#tossed around the idea of doing a little fic but it's hard shelved for now. i don't think there's anything at all i could add

[rad-roche]

finished disco elysium

[satorhime]

. ･｡･ self checkout ࿐ nagi seishiro.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ content ㆍ﹒fluff, aged up!nagi, pro footballer!nagi, height difference (reader is shorter than nagi), shopping trips, slightly suggestive, established relationship. f!reader. w.c. 2k & not proofread.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ synopsis ㆍ﹒nagi enjoys running errands if the two of you go together. & ໒꒰ྀི ´ ꒳ ` ꒱ྀིა notes: baby’s first blue lock fic !! honestly i’m supa nervous bc i haven’t written 4 them before n i’m still figuring things out but i hope u enjoy reading this anw <333

“this date is so tiring,” nagi laments for the fifth time since you stepped through the automated sliding doors of the neighborhood supermarket. he blows out a breath from his puffed cheeks, sounding as if he is on the verge of collapsing while you browse the shelves for pantry essentials and late night snacks. “when can we go home?”

a trendy song from a summer spotify mix croons over the tinny speakers overhead, its bubblegum pop lyrics interrupted every now and then by a cheery voice advertising new items and upcoming discounts. the supermarket is busier than when you and seishiro usually stop by, which isn’t all that surprising considering it’s the end of the day. college students carry armfuls of instant ramen and sugary sodas for study sessions and old ladies browse for medicinal teas while parents push full carts of groceries, ignoring their wailing children who press their little noses against the frosty glass of the freezers, begging to be given overpriced ice creams locked away inside.

and you resist the urge to roll your eyes with exasperation, glancing over to where your boyfriend leans heavily on the handle of the cart he has been tasked with pushing for you— his long fingers tapping away at a mobile game on the screen of his phone.

“that’s because,” you begin, wagging a finger at him when you turn around and toss an item into the bottom of the cart. “it’s not a date, sei. i told you that i had to run errands today and you insisted on coming with me when you hate it.”

“‘s’boring at home when you’re not there, so it seemed like a good idea at first,” he shrugs, rolling the cart further down the aisle when you’re on the move again. slothy, midwinter gray eyes drag lazily over your body— taking in the way your faded t-shirt (which is, really, just one of his old ones) rides up a little on your body, exposing the cute little dimples in the soft part of your back as you stand on your tiptoes, struggling to reach one of the higher shelves in the freezer section.

you are well aware that nagi hates daily tasks. things such as making the bed in the morning, washing the dishes after dinner, or visiting the laundromat once a week requires too much energy from your drowsy footballer boyfriend, but it makes you happy to know that he tries, even if he falls asleep while doing it; that he will do anything if you are involved, and nothing if you aren’t.

like right now, he abandons his mobile game and the shopping cart in the middle of the aisle without care to come over and help you, making a mother of two-under-two glare at him viciously. he snorts, sliding his hand into the back pocket of your denim shorts, a romantic comedy habit of his when the two of you are walking anywhere together. nagi’s head tilts cutely to one side, blinking owlishly up at the shelves. “which one d’you wanna get, shortstack?”

“i am not short,” you huff, twisting your mouth to one side at his teasing, but you point to the item you want— an assorted pack of ice lollies. “shelves are designed against short people. and i dunno— are we in the mood for ice cream or popsicles?”

it’s hard to make a decision because freezers full of summer treats line both sides of the aisle. tubs of gourmet gelatos, variety packs of creamy ice candies, and an endless selection of mochi with custard fillings in the middle that make your mouth water at the thought of bringing them home with you.

“i’ll eat them no matter what anyway,” he shrugs, unwilling to be the one to choose, but then his gray eyes glance down at your lips, then back to the items in front of you. you swear that his eyes darken to a stormier color, even though his expression never changes. “you make cute sounds when you suck on ice pops, and you always taste sweet after. get those.”

and then he faces forward, browsing the selection of ice creams with interest, as if his words didn’t short circuit a current in your brain. you’ll never understand how seishiro can say the most outlandish things so casually, only to return to what he’s doing while you’re left attempting to calm your fast heart.

“ice pops it is,” you say, a little winded. “make sure to get the second pack, and not the first.”

“mhnn, why’s it matter? the second one’s farther back. they all look the same to me.”

“they’re not. the first is one everybody has touched or returned.”

“that . . . makes sense,” he considers it, then he nods, lips formed into a little ‘o’ shape. “okay, we’ll get the second one.”

you watch as he steps forward, pushing the first pack of ice lollies aside to select the second as you requested, reaching the item with ease and heavens, it’s moments like these when you are reminded just how much bigger seishiro is. he’s always towered over your shorter height and it’s so, so unfair how he uses it to his advantage, making your tummy burn at the sight. frosty air wafts from the open door of the freezer, bringing chills over your heated skin. “‘s a good thing i was here, since you’re so little— there was no way you could reach it.”

“‘m not little,” you mumble, all pouty because nagi is squishing your cheeks between two finger pads. “you’re just so tall. it’s unfair.”

“want me to be shorter?” he asks, and before you can ask what he means, nagi drops the pack of ice pops into your hands and deflates dramatically, bending down to drape himself over your frame. his head tucked against your shoulder, the footballer’s milky fringe tickling the skin of your neck as he closes his eyes. “man, now ‘m even more tired.”

“seishiro, you’re heavy.”

“i know,” he sighs, eyes shuttering below thick lashes, but he makes no effort to move away from your body. instead, his hand slithers under your shirt. making you shiver because his fingertips are dewy and cold from the arctic blast of the freezer and the frozen treat he picked up. you hiss, squirming under his touch as his fingers trail across your belly. “but i’m tired ‘n’ you feel s’soft, like a pillow.”

“nagi, off,” you wheeze, his extra weight making it hard for you to properly breathe. it’s easy to forget how solid he is, straight lines of athletic muscle that usually has you cow-eyed and cooing, as long as it’s not weighing you down in the middle of a supermarket. you try to shake him off, but the midfielder only squeezes you against his body even tighter, his slightly damp lips pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “we’re never gonna get anything done like this, you lazy boy. if you don’t wanna walk, go wait in the sitting area with the grandpas.”

he sighs in defeat and shakes his head, pressing his lips together in that cute frown he pulls whenever he’s thinking. then, he’s dropping his arms from you suddenly. “mmhn, got a better idea.”

“and what’s that—”

you face nagi, only to catch your boyfriend with one foot in the shopping cart as he tries to hoist himself over the railing and inside of the basket.

“sei, you can’t fit in there—!” your eyes flicker between him, and the elderly man judging the two of you at the other end of the aisle. “you’re too big.”

“you’re always saying things like that,” he says, and the innuendo intertwined in the words flies over your pretty head because with one boost, he’s hopping over the railing and sinking into the cart, the metal rattling in protest. you stand there, dumbstruck as he settles. “now i can stay with you without walking.”

“yeah, but now that means i have to push you,” you grumble. “i should leave you here and get a new cart.”

but it’s hard to refuse when your boyfriend is that cute. his impossibly long legs are folded against his chest so that he can fit inside the shopping cart comfortably, taking extra care not to crush any of the delicate items surrounding him. the lower half of his face is buried into the collar of his soft hoodie as he absently chews on the drawstrings, but you can still see the sanrio bandaid you put on him yesterday after he got a nasty elbow to the cheek during football practice.

even though you two are already receiving strange looks from other shoppers passing by, you grip the handle, pushing the cart and your boyfriend dutifully, rolling it onto the next aisle.

“you look ridiculous,” you tell him, but you’re grinning. “but here, you’re on list duty. what do we need to get next?”

nagi’s eyes dutifully scan over the shopping list open in the notes app of your phone, his fingernail scrolling the screen lightly.

“it says ‘ramen because my greedy athlete bf keeps eating it all’ so y’need to get . . . oi, you mean me—”

“i wonder who wrote that there,” you whistle innocently, plucking the device out of his hands, wheeling him away fast.

the rest of your shopping trip is a blur, except for you turning a corner too fast and nearly dumping him out of the cart or the weird looks shoppers continue to give you because by the time you’re lining up in the queue, nagi is buried under the items because he takes up too much space. there’s a bag of rice on one shoulder, a pack of ramen on the other and fresh radishes sprouting from the snowy peaks of his head. not to mention, he’s still holding the pack of ice pops, condensation dripping over his hands.

“you’re making them melt, sei.” because he runs hot a heated blanket in the summer, and you can sympathize with the poor popsicles being defrosted in his big hands.

“‘m gonna eat one so they won’t— oh, hey this one is lemon,” he says, prying open the cardboard lid and tearing open the plastic wrapper of a lemon crème ice pop. tongue peeking out to lick before he’s holding it over his shoulder for you to taste next. “try it. i don’t sound as cute as you when i eat them.”

“sei, you’re not supposed to open those before we—” but nagi pushes the cold treat between your lips insistently, your eyes rounding wide, whining in protest as the ice pop hits your sensitive teeth. but it does taste good— creamy, sweet and sour flavors coating the surface of your tongue. “oh, it’s sh’good. we should get another pack.”

“see? y’make the cutest sounds when you suck it.”

“shut up, seishiro.”

you begin placing the items on the conveyor belt, listening to the irritating bleep, bleep, bleep of the scanner as the cashier rings up each product. you’re not frugal, but you peep at the total on the screen every now and then with a wince.

“that’s it for you, or are you buying the man in your cart too, ma’am?” the cashier asks, glancing at nagi as he finishes off the melting ice pop in the shopping cart, chin resting on top of his knees.

“no,” and you giggle, cheeks warming as you roll your eyes in exasperation. “this one is already mine.”

[lovely-angst]

number ‘x’ fan

a/n: um, this was a good idea in theory until i started writing it and then suddenly i wanted to trash this fic lol

genre: angst to fluff

pairing: hawks x reader

summary: a trip to Hawks’ agency gone wrong when a crazed fan runs their car into a pregnant you and your two young sons

word count: 5k

05.05.21

-

If there was something the nation of Japan adored more than Pro Hero Hawks himself, it was his wife and the little family he had with her. His family was something he always talked about when given any opportunity.

To think it had already been five years since Hawks introduced you to the world still baffles you.

When he had come up to you that one day, bringing up the dreaded question of finally bringing you and the kids into the public and media for all of the world to see—you were very nervous, to say the least.

You knew how terrible the media could be with all of the gossip and drama. You weren’t sure if you could handle all of the attraction so suddenly. But your husband Hawks was always so reassuring and in the most nonpressuring way possible.

“If you’re not ready, that’s totally okay! I just thought it would be more beneficial for us if the whole world knew who you guys are,” he said gently as he brought his gloved hand towards your cheek with the softest smile. “I just want the world to finally know about my beautiful family. I don’t want to keep you guys a secret anymore.”

You couldn’t help but melt into his hand, bringing your own to rub those cute little avian features on his eyes gently. “I know, you sweet bird,” you coo, watching how his lips curve up the slightest. “I just don’t know how this could benefit us.”

“Honey, the world is going to love you. They’re going to love our boys. From the pro heroes to the supportive fans I have, we have, they’ll want to protect you too. Trust me.”

Staring up into those comforting golden eyes, you took a deep breath before nodding. Of course, you’ll trust him.

And soon, the fated day of your “debut” was finally here. In your arms, you held your sweet one year old boy, Yuto, while your three year old, Kazuto, clung onto Hawks’ legs adorably.

Though you were very nervous with all of the photographers and news outlets all around you when you turned to glance over at Hawks and saw that proud and genuine smile on his face, all of your fears washed away.

Thinking back on the memory, you let out a content sigh as a smile grew on your face. Thankfully, those last five years flew by quite smoothly with the occasional rough bumps with his angry fan club, nothing that worried you terribly.

And while life was going great for you and your growing family with Hawks, it was going terrible for a self-proclaimed number one Hawks fan.

Clutching the newspaper tightly, their eyes reread the words on the front page for the hundredth time.

‘Pro Hero Hawks shows his seven-month pregnant wife some PDA!’ with a photo caught by the paparazzi showing the two of you sharing a kiss while holding hands.

The violent grip she held on the paper caused rips before letting out an angry scream, tearing the thin material into thousands of pieces letting it pool around her like snowflakes.

Hearing Hawks’ voice coming through the television, she finally snapped out of her thoughts and tuned in focus again, turning to face the television behind her. Her eyebrow irked in irritation as she watched how he wrapped a hand around her waist lovingly and securely.

“I don’t know what I would do without her,” Hawks beams to the reporter who had asked about you, “I mean, have you seen her? She’s the prettiest lady I have ever laid my eyes on and the most amazing wife and mother to our kids!”

“People say she is blessed to be married to me, but I can say for sure I am extremely blessed to be married to her”

Roughly turning the television off, the fan stormed into her bedroom before slamming the door shut behind her, causing the walls to shake. “How could you do this to me!” she screamed as she ran up to tear at the photos of Hawks she had glued on the walls of her bedroom, causing the covered walls to become bare again. “I thought you loved me! I showed you unconditional love! I’m your biggest fan! Everything was going great until that—that wench showed up!”

Boxes and figurines were tossed around, swung off shelves, quickly turning the room into a mess of Hawks merchandise.

It wasn’t until she finally looked over at her makeshift Hawks shrine that she let out a sigh, a smile growing on her lips. “Hawks, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it,” she cooed, walking up to the Hawks shrine before kneeling down in front of it. Reaching over to brush her finger gently over the photo of the two of them—a photo she managed to obtain at a VIP fan meet.

Pressing onto the photo where Hawks stood, she continued to stare at it lovingly, “I know you love me, Hawks. I’ll make sure that it will be just us again.”

-

“Yuto, Kazuto, hurry up and get dressed so we can visit papa at work,” you say from in the kitchen as you finished preparing lunch for the four of you—five, if you include the baby growing in your belly.

“I can’t find the Endeavor doll papa gave me!” Yuto cries, running into the kitchen with tears. Turning around, you offer the boy a gentle smile before brushing your hand through his soft blonde hair.

“Yuto, we can bring the Endeavor doll another time, okay? What if he gets lost today in papa’s big work building? That would be very sad, wouldn’t it?” You prompt and Yuto looks down before giving you a nod.

“We can find him together when we get back, okay? Right now, papa is waiting for us to come see him and he’s going to show you all of the cool stuff he does! We can wear our Hawks jacket instead to match papa. Doesn’t that sound fun?” Hearing your words, the bright red wings on his back fluff up and flutter in joy before he runs back to his room in joy. “Okay, mama!”

Placing the fried chicken into each container neatly, you covered the lids on them and placed them in the bag nicely before Kazuto walks in and takes the bag, hauling it over his shoulder. “I got it, mom.”

“Oh, honey, it might be heavy,” you try, but Kazuto shakes his head, “Don’t worry, plus your belly might make you tired, so I’ll carry this for you.”

Quick little platters rang in the air before Yuto popped back into the kitchen beside his older brother, “I’m ready, mama!”

You couldn’t help but smile at how cute they were, looking so handsome, just like their dad.

“Okay boys, put your shoes on and let’s head out the door to papa’s agency.”

And it was such a beautiful day for a walk. The sun was out with little to no clouds and there was just the right amount of breeze that helped keep the three of you cool during these summer days.

Even though Hawks’ agency was just a 20-minute walk, he kept insisting on calling you a cab so you wouldn’t have to walk so far with the boys while pregnant. Of course, you declined, saying how it would be healthy for you and the baby to get fresh air and to walk around—to which he finally and hesitantly agreed on before adding a “call me when you get here.”

It was a normal occurrence getting greeted by Hawks fans on your outings like today. Most of them along the lines of, “(Name)-san! You look great today!” or “Love to see you and the boys healthy!” and not to mention, “I love you guys!”

It was sweet seeing supportive fans that your hard-working husband has.

“Ah, look! There is papa’s agency!” you say, pointing to the large and tall building, watching how your sons’ eyes lit up in awe. “Wow!” Yuto exclaims, turning over to you while fluttering his wings. “Papa works there?” 

“Yep! Let’s go and give him a surprise!” 

Walking over to the crosswalk just in front of the agency, you held Yuto’s hand in yours as the three of you waited for the signal to change to allow you to cross the road. “The roads are empty today, but we still need to watch for cars,” you point out to your boys as they began to look both ways. 

Everyone was busy at work, so no one was on the roads besides some parked cars. The crosswalk signal changed and played a tune while you and the boys began to cross the street towards Hawks’ agency to meet up with your dear husband. 

The sound of squealing tires from beside you had caught your attention and once you turned your head, it was already too late to dodge the oncoming vehicle speeding towards you and the boys. 

Gasping, you tried your best to push your boys out of the way as much as you could, but it wasn’t enough. 

The corner of the car was still able to hit Yuto and Kazuto, sending them crashing a few feet away from you. 

Unfortunately for you, the vehicle slammed head onto you. Rolling onto the hood, your head crashed into the windshield, smashing it and rolling off. A small pool of blood forming underneath your head as the car sped off. 

Your head rang as your vision slowed significantly. Turning your head, you see your boys on the ground more than an arms length away from you as they struggled to get up. 

Placing a shaky hand on your belly, you just hoped and prayed your baby was safe from the impact, but it wasn’t looking too good for you, you noted. 

It was surprising to you all the thoughts and information were able to process through your head after such an event. 

A crowd quickly formed around you and the boys as the voices began fading into the background as your conscious state was beginning to fade.

“My boys...” you say weakly to the stranger, eyes fluttering shut as your attempts to stay awake failed. “Ma’am! Keep your eyes open! Someone call for help!” 

“Get H-Hawks,” you tried once more before you succumbed to the drowsiness. Suddenly, it clicked in someone’s mind. “That’s Hawks’ wife and kids! His agency is just down the road! Someone get him!”

Kazuto slowly sat up from the rough fall, looking down at himself to spot any injuries. Spreading his wings, they seemed to be in mint condition, although his hip throbbed and his leg was slightly bruising from the impact. It wasn’t until he heard Yuto sobbing that he turned to check on his younger brother.

Yuto was beside him, face scrunched up, shaking and sobbing as his eyes met those of his brothers. “I think my wing is broken,” Yuto informed, turning to give his older brother a glance of his droopy wing. 

And before Kazuto could turn to check on you, a stranger stepped in his view, blocking him from the gruesome scene where his mother lay. “Hey there, friends, it looks like you both got a little bit hurt. The ambulance is on it’s way to take you and your mom to the hospital, so don’t worry. I’ll sit here with you guys and keep you safe, okay?” 

The two boys could only nod.

-

Hawks spun around in his swivel chair eagerly as he waited for his wife and kids to arrive. Sighing, he took out his phone for the hundredth time in the last ten minutes, glancing at the last text message you sent. 

From: wifey <3

‘Be there in five minutes! see you soon papa bird! <3’ 

But it had already been half an hour since your text. He knew that sometimes the boys took a little bit longer to get out of the house, but this was a bit off. Maybe he was just being a little impatient.

Suddenly a knock came at the door and he immediately got up to answer it, wings fluttering with excitement. But when he opened the door to find his assistant looking all frazzled, he raised a brow. “What’s up?” 

“Hawks, your family,” they stammered, out of breath from running around the large building. “They’ve been in a bad accident in front of the agency. A car-”

Before they could even finish, Hawks had spun around and jumped through a large open window from his office before flying down towards where they had mentioned. 

His eyes darted around quickly before catching sight of a large crowd. Sending his feathers down, his heart froze when he recognized you and his boys down there.

From the height he was at, he could already tell it wasn’t looking good. He could spot his boys’ wings from here, thankfully, shooting down towards them. 

He just wanted to see his wife and kids and they end up getting hit by some low life?

Hawks landed quickly at the scene before rushing over towards his boys, who immediately noticed their father’s large wings. “Dad!” 

Falling onto his knees, his hands roamed around their smaller bodies, checking for injuries before bringing them both in for a hug, relieved to see them alive and breathing. “Are you two okay?” Where does it hurt?” 

“My body hurts a bit and Yuto’s wing might be broken,” Kazuto informed before Hawks immediately checked Yuto’s wing before he let out a sigh, “Just a sprain. Don’t worry, birdie.” he replies, pressing a kiss to his youngest’s head. 

“Stay here, I’m going to go check on mom. These nice people will help you two, okay? I’m here now, don’t worry.” Hawks said firmly to the boys, giving them one last embrace before the stranger before stepped back in to stay with the boys as Hawks ran over to find you. 

Once his eyes spotted you, he felt like his heart had stopped and died there and then. 

To put it plainly, you looked dead—blood soaked clothes, unconscious and limp on the ground as the paramedics prepared the stretcher for you.

“(Name)!” Hawks called out, running to your body only to be stopped by a paramedic. “I’m sorry Hawks, but it’s best if you leave the rest to us.” 

“W-where is she going?” Hawks asked as he watched them gently place your injured body onto the stretcher, following beside them and peeking at you the best he could. “We’re going to transport her to the nearest hospital. We have to check and make sure we don’t lose the baby. We don’t have time for any more questions,” and with that, they carefully lifted you into the ambulance and drove off, leaving him there with a million unanswered questions. 

He wished he could be by your side, but right now, his boys needed him.

It didn’t take Hawks long to arrive at the hospital with Yuto and Kazuto. Reaching the emergency desk, Hawks immediately asked for you before receiving an answer that stopped his already shaking heart.

“There has been complications with her pregnancy, so they have to conduct an emergency C-section to try and save the baby,” they inform, Hawks’ blood turning ice cold.

“C-Section? But she’s only seven months along! The baby isn’t ready!” He cried, wings even more frazzled than before. “I understand your concern. That is why we will do our best to make sure the baby is as healthy as possible.”

Hawks could only stare in shock before turning to his two young boys, who looked up at him worried.

“Is mama going to be okay?” Yuto asked, his wing still drooping behind him. Hawks offered a small but weak smile, “the doctors are doing their best to make mama feel better. While they help mama, we need to get you two checked to make sure you’re doing okay,” Hawks continued, lifting Yuto into his arms.

“How’s it going, Kazuto? Does your leg hurt too much?” Kazuto shakes his head, “It hurts, but I can still walk slowly.” Hawks nods before reaching over to push his son’s hair back as the three walk to get the boys checked on.

-

“Hawks?” hear a soft female voice, Hawks quickly turned to see Fuyumi walking towards them with a small smile. Hawks quickly stands to greet the friendly face, “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Fuyumi.”

“Don’t worry about it, dad seemed worried when he told me about your situation. Anything to help a friend, right?” she says and Hawks couldn’t help but give her a relieved smile. 

“Well, these are my boys. Kazuto is my oldest and Yuto is youngest. Well, with our new baby, Miyako will be the youngest,” Hawks explains as the two boys stand beside him, looking up at Fuyumi.

“Hi,” she starts, bending down towards their level, “My name is Fuyumi, I’m going to take care of you while your mama is getting better, okay?” 

Yuto clings onto Hawks’ legs, “I don’t want to go.”

“You know, my dad is the number one hero, Endeavor. He’s kind of scary, but I’m sure he’ll teach you a thing or two about being a hero.” That caught the boys’ attention, their wings raising up. 

“Your papa is the number one hero? My papa is the number two,” Yuto says and Fuyumi smiles at him. “That’s cool, huh? Your papa and my papa must be great friends.” Yuto couldn’t help but give her a cheeky smile, scrunching up his nose. 

“Well, let’s say goodbye to your papa and let’s go to my house and we can eat, okay?” Gently taking their hands, Fuyumi brought them over to her side before the two boys wave goodbye to Hawks. 

“Take care of mama, okay?” Yuto says as Hawks gives him a wink and a thumbs up. “I’ll tell her about how cool you two were being such big boys and not even crying.” 

Hawks stepped closer towards Fuyumi, cupping his hand around his mouth, “Yuto’s wing has a sprain, so make sure he doesn’t use it and doesn’t sleep on it if he can help it. Kazuto’s left hip and leg is in bad shape and is pretty bruised, so please keep some ice on it.” 

Pulling away, Fuyumi gives him a determined nod. “Thanks, see you in a few days.” and with that, she left the hospital with Yuto and Kazuto in hand. 

Letting out a sigh, Hawks carried on over towards the waiting area while he waited for your operation to finish. It had been only an hour since he had gotten here, but it felt like forever while he waited for some sort of news. 

After some time, he finally received news, great news. 

His daughter Miyako had been born via c-section and had no underlying health issues. Unfortunately, because she was born premature, she would need to be monitored at the hospital until she was strong enough without the help of the equipment to finally go home. 

That was fine by Hawks, of course, anything to help his baby girl. 

Walking down the quiet halls of the hospital room, Hawks nervously made his way into the NICU, where his baby girl, Miyako, would be staying for some time. 

“I’m here to see Miyako, I’m the dad,” he states before a nurse leads him over to her quiet room filled with the background noises of the equipment keeping her alive and healthy. 

Gently walking over, Hawks peeked over where the little girl was being incubated, his heart swelling at the sight of his third child and first girl. 

“Can I touch her?” Hawks asked the nurse behind him gently and nervously, seeing that she was tiny and barely over five pounds. “Of course, just wash your hands with soap.”

Doing just that, he made sure to take his time with cleaning his hands and forearms before drying them and making his way back to Miyako. 

Sticking his arms into the small openings, Hawks brushed the back of his fingers across her small yet still chubby cheeks. A smile blossomed onto his lips when she stretched out from his touch and that’s when he finally noticed the little wings perched on her back.

“You have wings, baby girl,” Hawks commented as his fingers ran across her fuzzy grey wings. “That makes three of us, huh?” 

He spent whatever time he could with her talking about himself, her brothers and her amazing mother before the nurse politely told him to leave so that Miyako could rest some more.

With all the terrible things that had happened, Miyako finally arriving was a good that broke the hardship. 

Before he could visit your room, he was stopped in the halls by a detective who flashed him his badge, “we found the culprit behind this attack.” Hawks frowned at the detective, “Let’s go to a more private setting,” he replied as the two made their way into a private room. 

“What did you find?” Hawks questioned, mirroring the detective who pulled out a chair to sit in. “An obsessed fan of yours,” he simply stated, tossing out a photo towards the winged man, “found this in the vehicle she was driving when she hit your wife and kids,” I assume you recognize the girl?” 

Staring at the photo in his hand, Hawks let out a groan as he slumped back on his chair, “I should’ve never suggested bringing (Name) and the kids out into the public,” Hawks sighed.

“This would have never happened.”

-

“Keigo?” 

“What is it, sweetheart?” he hums, fixing the vase full of your favorite flowers before walking over to you and sitting in the chair that sat beside your hospital bed. 

“How are the boys doing?” you asked, rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand gently when he slipped his hand into yours. 

It had been a day since you woke up, but three days since you had been admitted to the hospital, Hawks being one of the only people you had seen, including the doctors and your bedside nurses. 

“Well, they miss you that’s for sure,” he smiles and you offer one back. “Are they injured? I wasn’t able to check up on them before I—well, you know,” you try, but Hawks shifts your thoughts away when he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Yuto just has a sprained wing and Kazuto’s a little bruised, but they’re being cared at, at the number one’s house,” your eyes widened, “Endeavor’s?” 

“Well, technically, Fuyumi is watching over them,” Hawks continues and you relax once again with a smile, “Fuyumi has always been good with kids. They must be having a good time with her.” 

“And Miyako? How is she?”

“She’s cute and small and has these cute grey fuzzy wings on her back,” Hawks says with a small giggle, “her nurse says she’s doing just fine and should be able to go home in a few weeks. They still want her to cook a bit in the incubator.” 

You smile at him before closing your eyes and resting back on your pillow with a relieved sigh, “I’m glad that they’re all okay. I miss them so much.”

Hawks brings a hand to your cheek and you open your eyes to look up at him, nuzzling into his warm and large palm, “What’s wrong, honey?” 

“I just feel like this is all my fault,” he starts, bringing his hand back as his gaze drops down to his lap, “I should’ve never asked to bring you and the boys out into the public. It was selfish of me, you guys would’ve been safer and this would’ve never happened.” 

“Keigo, it’s not your fault,” you say, placing a hand on his cheek, but your movement was restricted due to the IV needle in your arm. Hawks brings your hand down to your lap, opting to hold it in his larger ones instead. 

“We didn’t know this would’ve happened, plus it was just a crazy fan! Instead of you being mad, I should be mad because someone thinks they love you more than how much I love you!” you exclaim and Hawks couldn’t help the small smile on his lips. 

“Trust in yourself,” motioning him closer, you pressing a kiss onto his lips before a teasing smile formed on your lips “I love you more than you can ever imagine, you dumb bird.” 

And Hawks tucked your words into his heart and decided to trust himself on his next bizarre idea—visiting that crazy fan of his in prison.

Sitting in the cool, metal chair, Hawks waited patiently in front of the barrier for the guards to bring out his so called, number one fan—the person who tried to take out his whole family. 

It wasn’t until she came into view and noticed him that her eyes seemed to light up in shock and joy. Throwing herself on the chair, she grabbed the phone as fast as she could, bringing it up to her ear. Hawks doing the same.

“H-Hawks? It’s really you! You came! You really came to see me!” she cried, and Hawks did not give her a spec of emotion. 

“I’m only here to tell you a few things,” he started and she nodded excitedly. “You are a fan of mine and I adore and cherish my fans,” Hawks states, her cheeks turning rosy at his words. “I would expect you to do something as simple as respect me as a person, as a pro hero, and to respect my family—my wife and my kids.”

“I only did what I did because I love you!” she shot back and Hawks glared her down with his sharp eyes, “and because of that, I’m disappointing that you even have the nerve to call yourself my fan. I’ve blacklisted you from attending any of my fan meets or events.”

Her eyes widened before she began to shake her head in disbelief, “No, no, no...You don’t mean that! Hawks no!”

