched.

Sitting at your usual spot with your friends, you noticed that you forgot to get yourself a drink, “I’m gonna head to the canteen, does anyone want anything?”

As none of your friends wanted anything, you quickly headed to the canteen and was delighted to see no one ahead of you at the window.

“Can I have banana milk, please?” You and someone else at said at the same time.

You turned to see Iwaizumi and he was mirroring your surprised expression. He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck, you also started to feel flustered so you also looked away.

“Hmm.. Sorry kids, there’s only one left,” The canteen lady put the milk box in front you two.

Iwaizumi pushed the milk into your direction, “You take it,” He didn’t really hesitate to give it to you.

“No, you take it,” You said as you pushed it back.

He looked surprised that you were arguing back, but picked up the milk and gently pushed it into your hands. “Seriously, I don’t want it,”

You weren’t going to let him give it to you, you could drink something else. “It’s fine, I don’t feel like it now,” Saying that, you put the milk box into his hands and walked away as fast as you could.

He’s really cute.

Little did you know that Iwaizumi was staring at your retreating form with a light blush on his face.

“You’re such a soft boy,” The canteen lady smirked at Iwaizumi and broke him out of his trance.

Getting back to your friends, you wondered why your heart was pounding even though you didn’t run. “Hey, why are you blushing?” One of your friends asked.

“Huh?”

“Did you do something naughty?” Your other friend teased with a smug face.

“You guys read too much Shoujo,” You said and put your hands on your cheeks as they laughed at you.

Returning to class after the break, you saw the banana milk box on you desk. You turned to look at Iwaizumi’s desk but found it empty. Holding the milk box, you smiled and put it in your bag.

As the school day was coming to an end, you packed your bag and headed to the door. You couldn’t wait to walk home with your friends; putting out your phone you started texting them, and without noticing what’s in front of you bumped into someone.

“Oh, sorry,” Lifting your head, you saw Iwaizumi. “Ah, Iwaizumi! Thanks for the milk, you didn’t have to do that,” you added the last bit looking away from his eyes.

“I-it’s fine, you don’t have to thank me,” Iwaizumi wanted to die for stuttering in front of you. He rubbed his neck, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You couldn’t believe he wanted to see you tomorrow. “Yea,” you smiled. Moving to the side to leave the class, he moved to the same side to enter then you both did the awkward side to side dance at the door until you stopped and held his arms to stop him. “Sorry,” you said as you rushed outside.

Shit that was so cringy!

Iwaizumi put his face in his hands as he wished for his death again, and to make matters worse for him, a smirking Oikawa popped at his side. “What’s this? A lovesick Iwa-chan?”

“Shut up, Shittykawa!!”

The very next day you put chocolate cookies at Iwaizumi’s desk. He looked really surprised when he saw it, and gently tapped your shoulder for your attention. “You didn’t have to,” he softly said as you turned around.

“I know. I wanted to though,” you said with a smile before turning back to the board.

A week has passed and you noticed that Iwaizumi was attending classes more; you guys also shared conversations more than usual. And before you knew it, you started falling for him.

Today you had after school chores, watering the plants. What you weren’t prepared for was the sudden summer rain that showered down. ‘Damn, I could’ve returned home early,’ you looked at the plants you watered.

Hurrying inside, your wet uniform shirt was clinging onto your torso. Putting your arms around yourself in attempt to hide your now visible bra, you hurried to your class.

“Hey, isn’t that the stuck up girl?” You found three boys sitting at the stairs.

One of them stood up, “I hear she never dates, but look she’s trying to get boys’ attention,”

You backed away as they started getting closer to you. “Hey drop the shy act, we know you’re doing this on purpose,” Their leader, you guessed, grabbed your wrist harshly.

“Get the fuck away from her!” The leader got punched square in the jaw, and you turned to see a furious Iwaizumi.

Your savior took off his jacket and put it around you, “Are you okay?” He looked into your eyes.

Before you could answer, Iwaizumi took a punch by one of the minions, and the other one cradled their crying leader.

“Iwaizumi!” You gasped.

“You bitch,” Iwaizumi growled and pounced on his attacker.

“Iwaizumi, stop!” You tried to stop the fight, but Iwaizumi was straddling the boy and hit him enough to make him pass out. “Hey asshole, apologize to [Y/N], or your friend ends up in the hospital,” Iwaizumi addressed the leader.

You didn’t know why he was defending you, “They don’t have to, let’s just leave Iwaizumi,”

“No. Not until they say they’re sorry,”

The leader slowly got up, “I’m sorry!” He said a bit too loudly to you, “There! We apologized now let us go!” You could see he was tearing up again.

Iwaizumi got off the minion, “If I see you touching her again, you’ll be sorry. Now fuck off,” He glared at them. They didn’t need to be told twice as they ran for it.

Looking at his busted lip and bleeding knuckles, you approached him and held his hand. “I’m sorry,” You softly said.

“It’s fine,” Iwaizumi tried to pull his hand but you held it still. “No it’s not! You’re hurt,” you pulled him in the way of the infirmary. “The least I could do is patch you up,”

He complied and quietly walked with you. Seeing as it was after hours, the nurse’s office was empty. You made him sit down, and you brought the tools to treat him.

Looking at his injured knuckles, your heart clenched. “You didn’t have to fight them,” You quietly told him as you wrapped his hand.

“I couldn’t let them get away with disrespecting you like that,” He seriously told you. Your heart raced at his confession and you found it hard to look at him but you needed to treat his lip.

Gently dapping a soaked cotton on his lower lip, you tried to focus your vision only on that. But now you really want to kiss him.

Iwaizumi turned his head and stood up, “Thanks,” He said softly, and you could see his ears getting red.

Standing up, you held onto his wrist, “Hajime,” You softly called out his name in attempt for him to stay. You still held his wrist as he turned to look at you.

“Don’t say my name like that, [Y/N],” He quietly said as he backed you to a wall. “I wouldn’t be able to control myself,” Putting his hands on either side of your head, he leaned closer.

You gently held his face and leaned in, “I don’t want you to,” Closing the gap with your lips, you kissed him softly as not to hurt him, but was surprised when he deepened the kiss strongly, not caring for his injury. He groaned into the kiss when you hugged him close, and broke it by pressing his forehead onto yours.

“I like you,” He shyly admitted.

“I like you too,” You smiled with a light blush. “Please don’t get into fights anymore,” Holding his face, you attempted to sound stern but he just chuckled.

“Okay, I’ll try,” He kissed your head.