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raitonsfw · 4 months

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𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚟𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚜 | 𝚓𝚊𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗

synopsis: You adored beach days with Eren, it was one of your favorite pastimes. You two would lounge in the sun, basking in the afterglow of a tan. But when he’s got a remote controlled vibrator pressing incessantly against your clit… suddenly relaxing became much harder (or easier) than you expected.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader, modern!eren, boyfriend!eren, exhibitionism, sex toy but more specifically a remote controlled vibrator woohoo, dirty talk, petnames (babe, baby), slight degradation but mostly praising, fingering, finger sucking, overstimulation, squirting, eren gets jealous over the vibrator, rip mikasas’s pink towel.

a/n: my best friend requested a beach vibrator/exhibitionism type scenario and eren was the perfect character to write it with, literally having aot brainrot rn so enjoy me simping for this fucker in my writing! wc: 1.8k. m.list

now playing: good vibrations by the beach boys (obviously)

divider credit: @benkeibear

The beach was awfully cramped today. Dozens of families cluttered the golden sand and you instantly felt self conscious. Not because of the swimsuit you were wearing, but the oval vibrator that was nestled right against your clit, waiting to be switched on. You glanced at Eren who was casually setting up the umbrella into the soft patches of sand and you crossed your arms against yourself, looking back out towards the glittering ocean.

It wasn’t your idea to wear the vibrator, Eren had insisted with a ‘it’s waterproof, you’ll be fine honey,’ and you took his word, thinking what could possibly go wrong? But now that you're actually standing in the middle of the beach, you weren’t so sure if you could play off your arousal as you anxiously waited for him to press the button.

Eren had his hair pinned up in a small bun and when you glanced down to his body, you nearly went stupid. It was hot outside, so of course he was already sweating as he set up the beach essentials, the sweat gleaned from underneath his white shirt as it lifted up when he stretched over to move something. You didn’t have much time to soak it in though before his shirt was promptly pulled off and his muscles were on full display in front of you.

And oh fuck, maybe you didn’t even need him to turn on the vibrator.

“Y/N, come sit down.” You heard him say as he sat down and you obliged, patting the sand off of your flip flops and putting your belongings on the edge of the salmon towel. You pulled off the cover up you had on, revealing your swimsuit and your hand subconsciously grazed over your lower tummy, worried that people could see the vibrator’s prominence. Eren whistled sharply as he looked you once over from his sunglasses. “Damn, babe…”

You shot him a look but then your mind wandered off as you took a good look at him. You just wanted to know where he kept that devious thing. But seeing as he leaned forward with his knees up and his forearms resting on them, his hands were completely empty and he smirked at you when he noticed where your eyes landed.

“Looking for the remote?”

“N-No, I was just thinking about how funny you looked sitting on a tiny pink towel.” You stuttered back, sitting in between his parted legs. His hands came to rest against your shoulders and you sighed, leaning back into him. It was truly a beautiful day, the sun glistened onto the sea with the rays beaming against your skin. The umbrella didn’t shield you two much but it was better than nothing, the inch of privacy comforting you as you waited for the inevitable. He had propped the two beach chairs on either side of the towel as well so that added to the depth of what covered you two.

“It’s Mikasa’s towel.” Eren admitted with a chuckle, like you didn’t already know. He planted a kiss against your exposed shoulder as he rubbed his hands gently down your arms.

Your eyes slipped closed as he trailed his lips up towards your neck, but you shook off his teasing. You vaguely felt him shuffle behind you, unaware of what he was grabbing and you clenched around nothing as you thought of him pressing the remote. “Eren, there’s people around.”

“That’s the whole point, duh. Besides, I’m only putting sunscreen on you.” He grinned slyly as you heard the click of the sunscreen bottle echo in your ears and the cold lotion basically felt like ice as he slathered it against your back. Your skin was already so unbearably hot, from the sun and from his constant teasing, and the fucking devil basically sitting in between your thighs. You flinched, earning another quiet chuckle from him.

“You’re so on edge today, it’s cute.”

You didn’t respond as you tried to relax in the way he massaged the sunscreen into your skin, but all you could think about was the pressure you sat against and you couldn’t help but subtly grind against it. It barely did anything but you still sighed as you felt a tiny ripple of pleasure erupt throughout your body. You felt Eren’s calloused fingers stop rubbing the sunscreen in and you stopped your hip movements with a shudder as he sucked a slight hickey into your neck.

“Someone’s excited, hm?” Eren hummed as he gave you the sunscreen bottle, a smirk buried in the crook of your neck. “Here.”