“But I doubt you’d be leaving prison anytime soon for attempted murder on three cases,” He shoots back, her sobs and wails audible through the thick barrier between them.

“But I love you!” she cries desperately, “don’t do this!”

Hanging up the phone, Hawks turned around as the wails from the unfortunate girl filled the air behind him, leaving him feeling lighter than ever.

And it seemed as if things continued to get better from thereon. 

You sat in your hospital bed excited yet nervously as the nurse carefully transported Miyako into your arms for the first time. As the infant shifted around in discomfort, you gently cooed at her, Miyako recognizing your voice. 

“Miyako, it’s mama. I’m sorry it took us so long to finally meet,” you say with a large smile as she turned to face you—her poofy and fuzzy wings resting over your arms warmly.

Hawks watched in adoration of the sight of his two favorite girls finally together in each other’s arms. Miyako no longer needed any medical assistance and you, finally bandaged and needle free. 

“Miyako’s been doing perfectly fine without any of the medical equipment and should be able to go home in the next few days,” your nurse says and your head shoots over towards Hawks’ excitedly. 

“Honey, honey,” you chirp, “We can finally go home in a few days!”

Hawks couldn’t help the chuckle and smile that formed on his lips, especially from how excited you were. You had been in this hospital for nearly a month now and eager to see your boys and to finally be home. 

Leaning over, Hawks pressed a warm kiss onto your lips before running his finger over Miyako’s plump cheeks. 

“I can’t wait to have you home and in my arms again.” 

And did that day finally come. 

You and Hawks made your way around the hospital with Miyako sound asleep in a stroller, thanking all the doctors and nurses for their help. 

And to your surprise, Kazuto, Yuto and Fuyumi were at the main doors waiting for the three of you. 

“Mama!” they cried before taking off towards you. Yuto wrapped his small arms around your legs as Kazuto, who was just a bit taller, wrapped his arms around your waist gently, pressing his face into your side. 

“My boys, I missed you both so much,” you cried, pressing kisses all over their faces, seeing them light up with joy after being separated for so long. 

“Would you like to see your little sister?” You ask with a curious smile, watching them suddenly turn timid, but slowly, they made their way to the stroller and found a little baby girl sleeping comfortably.

“She’s so small,” Kazuto notes, glancing back up at you with his proud big brother smile. “Hi, Miyako. You’re so cute,” Yuto giggles, watching her stir.

You couldn’t help but lean into Hawks at the sight. Everything was right. Even when you finally had the energy to check your phone, you were surprised to see how all the support from friends, family, and fans alike.

“The agency called and said we have like a million gifts from the fans to pick up. A lot of them are ‘get well’ gifts for you and the boys and some are baby gifts for Miya,” Hawks states with a smile and you tilt your head at him teasingly. 

“Miya? You already gave her a nickname?” you tease and he couldn’t help but look away with a blush which made you laugh. “Well, Miya is going to have the best papa bird and brother birds in the world.” 

But the feeling of being at home, away from the world and just with your family topped everything else. 

You were in Hawks’ arms, resting comfortably and watching as your two young boys watched Miyako in awe, commenting about how cute she was or how cute her small grey wings were every minute. 

“Keigo, I’m so happy,” you state, leaning into his body more as you let out a content sigh. “Thank you for everything,” glancing up, his gold eyes were already on you before the two of you connected with a kiss.

“I should be saying that to you, dove. You’ve given me a whole family to love.”

And for all the bad that had happened, being able to rest in the love of your life’s arms with your newly expanded family, seemed to wash all of that away.

[fictional-scenarios]

hello! can i request an angsty fic with aizawa and f! reader where they break up? thank you!

i hope you enjoy this! i did it from his perspective, hope thats okay! also i know he probably wouldn’t actually be like this in a relationship, but for the fic, this is the only way i could see him being at fault :3

always appreciate reblogs and comments! if you’d lie to support me, here’s my ko-fi!

In the worst of the aftermath, Aizawa was not angry. He was never angry, not truly. Not even when he’d snap at his friends for bringing up her name, or when he’d feel rage churning in his stomach at the thought of her being with another. He was never angry. 

He was sad. So devastatingly, core achingly sad, that it kept him bed ridden for days at a time. Work, come home, eat and sleep. It wouldn't end. 

He’d always considered his quant home a safe haven, but lately it’d been feeling like a prison. It felt like a haunting museum, little bits of her as far as the eye could see. The memories were so vivid, he could still almost see the figure of her standing in his doorway. He could see her leaning on the window sill peering outside. He could see her shoes by the front door, her toothbrush in a cup upon his sink. He could see her under the covers with him, hushed laughter and soft snoring into the early morning.

Even now, he see’s her beside him in bed. He see’s the indent of where she should be, now terribly empty. It makes him feel cold, alone. 

But, being alone had never been a huge issue to him before all this. In fact, he knows it was the downfall of him. 

She’d just wanted him to go out with her now and then. She just wanted to take photos with him, hold his hand out in public without feeling like she’d been forcing him. 

Aizawa buries his face in his hands, his back leaning against the cold wall, blanket curled around his waist like a weight. 

All she had wanted was just a little more life. Just a few more kisses, a few more hugs. A few more signs that he truly cared for her, but he wouldn’t hear of it. She knew he loved her, why couldn’t that be enough? 

He refused public dates that weren’t anniversaries or events. He hated photos. He hated when she’d clasp fingers around his own, hated it because all it brought was attention. Paparazzi's scavenging and ruining every affectionate and tender moment they’d shared together in public. 

He never understood why it had to be public. He couldn’t wrap his mind around why she would insist they get out and so something together. Why couldn't hanging out in the seclusion of his home be enough?

Always so stubborn, especially when it would have been the correct time to give in. His annoyance and unwillingness to be anything other than slow moving and low maintenance drove her away from him. He was just fine being on his own, so why couldn't she?

‘I feel like you’re embarrassed of me,’ She’d cried, having hit her breaking point. ‘I feel like you don’t even really care about me.”

Aizawa’s jaw tightens. Of course I care about you. Why else would I want you here?

He should have said that. But, he didn’t. Just silently witnessed the destruction unsure of what to do next. Unsure of whether to argue, or remain dormant and quiet. Not quite apathetic, but he was never one for a shouting match. 

Unfortunately, he chose to remain still in the face of a crumbling heart. 

‘Even now, you won’t say a word. You don’t ever talk to me, Shota. You never ask how my day was, or if I want to go do anything. Why do I feel like I’m just here so you’re not lonely?’ She’d had fat tears welling in the pits of her eyes. She looked drained, broken. ‘I need more,’ Voice cracking, a terrible realization she’d stumbled upon. ‘I need more than that.’ 

It was a tense moment of silence. She shook her head and choked back a harsh sob.

‘Then that’s it.’ Lip trembling, feeling unwanted. ‘I can’t do this with you anymore. I’m leaving.’

At the lucid memory, Aizawa wish's he could go back and punch himself in the head. Say something, you idiot, he’d scream. Tell her to stay.

She’d passed him by, and the door slammed shut before he even turned to watch her go. 

It’s been weeks now, and he can’t seem to get his head right. It’d taken days before she came to collect her things, something he hoped would never come to be. A stupid part of him believed that she’d come around for some reason. It’d happened before- her storming out, him never changing, her missing him enough to just... Get over it. This time, however, was much different. 

Sinking in the memories, Aizawa feels his throat tighten at everything she’d said, and even worse, everything he didn’t say. His phone lights up beside him. 

yamada: are you still moping in there???? come out w us tonight! you need to get outta bed at some point

yamada: its been weeeeeeks!!!!!!! come on!!!!!!!

Aizawa knows he does. He knows his friend has been trying to get him to leave since it happened, but it’s hard.  He answered his friend, deciding that tonight he would in fact go out for a few hours just to clear his mind- anything is starting to become better than seeing a home empty of her. He sends the message, and his heart grows heavy.

He said yes to his friends when he was feeling sorry for himself, but never for her. He knew he deserved it, but it hurt not having her anymore. Especially when all he had to do was say yes sometimes. 

What stung the most was that he didn’t get to see her when she came to collect all her items, cram them into a box and leave for the last time. He’d hoped at that point, if it ever came to that, he could convince her to stay. But.. She hadn’t told him she was coming. Perhaps because she knew she was bound to give in. 

He came from from U.A., hoping that she’d be there, sleeping soundly or sitting terse on the couch ready for an argument ending conversation. 

But, she wasn’t there. In fact, nothing of her was. All her things vacated. Everything but the memory of her stripped away. 

Aizawa had stood stunned in the doorway. Then, it all came crashing down. She was serious this time. It was set in stone.

She’d really left him.

He didn’t think she’d actually leave him. Arguments were always so easy for Aizawa. He was a firm believer in ‘take me as a I am, or don’t take me at all.’ But, he’d never realized just how much changing she’d done for him. 

When he’d first met her at a group outing, she was full of life. She was bouncy and energetic. She had a sea of friends, a world of opportunities. But with him, with Aizawa’s stubbornness combined with her need and want to spend time with him, she went out less and less. Contacts in her phone dwindled from a vast ocean to merely puddles. 

Seldom she went out, and on the rare occasions she was able to get Aizawa to go, she’d dress in her best just for him to chastise her. ‘We’re not going anywhere that fancy,’ he’d remark, not noticing how her eyes fell. ‘Aren’t you a little over dressed?’

Guilt tore up his heart, now. She was always so beautiful dressed up like that, how could he ever say those things? Too late did he notice how she’d changed everything for him. Lost friends, missed outings, just so she could remain by his side. He did everything wrong and wasn't even willing to see it. He felt like a neglectful, stubborn, ass. 

Forcing himself up from bed, it takes all his strength to get up and wander into the bathroom. He’d need to start getting ready then if he was to go later. He was a slow moving creature, after all. Lazily, mentally drained and exhausted, he opens the mirror and pulls his toothbrush from the little shelves inside. The mirror swings shut and he’s met with his dreadful reflection. 

His eyes are even darker, redder, than they ever were with his quirk. Even he could tell he looked worse for wear. Drained, emotionally vacant yet so powerfully overrun with them at the same time. He looked dead. He brings the toothbrush to his teeth, but can’t bring himself to find the motivation to actually begin cleaning up. 

So tired. 

He just wants to sleep again. 

He wants to text her. But he doesn’t.

Tossing the toothbrush into the sink, resting his elbows on the edges and allowing his head to hang in sorrow, he wonders what she’s doing right now. It’s a warm Friday evening, the blue sky wide and clear. He’s sure she’s going out tonight, finally allowing herself the freedom to make up for all the time she’d missed with her friends. Friday’s were always Aizawa’s least favorite day. He just knew she’d want to go out, and he’d always combat it with a movie she’d been wanting to see, coming up with some random excuse as to why it wouldn’t be an ideal idea to go out. 

Then, he’d ignore how she sadly watched her friends social media stories about the night, and ignored their texts asking why she’s never around anymore.

God, what he would give for one more Friday night with her. He’d dress up, he’d take her somewhere so nice even he would be afraid he couldn’t afford the food. Her and all her friends. Whoever she wants, the whole world if need be. He’d do anything she wanted, strut her to a party on a red-carpet. Anything just for another Friday night. 

Aizawa’s eyes cast back up to his reflection. A lump forms in his throat, he watches his eyes glisten with tears. He wants to fall into the floor and forget about everything. 

Pushing himself away from the sink, he shake his head and gags on how tight his threat feels. Without even a moments hesitation, he finds himself right back in his room, pulls the covers aside, and drowns in them all over again. It’s dark, it’s cold. His own rooms uninviting without her. 

Yet, he can’t seem to bring himself to leave it.

His phone sits on his pillow. Aizawa opens his friends message. 

‘im going to stay in tonight. thank you for inviting me. im tired’

Aizawa doesn’t even want to see the messages his friend instantly starts blowing his phone up with. Instead, seconds after the text sends, he holds the power button until the entire screen goes black. He rolls over to face the wall, and he feels like he’s made of led. He swallows hard and gives into sleep all over again. His arm slings around a pillow, and he clutches it to his chest. 

A forever inanimate reminder of where she once laid. 

[maddiwrites]

The Hybrid (I)

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: The Pogues rekindle their friendship with their old childhood best friend and JJ’s first crush, Y/N. Old feelings resurface for JJ and Y/N, possibly leading to a summer neither one of them could ever forget. Due to past trauma, Y/N is reluctant to let anyone into her heart, but JJ never backs down from a challenge, even if he knows it will come back to haunt him in the end.

Note: Thank you for being patient with me as I slowly write this series. I had this idea a long time ago and I’m not finding motivation to write it but the inspiration comes and go. I smile with every comment that is left on my fics and I’m so grateful for this community. Thank you for letting me pursue my creative writing without judgement. Love you guys! (Also, yes. If you didn’t see my last note, I based YN’s family off of the Gilmore Girls characters. That’s who I picture as them.)

Word Count: 8k

 Masterlist   Prologue 

You wake up to someone falling on your bed next to you with a dramatic sigh. Knowing exactly who it is, you choose to ignore her and try getting back to the dreamless sleep you were peacefully having before you woke up.

That is, until she sighs again. 

You flip onto your back and stare up at your ceiling fan that’s quickly spinning above you. “What, Rory?”

“How did it go with Andre and that boy?”

You look at her with one brow raised. “You woke me up to hear about Andre’s love life? That hardly sounds like you. You don��t care about high school drama or hookups.”

“You’re right,” Rory says. “But I thought I would ease you into what I actually need to tell you.”

You turn on right side and look at your sister confused. “What?”

She sighs. “The cafe’s basement flooded last night. Mom needs us there to help her clean up and take inventory on what’s salvageable.”

You turn back on you backside and close your eyes, exhaling a deep sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Unfortunately not,” Rory says and pats you twice on your covered thigh as she sits up. “Come on. I made you pre-cafe coffee. It’s sitting in the kitchen.”

You throw your sheets off of you and trudge to the bathroom to brush your teeth and clean your face. It’s about 8 a.m. At least you were able to get about six hours of sleep. 

Last night, it was hard to let your brain rest to fall asleep. You kept tossing and turning, thinking about the blonde Pogue who walked you home. You missed how easy it was to talk to someone who you felt truly knew you. Your banter rolled off your tongue easily and you never had to worry about offending him because you knew him like the back of your hand. You knew what he could take and what he couldn't. 

Talking to him brought back childhood memories you had hidden deep in your mind. How JJ would constantly poke you until you ripped into a smile on days that were grey. How you used to steal John B’s bandanas until he was chasing you around his house to get them back. How you would draw a mustache and a unibrow on Pope’s face when he fell asleep by the water. 

Those days felt like they were decades ago. So far away, you didn’t know if you’d be able to reach for them again. If it was even possible to get back. 

You thought about texting him. Thanks for walking me back. We should all get together soon! You had written out. But then you deleted the whole message, telling yourself it was because you didn’t know if he even had the same number. But deep down, you were just afraid of the rejection. 

Its been about three years since the four of you had been together in one place. You don’t know what they’ve been through or if they’ve changed. They for sure as hell don’t know what you’ve been through. You don’t know if they're dynamic has changed. Clearly you and JJ can still joke with each other but what about John B and Pope? You heard about John B’s father disappearing at sea, most people believing he’s dead, but John B holding onto hope that’s he’s alive. You always thought about calling him to reach out and offer your condolences. But for the same reason you didn’t text JJ, you never called. It didn’t feel like your place. They had Kie for that now. A little part of you felt jealous of her, like she had replaced you and any memory of you. She seemed nice, but she wasn’t you.

“Ready?” Rory pops her head in to your room as you slip on a cropped plain white zip up jacket over your cropped black tank. 

“As I’ll ever be,” You say and snag the car keys out of her hands. “Don’t even think about it. I’m driving.”

Rory rolls her eyes. “I want to get there safely.”

“And I want to get there quickly.”

“Fine. But we’re taking my car. It actually has doors.”

For your sixteenth birthday, your grandparents gifted both you and Rory your own individual cars and even let you pick them out. Rory chose a black 2020 Honda Civic for it’s safety features and reputation for longevity as if she was planning on handing it down to her future kids. And you picked out a white 2020 Jeep Wrangler with a hard top that pops off along with the doors for a very open and thrilling ride. Everyone but you called it a death trap, but you found it to be the perfect summer car. 

You park Rory’s boring Honda Civic in the back of the cafe in a lot used specifically for employees. The cafe is already booming with teens and families, waiting for their morning coffees and fresh pastries. Kids your age are running around behind the counter with sweat dripping down their brow bone to get everyone’s orders out in a timely manner. 

In the back of the store, your mom walks up the steps from the basement with two large trash bags and immediately notices the two of you. “Oh good. You’re here. Rory, help the girls behind the counter. The dishwasher’s broken and poor Hailey is hand washing everything. Y/N, come with me downstairs.”

“Why does Rory get the fun job?” You grumble and follow your mom back downstairs after she tosses the two trash bags. 

“Because she’s actually nice to the customers.”

“Treat others how you would like to be treated. Isn’t that what everyone always says?” You smirk. You never agreed with the phrase ‘the customer is always right.’ It’s complete bullshit and being the employee shouldn’t mean letting yourself getting verbally abused by a ‘Karen’ on the other side of the counter. 

The basement is used for the cafe’s storage, lined with wooden shelves Steve put together that hold to go cups, back up espresso machines, boxes of coffee and food and ingredients, etc. Now all the boxes are dark and sopping, creating puddles on the concrete floor. 

“Oh my god. Mom. How did this happen?”

“Jenky water pipe busted in the middle of the night,” Steve walks down the stairs and passes your mom a knowing look. It didn’t surprise you that he was here. He’s the jack of all trades. Owns his own automotive shop, builds a lot of his own furniture, actually cooks a decent meal, and has the same outlook on customer service as you do. He was probably your mom’s first call. “Talked to the plumber. They can’t get here until at least noon.”

“Noon? We’ll be underwater by noon. I might as well turn all my employees into a swim team,” Your mom says.

Steve shakes his head. “I was able to hold the leak until he gets here. You should be fine.”

Steve was the first person that actually helped your mother out when's she moved to the Cut. Six months pregnant, she pushed her car into his automotive shop after it broke down on the side of the road. Their banter was similar to the one you and JJ have. He helped save your mom money by building yours and Rory’s cribs, changing table, and dressers. And ever since, the two of them had been connected by the hip, although they both refuse to admit it. You think the pair are just trying to deny the love they clearly share for each other. And you think the main reason for that is because of the incident four years ago with your mom’s ex boyfriend. No thanks to you.

 “Look at you constantly building your resume,” You smirk at him. 

Steve scoffs. “It’s more than what you’re doing.”

You roll your eyes. Steve is the closest thing you have to a father. He practically helped raise you with your mom. He’s the one you turn to whenever a fight with your mom goes too far, which isn't too often but it happens. He usually lets you stay at his house for the night to let you cool off. But he’ll never sugar coat his advice when it comes time for him to give it. Even if you don’t ask for it. He knows growing up with Rory has been challenging. She was clearly your mom’s favorite, or at least that’s what you thought. She has a 4.0 GPA with a realistic dream to get into Brown University and study journalism. She played by every rule, never got into trouble, and spent most of her free nights getting ahead of her school work or staying late at the cafe with an open book from the library across the street. She was an absolute angel to everyone else, making you look like her evil twin. 

You glare at him before turning to your mom with crossed arms. “What do you want me to do, Mom?”

“Actually honey. Can you go to Heywards and grab more coffee filters and napkins. The water soaked right through the plastic wrapping on our last box.”

You nod, leaving your mom and Steve to clean up the basement themselves. Before heading out, you sneak behind the counter and make yourself a quick coffee to go.

“Where you going?” Rory asks as she reaches behind you to grab a banana for her customer at the register.

“Heywards to grab a couple things for Mom.”

“Oh. Make sure to grab toilet paper while you’re out. I think we’re almost out of it.”

“Got it.” 

Heywards is only a short drive from your mom’s cafe. It’s the closest convenient store that isn’t crazy pricey. It’s where your mom gets all her supplies whenever she runs out of things before shipment gets there. 

You use to always come here when you were younger with the boys, each of you, even Pope, stealing a small bag of chips or a candy bar here and there. Little did any of you know, Mr. Heyward caught your thieving hands every time but never said anything. 

The bell above the door chimes when you walk into the store. You know this place as well as you know the cafe, finding the toilet paper and coffee filter immediately. 

When Mr. Heyward looks up from the counter, his smile grows. He can pick you out of a crowd anywhere, but he hasn’t seen you in a long time. Last time he saw you, you had braces and overgrown bushy brows. Now you had bushed hair and shaved legs. 

“Hi. Mr. Heyward,” You grin shyly at him. You don’t know how he’s going to react to see you, unsure of what Pope might have told him about you. 

“Little Miss Y/L/N? Is that you?” Heyward smiles widely, pulling your own lips into a wider smile. “I haven’t seen you for a long time.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy with school and my mom’s cafe...” Both of those things were a lie. You just avoid the Cut to avoid the Pogues. 

“How’s the fam?” 

“They’re good,” You say as Heyward hands you your bags. “Mom says hello by the way. I’m actually taking these to her store now.”

“Well, don’t be a stranger. We miss your smiling face around her. Anette, too.” Heyward says, mentioning his wife. 

“Tell her I said hi.”

“Of course, darling.” 

Heyward and Anette always had a special place in their heart for you and Rory. They’re not one for gossip, but they knew a little bit about what your mom’s been through and have heard plenty of stories about your grandparents. They always thought, despite your mom’s background, that you and your sister were raised impressively. Anette always hoped that one day Pope and Rory would get together. Everyone always wanted their child to be with Rory. 

As your about to leave the store, the bell chimes again with another customer. Only it’s not another customer. It’s Pope and John B. They don’t see you at first, and you wonder if maybe you can sneak out without them seeing you. But something about that felt wrong. Especially because Heyward would more than likely mention to them that you were here. 

Pope sees you first and stops in his tracks. “Y/N?” 

“Hey, guys. Long time no see,” You smile at both of them. You bite down on your lip awkwardly when you meet John B’s stare. You don’t know if you should mention anything about his dad’s disappearance. But what would you say? Sorry? What good would that do?

“How’ve you been?” Pope gives you a small side hug, then John B. 

You shrug. “You know, living the dream.”

“How’s life as a Hybrid?” John B smirks. 

You roll your eyes playfully and groan. “Oh god. Never call me that again.”

You may be considered a Hybrid by everyone else, but you would never put yourself into that category. You grew up a Pogue, the same way everyone else did around you. The only thing tying you to the Kooks are your grandparents. 

“Why?” John B smirks. “I wish I was a Hybrid.”

You smirk back. “Maybe you will be one day. I hear you have a Kook of your own for arm candy.”

You saw a faint hint of blush on John B’s cheek at the mention of his girlfriend but you don’t mention it. “Sarah, yeah. She’s not like the other Kooks.”

“I would hope not. Her brother’s a dick.”

“Yeah,” They laugh. 

“We miss you, you know.” John B says. Pope looks at you, trying to read your expression. John B’s not wrong. They do all miss you, especially Pope. He felt like you were the only one who really understood him. Of course his other friends are great, but you actually took the time to try and understand his passions. Like forensic science. 

“I miss you guys too. It’s been a while.”

“Well, hey. We’re actually all getting together tonight at my place. Nothing big. Just a bonfire and a couple beers. You should stop by,” John B says.

“Yeah,” Pope says, immediately getting hopeful that you’ll show up. 

Your smile falters. The invite makes your heart swell and your lungs contract. It’s an invite you’ve been wanting for three years. And now that you have it, you don’t know what to say. It’d be different if it was just the four of you like old times. But now there’s Kie and Sarah and although you have nothing against them, you’re afraid they won’t accept you. The thought of your boys picking them over you terrifies you. 

“Okay. Yeah, sure. I’ll try to swing by later.” 

Pope smiles wide and looks at his friend to see his reaction. John B grins and nods, almost impressed that you had agreed. But he saw the twitch in your lips when the question was asked. 

“Great. I guess we’ll see you later then.” 

You nod. “Okay. Bye guys.”

You suck in a deep breath when the fresh air outside of Heyward’s store brushes over you. Your heart thumps wildly with both excitement and nerves when you’re finally able to collect your thoughts. You don’t know what you’ll do tonight, but the possibilities can change your entire summer.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You spent the rest of the day mopping up the cafe’s basement and rearranging the shelves. You smelled of sweat and coffee grounds by the time you were done and dreamt of the shower you would be taking when you got home. 

Rory drove you home after the two of you closed up the cafe for the day. Neither of you said much. Rory was exhausted from running around behind the counter and you were too busy thinking about whether you’d go back to the place you used to call your second home.

You took a longer shower than usual, still pondering what your night would be like. Your head was telling you to stay home but your heart pulled you in the direction of the Cut. You yearned to hear about what the future held for Pope, and listen to John B retell stories of when you were kids, and be able to stare into JJ’s bright blue eyes without him noticing. 

You changed into a pair of jean shorts and a plain red cropped tank. Rory walks into your room as your brushing out your hair and looks at you as if you lost your mind.

“Are you out of your mind? You can’t wear that,” She says.

You brows scrunch together in confusion. “What are you talking about? I wear shit like this all the time.”

“Not to the Country Club, you don’t.” That’s when it hits you. Today’s been so hectic, you forgot what day it was. “It’s Sunday.”

Sunday dinner at the Country Club is now a weekly commitment forced upon you by your grandparents. Each week, your mom, sister, and you are forced to spend one dinner with your grandma and grandpa. This is basically your mom’s payment back for sending you and Rory to Kook Academy. Only they actually pay for the dinner. It’s usually the longest two hours of your entire week. It’s hard to listen to your grandfather rant about Real Estate and your grandma slyly critique your mother in almost every aspect of her life. 

“Shit. I completely forgot,” You say.

“Well, you better change. We’re leaving in about five minutes,” Rory says then plucks a gold necklace from your dresser. “Oh and can I wear this tonight?”

You sigh. “Sure.”

You change into a baby blue wrap around dress and pin your wet hair into a half up half down due. It’s gonna have to work for the limited time you have to get ready. After applying a thin layer of makeup to look the least bit presentable, you meet your mom and sister by the front door.

“Finally,” Your mom says when she sees you. 

“Sorry. I didn’t realize it was Sunday.”

“It’s okay, honey. I just don’t think I can handle another late remark from Mom today.” She looks you up and down and grins. “You look great.”

Despite the many fiery fights you and your mom can have, she is also your best friend. It’s kind of like a love hate relationship. Steve says it’s because you’re exactly like your mom - almost like a sixteen year old version of her. 

You really hope that isn’t true. You’re not ready to have a kid in two years. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Your grandparents are already sitting at a round table in the corner of the country club by the two tall windows that reach up to the ceiling with a view looking out into the golf course. The best seat in the house for the richest a holes on the island. 

“Lorelai,” Your grandmother grins, but you can instantly tell it’s sarcastic. “Did you have to walk here?”

You speak up before your mom could. “Sorry Grandma. It’s my fault we’re late.”

Your grandparents are hard on your mom but easier on you and Rory, especially Rory.

“Well, you’re here now,” Your grandpa says. He’s usually the mediator between your mom and grandma. Although he’s usually sucks at it. “Sit. Sit.”

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, JJ shuffles through his many coworkers with his apron in one hand and a piece of fried calamari from Miss Carol’s appetizer in the other. 

“JJ -” She scolds and slaps his hand away from going in for a second piece. 

“Good evening Miss Carol,” JJ smirks and makes his way to the area between the kitchen and dining room where most of the servers and bust boys hang out. Some of the boys slap him on the back or shove him by the shoulder, chuckling to themselves. “What’s going on boys? Busy crowd?”

“What are you doing here? You never work Sundays,” His friend, Mitch, says. 

Luke Maybank was behind on several bills - worse than it’s ever been. They already shut off their electricity and JJ wanted to make sure the water wouldn’t be next. 

But JJ shrugs nonchalantly. “Little extra dough can't hurt.”

“Well, you picked a good day,” Raymond walks up to the blonde, rolling his sleeves. “You got Kook Royalty and their Hybrid offsprings in your section.” 

“What?” JJ looks through the small square Plexiglas on the swinging door. He knows exactly where to look and immediately sees you sitting with King and Queen Kook, looking absolutely miserable, pushing around your food with your fork. 

“Damn, Maybank. Almost broke your neck - you turned so fast.”

“Shut up, Easterling. I was just seeing how crowded we were,” JJ lied. He really just wanted to see if you were here. And now that he sees you are, he’s a little nervous to do his own damn job.

Raymond Easterling chuckles. “Yeah, I know what you were looking at. But don’t get your hopes up. There’s a reason Kooks call that girl the Heart Sucker. Not even the high and powerful JJ Maybank could get a piece of that.”

The guys around JJ and Raymond chuckle and nod in agreement, hearing the stories of how you’d reject every single guy that’s ever asked you out. Sometimes you’d go on a few dates, trying to push yourself out of your comfort zone, but then things would quickly become too much, and you’d get overwhelmed. 

JJ didn’t like the way Raymond talked about you or how the others laughed at your expense. His hands clenched into fists, tempted to throw a punch in Ray’s cocky face.  The guy’s just being a jerk because he’s one of the guys that got rejected by you, he thought. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” JJ shakes his head and ties his apron around his waist to distract his hands.

“No?” Raymond challenges him. “You think I’m wrong? You think you could pull the infamous Hybrid over there?”

JJ glances back through the window. You’re looking at your grandma with a clearly forced grin. You’re twirling your hair between your fingers, a habit you picked up when you were little to do when you’re bored. JJ would find you doing that in school all the time. 

You’re gorgeous, he thought. It’s no wonder that almost every guy on this island has tried to make a pass on you, including JJ himself, but his remarks always come off as playful, afraid of actually telling you how he feels about you. His fantasies about you went further than just getting you between the sheets. He could picture getting married, having children, and growing old together. Years ago, the two of you would talk about your future. Neither one of you cared about money or fancy jobs. All you wanted was to be free - of this island, of each other’s families, of responsibilities placed on you from birth. You hold the same values as JJ, and he’s never met another person like you. 

But JJ has a hard exterior. No one other than his best friends know his true heart, and he wasn’t going to let someone like Raymond Easterling find out about his soft spot for you. He would never hear the end of it.

JJ looks at you one last time. You’re talking to Rory, your face in his direction. This time you’re smiling, probably discussing something other than your grandparent’s expectations of you. He’d kill to see that smile every single day.

What’s the worst that could happen? You reject him? Yeah, that might kill JJ inside, but maybe you’d still be his friend, or continue to be acquaintances like you are now. As long as he gets to see you, he’d be okay. There was always the future. But who knows? Maybe you’d say yes? He’ll never know unless he tries. Right?

JJ fakes the same cocky grin that Raymond wears. “I haven’t failed yet.”

The guys around him whistle and shake their heads with smiles. 

“All right, Maybank. Let’s make a bet. I’ll give you one hundred dollars to get Y/N Y/L/N in the sack by the fourth of July.”

JJ scoffs. “You like giving away free money?” He ignored his racing heart at the thought of being that intimate with you.

Raymond nods. “Okay. Let’s put your money where your mouth is. Get her to say ‘I love you’ by the end of the season and I’ll raise you an extra hundred and cover all your dishwasher shifts in September.”

JJ raises his brows with surprise. No one offers to take the dishwashing shift. Sometimes the boys are pulled back there when the kitchen is short staffed and it’s easily one of the worst jobs at the Club.

This bet was almost too good of an opportunity to pass up. “Deal.” JJ says.

The boys shake hands on it and the other guys whisper to each other about how intrigued they are to see this play out.

JJ wipes his sweaty palms against his apron and pushes the door open to approach your table, hoping he can hear you over his thudding heart. 

“Good evening folks. May I take those empty plates out of your way?”

You look up at the voice you know so well and a smile raises on your lips. JJ meets your eyes and he winks at you, splattering your heart in flutters. 

“Please.” Your grandmother pushes her plate away from her, stuffed with filet and red wine.

“JJ,” Your mom grins up at him. Growing up, your mom always had a soft spot for the blonde Pogue. She’s heard the stories about his father, mostly from Steve, who actually grew up with Luke Maybank, his cousin. As a child, he was sent to live with Luke Maybank and his single father. Lets just say, he’s not surprised by the way Luke turned out. “Look at you. You’re all grown up now. Last time I saw you, Y/N was still pushing your head in the sand for stealing her popsicle.”

“Yeah. I quickly learned no one should mess with Y/N and her food,” JJ says.

“Never stopped you though,” You smirk at him.

“Lorelai. Who is this?” Your grandma asks, disregarding the boy himself.

“Mom,” Lorelai gives her mom a warning look. “This is JJ Maybank. He went to school with Y/N and Rory.” Lorelai knew to play it safe with her wording. She didn’t know where you and JJ stood. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him and she knew better than to ask. 

“Nice to meet you,” JJ says politely. “I’d shake your hand but mine are kinda full.” He motions to the plates in his hand.

“That’s quite all right.” Your grandma’s smile is so forced, it makes you uncomfortable. 

“I won’t hold you up. Has your server been around with the dessert menu?” JJ looks at you. “We have chocolate cake tonight.”

Heat rushes up your neck. Not because of the cake itself but because JJ remembered your favorite dessert. Chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and chocolate sprinkles. It was safe to save you were a choco-holic. The boys use to make it for you every year for your birthday. It usually came out burnt, none of them ever remembering how to properly make it. But it was all you needed to feel like a very special girl. 

“Your favorite,” Rory elbows you.

Your grandma cringes. “Sounds like diabetes on a plate.”

“Mom,” Lorelai scolds. 

“What?” She asks, not understanding the concept of a filter.

Now heat rushes to your cheeks for an entire different reason. “He did. We’re not doing dessert tonight. Thank you, though.”

JJ nods but feels disappointed by the way your face flinched at your grandmother’s comment. 

“My pleasure,” He says like he was taught to do and excuses himself to drop the plates off in the back before he can say anything else that would probably get him fired.

Your mom looks at your with raised brows. “He’s cute, honey.”

“Lorelai, please. He’s the busboy,” Your grandma says.

“He’s a good kid, Mom.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” You stand up. “I have to use the restroom.”

Rory gives you a knowing grin as you walk away from the table. When you walk into the hallway between the dining area and the front lobby, you immediately feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. Sometimes just the presence of your grandparents and their pompous judgements can be suffocating. You do your best to bite your tongue around them, excusing yourself when you feel yourself getting heated. 

JJ catches a glimpse of your light blue dress out of the corner of his eye when he rounds the corner to collect the plates off a different table. He looks over his shoulder at Raymond, who’s staring at the blonde watching you, and winks.

“Hey, Y/N,” JJ says, walking up to you.

You look up from your phone and immediately smile. “Hey. I was actually hoping I’d catch you out here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You nervously tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry about my grandmother. She can be...”

JJ shakes his head. “Hey. It’s okay. I work for Kooks almost every single day. I’m use to it.”

You sigh. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Don’t apologize for something you can’t control,” JJ says. “Besides, that’s probably the nicest she’s ever been to me.”

You hide your face in your hands. “Stop. You’re making it worse.”

JJ laughs and takes your wrists in his hands, slowly pulling them away from your face. Your eyes shoot up to his, immediately feeling a tingling feeling run through your skin, straight to your heart. 

“It’s okay. I promise,” He says softly. His voice is so sincere that you have no other option but to believe him. It almost makes your feel guiltier, wondering how much bullshit he’s been through with ungrateful Kooks that it’s so easy for him to forgive and forget.

“Okay,” Your voice is a whisper, taken off guard by how close he is to you and how he still hasn't let go of your hands. 

In that same moment, JJ realizes he’s still holding you and gently removes his hands. He coughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his neck, where sweat begins to bubble. Why is he so nervous?

“So um...” You say, suddenly feeling nervous too. “You going to John B’s tonight?”

JJ’s eyes shoot up in surprise. How did you know that? “Yeah. I’m heading over there after work.”

“I saw him and Pope at Heywards earlier today and they invited me over. I wasn’t sure if I should come or not.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Because it’s different now, you wanted to say. But you didn’t because you feel like the elephant in the room would only grow. And you didn’t want to admit you were nervous to meet Kie and Sarah outside of school. 

You shrug. “I don’t know.”

“You should definitely come. The boys miss you.”

You pretend like a little piece of your heart didn’t just break when JJ didn’t say ‘we.’ 

“What time do you get off of work?”

“Around 9ish.”

You nod. “I can pick you up if you’d like and we could go together?”

Your heart races after you suggest it. What if he says no? Why were you feeling this way? This is the same kid you use to make fun of for pouring milk into his bowl before his cereal. 

“Yeah. That’d be perfect.”

“Great!” Your phone pings with a text from Rory, telling you that your grandparents are wondering where you are. “Shit. I have to get back. I’ll see you at nine?”

“See you then,” JJ nods and turns back to the kitchen. When his eyes meet Raymond’s, he’s reminded of what he agreed to. Almost surprised how quickly he forgot about it. You were able to take his mind off of anything without even trying. He clears his throat to get rid of the giddy grin he was wearing after talking to you, wanting to look tough and casual in front of his coworker. “Easy.” He says to him. But that felt anything but easy. He could vomit with nerves.

“There’s still plenty of time for you to screw up, Maybank.”

JJ huffs. He’s not wrong. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

You drive up to the front of the country club and park in front of the main entrance. It’s 8:57. You’re early and will look eager. So you wait until 9:06 to text him that you’re here.

You changed into a pair of dark washed denim shorts, a yellow cropped tube top, a grey flannel, and navy converse. You changed your outfit about four times before deciding on your first one, not wanting to look too casual or too dressed up. 

For the last three years, you wondered when the four of you would get back together as a group. You wondered if it would ever happen. And now that two Kooks are involved, you feel more nervous than excited.

You jump when the passenger seat door opens, lost in the depth of your own head. JJ smiles, not seeing your reaction.”Cool ride,” he says and looks around the interior. 

“Thanks,” you say, pulling out into the road.

“I got you something,” JJ says.

You glance at him with furrowed brows. What could he have possibly gotten you since you saw him last? A book mark from the Country Club’s gift shop?

JJ reaches into his backpack and pulls out a plate with clear wrap around it. Your mouth drops when you see the chocolate cake on a plate in his hands, the smell immediately hitting your nose with pure delight.

“You saved me a piece?” You jump in your seat excitedly.

“Had to hide it good too or else Miss Carol would have had my ass handed to me,” JJ jokes and even pulls out two forks. He undoes the wrapping and cuts off a piece. He waits until you hit a stop sign and says, “Open up.”

You look at him and immediately open your mouth. He gently places the fork between your lips and you take the piece of cake off with your teeth. Like a baby.

Your eyes close with pure pleasure. “Oh my god. That’s amazing.”

“Miss Carol does know how to bake a mean cake,” JJ says and takes a bite of his own.

“Another one,” You say, glancing at the cake again. Like you said, choco-holic. “Please.” You say when JJ teases you by holding the fork away from you.

JJ laughs. “I like hearing you beg.”

You slap him in the arm with the back of your hand. “In your dreams, Maybank.”

“You got that right, Y/L/N.”

The two of you finish the cake with only a few bites each. Small but rich in chocolate that leaves you craving more. You were gonna have to meet this Miss Carol woman. 

After he puts the plate back in his bag, JJ reaches for the aux cord, but you quickly slap his hand away. “Hey. What do you think you’re doing?”

“You’re seriously gonna make me listen to this the entire way to John B’s?”

You scoff. “I’ll have you know Blink-182 is one of my favorite bands.”

“It’s also soccer moms’ favorite band,” JJ laughs at you.

You turn up the volume, blasting ‘All the Small Things’ and point to your ear. “Sorry. Can’t hear you!”

JJ rolls his eyes but laughs along with you, even bopping his head to the beat. You drive with the windows down, dancing and singing along to a bunch of throwback songs with JJ as if the two of you have been doing this forever. 

You pull up to John B’s and park behind his dad’s old van, better known as The Twinkie. When you turn down the music, JJ looks at you with a shake in his head. “Next time, I’m driving.”

“What was wrong with my driving?”

“We’re in the Outer Banks, Sparky, not NASCAR.”

You scoff and follow behind JJ who’s leading the way up John B’s driveway. As you get closer, you smell the smoky scent of a bonfire nearby and eventually hear John B’s laugh mixed in with a female’s. Your smile falters as nerves gather in the pit of your stomach. 

“What’s wrong?” JJ asks.

“Nothing,” You say, but JJ easily catches your lie and gives you a knowing look. “What if they don’t like me?”

“Who? Pope and John B? I’m pretty sure they like you more than me even after three years -”

“Not them, you idiot,” You shove him playfully by the shoulder as you two let yourselves inside. “Sarah and Kie.”

“Don’t you go to school with them?”

“Yeah, but we don’t talk,” You say quietly, not wanting them to hear you.

“Hm.”

“What?” JJ shrugs. “Nothing. I just didn’t think you cared about what other people thought.”

“I don’t,” You say quickly. “But they're your best friends. It’s different.”

“You don’t need their approval. You technically were here first.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been replaced,” You try to say it as a joke and even throw a smirk in there. 

But JJ stops in his track and looks at you seriously. “No one can replace you. Not even if they tried.”

You open your mouth to respond, but you’re at a loss for words. It’s not a common occurrence that JJ gets all serious on you. Warmth covers you like a blanket and the longer he holds your stare, the weaker your knees become. 

“JJ! Is that you?” John B calls out from the backyard.

“Yeah,” JJ yells back. He opens the fridge in John B’s kitchen. “Want a beer?” He offers to you.

You shake your head. “No thanks.”

For the first time, you take in John B’s home. It looks the same as it did three years ago, only a lot messier. The pull out couch looks like its been used recently with blankets and sheets tossed about on it. Empty beer cans and cigarette butts are thrown messily on the coffee tables and the air smells faintly of old marijuana. 

JJ leads you out to the back where four people are gathered around a fire. Three out of the four immediately smile when the two of you approach them, but Kie’s eyes narrow and her head tilts with confusion.

Shit, you think. 

“You came!” Pope laughs and hops up from his beach chair and embraces you in a hug.

You laugh, not expecting the embrace, but welcoming it all the same. John B’s next, giving you a quick hug and shaking his head.

“I gotta say, I didn’t think you were going to come,” John B says.

“You can thank me for that later,” JJ says jokingly.

“Actually when I heard JJ was coming, I almost changed my mind and stayed home,” You joke and smirk JJ’s way.

“Just like old times,” Pope says, looking between you and the blonde. The banter felt like the yall never separated in the first place. 

“Hey, you know Sarah and Kie, right?” John B points to the girls. Sarah stands up to say hi, and eventually Kie follows her, not wanting to look rude, but stays off to the side, keeping her distance.

“Yeah,” You wave awkwardly. 

“Hey!” Sarah says sweetly. “I didn’t realize you guys use to all hang out.”

“Y/N grew up down the street,” JJ explains and sips at his beer. 

“You want a drink or something?” Pope asks you, not knowing JJ already did.

“No thank you,” You say again.

“You don’t drink?” Kie asks. It was the first thing she’s said to you.

“Not usually,” You say and hold her stare. You try to get a read on her, but she’s had to get a tell on. You can’t tell if she just doesn’t like you or just doesn’t know you. Either way, it makes you uneasy. 

“Here, I’ll go grab you a chair,” Pope says and walks to the side of the house to grab another beat up beach chair. 

As the night goes on, you feel the tension in your shoulders loosen and your body feel lighter. Most of the night was spent retelling childhood stories the four of you shared. Sarah would laugh at most of them, occasionally rolling her eyes at her boyfriend from the stupid shit he would do, although it sounds like he’s no different to you now. 

You talked about the time you and JJ stole a golf cart for a joy ride on Figure Eight, or when you and John B pranked Pope by putting a dead fish in his locker, or how you and John B learned how to play guitar from youtube tutorials. 

Midnight came around quickly and exhaustion was slowly taking over your body. It’s been a long day between the cafe flooding, dinner with your grandparents, and now this. 

JJ was the first to notice you slowly fading. 

“You okay?” He asks you quietly as everyone else is caught up in conversation. 

“Yeah,” You say, lazily grinning at him. 

“We can leave if you want,” He says.

“You’re not staying?” You ask. It sounded like everyone was planning to spend the night here. And as much as you wanted to, you just didn’t feel comfortable enough yet. 

JJ shrugs. “My dad’s out of town tonight. It’ll be nice to have the house to myself.” Before you can say anything, he stands and brushes his hands against his pants. “All right, losers. We’re out of here.”

“Aw, you’re leaving?” Sarah pouts.

“Yeah, I’m beat and Y/N’s my ride home,” JJ says.

You were glad he didn’t call you out for being tired. You didn’t want to look lame in front of everybody, especially Kie.

“Thanks for having me,” You say to everyone. It might have been John B’s house, but it was everyone’s night you intruded on.

John B stands up to hug you. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

You nod. “I won’t. I promise.”

Pope hugs you next. “Text me when you get back safe.”

“I will.”

“Bye!” Sarah waves and Kie exhales a ring of smoke from her blunt.

You wave at them before following JJ back to your car. 

“Nuh-uh-uh,” JJ says. You didn’t realize you both walked to the driver’s side.

“What? No.”

JJ nods and holds his hands out for your keys. “I’m not dying tonight.” 

“You’ve been drinking and smoking all night,” You say. You didn’t think JJ was drunk or even that high, but you were not going to let a teenager with an ounce of alcohol in his system get behind the wheel. “Next time. For now, hold on to the cupholder.”

JJ sighs dramatically and goes to the other side of the car and hops in the passenger seat. 

This time you keep the music quiet, listening to the hum of the radio instead of your phone. 

“Take a left,” JJ says.

“JJ, I know where you live. And it’s not left.”

“Don’t you trust me?” 

You snicker. “Not in the slightest.”

JJ rolls his eyes. “Just take the left.”

You hold your hands up in surrender and take the left turn. He directs you for a couple more miles until he has you park in front of a 24 hour diner. 

“What are we doing here?” You ask.

“I’m in the mood for a milkshake.”

“We just had cake!” You say.

“Come on, Sparky. Show me what that mouth can do,” JJ smirks. 

You go to hit him again but he takes off running to the front entrance and pulls the door open. You chase after him, almost running into his back at the front host stand where JJ safely smirks at you in triumph.

“Two please,” He says to the hostess. 

The old cranky woman leads you to a booth off to the side next to a window without a word. 

A couple minutes later, a waitress walks by and asks if you’re ready to order. 

“Yes. One chocolate milkshake and one black and white milkshake,” JJ orders for both of you, already knowing what flavor you’d want.

“And fries, please.” You say. The waitress nods, takes your menus, and walks off. JJ raises his brow at the extra order. “What?” You shrug. “Just showing you what my mouth can do.”

JJ scoffs. “What a tease.” 

You playfully kick his shin under the table.

“Did you have fun tonight?” JJ asks.

“Yeah,” You answer. “Felt like old times. The girls are nice too.”

You were about to only mention Sarah, but you didn’t want to cause any issues with Kie. Not yet at least. Maybe she just needed time to warm up to you.

“See? I told you they wouldn’t bite.”

A couple minutes later, the waitress comes back with your milkshakes and fries. 

“How’s John B doing? You know, with the whole Big John thing?” You ask delicately, unsure of how JJ would react to you pestering about John B’s business. “I didn’t want to ask and bring the mood down,” You explain yourself although you don’t need to.

JJ shrugs. “He’s in denial I think. Won’t sign a death certificate until he sees a body. He could be worse, though.”

“Yeah,” You say softly. You don’t know what you would do if you were in that situation. In a way you felt lucky that you never knew your dad at all. It would be harder to lose him, knowing who he was.

You take a fry and dip it into your milkshake before taking a bite. This makes JJ freeze and look at you like you have two heads. 

“What?” You say with your mouth full.

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” You say and give him a look to do it.

JJ reluctantly picks up the fry and dunks it into his milkshake. He looks at the fry questioningly before popping it into his mouth. Somehow the sweetness of the milkshake and the saltiness of the french fry complement each other beautifully and his widen in pleasant surprise. 

“Oh wow,” JJ says.

“Told you,” You smirk.

You spend the next hour catching up, trying to fit the last three years into an hour. JJ does most of the talking because you want to know more about what John B, Pope, and JJ have been up to. Your life was so boring and depressing, you didn’t want to bore JJ with the details.

You drive JJ home and talk for a few minutes more when you park. He seems to be procrastinating getting out of the car, but you don’t mind. You could talk to him all night, suddenly not feeling tired anymore.

“All right. I’ll let you get home before the sun rises,” He says and opens the door. He pauses when his feet hit the ground and he looks back at you. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I have to work at the shop, why?”

“Well, there’s a storm coming in. John B and I might go out to surf the surge before it hits. You still surf?”

You scoff. “Do I still surf?”

JJ holds his hands up in surrender. “Just checking. You think you can handle the surge?”

“Let’s not forget who the better surfer is, JJ.”

“I didn’t. It’s still me.”

“You wish.”

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Now you have a point to prove. You have to show JJ that you’re still the better surfer. 

“I'll see you tomorrow,” You agree. 

“Great, it’s a date.” He winks and shuts the door before you can tell him otherwise. 

You giggle to yourself as JJ walks up the front yard and stay there until he you see he gets in safely. 

You pull out of the driveway, wishing he had asked you out on a real date. One that didn’t involve John B.

Tag list: @super-funky-bisexual​ @sunsetswithjj​ @moniamaybank​ @throwawayfish​ @poguestyle17​ @5am-cigarette​ @jjpouggues​ @fly-away-from-here​ @buckys2thicc​

[the-iceni-bitch]

Happy Fucking New Year!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Words: 5071

Summary: You and Bucky spend New Year’s Eve together in Paris!

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral sex (F receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, anal play, cum eating), explicit descriptions of violence, minor character death, SMUT, 18+ only!!!

A/N: Well, my grandma ass passed out while literally writing this fic last night at like 10PM so sorry it’s late! But it’s still New Year’s Day so whatever. It’s kinda fun, I definitely enjoy having Bucky and Sam be complete idiots while our poor reader is the only one with common sense, so you may be seeing a lot of those two fucking things up in this series. Join my taglist here if you’re inclined and a Happy New Year to all you lovely hoes!

“Damn, Barnes. Look at your ass in that tux.”

He choked on his champagne when you snuck up behind him, grabbing one ass cheek and giving it a squeeze before he had a chance to turn around.

He didn’t know how you always managed to catch him off guard.  He was used to being able to pick up on any threat immediately, but you were always able to slip under his defenses.

The expression that came over his face when he finally saw you was priceless. You loved surprising him with shockingly revealing outfits, offending those sweet old man sensibilities he pretended to have in public. But you knew exactly what he was thinking as his eyes drank you in.

The gown you had picked was a deep blue velvet that hugged your curves. While the skirt was tight against your legs, it still could’ve possibly been considered modest. The top though…. The v of the neck wasn’t as deep as your usual style, but the back dipped so low he wondered how you could possibly be wearing panties. All he could think of was snapping those thin straps with his vibranium hand and watching the fabric slide over your soft skin before it pooled around your ankles.

He couldn’t believe the two of you were spending New Year’s Eve in Paris. You’d barely had a chance to speak to each other after your tryst in Stockholm, and now you were together in the city of lights on one of the most romantic nights of the year.

“Hey, Barnes, you still in there?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.” He grinned at you as he watched you take a sip of champagne. “Just wondering where you’re hiding your knives in that dress?”

“Mmm, if this night goes according to plan, maybe I’ll let you look for them later.” You teased him, giving him a wink as you walked your fingers across his chest.

“Alright, that’s enough. You two promised to cool it with the kinky shit over comms.”

The two of you turned to shrug apologetically at Sam, who was glaring murderously at you from across the foyer.

“Sorry Sammy.” You whispered, tittering to yourself.

“Yeah, sorry Sammy.” Bucky gave him a stupid grin as the three of you started slowly moving to one the hallways leading to the main building.

“You don’t get to call me that, Barnes. You keep getting me into these fucking stupid situations, and your poor girlfriend always has to get us out. We were almost home, man, and you just had to follow that shady fucker at the airport.”

“No, he was following me. And anyways, I was right about him. I told you HYDRA had various goon squads lurking around.”

“You guessed.”

“I guessed right.”

“So, you admit it, you guessed!”

“Hey, boys!” You furrowed your brow as you turned to glare at the two of them, a little annoyed at the bickering. “Isn’t there supposed to be a door here?”

They finally shut up and followed your line of sight to where all the intelligence indicated the access door to the arsenal should be located.

Bucky let out a deep sigh and clenched his jaw, his eyes moving up the wall until they found the tiny hatch in the corner, fifteen feet off the floor. He turned his head to Sam and growled.

“You were in charge of reconnaissance. Do you not know the difference between a door and a hatch? Do your little robot minions not know how to take measurements?”

“Hey, don’t blame the robots man! This was based on human intelligence, which I’m pretty sure is your responsibility.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

You ground your teeth together as you listened to the two of them, not sure how you were able to put up with this shit. You took in your surroundings, trying to figure out a way through this situation.

“Well one of us has to get up there.” You murmured to yourself.

“I nominate robot boy.”

“Ok, ya know what, they’re not robots. I might’ve been able to let it go but, heh, I can’t. They’re drones. And if you think me buzzing one of those through the party out there is inconspicuous…”

“Oh, not one of your robots, you. What if I throw you at the hatch?”

One glance at him let you know he was seriously considering throwing your friend at the hatch. You rolled your eyes as you slipped out of your pumps.

“Ok, now you’re trying to piss me off, I just told you they were drones. And you are not throwing me at that tiny door. It’s not even open.”

“Well, if I throw you hard enough, that won’t matter.”

“It’s a solid steel door, dumbass. And I’m pretty sure it opens outward. I vote we come back later with some tools.”

“We’re on a timetable. I say we settle this with some old-fashioned rock, paper, scissors.”

“Um, no, you cheat.”

“How can you cheat at rock, paper, scissors?”

You did your best to tune them out as you stretched, sighing as you gathered your dress up over your thighs and grumbling to yourself about ruining another outfit.

“I don’t know, but you do. Ok, if you use your normal hand, maybe that’ll work.”

“Whatever, I’ll still win.”

You walked back down the hall, then turned and sprinted past the two of them, vaulting off one leg when you reached the corner and using your momentum to spring yourself off the wall until you were able to brace yourself in the tiny alcove next to the hatch.

“Could one of you toss me the laser driver from my clutch?” You called down to them, now that they had finally stopped their incessant arguing.

Sam grinned up at you as he picked your clutch off the ground, tossing the driver to you when he found it.

“Man, every time.” He shook his head at Bucky as you started working on dismantling the door. “I don’t know how your dumbass has survived this long without us, Barnes. You can’t just punch your way through everything.”

“I’m sorry, ‘us’? Seems like she’s doing all the work while you’re just bossy.”

“Can you two just give it a rest? I’m in.” You pulled the hatch open and slid through it, hanging over the edge by your fingertips for just a second before softly dropping on the balls of your feet on the other side. “Fuck, that’s a lot of bombs.”

“What kinds of bombs?” Sam asked over the comms, all business now.

“Well, I’m not an expert, but this sure looks like tesseract related tech to me.”

“Shit.” Bucky hissed. “Any way to disarm?”

“Well, probably, sweetie, but there’s at least 100 of these fuckers, and I don’t really feel like spending all of New Year’s Eve playing ‘which wire?’”

“Alright, just give us a second.”

You heard a yelp from outside and all of a sudden Sam’s torso came flying through the open hatch, his hips catching on the edge.

“Did he just throw you?” You asked, not bothering to hide the grin that spread over you face as Sam looked for something to swing down with. You dragged over an empty shelf and he pulled himself through, climbing down gingerly to come stand beside you.

“Your boyfriend is a fucking menace.” He grumbled, brushing some debris off his shoulders. He whistled through his teeth when he got a good look at the stockpile you had uncovered. “Shit.”

“Fuck me.” Bucky murmured, suddenly behind the two of you, making Sam jump.

“Goddamn it Barnes, why you gotta always be so stealthy?”

“Maybe you just need to pay better attention, what if I’d been a goon?”

“You are a goon.”

“Oh my god, I cannot do another round of this. Sam, can you call this in please? Maybe Sharon will have some idea of what to do about the massive pile of shit we just stepped in.”

“Fine, Y/N. I’ll call the boss.”

You went to examine the bombs more closely. They all seemed to have remote triggers, but you didn’t want to take the chance that they were volatile, so you resisted the urge to pick one up.

“Yeah, this is definitely tesseract tech.” Bucky muttered, and your heart jumped into your throat when you turned to see him tossing one of the bombs into the air and catching it again in his vibranium hand.

“Motherfucker put that down you idiot! What if there had been a pressure sensor?”

Bucky stared at you for a second, then back at the bomb in his hand. “Right, whoops.” He placed it back on the pile gingerly and gave you a sheepish grin.

“I swear to god, the two of you are going to end up getting me killed.”

“Ok, boss said they have a remote drone about one minute out that should have the ability to disarm these. She just wanted us to open the skylight for it.”

“The what?” You hissed at him.

“Uh….”

“There’s a fucking skylight?” You looked up and scoffed, seeing a very large window right there in the ceiling.

“Nice, Wilson.” Bucky just shook his head at him.

“Fuck you, Barnes! You didn’t know about it either.”

“No more! One of you morons get up there and open it!” You were seething. “You’re lucky I like the two of you or I swear to god, I would stab the both of you right now.”

“Alright, rock, paper, scissors?”

“No!! Bucky, just fucking do it.” You screwed your eyes shut and pressed your fingers into the peaks of your eyebrows.

“You got it, beautiful. You’re so cute when you’re mad… shit.”

He had to scramble up one of the shelves as you tried to charge at him, but Sam was able to hold you back at the last second.

“Ok, let’s all just take some deep breaths. It’s all good. The drones on the way. We didn’t have to fight anyone. And there’s still 25 minutes until midnight, so we’ll all get to toast the new year.”

Right as he uttered that last word, a large door on the opposite end of the room opened, and three goons carrying large guns entered.

“Goddamn it, Wilson, you jinxed us. And look, another fucking door!”

“Yeah, they do seem to be popping up everywhere.” He muttered under his breath. “Hey, fellas, we were just…. god, y’know what, I’m too tired to come up with something. Should we just fight?”

You sneered at him before hefting one of the bombs and chucking at the head of one of the guards, hitting him right between the eyes and knocking him out.

“OOHH! What if that had gone off?” Sam yelled at you as you charged the two standing goons who were still standing, diving at the last second to roll one of them over your shoulder.

“Oh, so only you and grandpa are allowed to make stupid decisions, then?” You said, pulling out a knife from under your skirt and trying to stab the guard who was still standing. You were just a little too slow and he dodged you, making you hiss. “Do you mind giving me a hand?”

“Shit, right.” He found a metal pipe leaning against the corner and walked over to where the first guard was starting to come to his senses, bringing it around in an arc to crash against his chin, knocking him out again.

“Drone’s here! Aww man, you guys started a fight without me?” Bucky had climbed back down to find the two of you grappling with your respective opponents.