You lathered the sunscreen over the rest of your body as he turned on the speaker you two had brought, not very loud of course; you didn’t want to draw too much attention to yourself. Your music playlist came pouring through the speaker and you relaxed a bit more, the bass of the song thrumming into your veins. It distracted you from the vibrator dilemma and you happily sang along to the tune, watching some kids near the water make a sandcastle.

And then the fucker pressed the button.

“Eren!” You gasped out suddenly, dropping the sunscreen bottle in your hands. They flew to his forearms that had wrapped back around you and your legs clamped shut as it seared pleasure into your clit. It buzzed viciously against you and you couldn’t do anything but take it, shaking lightly in Eren’s arms. He had put it on high too, that goddamn bastard and a moan threatened to spill from your lips.

“What is it, baby?” He asked, his voice almost mocking your high pitch. The remote was wedged into his left hand and you wanted to snatch it away and throw it into the ocean. You were much too close already, the comfort of the song you sang falling away and you leaned back into his chest with a tremble.

Your fingernails dug into his forearms and you felt him hard against the small of your back, pressing into you there as you got off on the incessant vibrations. You tried to keep your mouth shut but tiny whimpers forced their way out and you swore you felt him grind up into you with a breathy laugh. Eren flipped the remote in his hand, toying with it and your back arched into the droning sensation.

You squirmed against him, trying desperately to stay still and to stay fucking quiet. But it was insanely difficult, especially when Eren parted your legs again as he threw your disposed cover up between them. His free hand slipped underneath your arm and down your chest, straight to your swimsuit bottoms and you keened at the way he pushed the vibrator harder onto your clit. He kept it there as his middle and ring finger plunged into your slick without warning. He gathered some of it onto them and then pulled them out with ease, tutted quietly as he examined with a furrowed expression.

“All because of this damn vibrator, huh?” Eren sucked them into his mouth like a fucking whore, tasting you on his tongue and you whined at the action. “How come this doesn’t happen when I’m fucking you?”

You didn’t know if anyone was looking your way and honestly, you didn’t care anymore as your orgasm came bubbling up to the surface. Eren clasped his hand over your mouth, muffling the moan that came from you as you convulsed against the softness of the towel. It crashed over you harshly and you almost bit the remote that was pressed against your lips as the vibrations overstimulated you– it was too much, all too much and you gasped for air as he switched it off with the press of his thumb.

“Shhh, it’s okay baby.” He shushed you, kissing the back of your neck as you came down from your high. “Breathe.”

His palm fell from your mouth, dropping the remote near your leg and you audibly sighed out in relief until you felt his other hand back between your legs. His fingers slid back into your wet heat and your breath hitched, discomfort circling in your abdomen. You were so, so sensitive and all you could think about was how to get your thighs to stop twitching involuntarily. “I’m not fully convinced. How the fuck did you get so wet from a toy?”

“Eren, hold on, please hold on…” You pleaded, your entire face flushed red and you panted as you felt pleasure seep into the pit of your tummy again. You felt the cover up fall from your waist and you knew you were exposed now, his hand inside your bottoms and-

“Don’t worry, no one’s looking. I promise.” His words flew out in almost one breath as he felt the flutter of your walls against his fingers. He was so fucking hard in his swim shorts, he needed to get his hand on himself so badly but he wanted– needed to watch you squirt from just his fingers. How could such a little toy be so enticing to your pussy when he was right here? In the back of his mind, Eren knew it was probably just the scenario he set up for you, his control over a toy looming over you like a dark cloud. But it still made him fucking jealous.

God, he really wanted to make you squirt in public. He wanted you to fall apart all over his fingers whilst families sat a few feet away, tending to their screaming children or drinking from beer bottles without the slightest clue as to what’s going on right behind them.

He curled his fingers into you headily, right against your sweet spot and you moaned at the overwhelming feeling hurtling up your spine and fuzzing your mind over. The music had been turned up a notch, you vaguely realized, for your sake. Because you just that fucking loud, mewls and whines coming from you. Eren pressed his dick up against the small of your back harder, grinding into it as he kept pushing into you quickly.

“C’mon, baby...fuck, I know you can squirt.” He groaned into your ear, watching over your shoulder with darkened eyes. He fumbled for the remote again, aiming to turn it on to rush you along but it was too late as you leaked all over his fingers, against the polyester fabric of your swimsuit, and all over Mikasa’s towel. It gushed out of you with a high whimper and you bucked his hips into his fingers in ecstasy.

“Yeah, that’s it, my God. So much for me…” He cooed, pulling his fingers out and covering you up again with your pull over. He patted your thigh lovingly and you scowled at him, smacking him on his leg hard.