He walked over and punched the asshole that had Sam in a chokehold in the face with his vibranium fist, feeling a satisfying crunch as he went down. Bucky started to stride over to give you a hand as Sam tried to catch his breath when you suddenly drove your knife up under your opponent’s ribs, giving it a twist before you withdrew it.

“Y’know,” He murmured as he watched you bend over to clean off the blade on the dead man’s jacket. “I’m a little mad at you now. I was looking forward to looking for that later tonight.” He grinned at you, nodding at the knife in your hand as you drew up your skirt to return it to the sheath on your thigh.

“Don’t worry sweetie, there’s plenty hiding under here for you to discover.” You teased him as he pulled you to him, pressing a deep kiss to your lips and moaning against your mouth. He always got so worked up after watching you fight.

“Ugh, I’m still here, you freaks!”

“Shit, sorry Sam!” You flashed an apologetic grin at your friend as he glared at you. Bucky was pulling at the front of his pants and screwing his eyes closed as he tried to fight his obvious erection.

“There’s something wrong with you two.” He muttered under his breath as he started climbing the shelves to leave through the skylight.

The drone had done its job. All the indicator lights on the bombs were off, showing there were no longer armed. You gave a small sigh of satisfaction before looking up at the skylight.

“Gimme a boost, Buck.”

“Yep.” He hooked his hands under one of your heels and grinned to himself as he brought his arms up a little faster than you had intended, flinging you up to the roof in one swift motion and making you yelp.

“You’re such a dick!” You shouted down to him as he started to climb out after you, making him laugh. “What time is it Sam?”

“Hey, we’ve still got 10 minutes to midnight!” He said, giving you a grin.

“Ooh, think we can make it back?”

“Yeah, it’s just a couple rooftops over! Barnes, move your ass!”

Bucky was just climbing onto the roof as you and Sam started jogging towards the adjacent building and cursed under his breath as he clambered to follow you.

Sam let out a whoop as he leaped between the buildings, one of his drones catching him halfway and carrying him to the other side.

“Oh my god was that waiting out here the whole time?” You scolded him as he swooped back to lift you across the gap, depositing you softly on the next roof.

“Yeah, why are you surprised?”

You just gave him a laugh as Bucky flung himself over the space between the structures, rolling in his landing and scowling at the two of you when he regained his feet.

“No thanks, I don’t need any help.” He growled at Sam, voice dripping with sarcasm as he brushed some pebbles off the shoulder of his tux jacket.

“You’re fine.” Sam waved a dismissive hand as the three of you walked to the next edge, which led to your hotel.

You dropped down first to the ledge that was 10 feet below, landing on the balls of your feet and twisting just a bit to gain your balance before you started gliding towards the window to your room.

“You good, Y/N?” Sam called as they watched you crouch as much as you could when you reached the end of the ledge.

“She’s got it.” Bucky muttered as you uncurled your body like a whip, shooting across the gap between the two buildings, latching onto the buttress above your window as you stretched down, your toes reaching for the lower sill. You found your purchase and released one hand to draw the window open, then slipped inside easily. “See?” He gave Sam a grin as he moved to follow you.

It only took the two of them a minute to join you, and you met them with champagne and a pleased smile on your face.

“Hello boys, just in time for the countdown!”

You passed out the drinks and took one for yourself before the three of you headed out to the small balcony that was around the corner from the window you had entered through.

“And 5, 4, 3, 2, 1! Happy New Year!” The three of you shouted.

You heard the city erupt in cheers and fireworks started exploding over the Eiffel tower. Bucky set his champagne flute down and drew you into his arms, bringing one hand up to cradle the back of your head as he pressed his lips to yours. You sighed as you opened up to him, welcoming the crisp taste of champagne on his tongue as he curled it against yours.

“Ooookay, that is my cue to leave.” Sam said, downing the rest of his drink and avoiding making eye contact with either of you as he made his exit.

“Mmm, Happy New Year, Sammy!” You called after him. Bucky just waved a hand at him as his mouth moved down to your neck, his lips trailing over your throat as his other hand pressed against the small of your back.

“Just, remember to take out your comms, I’m begging you.” Sam said before shutting the door behind him.

“Fuck, right.” You plucked yours out of your ear and set it next to your glass as Bucky drew you back into the room, sucking on the curve of your shoulder softly. He released you for just a second to remove his own comm and closed the door to the balcony before turning back to you.

“Oh, that fucking dress.” He growled as he took you in, his eyes dark with desire. “You know, I’ve been wanting to peel you out of that thing all night, you damn cock tease.”

You stepped into him and pressed your hand against the bulge in his pants as you nipped at his bottom lip. “Mmm, your always so good to me when I tease you though, baby. I can’t help it.” You moved your hands up to start undoing his tie. “Besides, I don’t know how you can blame me for teasing you when you’re walking around in this tux. I’ve been wet all night.” You whipped the tie off and started working on the buttons of his shirt as you took his earlobe between your lips and sucked on it.

His hands moved to your ass and squeezed as he ground his hips against you, making you gasp. “Don’t tell me that unless you want me to do something about it. Fuck, are you even wearing anything under here?”

You slid his jacket off his shoulders and followed it with his shirt, running your fingers over his bare torso before starting to undo his belt. “Why don’t you get it off me and find out?” You purred, gazing up at him through your lashes as you drew the belt through the loops and moved to unbutton his fly.

He leered at you and brought his hands up to your shoulders, running the thin straps of your gown through his fingers before snapping them easily. He sighed as he watched the material slither over your curves and pool at your feet. “I fucking knew it.”

You were completely bare under his gaze, aside from the two knife belts you had around your thighs, each of which contained 2 blades.

“Damn it, Barnes.” You scolded him.

“What?”

“Could we have one night where you don’t end up ruining at least one expensive item of clothing?” You sighed, bending over to pick up the dress and shooting him a soft look of reproval.

“Shit, baby. I’m sorry. I get too excited.” He did feel a little bad, but every time you wore something like that, all he could think of was ripping it off you.

“Well, now you’ll just have to make it up to me.” You teased, tossing the dress aside and drawing him closer.

“Yes, ma’am.” He murmured as his fingers moved to start undoing the belts around your thighs. He brushed his lips against the small hollow beneath your ear as he worked, flicking his tongue over the sensitive skin there as his fingers brushed over your legs, making your pussy clench around nothing. “You want me to show you how sorry I am with my tongue?” He set aside the two belts and moved a hand to cup your sex, groaning at how warm and wet he found you.

“God, just fucking do it.” You hissed as he teased a finger between your folds, barely brushing against your heat before withdrawing again.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” He picked you up and carried you a few feet to lay you on the dining room table, kicking the chairs out of the way with a clatter.

He gave you a searing kiss, taking your breath with him when he withdrew to kneel between your thighs. His stubble tickled at your skin as he moved his lips and tongue up your inner thigh at an agonizing pace, moving to the other thigh when he had almost reached your cunt and making you whine.

“I’m so sorry I ruined your dress, pretty girl.” He finally dragged his tongue over your slit and you let out a low moan, your fingers burying themselves in his hair as he repeated the motion. “Wish I could promise it won’t happen again, but this pussy does things to me.”

He pressed the flat of his tongue against you and drew it over your entrance heavily, slurping up all the evidence of your arousal with an obscene sound before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. The whimper you let out made his cock twitch as your thighs clenched around his shoulders, drawing him into you even further.

“God, Bucky, right there.” You murmured as he increased the pressure on your bundle of nerves and inserted two fingers into your cunt, moaning at the feeling of your satiny walls clenching around him. He curled them just a bit and you wailed, arching your back into him as you started whispering “please” over and over like a prayer.

He grinned against you as he shook his head slightly, pressing himself even further into your heat and lapping up the juices that leaked from you as he fucked you with his fingers.

He added a third finger and crooked his wrist just slightly and that was it. Every muscle in your body went rigid as you came against his face, soaking him in your release as you clamped down on his fingers and sobbed with pleasure. You released him slightly, only to spasm again from the aftershocks as your muscles quivered around him. He finally managed to draw himself away and stood between your legs, grinning down as he watched you come down from your orgasm, shivering occasionally as a random jolt of pleasure shot through you.

“You think you can forgive me?” He asked wickedly as he finished undoing his slacks and slid them over his hips, followed by his boxer briefs. He drew his hand over his length as he waited for you to answer, nudging the tip of his cock against your folds and making you yelp.

“Fuck, yes. God Bucky.” You sat up and wrapped your hands around his neck, bringing his face to yours violently. You ground your hips against him, groaning as you felt his shaft slide through your slick easily. He started to lift you to bring you to the bedroom and you shook your head a bit before releasing him. “No, I need it now.”

He grinned at you as he teased his head against your clit, making you whine. “You want me to fuck you right here on the table?”

“God, yes please. Gimme that cock. I need you inside me.” It was driving you crazy. You brought a hand between the two of you and wrapped it around him, making him hiss as you lined him up. “I want you to split me open then fuck me until I can’t breathe.”

He let out a low growl from deep in his chest. He loved when you talked like this. He pushed into slowly with a groan until he was sheathed to the hilt, relishing in the feel of you clenching around him. “Fuck baby, you feel so good. So tight and warm. What else you want me to do to you?” He started moving his hips slowly, grinding them against you each time he was bottomed out.

“Shit,” You were panting with need as he moved inside you, his cock dragging against your g-spot over and over and making it hard to think. “I want your mouth on my tits. God, just like that.” He was following your instructions beautifully, dragging his tongue over the inner slope of your breast as his hips kept up their slow pace. “Fuck, baby, suck on my nipples now.”

He did as you asked, swirling his tongue over the sensitive buds as his lips closed around them, sucking softly and making you whine. He’d always been good at following orders.

“Mmm, move faster.” You commanded, wrapping your fingers in his hair as he continued lavishing attention on your breasts.

He obliged easily, picking up the pace until he was slamming into you, knocking the breath out of you. You met each of his thrusts with your own, mewling as you felt a coil starting to knot in your abdomen.

“God, I’m gonna cum.” You whined.

One more drive of his hips and the coil broke, making you scream. Your fingernails dug into his scalp as you went stiff for just a beat before everything released. He smiled into your neck as you vibrated against him, panting heavily as you came down.

He kept fucking into you like a man possessed. He brought his mouth back up to yours and kissed you softly as he felt you relax a bit. “Did I do good, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, baby, you did great.” You laughed into his mouth as he kept moving.

“You’re in charge, pretty girl. What do you want now?”

“God, work my clit. Fuck, just like that.” You were having trouble focusing as he did what you asked. “I need your mouth on my neck. Hngh, Bucky! That’s so good.”

“What else, beautiful?” he grinned against your throat, loving how easily you were coming apart around him. He picked up the pace with his hips a little more and felt you flutter around him.

“Shit, stick your thumb up my ass.”

He was not prepared for that and his hips faltered for a bit. He whipped his head up to stare at you as he regained his composure.

“What?”

“Ahh, fuck.” You were just a little embarrassed. You usually liked to ramp up to this type of thing, and especially with Bucky, you had wanted go really slow with this particular kink. You didn’t know how much of a thing anal play had been in the 40s. “Um, you can forget I said that.”

To your surprise, he broke out into an absolutely sinful grin and gave you a savage kiss as he laid you back on the table, stilling his hips but keeping himself sheathed in you as he drew your knees up to your shoulders.

“I’ve been dreaming about this ass, baby.” He said as he started moving his hips again, dragging his thumb through the slick that was leaking out around his cock and moving it down until it was pressing against your pretty hole, making you gasp.

“Bucky, don’t tease me.”

“Thinking about this tight little hole wrapped around my cock, I was worried you’d never let me in.” You moaned as he pressed himself through the tight ring of muscle and your eyes rolled up into your skull as you arched yourself into him. “But here you are, giving me a fucking invitation.”

He gave a groan when both your holes clenched around him, and he felt his cock moving in your cunt with his thumb through the thin lining between your passages. He drew himself out halfway and slammed back into violently, the tip of him barely kissing your cervix and making you whine.

His fingers on your clit pressed down hard and you flew apart around him, your orgasm ripping through you with abandon. The scream you let out was otherworldly as you creamed all over his cock.

The sight of you writhing beneath him sent him over his own edge and he shouted your name as his cum spurted inside of you, coating your walls and his dick as he collapsed on top of you.

You were still trembling as aftershocks rippled through your body. He kissed your neck and pulled out of you gently. You barely noticed, you were so fucked out.

“Shit sweetheart.” He muttered as he drew himself up. “This body treats me so fucking good. Damn, look at that.” He drew your knees apart and stared appreciatively at you pussy, still clenching as you came down. His cum was slowly leaking out of you and dribbling over your puckered hole. “Let’s clean you up.”

You had expected him to go get a towel, but he knelt down and dragged his tongue over first your asshole, then your slit, making you sob as he lapped up the mixture of your releases. When he drew his tongue over your clit, you came again immediately, it was so overstimulated.

“Fuck, you ok, Y/N?” He hadn’t expected you to be that sensitive and was worried he might have overdone it. He brought himself back up to look you in the eyes, cupping one cheek in the palm of his hand as he studied your face with concern.

“God, Bucky, I’m fucking great.” You gave him a sloppy grin as you stared up at him, turning your head to press a kiss into the palm of his hand. “I don’t think I can walk though.” Your legs were jelly.

He just laughed and scooped you into his arms, carrying you into the bedroom and laying on the bed. He covered you with the sheets and pressed a soft kiss to your temple before heading into the bathroom to clean himself up. He was only gone for a minute before he was sliding behind you and wrapping you in his arms.

“Happy New Year, beautiful.” He whispered into your hair as you drifted off to sleep, drowsy now that you were surrounded with his warmth.

“Happy fucking New Year, Bucky.” You murmured before you dozed off, blissfully satisfied.

Permanent Tags:

@drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @starlightcrystalline​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @buckysnumberonegirl​

[hphm-stuff]

Hi.. I saw your post about hphm writing ask. Would you like to write some fluff about Talbott and my MC Viviana (Viv) please. Even Any fluff about Talbott alone too would be more than enough for me 🙂. Looking forward to it . Thanks and have a great time 🌸

I love Talbott and was really excited to get this request! As a general rule, I just right x reader fics so that everyone can enjoy them. I’m more than happy to write the fluff, and I really hope you enjoy it! I took this and ran with it, so hopefully it’s to your liking!

Pairing: Talbott Winger x Reader

Warnings: None, pure fluff.

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: Lil’ eagle boy overworks himself often, and you have to step in to remind him to take a break, take a breath, and enjoy the little things. Like flower crowns.

Note: I can’t draw for the life of me, but I would literally pay for a picture of Talbott with a flower crown. Please message me if you would let me commission that or something.

Flower Crowns

It was a Saturday, and you couldn’t find Talbott anywhere. You knew, knowing him, that he would be studying somewhere. The library? Too loud. His common room? Also too loud. His dorm? Not enough room for all his books at once. Your feet took you toward the abandoned Transfiguration classroom before you even realized where you were going. It was quiet, out of the way, and empty until Monday. That was the perfect place for him to go to focus. You stopped in front of the classroom and pushed the door open. It creaked gently, and you winced as you stepped in. You knew your boyfriend, and knew that he hated to be interrupted while studying. His head whipped around. The look on his face was a mixture of stress and annoyance, but once he registered it was you, it was replaced with a gentle smile. “Hey.”

“Hey. I was just looking for you.”

His smile grew ever so slightly and his voice took on a playful tone. “Miss me that much? We just saw each other last night.”

With a roll of your eyes and a light smile, you moved to occupy the vacant seat beside him. You turned to him, noting the literal mountain of books beside him. They had to be stacked at least a foot tall. A sigh escaped your lips as you looked over them. “It’s Saturday, T. Saturday afternoon. It’s a beautiful day outside. Why are you in here?”

He was scribbling something down on his parchment and answered absentmindedly. “There’s a Potions test on Monday, love. Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“Of course I didn’t forget. Do you do anything other than study?”

He looked at you like that was the dumbest question he’d ever heard. “You know I do other things. We went to Hogsmeade last weekend.”

“After I practically begged for you to go. I’d asked you every week, and you finally relented.”

He shrugged, almost brushing you off. “I want to do well in classes.”

“Talbott, you already do well in classes. I can guarantee you that you’ll walk into that Potions test and ace it, without even trying.”

He sighed. “I just want to make sure I do that.”

“You need to stop working so hard sometimes. You’re so smart, T. So smart. You need to take a day to yourself sometimes.”

He was staring at his books, but you knew he was hearing your words. You watched him from your spot beside him, waiting for any sort of response. When he was quiet for a bit, you prodded more. “You need to think about yourself, T. You’re going to overwork yourself and burn out.”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“When’s the last time you went a day without cracking open a book when you didn’t absolutely have to?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Please, take a break today. Let’s go do something. I don’t want you burning out.”

“Let me just go over a few more things and then I’ll put the book away, alright?” he sighed.

You relented and kept him quiet company as he worked. It took hours of you trying to entertain yourself and pestering him for him to finally pack up his books. It was getting into the early evening when he finally packed up.

“Can we finally do something?” you asked.

There were only so many things you could do to keep yourself occupied in an empty classroom. You’d already roamed the class, looking at all the books that line McGonagall’s shelves. You’d looked through the books Talbott brought that he wasn’t using. You’d even stared out the window for longer than you even knew.

Talbott looked at you with a gentle grin and nodded his head. “We can do something.”

You grinned in response. “Meet me by the forest in ten minutes. If you’re not there, I’m coming to find you.”

“I’ll be there. I’m just going to put my books away,” he responded after a light chuckle.

You took his word for it and made your way back to your dorm, grabbing a bag and shoving a comfortable blanket in there. You also grabbed yourself a sweater, tossing it in the bag as well, just in case it got chilly later. Once you’d grabbed everything you needed, you set off toward the forest. Talbott had beat you there, and he greeted you with a playful grin. “For a second I thought I’d have to come find you.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning as you made your way toward him. You took his hand and led him toward the outskirts of the forest, far enough away to be safe. The area you chose was riddled with little flowers of all colours. You then set down the bag you brought with you, pulling out the blanket and laying it on the grass. You heard Talbott speak from behind you, the smile evident in his voice. “What do you have planned?”

You let out a soft giggle and moved to sit on the spread out blanket, patting the spot beside you. He sank down onto it, turning to you with a smile. You returned it. “I just wanted to spend some time with you. I feel like we haven’t had a full conversation in forever.”

Talbott was leaning back a little, his hands on the blanket behind him to support him. He scooted closer to you, his tone light. “Or, maybe, you’re too high maintenance.”

He was grinning, his tone light and playful. You gasped, feigning offence. “Excuse me?”

He laughed gently. “Clingy might be the better word? Attached? Maybe obsess-”

You cut him off with a kiss. He smiled gently against your lips as he returned it. When you pulled back, he was grinning. “What was that for?”

“Your Ravenclaw was showing. I needed it to stop.”

He laughed gently, leaning in to press a light kiss to your cheek. “You usually love it.”

“Not when you’re making fun of me.”

He grinned, moving to place an arm around your waist. You looked at him, taking in that beautiful moment with that beautiful boy. It struck you, just then, how far you two had come. Talbott, usually reserved, quiet and lonesome was different with you. He was almost carefree. It was a wonderful feeling, realizing that you brought this out of him, even if it was only with you. He pulled you out of your thoughts with a soft clearing of his throat. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks before looking away. “Sorry.”

He tugged you closer by the arm that was draped around you. At this point, your thighs were pressed against each other. You picked your head up to look at him, and found that he was already looking at you. “What were you thinking about, (Y/N)?”

You shook your head. “Nothing.”

“I don’t buy that,” he mused.

You gave him a timid smile. “Just thinking about you.”

“About me?”

“Yeah.”

“What about me? Good things?”

You giggled. “Always good things, T. Just shocked at how different you are with me than you are with other people.”

A grin took over his face. “What can I say? You bring out the best in me, darling.”

His cheesiness made you roll your eyes, but the smile on your face was sure to let him know that you appreciated the comment.

The two of you spent some time chatting out in the open field, enjoying each others’ company. You, at some point, absentmindedly started to play with the flowers around you. You picked one, and with a grin, stuck it in Talbott’s hair while he was mid-sentence. He turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

You beamed at the sight in front of you. Talbott was a slightly intimidating looking guy, and the flower in his hair was in total contrast to that. “You look so cute.”

He dropped his gaze to the blanket in front of him. You caught the smile and the light blush that dusted his cheeks. You giggled softly, moving to lean into his side. He wrapped an arm around you. “Well, if it looks that good, I see no need to take it out.”

You continued to pluck some flowers, suddenly getting an idea. You started tying them together with the stems, starting to make them into a haphazard circle.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s a flower crown,” you replied as if it was obvious.

“A what?”

“Usually you need a wire to put the flowers on, but we don’t have that right now. You just tie the flowers together and make them into a circle that will fit your head.”

You glanced over at him and caught him starting to gather up his own flowers. A light smile found its way onto your face as you turned back to the crown you were working on. When you were finished, you proudly presented it to him. It was a floppy mess of stems and blossoms, but he looked at it like it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

“For you, my love,” you giggled as you set it on his head.

He grinned at you, halfway through his own. You took in the sight of him with the crown on his head, looking even more beautiful than he had with just the single flower in his hair.

The sun was setting, and the golden glow on him in that moment made your heart skip a beat. He looked so soft. So sweet. He didn’t even notice your staring as he was so focused on his own crown. He got it done a few minutes later and grinned as he held it up for you to see. It looked a lot worse than yours, but you loved it because he made it. He moved to set it on your head. “You, my darling, look radiant as ever.”

You giggled, and for what felt like the millionth time that night, blushed. The two of you sat together under the setting sun, chatting and cuddling up for warmth, or so he said. The night air was not, by any means, chilly, but you suspected that he wanted to be close to you without admitting it.

After sitting out there well past curfew, the two of you decided to pack it in for the night. Hand in hand, you walked toward the castle, still wearing your flower crowns. He walked you back to your common room and the two of you stood there for a moment. He finally spoke. “Thank you for convincing me to do something other than study. I needed that.”

You giggled. “I’m always happy to distract you. Those books get more attention than I do.”

“That’ll change, I promise.”

“It better,” you replied playfully.

He grinned at you, leaning in to place a delicate kiss to your lips. You placed a hand on your cheek as you returned it. When he broke away from it, he gave you a light smile. “Maybe we can do something else tomorrow?”

You grinned. “Of course. Any suggestions?”

“Doesn’t matter to me, as long as I get to spend time with you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After one more gentle kiss, he was off to his common room. You watched him go, only turning to head inside when he was out of sight.

[buckysglow]

Captive

Chapter 12 - “Deserving”

SUMMARY: You were held captive by Hydra for years and had only just escaped when the Avengers find you. You’re beyond terrified of everyone and everything around you, but the thing the terrifies you the most is yourself. The things you can do with your abilities&#157; are beyond what anyone could possibly imagine.

Chapters: 1 ~ 2 ~ 3 ~ 4 ~ 5 ~ 6 ~ 7 ~ 8 ~ 9a ~ 9b ~ 10 ~ 11 

AN: Christmas in May, anyone? Sorry this took so long, I just graduated from college! Also, I posted before and asked if you guys prefer to read fics on Wattpad or AO3, and I would love to have your input on that! I am trying to figure out which one I should post my fics on! 

Word Count: Around 5000 

Warnings: Mention of abuse and fluffy fluff 

You tugged Bucky’s large shirt farther down your legs, tip-toeing down the hall before dawn. It would be Christmas in just a few hours and you had to make sure everything was perfect for the team. You had gotten a little creative with your presents, seeing as you didn’t have money of your own and didn’t know much about earning it. You were thankful that most of the team had hobbies of their own and made it much easier for you to find the supplies you needed to make homemade gifts. You worked very hard on their gifts. 

Being what Bucky called “gifted,” you could feel the change in energy in each and every one of your friends. They rarely slept, but when they did, they were so exhausted that their eyes felt heavier than any weights they had lifted that day. And usually their nights were filled with restlessness, tossing and turning, and fighting the covers that were hands in their dreams. Their energy took on a light glow while they slept, one that pulsed with every beat of their heart. Their dreams sometimes became more and more unbearable, as those imaginary hands became their own and they were grasping the neck of another person. Uncontainable, unmanageable guilt became the burden of the night. And you only knew that because that’s what kept you awake; it’s also what kept Bucky awake.

“Everyone has their own shit.” He told you after waking up with a start one night, drenched in sweat. It was usually him comforting you, but this time it was the other way around. He was embarrassed; his dreams made him feel weak and powerless. That’s why you had chosen a dream catcher for him; it would catch those dreams and spirits that kept him awake. 

You had been preparing for this for quite some time now, hiding the supplies you needed in your room, under your bed. You glanced at the newly decorated Christmas tree and smiled. When you were younger, your mom would decorate the whole house with you, and it was one of your favorite things in the world. She could be so kind and loving when she wanted. You smiled at one of the few good memories you had, especially ones with her. While she may have been cruel to you at times, she also had her fun moments. That’s what made hating her or resenting her so difficult. 

While you were being held by Hydra, those were the moments that you thought about most. They are the things you dreamed of experiencing again. This just added even more complicated thoughts to your already spinning mind while you were with those evil men… to leave one abusive home for another. 

You shook your head to rid yourself of those thoughts. You had work to do. The team was in for a treat. You had been preparing and practicing, not only for the decorations, but for another special surprise. You wouldn’t be able to do it for long, so the timing had to be perfect. 

“Friday,” you whispered, “what time does everyone typically wake up?” 

She ran through everyone’s schedules quickly and you nodded. 

“How many of them use alarm clocks?” You asked, praying that she would say all of them. 

“Sam.” 

You cringed at that answer. “Alright, I’ll think of something…” You made quick work of the decorations, running as quietly as you could from one room to another. When you finished, you stepped back to admire your work. 

Paper snowflakes hung from all over the ceiling, the tree was packed with colorful or shiny items, a copious amount of cotton balls had been stretched and torn to look like snow in various places around the tower, Christmas lights hung, and paper trees placed on shelves and tables. You grinned. It was so pretty. You began to jump on your heels slightly, excited for everyone to be awake. You had about two hours to finish up before they all started stirring. All you had to do was put the finishing touches on their gifts and place them under the tree. 

You sprinted to your room, sweating from the amount of effort this was taking. You froze when you felt Natasha stir in her bed. She was the one you were most worried about waking. If she even felt a slight disturbance, she would immediately be out of bed to find out what was happening. You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on her energy. You willed her to stay asleep, praying that she hadn’t heard you. You felt her relax, and your heart eased its rapid beating. 

You gathered as many of their gifts as you could in your hands and brought them out by the tree. You rushed to place them under the tree nicely. You had begun to feel some of them awaken and you rushed to turn the Christmas lights on. You added last minute touches to the decorations, and finally you asked Friday to play Christmas music. 

You felt Bucky begin to stir then. Your heart began to beat a little faster in your chest with nervous excitement. You couldn’t wait to see their reactions, but you were nervous that they wouldn’t like it. You hoped this would be enough. You wanted to make your first Christmas with them special. You wanted them to know that you were beginning to feel comfortable and loved when you were with them. 

“Friday, can you turn the volume up please?” You asked quietly, toes wiggling in your worn slippers. Natasha was the first one out of bed, followed by Steve and Bucky. You could feel them move from their beds and see their energy begin to pulse a little brighter. You were grinning as you felt Tony begin to stir. 

When you felt them all leave their rooms, you were nearly exploding with excitement. They were making their way toward the common area, most likely heading for the kitchen for breakfast and coffee. Bucky was falling a little behind the rest, and you were quick to send more energy toward him. 

When they had all finally made their way down the hall and into the common area, you were quick to grin at them, “Merry Christmas!” 

Their eyes were wide with shock as they took in the decorations and lights. Steve’s smile was growing and Natasha was leaning against the door frame with a small smirk on her lips. Bucky was staring at the ceiling, a look of amazement on his face. 

“When did you do all of this?” Steve asked, hand running over the snow you had made from cotton balls. 

“Last night! Do you like it?” You asked, feeling breathless. 

“This is so pretty, (Y/N)!” Wanda exclaimed, pulling you in for a hug. 

“Just promise me you’re gonna clean all this up when Christmas is over,” Tony stated dramatically. He suddenly seemed to notice the tree, “Gifts, huh?”

Sam elbowed him hard, silently telling him to shut up. He gestured in your direction. You were grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. You pulled away from Wanda, hopping on the balls of your feet a bit. You threw yourself into Bucky’s arms and hugged him tightly, barely able to contain your excitement. “Yes, um- I have gifts for you all, but do you want to eat first?” You clasped your hands in front of you and hopped in front of the kitchen, knowing that they would all want their morning coffee. 

“I could use some coffee,” Natasha smiled. She wrapped her arm around your shoulders, “Merry Christmas. You did an amazing job.” 

“Did you happen to make breakfast? That would have been nice instead of you making a mess,” Tony asked in his typical tone, sauntering into the kitchen. You just rolled your eyes, sticking your tongue out at him. The rest of the team followed, leaving you and Bucky behind.

You turned to look at Bucky, meeting his unwavering gaze. “Merry Christmas,” you breathed, you tucked your hair behind your ear. “Do you like it?” 

He made his way toward you slowly, tilting your head with his finger, his lips lingered against your forehead, “You are amazing…” 

Once everyone had eaten, you were all gathered in the common area. Christmas movies were playing on the large screen, but the volume was low as you all talked happily with one another. You were seated on the floor between Wanda and Bucky’s legs. Natasha sat on the floor across from you. Steve was laughing about something Sam had said, fingers playing with one of the toy motorcycles hanging on the tree. Sam was seated on the arm of the loveseat that Tony had sprawled out in. You looked at each of them, a content smile on your face. 

This was the first time since you were young that you had felt accepted. There would always be worms of doubt in your head, but for now, they were under control. They were not slinking their way into the moment. Your fingers brushed against Bucky’s calf and he looked down at you, only to find you grinning up at him. He leaned down to kiss your forehead. 

There was wrapping paper and bows sprawled across the floor from their gifts. You had loved watching their eyes light up with warmth and happiness, and you felt a little bit of the weight you carried on your shoulders fall away. Natasha was wiggling her fingers in the mittens you made her, which made you smile and giggle. 

“When I go to visit Clint, I’ll bring them the gifts,” she had told you when you pointed out that you made him and his family gifts as well. 

“He said he wants to FaceTime later, so he can see them then.” Wanda interjected, smiling mischievously. They all had their own plans and gifts for you as well, but you had no idea. 

You didn’t seem to care about receiving anything at all. “I made Thor something as well, but he will have to wait,” you giggled, thinking about how excited he would be to get the tiny hammer you had painted to look like mjolnir. 

“So what you’re saying is that you stole from me.” Tony said sarcastically.

“Didn’t steal, I just borrowed... in a sense.” You giggled. 

The team revealed that they hadn’t received a handmade gift in years and that they loved them. Each of them was playing with their gifts or wearing them. A moment of silence wrapped around everyone as they peered down at their gifts. 

“I know it’s not much, and you’re all probably used to nicer things, but I hope you like them.” You said, sheepishly peering at your acquired family. 

“We love them!” Wanda assured you. 

“These are so much better than any gifts you could have bought us, (Y/N).” Natasha nodded. 

“Even though you stole most of the stuff that you used,” Tony said, pulling his glasses down slightly, “you did good, kid.” 

“Good,” you breathed a sigh of relief. You stood up slowly, pulling the ends of your shirt nervously, “I have one more surprise for you all.” 

You carefully made your way to the doorway, standing behind the couch that Bucky and Wanda were sitting on. Everyone was watching you with questioning eyes, wondering what else you could have possibly made for them. “It might take a try or two, but I have been practicing this since my little incident a few weeks ago.” You admitted timidly. 

Your heart was thudding hard in your chest, nerves making their way up your throat. You took a deep breath to steady yourself, and closed your eyes. You pictured gold, soft and twinkling, dancing in the sky. You imagined a gentle, gold glow and shimmers of it. You slowly opened your eyes. The team was staring upward, mouths agape and eyes awed. Tony pulled his glasses from his face, mouth open in amazement.

A golden, glowing river flowed above them. Shimmers and flecks of gold rained down slowly, twinkling brightly. Your typical ribbons were moving slowly, wrapping themselves into loose coils. You pushed yourself a little harder, motivated by the childlike wonder on your family’s faces. You conjured up tiny horses and faceless people, some ice skating, others dancing or playing in the golden snow in the space above your heads. 

“Wow,” you heard Steve whisper in amazement. You smiled, watching the team closely with their soft and content faces. You loved making others happy. Your eyes flickered over to Bucky, and one of the ice skaters made their way to him. They spun gracefully in front of his nose. His smile was unforgettable. 

But soon, you could feel your energy dimming, so you gave one last push. The gold above burst silently into thousands of golden flecks, hanging in the air for a second, and then lazily falling down onto the team. Sweat had collected on your upper lip from the amount of effort it took, and finally, you felt your energy give way. 

The gold came flying back into your chest. You blew out a breath, hands shaking with exhaustion. The team looked over at you, smiles still on their faces. Subconsciously, you were aware that they didn’t look scared of your white eyes. You were smiling at them, proud of yourself for succeeding. You accomplished more than you thought you would have. Even if it was only for a minute or two, you had held it longer and made more images at one time than you ever had before. 

“That was the coolest thing I have ever seen,” Sam muttered, mostly to himself, but the team was nodding in agreement. 

“The little snowballs?” Steve asked, leaning over to him. 

“The coolest!” Sam exclaimed. 

You gave an airy laugh, feeling a little lightheaded. Bucky was at your side immediately, leading you to the couch. 

“That was pretty badass, goldy locks! I thought you could only do that when you were scared!” Tony declared, looking a little stunned. 

“I’ve been practicing in my room… far away from people, so…” you laughed lightly. Natasha was still looking upward, a dreamy look in her eyes. Her face was relaxed, in a faraway place. Wanda grasped your arm with excitement, 

“Can you show me how to do that? I’ve never made images with mine!”

You giggled weakly, “I can try. I’m not quite sure how I do it, I just picture it in my head.”

“That was amazing, Doll,” Bucky whispered, lips grazing your ear. 

“Thank you,” you sighed, snuggling deeper into the couch next to him. 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He said quietly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You hummed happily in response, a tired smile on your lips. “That didn’t hurt you?” He asked quietly. The others were still talking about their favorite parts of your show. 

You shook your head, taking a deep breath and continuing, “It did in the beginning, but after a while the pain just… went away.” 

He nodded, kissing your temple, “Take a nap. We will be here when you wake up.” And as you started to doze off, you heard Bucky laugh and say, “But did you see the ice skater in front of my face?” 

~

“Wake her up; I can’t wait any longer to give her our gifts!” You heard Wanda exclaim.

You suddenly felt cold, metallic fingers glide over your cheek, and your eyes fluttered. “Good morning, sleepyhead!” Sam exclaimed, sitting opposite of you behind the coffee table. The coffee table had gifts strewn all over it and your eyes widened slightly. 

You looked around the room in question, “Those… are those for me?” 

Steve tilted his head, while Natasha nodded at you, a soft smile gracing her face. Bucky was grinning widely beside you. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” you whispered, shaking your head in disbelief, nervously tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“Open mine first; you’re going to like it more than the others!” Tony teased, throwing a wink your way. 

Natasha rolled her eyes at Tony, “We wanted to do this, trust me.” 

“The bigger one is mine,” Tony pushed, ignoring the sappy moment you were having. You laughed and proceeded to open the array of gifts around you. You were surprised with each one, not expecting such generosity from them. Tony had gotten you a laptop and a phone because you “were behind the times.” Wanda had given you a gift card to a clothing boutique downtown, saying that she was going to take you shopping before the New Years party; this excited and terrified you at the same time. Natasha bought you adorable cow slippers after finding out that your favorite animals were cows. You immediately put them on and were repeatedly wiggling your toes in them. Steve and Sam gave you yellow boxing gloves and said that the matching punching bag was in the training room—it was even bedazzled at the bottom. 

You couldn’t stop smiling. In fact, your face hurt from smiling and laughing so much. 

“Clint’s calling!” Wanda exclaimed, placing her phone on the coffee table. She pressed the green button and up popped his face. 

“That is so cool,” you whispered to Bucky, amazed at how quickly technology has changed. 

“Gets me everytime,” he whispered back, planting a kiss on your cheek. 

“Merry Christmas, everyone!” Clint exclaimed, his wife and children popping up to say hi. You grinned and waved back. “Hope I didn’t miss anything,” Clint said. 

“Just in time,” Wanda assured him. 

“Clint,” you started softly, “I made you and your family gifts; they’re not much, but—“

“They’re amazing, look!” Natasha interrupted you, turning the phone to show him the gifts you had made them. 

“They’re gonna love the bears!” You heard Clint’s wife exclaim. “Thank you, (Y/N), we love them!” 

“My turn to give you something though.” Clint said, and Natasha placed the phone back to face you. Everyone began to smile softly, knowing that Clint had worked hard to pull this one off. “After hearing about your grades and that you didn’t get to go to graduation, I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” he explained, fiddling with his phone. Tony was quick to pull out his own and began swiping. You chewed the inside of your cheek, nerves growing as he continued to talk, “You worked so hard to fit in and I know that’s not easy, so I wanted to do this for you.” Tony swiped one last time, and an image of a high school diploma popped up above your head. 

Your eyebrows drew together as you read the name of your school and a loud gasp burst through your lips. “That says my name!” You exclaimed, standing up to read it closely. 

“I talked to your school and the school board, and had some people pull some strings,” Clint explained.

“It’s me. I’m some people,” Tony smiled cockily.

You covered your mouth in shock as you read your name over and over again. “You deserved this and so much more, kid,” Clint said softly. When he had heard what your mother did and that your chance to graduate was ripped from you as a teenager, he knew he had to do this for you. He pictured his own kids, and how proud he would be if they had achieved what you had. He had to do this for you. 

Your bottom lip began to wobble, and you took a deep breath to keep them from falling.“I can’t begin to explain how much this means to me,” you whispered, voice cracking, “thank you so much.” 

Clint smiled at you and his wife hugged him closer. She knew how much this meant to him and had helped him talk to your school board. 

“I wish you were here so that I could hug you,” you laughed lightly, wiping away the stray tears that fell. 

“You’ll see me soon, kid!” He laughed, loving that you were looking so happy.

 “We have one more gift for you,” Steve said softly, “We’ve all talked it over, and decided that we think you’re ready.” Wanda grabbed your hand and smiled brightly at you, pulling you to sit back down next to her. You really couldn’t think of anything better than the gifts you had received so far. 

“We are going to wait until after Tony’s New Years Eve party, but we think we should take you back to your hometown for a weekend.” The tears were immediate and fast paced. You buried your face in the sleeves of Bucky’s sweatshirt in an attempt to hide them. 

“It’s up to you if you want to go, but we think you should visit,” Natasha whispered, pressing a comforting hand to your knee. 

“I-I’m a li-little overwhelmed,” you blubbered, with a loud laugh. The team was quick to respond with their own quiet laughter. “I w-wanna show you guys my favorite book store!” You giggled, and this made them all laugh a little louder, “thank you all so much, I wish I could repay you for everything, for saving me… I just- I promise I will!” 

“Aw, goldy locks!” Tony exclaimed, “I’ll take you up on that one day! For now, just try not to stab any of us with those gold things!”

 You ripped your hands from your face to see that your fingertips were glowing brightly. Your eyes widened at the realization that your chest didn’t hurt. You held your hand out, watching as it shook with your emotions, but not with pain or agony. “It doesn’t hurt,” you whispered, sounding amazed. 

“What?” Bucky asked you, leaning closer to hear what you had said. 

“It doesn’t hurt… I didn’t know I was doing it and it didn’t hurt,” you stated, looking at him with wide eyes. You looked back at your hands, holding both of them out in front of you, pressing your energy forward slightly, testing the waters. Ribbons wrapped themselves around your fingers, moving slowly, looking like snakes as they made their way to the ground. You were so overwhelmed with emotions—joy, relief, happiness, disbelief— were you finally free from the agony? What had changed? Was it that you finally felt loved? Your lips twitched with a shaky smile. Bucky made eye contact with Steve, and the two of them were so proud of how far you had come in the short, few months you had been with them. 

Careful, that evil voice spoke in the back of your head, don’t get too cocky now. You don’t want to lose control.

You gasped, letting out a quiet yelp. Your energy shot violently back into your body and you wheezed at the suddenness of it all. 

“Whoa,” Bucky cooed, grasping your shoulders to steady you, “you’re alright, you’re fine.” 

“S-sorry,” you stuttered breathlessly, “I got nervous.” 

“You’ve pushed yourself quite a bit today,” Wanda assured you softly, after peeking inside your thoughts for a split second. 

You sat back into Bucky’s chest, nodding absentmindedly. 

“Yeah, I think that’s enough of the golden light show,” Tony stated, grasping Wanda’s phone, “not that we don’t love to see what you can do because what you did earlier was amazing, and Barton missed it all!” He pointed and laughed sarcastically. 

“It was pretty cool, Barton!” Natasha agreed, smirking at the phone. 

“What? What did I miss?” He cried, making you giggle and shake your head at their teasing. 

~

After the team had opened all their gifts and dispersed to relax or prepare for the night ahead, you were left alone with Bucky. 

“Hey, Doll,” he cooed against your forehead, loving the sleepy look on your face. You hummed a response. Your head was buried in his chest, breathing in his comforting smell. His body was humming with soft energy, causing you to relax even deeper into his side. “I got you a gift,” he whispered.

You looked up at him, secretly reveling in the fact that he remembered to get you something. You were a little disappointed earlier when you hadn’t received anything from him, of all people. Not that it was about the gift, but the thought behind it. You had believed, for just a moment, that he had forgotten to get you something. 

“Oh, yeah?” You grinned, inching closer to his face. He grinned right back before reaching behind the couch and pulling out a small box. “Oh, Bucky, no…” you pouted, knowing full well that it was jewelry, based on the box alone. 

“Just open it,” he chuckled, pushing it into your hands. 

“I can’t accept this,” you objected weakly, smiling at him as you pushed it back at him. 

“You haven’t even opened it yet!” He laughed, removing his hands completely from the box to force you to catch it.

 You bit the inside of your cheek nervously as you lifted the lid of the box to reveal a garnet ring. It was encased in a gold cage and placed nicely on top of a golden band. You looked up at him with pure bliss. “It’s a garnet,” you whispered happily, fingers running over the gem. 

“It is,” he nodded, moving your hair away from your neck, “I- um- I did a lot of research and garnets are known as the stone of courage, and they are worn to guard against danger… and they are also supposed to help with the - um- heart and blood and stuff… Plus, I wanted to get you your own ring, so that you wouldn’t have to keep borrowing Wanda’s.” He was mumbling nervously now, unsure about his gift now that it was being opened. 

You grinned up at him, “I love it, Bucky, thank you. This is too much.”

A sigh of relief whooshed past his lips, but he was quick to replace it with his mock confidence. You adored that he had put so much thought into it for you, knowing that it was no coincidence that it was this particular stone. “I hope you don’t think it’s weird that I got you something so…” he mumbled again, watching as you removed Wanda’s ring from your small finger, and replaced it with his.

 “No,” you shook your head, “I don’t think it’s weird. I actually think it’s very sweet.” 

The two of you fell into a tense silence, and you both found that nerves had settled in your stomachs. You bit your lip and glanced at Bucky quickly. His eyebrows were scrunched together in concentration. His eyes looked far away. You tilted your head to the side, looking at him curiously.

“You okay?” You asked quietly, unsure what was happening. 

“Yeah...yes, I just have to do something,” he rushed out, startling you. 

His hands were quick to encase your face. 

He pulled you forward in one motion, and his lips found yours. You jumped instinctively, but as soon as your brain caught up with your body, your lips were moving in perfect sync with his. His hands found their way to the back of your head, tangling his fingers at your roots. Your shaky hands were taking their time to find his bearded face, and you sighed into his mouth. 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to remember how many times you had imagined this moment with him, but every time you had, you pictured yourself being a nervous mess. This time, though, you found yourself more comforted by his lips than anything. You hadn’t realized how badly you needed this from him. He pulled away slowly, resting his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath.

“I have been wanting to do that for so long,” He whispered, lips grazing your nose. You hummed, eyes still closed. There was a sense of comfort that you had never experienced before, and while your heart raced in your ears, it wasn’t from fear, but from excitement. “I hope that was okay,” He whispered, his metal hand moving the strand of hair that fell in your face. 

You nodded, eyes fluttering open to look at him, “It was more than okay.” 

This was a first for you. A first of feeling this heart wrenching excitement, and your first kiss. You didn’t know if you should tell him, but before you could stop yourself, you pressed another kiss to his lips. “That was my, um— that was my first...“

Bucky’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as he looked over your features. His eyes suddenly went wide, “That was your first kiss?” He grabbed your tiny hands in his. 

The side of your mouth quirked, and you shyly looked down at your joined hands, nodding. 

“Oh, baby,” He murmured, pulling you closer to him. You couldn’t tell if there was pity or admiration in his eyes, but you couldn’t get yourself to feel anything other than overwhelming elation. “I can’t wait to show you how much more there is to life than the inside of a cell… if you let me…” 

You smiled up at him, big and wide. You couldn’t wait either. 

@jamesfrickingbuchananbarnes @multi-fan @krugeforeveryone @meshlababy @larry-pringles @witchymarvelspacecase @melconnor2007 @ohnosiren​ 

@nopevilleluas @winter--plum @poe-also-bucky @serzhantjamesbuchananbarnes @life-is-fuucked @emilyinbuffalo @buckybarnesisalittleshit @theboldandthebootyful @dr121413 @buckysquad @smartashes @notsoprettykitty  @tjhammomd @linsteadandchicagopdarelife @justareader @whatsbetterthanfantasy @nikkitia7 @intenselyupset @thenightmarebeforebucky @sebatmanstan @feelmyroarrrr @dazedandcarefree @fly-f0rever @skeletoresinthebasement @colouredwater @cierrabolton @hotemotionalmess @lady-sloan @avixenrose @captainmqmeep @professionally-crazed @ponyboys-sunsets @abimarvelparker @buckysbestgirll @buckybarnesisapreciousplum @sarcastic-ohohoh @notsoluckybucky @angel34jolly-blog @kitherey @heismyhunter @steadysuitenthusiast @bxckybxrnes02 @irreplaceable-spacexual @stephanieluvspie @canumoveyourseatup-no @cicismith95 @kinqshley @buckybuchanan @bxtchybrie @almondbuttercup @deanmonlove @missmalfoy1703 @petitelaurie9 @jade-cheshire @mrs-pendragonofthetardis @themistsofmyavalon @archer-whovian-violinist @gypsygirllover19 @maygenjayne1 @zhang91yixing @rileyloves5 @brutalwerewolf @fizzylollipop12 @sergeant-buchanan @followeroonieclassic @marvelgoateecollection @gingerbatchwife @sofiadiaz04 @hatterripper31 @mellifluous-melodramas @lilasiannerd @james-bionic-barnes @the-introverted-photographer @betherz5683

[wandsandwheezes]

Inconspicuous | G.W

T/W // Ouid content, kissing and suggestive content but no actual smut it doesn’t even really get too spicy

Summary // 2.5k // Reader is Ron’s best friend and George is absolutely 100% in love with her and has been crushing for a while, Ron attempts to be inconspicuous and get inside info from his best friend for his brother but we all know how Ron is.

A/N - big surprise i’ve simped again and i’ve written yet ANOTHER George fic. massive thank you to @witch-and-a-half​ for her ADORBS request bc she has inspired me not only to write ouid content but ron content so i luvvv her sm🧡🧡

taglist; @weasleysflowr​ @theweasleysredhair​ @whiz-bangs78​ @hufflepuffgirly​ @sarcasticallywitty15​ 

If there was one thing that Ron wasn't good at, it would have to be subtlety. It was painfully obvious how much he liked Hermione to everyone else before he'd even come to terms with it himself. This all ran through George's head as he toyed with the idea of trying to get his baby brother to set him up. 'This is a terrible idea' he thought, but the words had already started spilling before he could stop himself. 

George watched you teaching his twin and Ginny how to play a muggle card game, something that you were disturbingly good at, so good that George was convinced you were using a charmed deck whenever you would play with friends or whenever you showed a card trick. The aspect of teaching a wizard to do a magicians trick was what made you love cards so much. "She's great isn't she." George mused. 

"I'd say so, just don't let her convince you that she hasn't charmed the deck," Ron laughs as he works on polishing his and Harry's broomsticks ready for the return of quidditch season. George's eyes snapped back to his brother, out of his trance. "Yeah, I'm surprised someone as great as her is still single." He hoped Ron would catch his drift but the ever oblivious boy shoved off the comment. "I know why she's single, She's great, a catch even and she's my best friend but, bloody hell, the guys she dates are such pricks." 

"oh…" George's heart sank a little, He knew this was a long shot trying to get his brother to set him up, because you and Ron were the closest thing to twins, besides sharing a womb. He thought maybe he could just grow a pair and ask you out himself but that seemed like such a bad idea to the poor boy. "Well, hypothetically, If she were to date someone who you already knew, say quite well, I'm sure you'd be happy for her, no?" 

Ron laughed a little, "I see you, trying to be Fred's wingman, test the waters and see how I'd react." George punches his brother's arm, shaking his head before dropping his voice to a whisper. "No, you blind bat, I mean me. I like her."

"why didn't you lead with that?" Ron goes to walk over to her, but George stops him in his tracks, pulling him back so they're standing in front of each other. "No, wait, wait, stop. You can't make it obvious like that." Ron sighs, rolling his eyes, "what do you suppose I do then?" 

"I'm not asking you to set us up or anything, just, I don't know? See if she's interested." Ron looks over to you, catching your eye, you smile over to the boys, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before instructing fred on a good game move. "I think you'd be good for her, looking at it."

"what do you mean by that?" he was prying now, "Her last relationship was, well, not brilliant. Ravenclaw guy, really stuck up and super uptight about everything, I swear he was a lousy git and didn't take care of her, but she was infatuated with him, god knows why." 

"I see, you know, I've had a crush on her since I was like 14 right?" Ron's jaw dropped, looking at his brother quizzically, "wow, I wouldn't have known." God, he was blind, if not blind, just blissfully unaware if what's going on around him. "Well, leave it to me, big brother!" 

There's been things George would do over the last few years, that to you were just small acts of kindness from someone you'd known your whole life; Picking up things you'd dropped, reaching top shelves, helping with hard potions papers, him teaching you how to smoke - but to him he's been flirting with you non stop. He'd never seen anyone or anything compare to your beauty. 

Later on in the evening George passed by you in the kitchen, hand pressed to the small of your back, he looked down at you with a smile, his whole stomach felt like it was filled with butterflies. You both stayed there a moment longer than usual. George's scent was heavenly, and you'd never admit it but it was a smell you knew you could get drunk off of. 

Ron noticed the interaction between you two, watching as George exited the room, to head out to join his twin in the shed for the evening's activities "Hey, Y/N mind helping me with the snacks, that is if you're joining George, Fred and I tonight ." you giggled, walking around the long table to join him, "Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world, Ronniekins. What do you need me to do?" 

He instructed you in what snacks needed grabbing, packing them into a bag, ready for the night, making sure to grab some water and the blankets from the airing cupboard. "So, uh… How's things with Marc was it? Or Marv?" you rolled your eyes, "Let's not, god we haven't spoken at all this summer. At this point I think you'd make a better boyfriend than he ever will." 

He laughed, swinging the bag over his shoulder picking up the bottles, "Well, I may be unavailable romantically-" he starts, before you cut him off "and Emotionally." Ron rolls his eyes, with a huff, "Riiiight, however, George and Percy are always available." His eyes were scanning your face for a reaction, "Oh, Percy, my favourite!" you giggle, the sarcasm evident in your tone, you're gathering the blankets into your arms before you ponder on it. "Well, Not that you'd like to know, because he is your brother - but my god George smells amazing, I definitely would if I had the chance." 

"Blimey, Really, Y/N? That's fantastic!" Ron slips up slightly, he's fucked it, it's so obvious now and he tries to cover it up, but you're just as oblivious as he is most of the time. "Fantastic?" you prod, Ron was your best friend after all and you sensed something was up. "Oh, well you know how I feel about your taste in Men, I think George would be good for you, like you said, he is my brother I could always strangle him if he's a dick." You head out towards the shed, the bitter cold from outside making you glad you'd brought the blankets. "Like George would ever want to date me, Ron!" you laugh, pulling the blankets close to your chest. Ron laughs along with you, nervously but glad he hadn't blown his Brother's cover. 

"Evening Boys!" you chirp, closing the door to the shed quickly to try and salvage some warmth. "We come bringing gifts." Ron adds, swinging the bag down off his shoulder and onto the floor, "Actually, damn, I left the good shit in our room, George." Ron widens his eyes, seizing the opportunity to give you and George a moment together, "I'll come with you Fred, I want to grab my hoodie." you speak up, grabbing Ron's wrist before he leaves, "Can I borrow one please?" you pout up at him, he laughs shaking his head, jokingly brushing you off with a "No…" smiling a fake smile. 

Ron looks over to George, mouthing a 'she likes you' behind your back praying that you don't notice, pointing at you and making a heart with his hands before pointing then at George, like some really piss poor attempt at charades. George however takes the hint, moving a couple of the pillows on the sofa he's sat on so that you can join him. 

It wasn't as if it was awkward between you and George but, now you were alone together, you felt the new tension. A part of you had to admit that you were attracted to him, after all he looked incredible, muscly biceps, veiny forearms and big hands, his hair was still long, with an effortless wave to it. You already craved his scent, but did you crave him too? 

His eyes were on you, he couldn't help but fall a little harder every time he saw you in blue, it was his favourite on you. "You look beautiful," He spoke up, smiling at you "Blue really suits you." He tried to act casual but awkwardness seemed to be taking over, he was hardly able to express himself. "You know, you're not too bad looking yourself, George. What I would do for a man like you." you sigh, reminding yourself that you're returning to hogwarts single after yet another failed relationship. 

"Why want someone like me when you could always have the real deal." He joked, you scooted a little closer to him looking into his eyes, his hand rested on your knee as you moved in closer to him, his eyes were flicking between your lips and your eyes and for a moment you felt it. The Spark. He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a quick kiss. 

It was enough for you to realise why Ron had been acting so weird and suddenly you'd realised just how hard you'd been crushing on the twin in front if you. He was truly phenomenal, you were about to lean in for a second kiss when the door swung open again. Ron and Fred return, the former, tosses a hoodie at you, "I couldn't find another one so Fred grabbed this off George's bed." 

"You don't mind, do you, Georgie?" you spoke innocently, looking into his eyes. The use of the nickname as it rolled off your lips, was enough for his stomach to be in knots, "Of course not, angel." He smiled softly, of course it had to be the navy one, he was growing frustrated but nevertheless he was playing into the innocence. Ron had told Fred about the plan to get you two together tonight, to which the older twin was elated, ready to see his brother shut up about being so lonely. 

You'd started the night early, meaning that by 11:30 you were all absolutely stoned, you'd ended up with your legs tangled with George's, and his thumb rubbing circles onto your thigh. You'd been pouting, asking him to help you with the bong. He was already whipped. The higher you both got, the less you both seemed to care that you weren't alone, George finally presses another a kiss to your lips. The small, gentle kisses, had turned into delicate touches, Ron notices just how close you both were to each other, oddly recognising that same feeling when he saw Dean kissing Ginny, but he wasn't sure if it was you or George he was meant to be protective of. 

You'd dozed off on George's chest, his fingers playing delicately with the ends of your hair, "I think we'll leave you two here then. I'm baked and ready for bed, what about you, Fred?" Ron looks over to his older brother who is taking a final hit, inhaling and exhaling deeply. "Mmm, yeah I could do with some alone time to work on some products." he adds, the two boys gathering their things and heading swiftly out of the room, not before Fred winks at is twin, causing George to flip him off with a small laugh. 

You looked like an angel, asleep on his chest, he truly was In love with you, even if you weren't with him. He started to overthink, about what a life with you would be like, how beautiful you'd look underneath him, how you would take his breath away as you walked down the isle. He was more than head over heels, his full body was falling deeply in love with you, and yet a life with you was so close, he could taste it.

Only in your dreams did you ever imagine falling asleep on George's chest. Your fantasies of him being a gentle caring boyfriend, overwhelmed you. You hadn't really ever thought about how much you craved the smell, the touch and now the taste of a boy you'd known your whole life. You'd been searching for something perfect but it was always there for you at home, waiting for a moment with you. 

When you found yourself awake again, you'd noticed the other two boys had left, leaving you and George cuddled on the sofa, you didn't want to leave. He had you, hook, like and sinker and all he'd done is kiss you. "hello, sleepyhead," he joked, his hand rubbing small circles on your lower back. You smiled wide "Hi, Georgie," you murmured, still waking yourself up, you realise you're still quite high and looking into his bloodshot eyes you knew he was too. 

He drew you in for another kiss, but this time, he didn't hold back, his hand was pressed against your jaw, inticing you in more. Small pecks turned to longer kisses, causing you to swing your leg over his thighs so that you were straddling his hips. One of his hands were now on the small of your back, while the other had tangled in your hair, this move had meant that the kisses had now turned to a full make out session. The way you'd kissed each other was full of passion, and Merlin was George good with his lips, it was the best kisses you'd ever had. 

When things started to heat up, he stopped himself, he didn't want to treat you like a fling, something that happened when you were both high. "Wait, Y/N, I don't want this to be a one night thing. I want all of you, for well, as long as you want me."

Your heart sank when he'd pulled away and you thought that maybe he'd regretted doing this with you, you went to apologise before his words actually set in, did he actually want you? "You want to be with me?" you ask softly, your forehead pressed against his, hands still running through the hair at the back of his head. "More than you'll ever know," he admitted. "finding someone like you makes me the luckiest man alive."

You giggle, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. "Who would've known you were such a sappy man?" his arms wrap around your waist, flipping you over so that he was hovering over you, causing a laugh to rip through your vocal chords. "I can do less sappy and a bit rougher if you'd prefer" he murmurs suggestively, pressing kisses along your jaw, his hands traveling up your arms until your hands are pressed against each others, fingers lacing together.

This morning when you woke up, kissing George was the last thing on your mind, now it's the only thing you can think of doing. He said he was the lucky one but truly you felt luckier, you had someone who would do anything for you, and to think it was all Ron's (very capable) doing. 

On your wedding day, six or so years later, Ron thought it would be a good idea for his Man of Honour speech, to tell everyone the story of how he set up his best friend with his brother. The speech ended with you both in tears at how now his best friend was his Sister In law and that he was glad you finally found a decent taste in men.

[whorphydice]

Bread When I’m Hungry

Happy Re-opening, Heres a new fic. 

Bread When I’m Hungry

Those were words that, in the dead heat of summer, have Orpheus waking from a dead sleep. Somehow, despite the blazing temperatures, he wakes in a cold sweat. Fear likely responsible for the chill he felt in his heart at the memory.  It was a nightmare, quite literally, that he would never recover from. Eurydice, clinging to his hand, begging him to just listen please, we need food. A nightmare, a memory, that every night now, he experienced again in his head. Eurydice, his wife, his love, starving in front of his eyes.

Even when he woke, breathing hard and heart trying to beat itself out of his chest, he cannot shake the feeling. He always looks to his right, where his wife is there in the flesh, alive. The gentle rise and fall of her shoulders with her breathing comforts him, bringing him out of his fear. Yes. She was alive, she was here, and she was safe.

And yet, despite the very physical evidence of her beside him that they were safe… it all ate at Orpheus. The memories, the nightmares.  The look on her face when he had come for her, the hope in her eyes when she told him she needed so little-- bread, fire-- so long as they were together. He owed her- he owed her the most basic of comforts.

He had promised to see her needs, to meet them. He would be damned before he failed to provide for her again.

It is that next morning, right after the peak of summer, when he kisses his wife’s sleeping face, whispers a promise of “I’ll be back soon,” and slips out towards the door. The fact doesn’t escape him (he’s gotten better at remembering important things) that his wife had mentioned she was going to be helping Persephone and her mother with gardening all day and likely would not be home until that evening. Perfect.

He is the first person at the market that morning, with a cotton tote over his shoulder. He makes a beeline way directly to the corner stand that is filled with freshly baked goods, leavening agents, and a plethora of flour products. It’s earlier than he’d wake normally, but he can remember hearing about baking early in the day, and bakers waking before anyone else. Yes, this is what he had to do. What he wanted to do. He practically runs up to the stand, absolutely beaming at the town baker, despite the early hour.

“Good morning!” Orpheus greets, pulling a notebook from his pocket, as well as a pencil. “I have some questions for you.”

The baker, an older man, who had been baking in the town before Orpheus had even been born, looks up over his shelves of goods, a curious expression on his face. “Why, good morning Orpheus! What are you doing here so early, and where’s that girl of yours? Unlike you to be alone!”

A warm blush comes to Orpheus’ face, as he fiddles his pencil between his thumb and forefinger. “That’s actually what i’m here about. I want to learn to bake. Bread, actually. I promised her she’d have a home with warm bread. I need to make sure I keep that promise.” He gestures to the flours and sugars around him. “And, to be quite honest, I don’t even know how to start.”

The baker is a kind man, and he chuckles under his breath. It was just very..Orpheus..to take on a project and a promise with no idea of how to go about completing it. He wipes his hands on his apron and holds out both hands, gesturing for Orpheus to hand him the note pad and paper. “You’re the only man I know like you.” He remarks, scribbling down instructions on the notepad. “You’re going to start simple, alright? No starter, no add ins. Just a basic, white bread.”

Orpheus nods excitedly, clasping his hands infront of him. “Yes, yes, thank you! I appreciate it, and Eurydice will too.” It was fact, in the town. That Eurydice was nearly as beloved as Orpheus, maybe even more so, for the way she brought him the joy that she did. He is glancing around at the ingredients around him, trying not to show the level of overwhelmed he felt. “I can- what do I need to do that?”

“I’ll set you up right, don’t worry about it. And when you’re done here you’re gonna stop down there for your butter. It��ll be nice and fresh. Melts real well on the warm bread. And stop and grab some fresh eggs too. You can make a real nice toast for your girl in the mornin;.” The Man hands Orpheus the list back, and then begins to hand him the proper products he needs from the document. “If you really want to impress her, You make a few loaves, then it pushes you through the week. Shows forethought.”

Orpheus gives the man a genuine thanks and exchanges payment, before he carries on stopping at the rest of his target vendors. He grabs the additional ingredients, careful to follow the instructions exactly. He has to make sure Eurydice enjoys it, he has to make her see that he listened to her needs. 

Orpheus enjoys the walk home, noting to himself how melodic the birds sound. He finds himself humming in response, a beautiful distraction to exactly how exhausted he is. The combination of the lack of sleep from the nightmares and the early start to the day are surely to catch up to him. But for now, in this moment, he is simply too excited to surprise his wife.

Orpheus arrives home, tossing his shoes to the side as he soon as he passes the threshold of their apartment. They’ve lived above the bar since their return, Orpheus himself having lived their longer. They’ve talked about looking for more of a home, with a yard for their own garden, space out of the town where they could be alone. There was no rush, though. They were together, they were each other’s home. The four walls around them wasn’t what mattered most, anymore. 

Eurydice is gone, he can tell that much in their studio space. Besides the obvious of the lack of her physical presence, he notices the lack of her boots, the absence of her laugh, the missing smell of warm spices and earth. It used to be that her absence, even temporary, would set a panic in his chest. She’s gone, she’s never coming back. She left again. Doubt plays on repeat in his head, time and time again until he finally broke down to Eurydice one day.  He verbalizes his fear, and doubts, and through more than a bit of tears from them both they made it through. He can rationalize now, that when she went out to work with Persephone, she’d return at the end of the night. 

Now the pang he felt was just that he always did, when she was gone. Just a feeling of a  man who loved his wife and missed her presence.

Orpheus sits his groceries in their kitchen, setting them out before him. He grabs his work apron, the only one he had, slipping It over his head and then tying it behind his back. He re-reads the instructions diligently (one, two, then three) times before he begins preparing his work station and beginning his first loaf.

~

Maybe it was the summer heat beaming down on her all day, or maybe it was the practically sun up to sundown shift she worked today, but Eurydice was exhausted. Not that she was ungrateful, no not that at all. She thanked Persephone, and often her mother, profusely for allowing her to come help work around the farm and assist the goddesses. Yes, Eurydice was exceptionally grateful for all the opportunities Persephone helped to provide her with.

Eurydice’s thankfulness did not negate that sometimes, at the end of a long day in the field, she was bone tired.

“Love.. I’m home..” She pushes the door open, and after settling her keys on the table right inside their door, she has no chance to drop her bag or shoes before she is met by her husband directly inside.

He stands there, directly on the other side of the door, a goofy, proud smile on his face. He is still wearing his work apron from earlier, though rather than the usual drink stains, he is covered in a light flour dusting. Most importantly, now, is that Orpheus holds his arms out fully extended to her, with a steaming golden loaf of bread in his hands. “Look! ‘Rydice I did it!’

Eurydice looks out in-front of her, eyes going incredibly wide when the situation processes through her head. Bread. That is fresh bread. That is fresh, steaming homemade bread. That is fresh, steaming homemade bread created by her husband. Orpheus made this for her. Her husband did this for her. “You.. did that? Orpheus?” She’s in disbelief as she drops her bag carelessly and reaches out her hands to wrap around his. Her dark eyes flicker between his hands and meeting his face. Once she truly realizes what’s happened, the brightest smile spreads from her mouth to her eyes, and a little laugh of disbelief coming out. “you made us this?”

He nods so quickly that his head barely can move, gently transferring the loaf to her hands. “I wanted you to know I remember. I remember the promises I made you. I promised you would always have bread when you are hungry- and I am going to keep my promises, this time.“ Orpheus leans in and wraps his now free (but still warm) hands around her cheeks, holding his entire world in them. “I will always make sure you have enough to eat, Eurydice. I promise.” He leans in, now, to give her a kiss on the center of her forehead. His lips linger for a few moments, before he pulls back. He rests his forehead on hers for a few minutes, hands still cupping her cheeks.

Orpheus is struck with recollection, then, as he pulls back from his wife. “oh! And follow me! I have some fresh butter for you. I have a few more loaves to finish, but you can eat that one while the others bake. They told me, at the market today, to make a couple so we can have them all week!” He gestures for her to follow him towards the kitchen area where, on their dining table, flour is spread out after a few smaller piles of raw dough.

He goes back to kneading, as Eurydice follows him into their home. If he notices her tears forming, he does not mention it. Eurydice breaths deeply as she stares at the loaf in her hands, thumbs brushing over the golden crust. It is heavy and warm, fresh but ready to be eaten, in the palms of her hands. She would love to blame the feeling in her chest as a mix of exhaustion and love but Eurydice knows that, really, it’s the feeling of love and adoration alone that Orpheus is so capable of making her feel. No, exhaustion is not why her heart felt so heavy now.

And here he was, providing for them. Not that she had doubted his dedication, no, and she wasn’t expecting him to support her entirely either. They were a team. They worked together to meet the needs of them both.  Yet this loaf of bread in her hands made by the man kneading another small portion at the table, was a far cry from the boy who didn’t hear her pleas for food and firewood not that many seasons ago.

Eurydice wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand, directing her attention instead to her husband and his work.

She couldn’t help but stare at him, now. The way his hair had just a bit of sweat on the ends, a result of the hard work he had put into the heat of the kitchen all day. Then there was the way he bit his lip and furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. The way his arms from his shoulders, the muscles of his upper arm, to the tendons in his lower arms twisted and contorted with his effort into the dough. His stature now, also, was quite a development in comparison to the thin, frail boy who came to hell and back for her. She supposed a healthy harvest and work did wonders for the body. Most of all, she was not ignoring his skilled fingers folding and flexing in the bread dough, as he incorporated extra flour. Kneading, she realized, was just another thing to add to the list of the things Orpheus’s nimble fingers were so good for.

Eurydice snaps herself out of her reverie, breaking the bread in half with her hands. The crackling of the crust has him looking up at her, and he gives her one of the most brilliant grins she had ever seen. “Is it good?”

Without even tasting it, Eurydice just nods. “Wonderful.”

[seekingseven]

Linked Universe Prompt Requests #2!

Prompt: How would the others react if they were to find out that Legend was a shoplifter? In LA, if Legend steals once, the entire island calls him "thief" for the rest of the game and since to a degree that world is made from his own mind, there's that fear in his head that no matter how much good he's done it's never enough to change who he is. And then that if others found out, would they think he's unable to change, too? Would he even feel worthy of being remembered as "the Hero of Legend"...?

(Requested by @kate-m-art over on Discord!) Fic under the cut! Or, read it here on Ao3!

Beneath the stone skeleton of a building long dead, three heroes sat around a fire.

A pile of dog-eared cards lay scattered across the floor. Half eaten stakes sat on wooden plates, frosted with hardening grease, and shoes damp with sweat cooled in the shade. Around them, symbols of transient domesticity flowered — bedmats, pillowcases made of potato sacks, afghans knitted by worried grandmothers and cousins and wives.

The fire danced brightly and evocatively, yet all three of them had their sleeves pulled up to their wrists and blankets on their backs. The fat around Wind's cheeks swelled around his eyes as he rested his chin on his pillow. Twilight propped himself up on his elbow, ignoring the warning prickle of pins-and-needles to come, and Legend laid on his stomach with his heels resting on his rear.

"Hey, Legend? Twi? When do you think the others'll be back?"

Legend flicked away an ant crawling on his knuckles before tossing another scrap of wood into the fire.  

"Soon enough. Didn't the champion talk to you through that charm of yours? Said something or other about being on the way back?"

"Yeah..."

"Then don't worry about them. They'll be fine. Up for another round of cards?"

The silence was answer enough. Grunting, Legend stacked the slips of glossy paper and folded them back into their box. Twilight looked on, chin pressing against his collarbone as his eyelids slipped.

A cough, louder than necessary. Twilight jolted awake, then shot Legend a dirty glare.

"Really?"

"Well, I can't ask you if you want to play truth-or-dare if you're asleep."

Legend grinned. Wind snickered. Cloth rustled as Twilight lowered himself onto his bedmat and pulled his blanket up over his shoulders.

"So? Will that be a yes or no, Mr. Rancher sir?"

Grass sprouting between cracked tile crunched as Twilight turned on his side.

"Huh. I guess not."

"I want to," Wind protested, rolling over to lie on his back. The fire tossed a shadowy mimicry of his profile against the adjacent wall.    

"Then you start. I don't have any ideas."  

"Uh, okay. Ummm...I don’t know. Have you...no. Uh. Oh, I have an idea! Ever stolen something?"

Legend snorted. "You're supposed to say truth-or-dare first."

"Oh, oh yeah. Yeah....okay. Uh...."

The 'h'  lingered on the air like condensation on the walls, then dripped back into Wind's throat as his head lolled to the side. Legend stifled a laugh as Wind startled, coughed, and sat up.

"Careful," Legend warned. His voice was louder than it needed to be, and his eyebrows lay flat. "You shouldn't sleep on your back like that. Might choke or something."

The glare Wind tossed at him was eerily reminiscent of the one he had just received from Twilight.

"If you're going to be like that, then I'm going to bed."

"Wait, no. No, come on, Wind. I was just joking. You don't need to be so bitter about it. Hey, come on! Don't look at me like that -- I, ugh. Fine. Sleep. I don't care."

Two sweat stained backs were now turned to him, warmed by the fire. Motes of ash drifted through the ruins.

“Wind? Come on. You’re not actually tired.”  

Silence. Legend chewed idly on the nail of his index finger.

“Come on, Wind. Truth or dare?”

The plea tasted stupid. Somehow, it tasted even worse when Legend realized Wind’s breathing had already slowed to match Twilight’s. Eyebrows furrowed, he spat out the nail he had chewed off. The glob of spit landed dangerously close to Wind’s head.

No movement. Not a sound.

Fine, then.

“Ever stolen something, huh?” Legend asked himself. “Yeah, plenty of times.”

Only the fire flickered in response. Legend wiped away the spit on his chin with his sleeve and rolled over to face the fire. Orange splattered on the floor. For a moment, he wondered if he might damage his vision by staring at the flames.

Whatever.

No one watching. Or listening, either.

“Yeah, I’ve stolen. Plenty of times. It started out as a joke, you know. I guess that’s the case for a lot of bad habits, huh? Hmph. Anyway, I used to hang out with some street kids after helping my uncle with work. We fancied ourselves as some sort of gang. Stupid, I know. But it was a big thing to us kids. We used to go around to the stores in Castle Town and lift stuff from the shelves. All sorts of stuff. Cards. Baby shoes. Tweed bags. Blankets. Sometimes food. Nothing that we needed, really. I guess we just wanted to feel tough.”

His eyes began to itch. He blinked quickly, then looked away from the fire.

“Most of them grew out of it. I thought I did, too. Well, I don’t know. Maybe I knew I didn’t. Anyway, I was on this island a while back, nice place, you know — well, you don’t, but it was a nice place — and there was this shopkeep there. Tried to sell me a bow and arrow. For 980 rupees.”

An owl hooted. Legend smothered a yawn behind a closed fist.

“I know, pretty outrageous. I thought so, too. My fingers were still pretty sticky back then. The only problem was that I didn’t have any buddies with me. It’s pretty hard to steal solo, you know. Safety in numbers and all that. But I didn’t have any buddies, and I didn’t have any rupees either, so I just took the bow and arrow in plain sight. Got away with it, too. Sort of.”

Twilight let out a wet snore.  Legend didn’t bother with pretending to be offended.

“Somehow, the entire island figured out I had stolen it. It was brought up in almost every conversation I had. Thief this, thief that. Like a tattoo, or something. And to think that I was trying to help them...nobody even asked why I stole it. I mean, I guess they didn’t have to. Theft is theft. It’s wrong, I know. But it felt, I don’t know. A little aggressive, I guess. Unappreciative.”

Ants marched along the floor.

“I was really just trying to help them, you know. One mistake was all it took to ruin it. Everything, I mean. But I guess life’s just like that, huh? Anyway. Yeah. Now you know. Hoarder and a thief; that’s me.”  

The ants climbed up onto the remnants of Legend’s dinner. He considered shooing them away, then turned over to stare at the opposite wall.

Let them have it. Takes one to know one, takes one to forgive one, he supposed.

Legend forced his eyes closed. Owls hooted. Fire crackled. His thoughts slowed to a crawl, then fell silent.

“...Legend?” Wind whispered.

No response.

Bones popped as Wind sat up. He stared at Legend’s back, at the faded scars peeking out from beneath his collar, at the rhythmic swell and fade of his shoulders. Firelight glistened atop the glob of spit by Wind’s side.

“Hey, are you okay? It’s...hey. Listen, none of us would be mad at you for that. People make mistakes, you know. And you were just trying to help…”

Silence. Wind folded his hands in his lap, thinking of vague things like karma and regret, and stared blankly at the pack of cards by Legend’s head.

The price tag was still on it.

~~ Fine ~~

[Previous Request] - [Next Request]

[novelconcepts]

fic: heading into the dark (and we’ve got to hang on to each other)

Life, as Dani Clayton sees it, is full of darkness. Little darknesses, like a mother who draws away even as she continues to draw breath, and big darknesses, like loss that comes out of absolutely nowhere, and all the variations in between. Life is unpredictable. It’s ugly. It’s cruel. 

Life also grants the laughter of small children, and wonderful dinners prepared by good friends, and Jamie’s hand in hers. 

There is, certainly, no shortage of lights in the dark. 

***

“Teach me,” she says one day, a month or two into the great experiment that is Moving to America with Jamie. “Come on.”

“Teach you,” Jamie repeats dryly. “To incur lung cancer?”

“You do it,” Dani points out, aware that she sounds rather petulant and not particularly caring. Jamie’s smiling the half-smile she gets whenever she’s about to let herself get talked over the edge of something. “Come on, I want to see what all the fuss is about.”

Jamie shakes her head, but she’s already lost this battle, and she knows it. Her foot braced behind her on the wall outside their apartment, she turns her head toward the setting sun and exhales a long stream of blue smoke. “Fine, sure. But when you love it, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I hardly think I’m in danger of--”

“Shut up and c’mere.” She cups her hand around the half-smoked cigarette, holding it up for Dani’s assessment. It’s awkward, the pass-off between her hand and Dani’s more of a fumble than anything else, and Dani nearly drops the damn thing. Jamie laughs. “Easy, now, don’t go wasting it. Now. Put it--”

“I know where to put it,” Dani laughs. Jamie raises her brows teasingly. 

“I’ll just bet you do. Okay, right, here’s the thing. When you inhale, you’re gonna want to take it slow. Nice and easy, but make sure you’re pulling the smoke deep into your lungs, or it’ll defeat the whole--”

Dani’s already sucking in a breath, and she’s just realized Jamie’s eyes have gone wide when her body recoils from the invasive swirl sweeping into her lungs like a hurricane. 

“Easy, I said!” Jamie pries the cigarette from Dani’s suddenly-limp grasp as she doubles over on a gagging cough. Her lungs burn, her hand groping for Jamie’s sleeve, and even though it feels fucking awful, there’s something so wonderfully steadying about Jamie’s hand rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. 

“Now’s not the time for an old-fashioned I-told-you-so, is it?”

Eyes streaming, Dani tries to fix her with a glare, but Jamie’s outlined in the red-gold of a setting sun, her lips pursed around the cigarette once more, and she can’t find it within herself to do anything but laugh. 

***

“You really don’t know how?”

“Don’t laugh,” Jamie grumbles. “Never got around to it, is all.”

Dani’s leaning forward, practically falling off the beach chair in her excitement. Jamie, she has learned over these past few months together, is not the sort of person who doesn’t know things. She may not be good at everything she tries--she’s a rotten cook, for example, though a passable baker--but it sometimes feels like Jamie’s lived more in thirty years than Dani will if granted twice that time. Sometimes, when Jamie is sweeping a billiards table, or fixing a door hinge, or replacing a bit of questionable wiring in the bathroom without managing to electrocute either of them, Dani catches herself thinking there’s nothing Jamie doesn’t know. 

She can never decide if this is more overwhelming or reassuring, truthfully. 

But this. This is just too damn good. 

“You have to let me teach you,” Dani says. “You have to, come on.”

“I think you’ll find I don’t,” Jamie says, arms crossed over her chest. Dani slides from her chair, darting a glance around. It’s unseasonably chilly for June in California, the sky a mottled blue-gray that suggests a storm could strike at any moment. The beach is blessedly clear, and she takes the opportunity to slip into Jamie’s lap.

“Please? It’ll make me so happy, to get to teach you something, for once.”

She can see Jamie doing the calculations, brow furrowed over uncertain eyes. On the one hand, if learning how to swim had been on her radar, she likely would have picked it up ages ago; on the other, Dani’s arms are around her neck, nails tracing lightly under the tousle of her hair, and this is not the sort of conversation starter that often leads to Jamie saying the word “no.”

“Right,” she says grumpily at last. Dani isn’t quite sure whether it’s the batting of her eyelashes or the scrape of short nails across the nape of Jamie’s neck that gets the job done, but Jamie is hoisting them both out of the white plastic chair.��“Fine, then, Poppins. Lead me to the slaughter.”

The rain holds off all afternoon, long enough for Jamie’s uneasy flapping in shallow waves to transition into clumsy-yet-useful buoyancy. When Dani places a hand lightly beneath her back and eases her into a calm float, her brow creases. 

“Hey,” Dani says quietly. Her free hand cups Jamie’s cheek, smoothing salty water into her skin. “Look at me. You trust me?”

“Always,” Jamie replies, the word coming almost before Dani’s question is complete. She opens her eyes, and Dani smiles. 

“I’d never let you drown, Jamie. Promise. And who knows? This might come in handy someday.”

***

“It’s...big,” Dani says, a bit nervously. Laughter explodes out of Jamie like a firecracker. 

“It’s not! It’s wee as all hell, Poppins.”

“Bigger than I thought,” Dani amends. “You sure we can keep a place like this afloat?”

The idea of running a business still seems like something out of an extended fever, if she’s honest with herself. At first, it had been a laugh--a conversation held over an empty pizza box and two spent bottles of wine, with her head in Jamie’s lap and her legs all twisted under a blanket. She’d told Jamie she felt weird about getting back into teaching, about the idea of subjecting any kids to whatever mad road her mind might lead her down. 

“They’ll need to be able to rely on me,” she’d said, a little too drunk to really feel the weight of the sentiment. Jamie’s fingers drifted through her hair, her thumb catching on the shell of her ear. “Can’t do that if your teacher’s in the middle of losing her marbles.”

“You’re not,” Jamie had said, with that soft resolution Dani loved so much in her. “But s’all right. You don’t have to go back just yet--ever, if you don’t want to. We can do something else for an honest buck.”

It was a conversation, a way to make herself feel better about the imminent future and all its secrets...and then, seemingly all at once, it was real. A real little shop, just down the block from their apartment, with a real counter and real shelves and a real back room for custom arrangements. Jamie could grow here, anything she liked. And Dani could bask in the peculiar sensation of having a purpose again, even if not the one she’d expected. 

It’s a lot those first few days--weeks--months, but a year in, Dani finds she’s taken to the shop like almost nothing else in her life. She loves talking to the people who bustle in looking for arrangements for mothers and wives and graduation events. She loves the way Jamie tends to the flowers with a gentle hand, always willing to pop off a fact or insight about any given type. She especially loves the way Jamie looks at closing time each night, the way she combs her shaggy hair back from her eyes and leans over each bud in turn to murmur reassurances. Back in the morning. You all get on, best behavior, until we meet again. 

She slips up behind Jamie, arms around her middle, and rests her chin on Jamie’s shoulder. “I like that you do that. Talk to them.”

Jamie favors her with a soft, tired smile. “Nothin’ ever blossomed without good communication, Poppins.”

***

Dani starts saying I love you so much faster than either of them is prepared for. The first time the words slip from her mouth, they’re standing in the devastation of what once qualified as their kitchen. Batter drips down the side of the refrigerator. There’s flour caked in Jamie’s hair, giving the effect of a grumpy old witch woman whose magic potion rebelled in the most cataclysmic sense. 

“Swear to Christ,” she says gruffly. “I had the damn mixer in the damn bowl.”

The way Dani sees it, there are two ways to respond to this: with scolding, or with hysterical laughter. She settles on the latter almost without conscious decision, scooping up a handful of flour and tossing it into the air like confetti. Jamie’s mouth opens and closes, words not quite enough for the moment. 

“You,” she says, “are irreverent.”

“And you,” Dani replies, skating across the slippery tile until she has Jamie backed up against the postcard-bedazzled front of the fridge. “You’re wonderful.”

Jamie looks like she wants to contradict this statement, perhaps thinking of the cake that now decorates the walls. “This was going to be for your birthday, you--”

Dani is kissing her, hands gripping Jamie’s collar. She hasn’t felt this relaxed in weeks, melting against Jamie when hands settle around her waist like Jamie’s been looking for a reason to give in all afternoon. 

“I--could still--” Jamie’s mouth moves down her neck, more than half distracted from her own words. “--fix it--”

“You’re right where you’re supposed to be,” Dani tells her, or thinks she does; it’s a bit hard to focus with Jamie’s hand sliding around and down that way, with Jamie’s hips bucking lightly against her. 

“It’s like you don’t even want a birthday cake,” Jamie murmurs, biting her shoulder gently through the thin fabric of a co-opted Blondie shirt. “Did I say you could borrow this?”

“Take it back, then,” Dani breathes. 

Later, tucked together against the cabinets, she turns her face against Jamie’s neck. Her hand is trapped between the tile and Jamie’s back, going steadily numb. Moving isn’t even a concept. 

“I love you,” she says. It comes out a little slurred, a little sleepy, but entirely true. Jamie raises her head, shifting to look her in the face. 

“It’s all to do with my grade-A baking talents, isn’t it?”

***

Jamie doesn’t say it back right away. Most of the time, Dani gets it. Doesn’t want to push. There was so much of that in her old life, in what she sometimes thinks of as the Era of Danielle--every step of the way with Edmund felt like someone was standing behind her, hands pressed into her back, shoving her along. Into a man, yes, but more than that: into a preconceived notion. Be somebody’s wife. Be somebody’s answer to the question of who they want to be in the world. Be small, be quiet, be the person who says yes and yes and yes, absolutely, even when you want to scream. 

The last thing she’d ever do is push Jamie, so she doesn’t make a big deal out of it. If Jamie loves her--and Dani’s fairly confident she does, at least on the days when the old ghosts aren’t cracking out of the walls to tell her otherwise--then Jamie will get around to it on her own merit. 

Still, when Jamie does, it takes her by surprise. 

“I’m pretty in love with you, it turns out,” she says, like she’s been steeling herself for this moment for weeks--and, Dani thinks, judging by the single moonflower on the counter, she probably has. Jamie, who pretends to play the game of life with such casual disinterest. Jamie, who pretends it’s all one-day-at-a-time. Jamie, who spent hours in secret cultivating this one tiny symbol that says so unbelievably much about her, just so she could tell Dani all this in the right way. 

There’s a couch in the back room, a wide squashy old beast that Dani had been adamantly opposed to when Jamie first pointed it out. “It’s ridiculous. What are we going to do with that?”

She has to admit, pulling Jamie along and latching the door behind them, that it seems like an excellent idea now. It’s only by the thinnest grace of self-preservation--she likes this shop, likes this life, would very much like not to be run out of Vermont by some old-fashioned jackass peering through their window and seeing too much--that they make it to the couch at all. 

“It’s okay, then,” Jamie says, falling backward onto overstuffed brown leather and pulling Dani with her. “This problem of ours?”

Dani kisses her, the giddiness and desire so powerful a combination, she almost feels drunk with it. Jamie laughs into her mouth, one hand already working the buttons of her blouse, that laugh turning into a low, liquid groan. Dani, fingers slipping between waistband and skin, has already beaten her to the punch. 

It’s in moments like these, she thinks. Moments like these where everything falls into place. Not just being with Jamie, but being with Jamie here, in a place they own, on their own terms. Not just being with Jamie, but being with a Jamie who has been clarifying her love for a year, doing so with hot tea and cool smiles and repairs around the house and gentle reassurances. She said it here, planned out like a proposal, and she’s saying it again and again--”love you, fuck, love you--” as Dani winds them closer together, but it wasn’t the first time. Not really. Jamie’s been saying it since the moment she took Dani by the hand and asked if she wanted company while she waited for the darkness to consume her. 

Jamie rocks under her, making a softly desperate little noise into her mouth, and Dani has never felt so understood. Never quite put it together like this before. That Jamie thought she had to say it a certain way, show it a certain way, is wonderful and absurd and silly. 

“I like this problem,” she says. “Best problem I’ve ever had.”

***

“You like it?”

Jamie’s voice is too-casual. The kind of casual that says, look, if you don’t like it, I’ll understand, but I’ll spend the next six months going slowly crazy coping with that knowledge. Jamie gets this kind of “casual” only so often, and usually, Dani likes to string it along before reassuring her. It’s a little mean, maybe, but the way Jamie always sags against the nearest bit of furniture with a hand over her eyes, groaning, “Jesus Christ, Poppins, you could just be gentle with me” does something exceptionally pleasant to her stomach. 

This time, she’s not even thinking about teasing Jamie. 

This time, she’s just staring. 

“If you don’t like it,” Jamie says, a bit more hurriedly now, “you can say so. I mean. Can’t do much about it, truth be told, but we can work through the issue. Get into some couple’s therapy, talk it out...”

“Stop talking,” Dani says through a shockingly dry mouth. “Please.”

Jamie’s mouth swings shut with a little click. Dani rises from the chair she’d been curled in, feet tucked under as she flipped through a Stephen King novel that hit just a little too close to home. She moves across the living room like a sleepwalker. 

Jamie, expression somewhere between warily anticipatory and genuinely frightened, is still holding the hem of her shirt aloft. Dani pauses, swaying slightly, a magnetism rising between them that she sometimes thinks should fade with time, should logically become less as the years become more. For a long beat, they just look at one another. 

She’s sinking to her knees before she realizes, hand sliding up Jamie’s stomach to grasp her fingers, the shirt hem, clutch both tight. Jamie drags in a breath. 

“Oh. S’like that.”

“Apparently,” Dani mutters, closing her free hand around Jamie’s hip and pressing her mouth to the line of flowers rising from the band of her jeans, coiling around the left side of Jamie’s stomach. Jamie sucks in a breath. 

“Okay, when I was sitting for the thing, I certainly wasn’t thinking, Poppins has a thing for tattoos, but can’t say I’m complaining...”

“How long?” Dani asks, the words muffled around slow, deliberate kisses. Jamie rocks back on her heels, one hand sliding down into Dani’s hair for balance. 

“I know you are not asking me detail-oriented questions while you do that.”

Dani pauses, grins, waits. Jamie groans. 

“How long did it take, or how long have I wanted a bloody tattoo?”

“The latter.” The flowers are blue and white, strung along a twisting vine. Dani is presently making it her personal life goal to kiss each and every one, licking gently upward as she goes. Jamie’s eyes flutter, grip tightening. 

“You are a truly--”

“Tread wisely,” Dani murmurs, biting at her hipbone. Jamie inhales. 

“’Bout a year. Or maybe six weeks. Or maybe my whole life, I dunno, sometimes these things just sneak up on you.”

“Tattoos sneak up on you?” Dani tilts her head back, grinning. Jamie peers down at her, hair falling messily across her forehead, expression soft. 

“Wouldn’t be the first thing.”

She gets more as the years go on--little yellow daffodils, chains of wildflowers, small, carefully rendered roses--almost always in places easily hidden. Each time, the sight of ink on pale skin, the patient way Jamie quietly explains each one in bed, letting Dani map them out beneath curious palms, sets her heart racing in a way she can’t explain.

It’s the permanence, she thinks the day Jamie comes home with a small moonflower on her inner forearm. It’s the promise of the thing. 

It’s the tomorrow of it all. 

***

“How hard can it be to put together a bedframe, Dani,” she mimics. Even to her own ears, her voice is shrill. She’s making too big a deal out of this, and she knows it. 

But for fuck’s sake, sometimes Jamie is hard-headed. 

“I’ll have it done in an hour, Dani,” she goes on, hands windmilling above her head. “I know you’ve got a busy day, so just leave it to me, Dani.”

“Okay,” Jamie says, “okay, I know you’re upset, but in what world have I ever used your name that many times in a sitting?”

Dani freezes, turning slowly on her heel. Jamie takes a step back. 

“Right, correct, this is not the moment for glib.”

“Jamie,” Dani sighs. “You promised.”

“I did,” Jamie agrees, “and I could say I tried, but we both know how I feel about lying...”

The apartment is a little bigger than their last, and everything fits all different. Dani knows it’s going to be good for them--they outgrew the last place far sooner than either had wanted to admit, and this one has a beautiful view of a park. Plenty of space for Jamie’s ever-growing plant collection. Plenty of space for stretching out and warming the cozy little world they’ve built together. 

Still, it’s different, and different has a way of setting Dani’s teeth on edge. There’s something about a new home that reminds her of moving into Bly a lifetime ago--the exhilaration mixing with trepidation mixing with shadows she doesn’t yet know the names of. They've been here a week, sleeping in a blanket fort in the living room, Dani waking most mornings with carpet marks dug deep into her skin. She wants their room situated. She wants to sleep in their bed. 

She wants Jamie to build the damn frame like she promised three days ago. 

“I sometimes have trouble telling,” Jamie says, her accent thicker as it always is when she’s reasonably sure she’s stepped in it. “Am I actually in trouble?”

Dani sighs. “Jamie...”

“Oh.” Jamie edges closer. She’s dressed for battle, Dani notes, in shorts that barely qualify as legal and her softest flannel shirt. The very shirt, if Dani looks closely enough, Dani herself slipped into after a shower about two weeks ago and sent Jamie gaping at her like she’d been hypnotized. 

“Don’t,” Dani warns, remembering all too well the way Jamie had behaved the last time this shirt saw daylight. “Don’t, Jamie. I’m trying to be mad at you.”

“I can see that,” Jamie agrees. “You might say that’s why I’m making this desperate bid for, ahh, not being in the doghouse.”

“Jamie.” Dani manages to turn the word into about eleven syllables, which usually has some effect, but Jamie’s already within the proverbial walls. Her hands are riding up Dani’s ribcage, dangerously high, her smile the kind of charming only a heart of stone could resist. 

It’s cheating, and Jamie knows it, and Dani wants to point this out, but Jamie’s got her backed up against the mattress. The mattress that should be on a nice, well-made, sturdy frame. The mattress they could both be on top of right now, if only Jamie had just--if Jamie had--

“This is incredibly unfair,” she groans. Jamie, busy kissing her throat with slow, open-mouthed abandon, says nothing. Dani grasps at her shoulders with both hands, squeezing flannel between her fists, and lets her weight fall backward. Jamie holds her up, one hand up the back of her skirt, the other testing the resistance of her sweater. 

“You,” she gasps, even as Jamie moves a leg between her thighs and rocks gently, “are still in trouble.”

“Mmhmm,” Jamie agrees, a million miles away. She’s nipping at Dani’s earlobe now, and Dani can feel her grinning. 

“You are still putting the goddamn bed together, Jamie.”

“Sure,” Jamie says, husky, and presses her harder against the mattress. “Later.”

“Honestly, how do you do this every time?”

***

“You sure about this?” 

“Yes.” The answer is kind of actually no, but curiosity is getting the best of her. Anyway, it won’t be like before, the first time she ever tried to bum a cigarette off of Jamie and wound up nearly throwing up into the street. A couple of years and an indeterminate amount of cigarettes later, she’s got the art of it down, though she’s not what she’d call a smoker, per se. 

(She’s not, but try telling Jamie that. Just because she sometimes slips the cigarette from between Jamie’s fingers in a restaurant, or when they’re lounging outside after a long day, or in bed after a particularly effective round of Jamie getting herself out of trouble. Dani finds the act soothing, but only if Jamie has already lit up and taken a puff. Then and only then does it feel like sharing part of Jamie.)

“It’s different,” Jamie warns. “Not saying you can’t handle it, mind, but--”

“Just show me how it’s done, Jamie.”

This challenge, she utters in her lowest voice, and Jamie raises an eyebrow. “I see what you’re doing, Poppins.”

“What am I doing?”

Fact of the matter is, she’s having a very specific kind of day. The kind where her mind keeps drifting. The kind where memory feels heavier than it has in years. It’s not the first time she’s had a day this heavy, nor will it be the last, but it still bothers her. 

She hasn’t told Jamie. Doesn’t feel like she needs to, not yet. This doesn’t quite feel like beast-in-the-jungle territory so much as that old twisting panic, the old sense that she’s missing a test everyone else has studied for. When her mind edges her down this path, all she ever wants--all she can ever do about quieting it--is to hold close to Jamie. 

Jamie, who is giving her a searching look now, even as nimble fingers roll a joint.  “Sure you’re sure? Only, if you’re not up for it, I’m not going to judge.”

“Jamie. Do you trust me?”

Jamie’s mouth turns up at the corners. “Always.”

“Then get it started and hand it over.” She’s laughing a little, a nervous burble laugh that makes her feel more tethered to her own body. Jamie reaches over, closing a hand over her wrist and squeezing. 

“Your wish and all that, Poppins. But do me a favor? Go easy this time.”

She takes the first hit, and then a second, leaning back against the green granite counter and exhaling slowly toward the ceiling. For a minute, it’s enough for Dani just to watch her: relaxed posture in a long-sleeved black shirt, rolled to the elbows to give her more room to make a mess of dinner an hour previously. Her hair is getting longer, shaggier, her makeup reckless in that half-attention way Jamie has of barely caring what she looks like for anyone who isn’t Dani. 

“Your turn.” 

Dani takes her at her word this time, careful to draw a small amount of smoke into her lungs and hold there. Even so, she coughs once, a slow, clean burn sliding outward through her chest. Jamie nods approvingly.

“Did you grow this yourself?” she asks after another careful hit. She hands the joint back, letting her hip press against the counter an inch from Jamie’s. There’s a comfortable heat between them this evening, slow-simmer ease that makes her think of early days. She likes the lingering way Jamie rests her hand against Dani’s on the countertop, pinky finger lightly caressing the edge of her skin, like the world’s most comfortable seduction. 

“Nah,” Jamie says, with the joint between her lips. There’s something about the way she closes her eyes on the inhale, about the way her free hand never leaves Dani’s skin. Warmth works its way through her belly, and she thinks, bad day, maybe, but a good night. 

“Would you grow it?” It’s just something to say. She’s already starting to feel the smoke coiling around her thoughts, her head growing soft, buzzing gently around the edges. She imagines she can feel Jamie’s hand all the way through her body. 

“Not in our shop, if we wanted to keep the place.” Jamie’s eyes twinkle, the joint outstretched. “More?”

Dani shakes her head. The world is very slightly fuzzy, the kitchen warm, and Jamie has never felt more real. She watches Jamie carefully put out the lit end, setting the joint in an ashtray, liking the authority with which Jamie moves. 

She’s always like this, always so focused on the little details that make up a day. On days where Dani feels like she’s coming up from the ground in one horrible jerk, Jamie is always there to root her again. It’s a good feeling, knowing Jamie is there. Knowing Jamie is only getting more there with time. 

Later, she’ll look back on this as the moment. The one where she first decided to do it. The actual question, the actual plan, the actual ring won’t be here for years yet, but this is the moment the spark takes hold. 

It would be different, she decides, as her fingers curl like vines around Jamie’s, bringing their joined hands against her chest. It would be so different than last time. No push. No expectation. Just a promise. Just us. 

She likes being high with Jamie, she decides very quickly. Likes how it makes Jamie’s already-firm confidence firmer. Likes how it makes her already-sensitive skin buzz with pleasure. Likes the way Jamie folds her against the counter, hands gentle on the back of her head, and kisses her like it’s the first time. 

She’s all exposed nerve and heavy limb and giggle as Jamie leads her to the bedroom, eases her down, cups her face between soft hands. For once, the shadows seem to work in her favor, curling around them as they move together, as cloth becomes skin, and she’s sighing, sighing, crying Jamie’s name into the darkness. 

Jamie said once, a lifetime ago, that sometimes you have to drop everything too heavy to carry in order to hang on to one another. Jamie said it with such intensity, it didn’t even cross Dani’s mind to think of it another way. That, if you’re going to march into the dark, having a hand to hold as you go can make all the difference in the world.

The lights are on, for now. The lights are on, and Jamie holds her so tight with hands so soft, and Dani knows it’s not forever. Can sense it, like you sense the return of a childhood bad dream. Can feel it, shifting below the surface. 

Maybe closer now. Maybe a little bit more awake than before. She can’t say for sure. 

What she can say is that a night like this--kissing her way down Jamie’s chest, kissing flowers and bellybutton and that spot just above her hip that makes her writhe with laughter--is a torch. A ward against the monsters. A little light to carry them through the dark. 

She’s got Jamie on her skin, in her mouth, imprinted on her soul, and she thinks it’s the best anyone can ask for. The only thing anyone can hope for. 

And when Jamie clutches her hand right back, flashes that I’m-out-of-trouble smile, drapes one of her worn flannel shirts around Dani’s bare shoulders, she thinks, as long as I can have this. As long as she’ll have me. The shadows can’t possibly swallow me whole. 

[saphirered]

Lovely Caleb fic! Could I get a confession of love fix that involved Caleb kissing the hands of a bewildered reader?

Thank you for the request! I hope this is to your liking!

It’s rather late. Well, you think it is. It’s kind of difficult to tell in Rosohna’s eternal darkness. At least you were sure it’s been a long day. You find yourself wandering the halls of the Xhorhaus. The last few months have been crazy, hectic and you’d have to admit your life has been turned upside down but you wouldn’t change if for the world. You found friends, family even. Reminiscing you find your mind gravitate towards fond memories of your favourite wizard. Dragging him along on a little shopping spree for spell components, the excited rants he goes on when you ask for his advise on this new spell you found, the talks about nothing when you shared a watch, holding his hand while Yasha shaved his beard with her sword, giggling about a little prank you played on a very grumpy looking halfling shopkeeper in Zadash, drunken nights sharing a bottle after a successful job completed, him falling asleep with his head on your shoulder, caring for each other’s injuries, the rare dance in the tavern…

Not as insightful as Caduceus may be but you weren’t blind either. It’s clear Caleb seems more comfortable around you than anyone save for Nott maybe, a different kind of comfort still. You’ve been consciously picking up on a shift in his behaviour for a while now. Your favorite wizard has been getting closer and more affectionate towards you but you’ve known him for a while now and you can’t help but pick up on this. His recent shift in behavior gave you butterflies in your stomach, something more than friendship but you didn’t feel it was the right time to tell him how you feel. Besides, what his feelings don’t extend beyond care right? This is no different than his relationship with Beau or Nott. Love is a strong term and one you may not hand out so freely but you know yourself well enough these feelings you’re experiencing are love. You just don’t want to ruin your friendship because he’s not ready, not comfortable or doesn’t reciprocate your feelings in the same way after all. Caleb has come out of his shell and made so much progress, growing more comfortable and open around you and that’s extending to those around him too. You don’t want him to crawl back into that shell again. You value him more than that.

Quietly you get some dried herbs from a sleeping Caduceus’ stash and wander into the kitchen to make some tea. You’re pretty sure you’re the only one still awake as everyone was quite exhausted after your return. Trying to start a flame to boil the water proved more difficult than you had hoped. Growing frustrated with the flint and steel you slam them on the counter a little too hard. You cringe squeezing your eyes tight shut and listen. Okay… seems like no one woke up from that. You glare at the kettle half the mind to toss it out of the window. Stupid tea. Stupid fire. You take a breather leaning your head against one of the shelves above the counter.

“It looks like we had the same idea.” You almost jump out of your skin quickly covering your mouth to prevent a scream to escape from your lips. You see a bleary eyed Caleb looking about as disheveled as expected standing in the doorway of the kitchen. 

“Don’t scare me like that you idiot!” You toss a towel at him. It hits, draping over one shoulder and he just gives you a ‘really?’ expression as you feel the blood rush from the scare fade. 

“You’re having trouble, ja?” He says more than asks referring to the still cold kettle. 

“You have to make me feel worse about not being able to get a flame going to brew some tea?” You say in jest as you grab another cup for him. Caleb walks over taking your spot and with a snap of the fingers the flame is lit. 

“It is not that difficult.” He jokes back fully aware that your expertise lays not with fire magic. You have many other talents, he’s told you so himself many times praising you for them. You grab the towel draped over his shoulder, fold it neatly and put it back on the counter. 

“Your help is appreciated oh grand master magician.” You give him a side hug which he returns wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you wait for the water to boil. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” You ask watching drops of condensation build up on the outside of the kettle. 

“Ah, no. Uh, wandering thoughts.” Caleb sounds like he’s only half paying attention. Wandering thoughts indeed. 

“Wanna talk about it?” You offer as the kettle starts whistling and you remove it from the heat before it gets too loud and begin preparing the teapot. You take a step closer to the counter, Caleb’s hand falling from your shoulder to your lower back. 

“I… uh-“ He hesitates and you swear when you look over your shoulder for just a second you can see a slight blush creep up his cheeks. 

“Caleb, you know you can tell me anything, right?” He manages to get out a ‘yes’ under his breath so you grab a tray, put the teacups and saucers, the teapot and grab some biscuits from a jar hidden behind the vast array of herbs and spices to avoid a certain Tiefling from claiming them all. Balancing the tray on one hand you turn around and grab his hand, guiding him along into the living room. You put the tray on the table and make Caleb sit down on the couch as you sit down next to him. You can see him take a deep breath and he refuses to meet your eye. Though, that’s not entirely out of character for the wizard so you give him time and space as you pour the tea in each of your cups. With a wave of your hand you cool the hot water to a less scalding but still warm level. 

“I know. But in this case I don’t know if that makes this any easier.” You frown and grab his hands in yours. Almost absentmindedly he begins drawing circles on the back of your palms with this thumbs. While he won’t look at you you can see he’s trying to find the words.

“Should I be worried?” Many questions rush through your head. Was everything alright? Did something happen? 

“No. No. No need to worry.” He musters a quick half smile before it disappears. You hated seeing him like this. So much conflict and inner turmoil. You give his hands a soft squeeze. Whatever this is it must bother him a lot if he’s so affected by it!

“It’s alright. Take however long you need. I’m here for you no matter what.” He takes a deep breath as you finish your sentence. 

“I’ve had some revelations lately and I’ve tried so hard to push them away, deny them or hoping that maybe I was interpreting them wrong but I can no longer just brush them aside. I don’t think it’s fair…” Another deep breath.

“What’s not fair to who?” 

“This. All of it. What I’m doing. It’s not fair to you.” He has trouble forming a sentence. 

“Slowly. Just keep breathing.” You try to calm him down.

“It’s not fair that I freely take your comfort, affection, kindness and even companionship. I’m afraid my actions in return, they do not come from friendship but selfish motives instead. I don’t want this to end but I cannot treat my own actions as rooted from friendship when they are not.” He scrambles on stumbling every few words and you try to make sense of his words but you’ve known him longer than today so you get where he’s going. 

“Caleb…” You begin but he cuts you off.

“No, no I need you to hear this before I cower back and lose the courage to do this. You are heaven sent. You are patient and kind and every time you smile at me I feel my heart skip a beat. Every hug, touch or kiss feels like the warmth of the sun after endless winter. I thought perhaps I felt this way because this is who you are and what you do; making the lives of those you care about brighter where you can. I know you care about me as you’ve reminded me many a time, and I care about you a lot, but I do not think it ends with just care. My realisation showed me that you’ve brought about a feeling I thought myself no longer capable off; love.” He pulls your hands close to his chest. You’re bewilder, confused at this open confession but above all surprised he so openly confides in you. You think hard taking in every word.

“So I think it’s unfair to you when for me this kindness and affection from my side will always be out of love and I cannot in good conscious give you my love when you do not want it. I cannot ask you to feel the same but I also don’t think me returning your kindness and affection can ever be anything other than love. So please, I don’t want what we have, our friendship to end but I don’t want to take what you don’t have to give me…” 

“Caleb, I need you to listen to me very carefully.” You watch as his shoulders slump. So insecure when it comes to other’s feelings and opinions of him it hurts you every time he sells himself short. You look for the right words yourself. If he can muster up the courage then so can you!

“You can be so blinded by your own thoughts and insecurities you don’t even consider the fact that I feel the same.” He finally looks at you wide eyed freezing in place for a second.

“You underestimate your ability to be loved and if I can prove you different, if you will let me prove you different I will.” Caleb scans your face for any sense of insincerity, deceit or even jest but he finds none. He takes a minute but eventually pulls your hands to his lips pressing a long soft kiss to the backs. 

“Thank you. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this but you truly are a light in the darkness.” He kisses the backs of your hands again. 

“You were you; all you ever need to be.” You shift leaning into his side, head against his shoulder and his arm wrapping around you. Intertwining your fingers with his at your waist you grasp his other hand and bring it to your lips. That small kiss right where his wrist meets his palm makes him melt. He leans back on the couch pulling you with in a slouched relaxed position. If only the rest of the Nein could see you now. They’d go crazy… 

[kryptored]

Secure and in place

To celebrate @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers reaching 250 followers, here's a lil' sumn-sumn to commemorate that. And out of the 50 prompts that we had to choose from, I went with number 36: "Helping brush their hair after a shower."

Also, if you've read "Fall" from the LBSC Valentine's Day Exchange event, this fic can be considered some sort of sequel to it. Or not. It can stand on its own, too. And if you haven't, you're more than welcome to check it out :) .

AO3

The bathroom door opens, and out walks Marinette wearing an old beige coloured shirt and white pyjama shorts, her feet warm inside her pastel pink home slippers. Her arms are both raised up, holding and rubbing a towel against her wet hair. Feeling the strain on her arms, she tilts her head down a little, drying her hair as she starts walking towards her card-making room. As she nears the desk where her latest clients’ cards sit, she makes sure to keep her hair from dripping onto the wedding invitation cards by setting a fair distance between her and the desk.

The deadline for the cards and meeting back with the client is in three days, yet Marinette feels proud of herself for finishing it early. Still, she feels as if something was missing. For that reason, she tosses her hair behind her - uncaring of the wet spot it will form on her shirt - and hangs her damp towel on her chair. She puts both of her hands on the desk, leaning on its weight as she regards the cards in front of her. The lettering, the colour palette of white, créme, and lavender, and even the small details of flowers on the borders look just right. Well, it looked almost right. She just wasn’t sure what else to do. Should she use envelopes? A wax seal? Twine? The couple who ordered the cards were more than willing to pay extra, but she also didn’t want to spend more on something that might not work. As her arm reaches from corner to corner and leaning further down onto her desk, Marinette misses Luka entering the room.

In his hands, he carries an open notebook filled with what seemed to be another song he is working on for the band. He stops by the doorway when he looks up from the page, the question on his mind left unsaid. He smiles when he notices that she’s wearing one of his old shirts, big enough to hide almost all of her shorts. He also sees her wet towel hanging on the back of her chair, as well as the wet spot forming on the back of the shirt, and shakes his head. He quietly places his notebook on top of a box beside him and walks towards her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

He hears her gasp in surprise, her still cold hands touching his arms to steady herself, before realizing who is behind her. She turns her head around with a wide smile on her face.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, yourself.” He drops a kiss on her nose and sees the cards she has been working on for weeks. “Those look great. Does that mean you’re finally done with them?”

“Mm… kind of. I feel like it’s still missing something — just one last thing.”

“I see. Well, I do hope you haven’t forgotten how wet your hair still is.”

“I was in the middle of drying it.”

“Uhuh… Of course you were." He lets go of her, puts his hands on her shoulders, and pushes her down onto the chair. “How about you stay there and see what else you can do with the cards, and I’ll get your brush and hair dryer.”

“Aw… thanks.”

“Do you also want me to tie it up?” He asks her as he walks out backwards.

“Hm… yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind. I’ll be right back.”

As he walks out of the room, Marinette turns back around to the cards. She hums as her fingers play with stray strands of her wet hair, her other hand cautiously touching the edge of each card, as if it would give her the answer to her problem. Her eyes wander around her desk and the shelves containing all her supplies, hoping to see something that will help her. It’s when she’s going from drawer to drawer that she hears Luka’s footsteps coming closer.

“You’re supposed to use heat protectant before using a hair dryer, right?” He asks her, his hand showing her the spray bottle he was referring to.

“Mhm.”

“Okay, good. Let me just put some of the stuff on something.”

From the corner of her eye, she sees Luka walk over and move one of the chairs from the corner closer to him, using it as a small table. He gently nudges her to lean forward to grab her towel, and proceeds to dry her hair with it as much as possible. When he’s satisfied with the lack of dripping, he reaches for a wide-tooth comb to help him remove some of the knots from her hair. He makes sure to slowly and carefully untangle strands of her hair, occasionally using his deft fingers in place of the comb.

After smoothing down her hair, he uncaps the bottle and whispers to Marinette, “Close your eyes for me, love.”

 She does as she’s told, and Luka starts spraying the heat protectant all over her hair. It takes him a few seconds before Marinette hears him put the cap back on the bottle, and set it back onto the chair.

“You’re good now, sweets. I’m just going to plug the hair dryer, so keep an eye out on your cards.”

“Okay.”

She puts paperweights onto the stacks of cards, making sure that nothing is folded or crumpled in the process. For extra measure, she also pushes them off of her, and sits up straighter when she feels Luka return to his place behind her.

“I’m turning it on now.” He warns her, before he switches the device on and a strong blast of warm air blows past the side of her face. “Let me know if I’m hurting you, okay?” He tells her in a louder voice, adjusting the strength of the air from high to medium heat and speed.

“I will!”

Marinette feels the heat of the hair dryer blowing at her hair — the back, before travelling up to the crown of her head. She closes her eyes again, only this time, to prevent any stray baby hairs poking at her. She feels Luka’s fingers carefully combing through her hair, lifting some of the strands to let the heat reach her roots. His hands systematically move from one area to another, making sure to not miss a spot of wet hair. Once he sees her head full of dry hair, he turns off the hair dryer, and sets it aside. He unplugs it from the outlet, takes hold of a brush, and starts brushing her hair from the bottom to remove remaining tangles. He continues brushing from the top of her head, making sure to do it as gently as possible and not to hit her temple,.

“Tilt your head for me a little bit? Yes, like that. Okay… you still want me to tie your hair up?”

“Yes, please.”

“You have a hair tie with you?”

She shows him her right wrist that has a hair tie wrapped around it. He hooks his finger into it and takes it off of her wrist, only to wear it around his own. With his eyes back to her hair, he decides to go with something simple.

He starts by taking a small piece of her hair from her left side, brings it over, and adds it to the inside of her left side. He repeats this a few times, making sure to grab from the outside part of each section with his pointer finger, and keeping his hands above the braid to keep the hair in place. After he leaves enough length of unbraided hair, he secures it with the hair tie from Marinette.

“Hm… I think I need something else for the finishing touch.”

“What,” she chuckles, “like how I am with the wedding invitations?”

“Maybe,” he tilts his head from side to side, until an idea pops into head. “Stay right there.”

Marinette can only laugh more at Luka’s meticulousness, but continues to sit still and goes back to her own brainstorming. It takes Luka about a minute or so to come back, and when she turns around to ask him what he had in mind, something clicks into place when she sees the blue hair ribbon on his hand.

“I think I also have an idea, but I’d have to ask for your permission to let me borrow it.” She tells him, her eyes focused on the ribbon he’s holding.

“Oh?” he notices her line of sight, and it doesn’t take him long to realize what she means. “Oh. Yeah, for sure.”

He gives her a small smile and walks back to his place behind her, taking hold of her braided hair. He carefully puts the ribbon around the hair tie, tying it into a neat and tight bow without jostling his hard work. Meanwhile, Marinette reaches for the lavender silk ribbons from the left side of her desk, and cuts them down into a certain length — enough to keep the invitation cards secure and in place.

Finally done with his work, Luka clears all his materials away, before coming back and taking a seat beside her. He grabs his own pair of scissors and another roll of the silk ribbon, takes one of Marinette’s already cut pieces, and uses it as reference for cutting.

“How many are we cutting?”

“About 30 more. The wedding is a small one, so they only ordered 50.”

“Okay.”

They cut them in peace (hehe, pun), neither minding the sound of their blades cutting through silk.

Marinette starts humming an unknown song, and so does Luka. Luka starts swaying side by side, and so does Marinette.

When all fifty ribbons are cut, Marinette starts showing Luka how to tie each of them into a ribbon on each card. He is unsuccessful at first, his fingers clumsily maneuvering the silk every now and then. He tries not to let the frustration get to him, trying again and again. Marinette sees him struggling and takes hold of his hand, giving them a reassuring massage before kissing them for luck. He gives a hearty laugh and feels motivation coming back to him; he turns back to his pile of ribbons and starts doing them again, and succeeds. They silently tie their cards, one by one, before they simultaneously reach for their last one together.

“That was nice. Maybe I should start helping you with the cards more.”

“Is that you asking me to pay you as my assistant, then?”

“Are you hiring for part-time?”

“I dunno… I feel like I need you full-time.”

“For the job?”

“No.” She twists to her side and faces him, sitting much closer to the edge of her seat, and takes hold of both of his hands. “If you have the availability, I was wondering if you could stick around with me full-time?”

He mirrors her actions and entwines their fingers, the smile on his face threatening to break his cheeks.

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

[kindahoping4forever]

Yes, Sir // Ashton Irwin

This is definitely the fastest turnaround I’ve ever had for a piece of writing 🤡. Yesterday @spicycal​ sent me a TikTok of Ashton reacting to being called “sir” and as you can imagine, the inspo machine started turning for a lot of us. Pretty quickly, I jokingly pitched a premise to @pxrxmoore @cashtonasfuck and @feliznavidaddycal that served as a sequel to the fic I had just posted, You Were Digging Plants, I Dug You. The more I thought about it though, the more I liked the idea so I ran with it and here we are. Thank you to @cal-puddies for as always, reassuring me I was on the right track and to the anons who excitedly messaged me in anticipation for it. (And to @rebelwith0utacause for implying my writing was worth losing sleep over.)

Warnings: Boyfriend!Ash, Gardening!Ash, Home Repair!Ash, Dom!Ash (we love a multi-faceted man), references to bondage and cumplay, brief degrading language, sex in a public place, unprotected sex in an established relationship

Word Count: 3750

Masterlist // Taglist // Ko-Fi

Let  me  know  what  you  think!

————-

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were proud of what you’ve done,” Ashton accuses you with a smirk.

You drop your jaw in mock offense. “What I’ve done?! Ohhhhh, that’s right, that was my other boyfriend’s dick I was bouncing on that day. I’m sorry, baby, you’re correct. This was entirely my fault,” you offer with pouted lips, opening your arms for a cuddle.

“You were a woman possessed and your frenzied demon sex destroyed my relaxation zone,” he teases, pulling you in to first bite and then kiss your pout.

It had been a week since your spontaneous romp had ended in the untimely demise of Ash’s beloved hammock. He hadn’t let you hear the end of it since it happened and now the two of you were finally back outside, assessing the damage.

“I think I have a fabric patch kit in the garage but the framing is definitely fucked,” he mutters, picking over the pieces. “Gonna need new hooks… new spreader bar…”

“Been talking about getting one of those anyways,” you joke with a twinkle in your eye.

He gives you a look and shakes his head. “Jesus, already with you?”

You giggle and raise your arms in surrender. “I’m sorry, Ash, I honestly hate that I’m that girl but the manly man ‘lemme get my tools out and work with my hands’ act just does things for me.”

“Are you sure you want to go with me to get the supplies or are you gonna spontaneously combust right when we walk in the hardware store?” He teases, standing behind you and snaking his arms around your waist. “And you’re not that girl, you’re my girl.”

“Nice save,” you comment dryly and wiggle away from him; he chuckles warmly and you both walk back to the house.

While you’re getting ready to go, Ashton gets caught up taking notes on the hammock repair videos he’s found on YouTube so you end up heading out later than either of you intended. The home improvement store isn’t far but it’s LA so there’s still traffic and the car ride has a slightly tense air because of it.

You can tell how irritated he is by the way he’s relentlessly drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as you sit in the standstill traffic. You reach out and take his hand, both to calm him and to stop the noise. He looks at you appreciatively and gestures at the line of cars in front of him with his other hand. “40 minutes to go five fuckin’ miles,” he grumbles. “There’s no way this is getting done today, the sun’s gonna be goin’ down before we even leave the goddamn store.”

You kiss the back of his hand that’s tightly squeezing yours. “I told you, I’ll help you with everything tomorrow,” you remind him reassuringly. “It’s not a big deal, just relax, baby.”

“You know what would help me relax?” He turns to you with a smirk. “If I could go home and lay in a fuckin’ hammock.”

You finally arrive at your destination and enter the store. After his YouTube deep dive, Ash decided he should install wooden posts to hang the hammock on since your sexcapade uprooted the metal stand’s legs straight out of the ground. He heads over to visit the lumber department and you decide to browse through the garden center, thinking that if you pick out some new seeds for him, it might put a smile on his face.

Ash returns to you less than 10 minutes later, looking more agitated than ever. You raise your eyebrows to him as a silent question and he huffs, “They just happened to have sold out of what I need. Gotta order it, won’t be here until next week.”

You give him a sympathetic frown and rub his back. “I’m sorry I broke your oasis center or whatever you called it earlier,” you say, trying to lighten the mood.

He cracks a smile and starts browsing the seed packs in front of you. “I called it my relaxation zone and I’m sure I’ll forgive you someday.”

You two linger in the garden section, pointing out vegetables that could be helpful to have on hand and having a mild disagreement over which flowers would look best growing next to his sunflowers. 

“My phone is dying and I need it for my shopping list, baby, can you Google and see if we can plant marigolds right now?” He asks, turning a packet of seeds over in his hands.

You pull your phone out of your back pocket, happy to see that he’s calmed down and is interested in making the most of this trip. You chirp emphatically, “Yes, sir.”

Ashton hears your response and lets out a sharp, raspy exhale that you’ve never quite heard before and he immediately tries to disguise it as a cough. You glance over at him curiously but he appears to be intensely examining the package he’s holding so you move on.

“Depends on what type but these ones you can plant through the summer, so we’re good,” you inform him, pointing to the seeds he’s holding.

“Cool,” he breezes and tosses them into your shopping cart. “What about... basil?”

“Yes, sir,” you say again, fingers adeptly typing. You hear a similar noise come from him, though he deals with it much better this second time. You’re sure this wasn’t coincidental this time and you peer at him over your phone to see his jaw clenching in a way you’re very familiar with. Interesting.

“I’m just seeing ‘warm weather’... maybe just get one pack to try?” You suggest, eyeing him, trying to figure out if what you suspect is going on is really going on.

He shrugs, “Couldn’t hurt.” He flings the packet into the cart and moves down the aisle.

Ashton tosses out a few more things for you to look up and while you’re happy to help, you’re also glad for the opportunity to test the theory you now have. You vary your affirmations to him and as you suspect, “Yes, sir” is the only one that seems to get a reaction out of him.

The garden center is located outside and the afternoon sun is just starting to hit the area you’re shopping in. You notice Ash has begun to sweat and if you weren’t in a mood before, you absolutely are now, so you decide to rile him a bit more.  

“That sun is brutal!” You start, dramatically fanning yourself. “You’re lookin’ a little warm too, handsome… unless there’s another reason why you’d be sweating.”

He looks at you incredulously and you stare back innocently, eyes wide and shining; he stares you down as he briskly takes off his black button down shirt, leaving him in a white tank. 

“Are you good or does the sight of any bare flesh in the presence of gardening paraphernalia have you needing to excuse yourself?” He fires back, whipping his shirt into the basket pointedly, glare challenging you to push your luck.

You smile sweetly and answer, “Oh, I’m feeling just fine. But thank you… sir.”

Mischievous grin on your face, you start to make your way to the end of the aisle, scooting your body between him and the shopping cart. Sure, you could’ve gone around the other side but that wouldn’t have given you the opportunity to graze your ass against his crotch to confirm - yep - he’s losing the battle he’s fighting with his cock and he is definitely harder than he wants to be right now.

As you pass by, his large hand grabs your wrist and wraps around it tightly. “Watch it,” is all he says but the low tone he uses mixed with the feeling of his hot breath on your neck has your head spinning.

You lay off your teasing for a while but if you’re being honest, you both seem to enjoy the charged air lingering between the two of you now. Ashton grabs your waist to move you out of his way so that he can look at a display and his fingers dig into your skin just a little too hard, causing you to gasp sharply. You stop to read a tag on the bottom shelf and just happen to catch his gaze as you lick your lips, on your knees in front of him; you hear him curse under his breath as he turns away, adjusting himself.

The cat and mouse game continues and judging by the hiss you get out of him the third time you “accidentally” bump his crotch, you’ve pushed it as far as you can; you know you’re probably in for a long night when you get home but maybe that’s what he needs to take his mind off of how frustrated he is with this project. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself. It’s also quite fun.

You leave the garden section, cart full of various treasures, and start to head for the checkout. “Wait, baby,” Ashton calls out and you stop. “I wanna get a couple of the things I need for the hammock so when I come back for the wood I can just pop in and out of here.” 

He directs you to an area towards the back of the store; you follow him and wheel the cart down an aisle that’s filled with boxes of metal hooks and chains. He sees your eyes taking in the aisle and he makes a face at you. “Whatever obnoxiously horny crack you’re about to make, just do it now so you can help me look for what I need,” he says in faux exasperation, making a “come on” gesture with his hand.

You laugh genuinely, “I don’t have anything to say!” You walk down the aisle and peer into a few of the boxes on the shelves. “I do wonder if we might get a better price on some of these things at one of the other types of stores we frequent,” you say under your breath.

He ignores your remark and starts consulting the notes on his phone. He scans the selection of items and finds the types of hooks he needs, throwing them into your basket. He furrows his brow, unable to find the next thing on his list. 

“What are you looking for, babe? Let me help,” you ask, eager to speed things up.

“We need this,” He states, standing next to you to show you a picture of chains on his phone. 

You examine the photo and quip suggestively, “Yeah we do.”

He lands a light swat on your ass and you squeak. “Your jokes are gonna seem a lot less funny if you keep it up,” he warns quietly in your ear.

You look around and see that this section of the store is more or less deserted. Feeling emboldened by this discovery, you reach to palm him over his jeans. “Yes, sir,” you nonchalantly reply.

The words have barely left your mouth and his hand is already back around your wrist and dragging you to follow him down the aisle. Your logical mind says you should protest that his shirt, your sweater and all your intended purchases are being left in the cart unattended but the decidedly less rational section of your brain, the part that just told you to grab your boyfriend’s dick in the middle of a home improvement store, kind of wants to see where this goes.

You get your answer seconds later when he pulls you into a bathroom tucked away next to the employee break room; it’s small, only a couple of sinks and stalls, and looks infrequently used. Which is probably for the best because Ash does not appear to have any interest in taking you into a stall, at least not just yet.

He presses you up against the door, kissing you deeply with a bruising intensity. He pulls away and you gasp. “You’ve been acting up all day, sweetheart, you can’t be surprised we’ve ended up here.” His hand, large enough to reach across your entire face, grips your chin and turns you to look at him. “Is this what you’ve been aiming for, is this what you hoped would happen?”

His tone is harsh and his words threatening but his eyes glimmer with mischief, desire and excitement. You’re sure the look in your eyes matches his when you unflinchingly answer with a confident, “Yes. Sir.”

He smiles widely and leans in, kissing, nipping and sucking harshly at your neck. You groan against him, involuntarily, and then quickly wonder how thin this bathroom’s walls are and you start trying to recall if you saw anybody in the break room next door.

Ashton pulls back to admire his work on your neck and sees your concerned expression. His face softens for a minute and he asks you, “You remember your word, baby?”

You flash him a brief tender smile, appreciating how attentive he is, that he would pick up on even your briefest moment of apprehension. You nod enthusiastically and then your smile turns devilish as you think to once again answer, “Yes, sir.”

He hooks his fingers in your waistband and yanks you from the door, spinning you around and then pressing your chest into it. You hold your breath and brace yourself for the spank you’re certain is coming but it never does. You’re not sure if you’re disappointed but the way your core is throbbing hints that you probably are.

Instead of smacking your ass, Ash is rutting up against it, breath heavy against your neck, giving you goosebumps. “Feel this, baby? You knew what you were doing out there, you just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Gave you my cock this morning and you’re still begging for it, aren’t you?”

You bite your lip and wiggle against him, enjoying the feeling of his hard bulge pressing into you. “Yes, sir.”

Before you even realize he’s pulled away, that hard smack you’d been waiting for comes down on your ass and you cry out in surprise.

"That’s for being smart.” He presses his body roughly up against yours again and shoves his hand down your shorts, dragging his fingers through your folds, humming at the wetness he discovers there. “We’re on a fuckin’ shopping trip and you’re this wet for me? Even more desperate than I thought… and believe me, you were already very desperate in my mind.”

Ashton yanks his hand out of your shorts and pulls you away from the door, unceremoniously pushing you towards the sink counter. “Off,” he commands, gesturing to your bottoms. There’s not a lock on the bathroom door so he drags the metal trash can in front of the door, wedging it somewhat under the handle. “We already know you clearly can’t keep quiet, can’t have anyone barging in here to see who’s demeaning themself in the bathroom,” he taunts. “That’s only for me to see.”

You and Ash used to play like this all the time when you first got together but lately you’d gotten so caught up in your bubble of domestic bliss, it had fallen by the wayside. Things weren’t boring or unadventurous by any means but it’d been a minute since your last risky public romp or use of any degradation. Combining the two, plus the thrill of jumping back in after so long? Heavenly.

You hop up on the counter in your panties, shedding your tank top and spreading your legs, inviting him closer. “Yes, sir,” you tease with a sultry smile. “I’m your slut, no one else’s.”

He walks over and settles between your legs, kissing you hungrily as he unzips his pants and takes his cock out. “That’s right,” he growls. “Love hearing you say that… In fact, think I want you to see that too.” 

He grabs you down off your perch and spins you to face the mirror lining the sink, your hands fly out to brace yourself as he presses you up against the counter, kicking your legs apart. He makes quick work of tugging your panties down your legs and then reaching over to jerk the cups of your bra down. You watch your reflection as he exposes more of your body to himself and now to you; you don’t even process your nakedness, your only thought is of how blown your pupils look.

Ashton lines himself up and pushes his cock inside you and begins thrusting roughly. You were undoubtedly turned on but the stretch is still a lot and you find yourself gasping and white-knuckling the counter at the sensation. 

He sees your eyes start to close and he yanks your hair to get your attention. “I said I want you to see what a slut you are,” he breathes, already struggling to control himself. “Want you to see what I see, want you to see what everyone is gonna see if that door stop doesn’t hold up and someone comes in here and finds me giving you what you’ve been needing so badly.”

You whimper quietly at his words, at the thought of being caught. “Yes, sir… I love seeing how I look with your cock inside me…” You pant, “I already look so fucked out and we’ve barely started… I just wanted it so much.”

He slaps your ass again and the already loud smack sounds even louder given your setting. “We’re only at this fucking store today because we had to solve a problem created by your greedy little pussy and now that we’re here? You can’t even act right for a couple hours, got me hard looking at fucking flowers, now I’m having to bend you over in a fucking bathroom? How embarrassing,” he rasps at you through gritted teeth.

You love when he’s like this, you feel like you could almost cum from his words alone; you know it’s risking setting him off but you reach down and start rubbing your clit, you can’t help it. Ash immediately notices and laughs darkly. “Aww, baby, that time already? Go ahead and make yourself cum, sugar, the faster that needy pussy gets satisfied, the faster I can get on with my fucking day… until you’re back to begging me for it when we get home, of course.”

You’re aggressively meeting his thrusts now, throwing yourself back on him with pleasure being your only concern. You’d love to respond to his teasing with some sass of your own, rile him up some more but he’s hitting inside you just right and the only thing you can think to do is moan.

Seconds after you let out a particularly long moan, you notice voices can faintly be heard on the other side of the door, a pair of employees walking through the hallway. You catch Ashton’s gaze in the mirror and you can see the question in his eyes, letting you decide if you want to stop; you surprise yourself with how little you care and you stare at his reflection as you bounce yourself against him and rub your clit faster.

An amused smile paints his face and he whispers, “Starting to think you might want everyone to know what a slut you are for me. Is that what you want, baby?” His fingers dig into your skin as he drives his hips relentlessly into yours.

To keep from crying out, you bite your lip hard enough you’re almost sure you’re breaking the skin. You manage to gasp out, “Yes, sir,” before your orgasm completely takes your breath away.

The combination of you cumming around him and your breathless use of that phrase finally does Ash in and he thrusts into you only a few more times before his cock starts pumping you full of cum. Those voices outside the door are still somewhat present and you watch his reflection as he tries not to make a sound, fascinated by the way his jaw almost seems to be clenching in time with the pulsing of your pussy.

You both stand at the sink, catching your breath for a good minute, reality slowly starting to fade back in. You close your eyes and open them again, giggling once your mind finally starts to process the sight of yourself tits out, bottomless and bent over a bathroom sink in a hardware store.

Ashton smiles at the sound of your laughter and pulls out of you, hurriedly reaching for a handful of paper towels to help you clean up before things get too messy.

You accept his help and wryly ask, “You’re not gonna do the whole ‘no, put your panties back on, want you to feel my cum dripping out of you until we get home’ thing?”

He looks at you with amusement in his eyes and replies, “Gross, babe, we still have to go through checkout and everything. Jesus.”

You snort and pull him into you, kissing him sweetly before you both start the process of making yourselves and the bathroom look like nothing happened. 

You manage to exit both the bathroom and the store without anyone catching on; you notice he’s in a much lighter mood and much more affectionate and touchy than he was earlier. You like it.

There’s traffic on the drive home but it doesn’t seem to bother either one of you; you’re excitedly chatting about the purchases you made and trying to decide what to order for dinner.

There’s a lull in the conversation and you can’t fight the urge to comment, “So… you definitely can’t tease me anymore for getting turned on by home improvement because I’m pretty sure you’re not gonna be able to visit that store without getting just a little bit hard now.”

The giggle Ash lets out fills the car and it’s the best sound you’ve heard all day. “I think whatever sex demon possessed you last week got to me,” he shakes his head in disbelief. “I literally had to stop myself from eating my cum out of you. That’s how far gone I was.”

You playfully jab his side. “I can’t even get you to do that at home and you’re trying to do it in a public bathroom? And we call me the slut in this relationship.”

He laughs again and squeezes your thigh affectionately. “Well… we have fun, don’t we?”

You place your hand on top of his, turn to him and grin. “Yes, sir.”

—-

My tag list is breaking my posts atm so apologies if you get tagged more than once/don’t get tagged at all while I figure out what the problem is!

—-

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[waywardfangirl]

For the fantastic @fight-surrender: You are a wonderful person with a brilliant mind and a kind heart, and I am so happy to know you! I really enjoyed the prompts you suggested for the Secret Snowflake exchange this year, so to give you something fluffy and happy for your birthday I combined a few of them into one sweet and silly fic - I hope that you like it! 🖤

A big thank you goes out to @carryonvisinata for her wonderful beta work and for making this fic even better for such an incredible friend 🖤 Purr-fect Strangers

Rated: General Audiences Word Count: 3208 Chapters: 1/1 Simon

"Die Hard? Really?"

I'm struggling to make the Redbox give me my DVD. Video vending machines sounded like a good idea when I couldn't find anywhere to stream my favorite movie, but the obstinate thing in front of me and the condescending voice behind me are now making me reconsider my choices.

"What's wrong with Die Hard?" I demand, momentarily giving up on retrieving my video to take some of my frustration out on the prick watching me.

Unfortunately, when I turn around to scowl at him, I make eye contact with one of the most attractive people I've ever seen. He's tall, with dark hair escaping the bun on top of his head and falling around his face, and a perfectly tailored suit hugging every inch of his body right on down to his shiny Chelsea boots. My brain shorts out, and he sneers at me.

"There’s nothing wrong with it, per se. But you have a near unlimited assortment of cinema to choose from, and you've selected Die Hard?"

(Read the rest on ao3, or keep reading here)

I scoff.

"Look, mate, some of us don't feel the need to watch pretentious films just to feel better than other people. I like Die Hard. I'm going to watch it while eating pizza and relaxing in joggers, and I refuse to feel bad about enjoying that."

He looks a bit startled, and his cheeks take on a slightly pink tinge, but he just arches an eyebrow at me. (And manages to make that look unfairly hot too, the prat.)

"What movie are you renting?" I say it like a challenge, and he pushes past me.

He deftly removes my DVD from the stubborn machine and thrusts it at me, before turning back around to get his own. I loiter behind him, just like he did to me, ready to see what movie he thinks is better than Die Hard.

"Two Weeks Notice?" I exclaim, when I see the poster pop up on the screen. "You're ridiculing Die Hard, but getting a rom-com for yourself? Unbelievable."

He pushes past me and turns up his nose. My blood boils for so many different reasons, and it's work to hold myself still.

"This has Hugh Grant in it. My tastes are superior."

Then he swans off, and I'm left standing on the kerb.

Baz

A year into my time at university, I started treating myself to a monthly visit to Sephora. It was easily excusable then, with parties every weekend to justify each new purchase, but I've kept up the tradition since graduating. (Retail therapy and good skin care never hurt anyone. And a little eyeliner does wonders for one's self esteem.)

This month, I'm browsing for something sparkly. My eyes are grey, but with a dark, glittery liner I think they might stand out a little more. I'm just testing one of the pencils on the back of my hand when I see him.

Blond hair, plain blue eyes, and a constellation of freckles and moles across his skin. The most lovely man I have ever seen, with the worst taste in movies, and (I'm sure) a well-deserved hatred for me.

For all that I try to appear cool and confident, my facade sometimes fails me. When I get flustered, I become cruel. The man renting Die Hard was so pretty that all I could do was insult him and then curse myself for it the entire way home. I couldn't even properly enjoy Hugh Grant, as mired as I was in self-loathing. And now, whatever second chance to impress him I've been granted with has surely been ruined by my actions last time.

I keep my head down and steal glances at him through my eyelashes.

He is entirely out of his element, that much is obvious right away. I watch him ask one of the shop assistants for help, and she points him in the direction of a display. His brow furrows as he picks up different containers, and he’s ridiculously precious and hopeless as he holds a lipstick tube next to a garish eyeshadow palette and closes one eye to look at them. (What is he even doing?)

Finally, his confusion seems to win out, and he turns to look around for help, when he suddenly spots me. I've been caught out; I can't pretend now like I haven't been staring, and he scowls a little as we make eye contact. I arch an eyebrow, watch as his face grows pink in anger, and decide I hate myself enough to try talking to him again.

"That's really not your shade."

"What?" It's a simple word, horribly enunciated, and does nothing to quell the wrinkle between his eyes.

"The purple. I don't think it would flatter you. Furthermore, that lipstick clashes horribly with every color in that palette."

He turns a bright red and starts to splutter. I am hopelessly endeared.

"That's not- I, I don't- it isn't-"

"Oh, calm down, there's nothing wrong with wearing makeup," I say, flashing him the back of my hand with the eyeliner tests on it. "You just need to pick a better shade." I pluck a different palette (for blue eyes) and a lipstick in a true red from the display and hand them over. "Something like this."

He stares at them dumbly for a moment, his mouth hanging open. (Mouth breather.)

"You think I should wear this?"

"I think it would flatter you if you chose to wear makeup. That purple will do you no favors." I sneer at the garish eyeshadow still in his hand.

"It's for my friend!" he finally bursts out.

"Are you mad at her?" It's a reasonable question, that eyeshadow is truly appalling.

"No? It's her birthday next week, and she said that she wanted to have some makeup for date nights and things."

"Are you in love with her?"

"No!" No hesitation at all. "No, no way. Penny is like my sister. She's my best friend. We're not…" he trails off, and I'm strangely reassured. He still probably hates me, but at least there is one woman in the world that he’s not dating, so my odds have improved marginally.

"Don't get your pants in a twist. I just thought you might be, since that eyeshadow would certainly drive away her current boyfriend."

He sticks out his chin and seems to decide something.

"Fine. What should I get for her, then?" The “if you know so much” is left unsaid.

I'm not really an expert, despite my monthly purchases, but I'll take any excuse I can get to linger around this starburst of a boy for a few moments more.

"Does she wear makeup normally?" He shakes his head no. "Then perhaps start with something more subtle for her." I take the offending palette away and hand him a more subdued one, with a faint shimmer. "Do you think this would look nice on her?"

He thinks hard for a moment, then pulls out his phone, swiping at the lock screen and turning it to face me.

"This is her."

His home screen background is a picture of the two of them, cheeks pressed together and grinning like crazy under the summer sun. His curls are being tossed by the wind, and he looks like a bronze Adonis. I think my heart actually skips a beat at the sight.

"That palette will be fine then. This lipstick, too," I add, handing him a plum shade. "Do you need anything else?" I ask, and then cringe when I sound like I'm working instead of flirting.

He shakes his head.

"No, this is brilliant, thanks."

He still looks a bit confused, and he bites his lip as he looks down at the makeup in his hand - the makeup for his friend, and the things I picked out for him.

I don't want to go, but I can't figure out any way to prolong our conversation.

"You should get that one," he says, pointing to one of the lines on my hand. I raise an eyebrow in question. He's right, but what does this mean? Is he flirting? Does he want me to wear eyeliner? Is he just trying to repay me for helping him? "Yeah. Definitely that one."

He raps his knuckles on the counter beside us twice, and then wanders towards the check out.

It's not until I'm trying to fall asleep that I realize - he bought the makeup for himself too.

Simon

One of my foster fathers had a workshop, and I spent a happy summer watching him build a table and matching chairs for the dining room. I didn't get to stay to see it completed, because one of his biological children kept stealing money out of his mom's purse and blaming me, but I still enjoyed the time I had spent watching woodworking. I liked it so much that when Penny and I graduated and got a flat together, I saved up to buy a few tools. I don't make anything major, but I've built small shelves and a side table and a pan organizer for the flat, and I really like it.

Recently, Penny has been complaining about not being able to reach everything in the kitchen, so while she's still at work I stop by the B&Q to pick up some wood for a step stool. I'm heading to the check out when I see him - the mean makeup guy. (Although he was actually quite nice when we were talking about makeup. He was just rude when we were getting our movies.)

He's dressed casually today, in tight dark jeans and a warm grey sweater, with his hair falling in loose waves around his face. He's glaring down at two wrenches, and I hate that he still looks so good when he's glowering.

Before I even register what's happening, my feet have carried me over to him.

"D'ya need help?"

He startles, and turns lovely grey eyes up to look at me. It's work not to gasp. He’s wearing eyeliner. I'm not entirely sure, but I think it may even be the eyeliner I told him to buy.

"The sink in my kitchen is leaking. I watched a tutorial on YouTube, and it should be easy enough to fix, but I don't have the proper tools."

He goes back to glaring at the wrenches, and I lean over to take a look.

“You want that one.”

“Why? How do you know?”

“Well, it’s adjustable. You can change it within reason, so as long as your plumbing isn’t something incredibly out of the ordinary it should fit just fine.”

He looks surprised (and maybe a bit like he wants to attack me, although I try to ignore that).

“How do you know that?”

I laugh.

“Basic home maintenance, mate, I’ve had to fix a leaky sink before too, believe it or not.”

I grin at him until one corner of his mouth tips upward in response.

“Thanks,” he says, his cheeks flushing a little. “I’ll get this one then. Yes. Thank you. Have a nice evening.”

He strides off, once again leaving me feeling a bit dazed.

He looks really good in eyeliner.

Baz

When Fiona discovered I hadn’t left the apartment in a week, she called in the cavalry. Daphne showed up at my door with a casserole and some flowers, and within minutes she had the kitchen feeling like a place that was less utility space and more home.

“Basil, Fiona is worried about you.” I rolled my eyes, despite knowing it wouldn’t get me anywhere. “I’m worried about you, too. You spend so much time by yourself, and you hardly ever go out to see your friends or enjoy the city.”

“I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.”

“Basil,” she had said, and that time it was a warning. “It’s not healthy for anyone to spend this much time alone.”

“What, do you expect me to get a cat?”

Daphne smiled, and I knew that I had said the wrong thing.

“Yes, actually. And,” she said, before I could object, “Fiona thought you should too. In fact, she made it a condition of your continued occupancy of this flat. We both think it might be nice for you to have someone else around to talk to.”

I arched an eyebrow.

“And you want me to talk to a cat?”

Daphne just gave me a Mona Lisa smile, handed me a plate filled with food, and told me when she left later that evening that I had forty-eight hours to send her a picture of a cat. (I asked what I should do if I didn’t like any of the cats I saw. Or if they didn’t like me. She said I had to at least prove that I tried.)

So, this morning, I made my way to the nearest RSPCA and talked to strangers for the first time in over a week. I told them that I was looking to adopt a cat, and they immediately led me to a room filled with individual cages and an assortment of felines. They said I could play with any of the cats that I wanted, and now I’m staring into the eyes of a fluffy orange tabby.

The tabby meows at me, and I swear that she’s telling me to get lost. I guess cats can tell when you’re out of your depth.

I stroll down the aisle and read the names given to each cat. It’s been years since I last had a pet and even then, the husky my family had wasn’t my sole responsibility. I was in charge of feeding him, but there was always someone else making sure that I did. And really, we only adopted him when my pediatrician suggested that an animal might help me after my mother died. Daphne is probably trying to do the same thing again now. (Is this how one becomes a crazy cat lady? Depression, anxiety, OCD, and an unwillingness to tolerate therapy?)

I keep walking slowly until I feel a tug on my sleeve. I look down, and a little orange paw ending in one very sharp claw has latched on to me. I unhook it before my sweater can snag, and then look into the kennel. There are two kittens, each only about ten weeks old according to their cards, and the orange one is peering up at me with big blue eyes. Its littermate is asleep in the corner, curled into a fluffy black puffball, but the tabby is ready to play. His tail twitches, and he pounces immediately when I wiggle a finger between the bars. He catches my fingertip in a far more gentle grasp than I would have imagined, then looks at me with what can only be described as pure adoration.

“Excuse me,” I say, moving my finger some more and feeling small claws dig in. Then again, louder, to get the attention of the woman, “Excuse me. Can I see this one?”

The woman comes over and flips the latch, then reaches in and comes out with a handful of fur and knives. The kitten opens its mouth in a fierce imitation of a vampire, then stretches it further as it lapses into a yawn. We spend the better part of an hour in a bright, cheerful room, just the kitten and I. At first it chases a string that I drag along the ground and runs after balls with bells in them, but then it calms down and curls up in my lap to sleep.

I’m petting it and cooing softly to it, trying to ignore the fact that Daphne and Fiona were both right about this whole thing, when the door to the room opens again.

“Oh. It’s you,” says the most beautiful man I have ever seen. My face flushes when I remember our last encounter and I pray he doesn’t remember my ignorance. (Of course he does. I didn’t know how to select a wrench. I am incapable of basic home repair and he knows it.)

“Do you two know each other?” The woman from before is back, this time holding the other kitten from the same cage, and looking between the two of us. “These kittens aren’t technically a bonded pair, but they are siblings, the only two remaining from their litter, and it would be lovely if they could still see each other.”

“Err…” the man says, shifting his weight.

“We’ve met in passing a few times now,” I say, trying to avoid encouraging this line of questioning.

“Great!” she says, clapping her hands brightly after handing the kitten off. “I’ll leave all of you to get better acquainted then!”

For a moment, there’s just awkward silence. Neither of us are looking at each other, both focusing on our respective kittens. Then, his kitten turns into the feline equivalent of a slinky, oozes out of his grasp, and runs over to tap my leg once before running away again. It hides behind his legs, and all I can see is a black tail winding around his ankles.

We both laugh, and the ice is broken.

“I’m Simon,” he says, and smiles at me. It’s the same radiant smile I remember from his lockscreen. It feels like looking into the sun, and I bask in it.

“Basil. Although my friends call me Baz.”

“Are you going to…” he trails off, but gestures to my cat.

“Yes,” I look down and give it a scratch under the chin. “I’m going to adopt it.”

“Same here,” Simon says, and then he blushes. “I mean, unless it rips my face off in the next few minutes, but I think this is the one.”

“Do you know which one you have?” Their names and genders were on the cage, but it didn’t specify who was who.

“No idea. I’m going to rename mine anyway though, I didn’t like either of those names.”

“I was planning on doing the same thing. If I’m going to have a pet, it needs to have a proper name befitting its personality. Not something mundane like Fluffy.” I scowl, and he laughs.

As his kitten comes over to touch its nose to my kitten, Simon clears his throat.

“So, um, like she said, they’d probably be happy to have playdates or whatever. I mean, since we’re getting them. And since we keep running into each other. It might make sense to, you know, exchange numbers?”

“Yes!” I say, far too eagerly. “I mean, that seems reasonable. It would be more convenient than waiting to happen upon you in the Waitrose choosing inferior crisps to set up a future meeting.”

He smiles. “Well, yeah, there’s that. And this way, it’ll be easier for me to ask you out, ”

Then the absolute nightmare sits down beside me and hands me his phone. He texts me immediately once I enter my contact info.

Unknown Number (11:27 AM) This is Simon Snow

Unknown Number (11:27 AM) Your cat is cute.

Unknown Number (11:27 AM) So are you

Unknown Number (11:28 AM) Wanna get dinner sometime? ;)

I blush, and send him a reply.

Baz (11:29 AM) I thought you’d never ask.