“Mikasa’s gonna kill me!” You whined out, still out of breath and all Eren did was laugh.

“Mikasa’s not going to get her towel back.”

a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!

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yuri-is-online · 1 year

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Well Maybe the Octopus was Being a Dick! (Or Tsunotarou tries to do Yu a solid but he misunderstood a joke) pt. 2

A/N: Left some boys out of part one so have some more crack

Pt. 1

“Refuses to take responsibility for this”- Idia

He’s too busy screaming to listen to what Malleus is saying because he’s too busy trying to figure out how he got into his room. Malleus thinks that Idia is just suffering from some nerves and offers to pretend to be the child of man so he can practice… fighting fish for the prefect’s affection? Outright refuses but it just comes off as him being too shy again, aaaand now he’s somehow been dragged to an aquarium on a practice date with Malleus who keeps insisting his childlike wonder is just him pretending to be the prefect. At least Ortho is having the time of his life. Maybe he can just convince you to come over and play some VR, he really needs to decompress after this.

“Wait don’t ask another guy I’ll do it”- Ace, Deuce, Kalim

Duece and Kalim both take what Malleus is saying extremely seriously and are equally distraught. Deuce wants to be with you as the best possible version of himself, and that means putting his violent past behind him. He did just learn how to make mackerel curry though, so maybe that counts? He can practice fileting fish and hope you think the effort is cute. Kalim really likes animals so the thought of hurting fish isn’t… ideal but hey maybe he just misheard Malleus and you just really like aquariums. Yeah that’s got to be it! There’s absolutely no way Malleus of all people could have misunderstood things in the first place, he’s too smart for that. Ace sees this as a GOLDEN opportunity to make fun of you and the two of you have a bit of fun clowning around until you make the mistake of whining about how he wouldn’t fight one measly fish and he responds by saying he’d take a bullet for you with zero hesitation and completely seriously.

Yeah it’s going to take a while for you both to reset after this one.

“That’s a magicam moment babe”- Cater, Jamil

Both of these guys pay enough attention to trends to have at least an idea that Malleus might be taking a meme literally. Cater thinks it’s a cute joke he can make a magicam post about, and it gives him an excuse to flirt with juuust enough plausible deniability he can save himself if it proves too embarrassing. Jamil simply says he doesn’t need to rely on fleeting internet trends to win your affection. Aquariums are a nice place for a date though so he thanks Malleus for the idea.

“PLEASE ask him to kill for you”- Epel, Lilia

Epel absolutely has a list of wild animals he could protect the prefect from and you can’t convince me otherwise. He’s a bit iffy on where he ranks fish after meeting the Leech twins, but as long as your favorite isn’t an eel he is rip raring to go, just ignore that weird shadow in your peripheral vision that definitely isn’t Vil waiting to swoop. Lilia is, obviously, aware that Malleus is misinterpreting a joke. He’s just really attached to the image of you hanging off of him like the protagonist on the front cover of a really steamy romance novel while he fights off a salmon or something. He has one of those open chested pirate shirts allll ready to go just say the word.

“IF WAKA-SAMA SAID IT, IT MUST BE TRUE”- SEBEK, Silver

“Silver?” I hear you ask in disbelief. Yes. He was raised by Lilia in the middle of the woods and his main source of interaction with humans before attending NRC was apparently just Sebek’s dad. He thinks very highly of Malleus and doesn’t think he’d be lying, but he assumes given how much animals like him it’s you who intend to do the fighting so he shows up to Ramshackle to assure you that isn’t necessary. You already have his affections.

You know damn well Sebek is climbing into that tank the instant you say something about liking one of the fish. Malleus gave him instructions on how to court you and he will be cold and dead in his grave before he disobeys a direct order from his lord. Also refuses to believe you when you say Malleus misunderstood even after his Lord apologizes for accidentally getting him banned from the aquarium for life. For the sake of Malleus’s pride or his you have no idea.

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itsamarvelfan-writes · 8 months

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Fight With Me

Warnings: angst, fluff, sexual themes (nothing graphic), not edited

Summary: You want Steve to fight with you, for you, but he doesn’t have the same thoughts.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

A/N: I’m more active on Wattpad at the moment because it’s just more portable for writing right now. My laptop is being used for school only since I’m starting fresh at uni again. This is written with a new sort of writing style I tried out at this creative writing club I joined. Anyway, enjoy this!

Steve never asked you for much.

He always stood against the counter during any meal times, letting you rummage through cabinets and the refrigerator to see what you wanted to make and eat. He followed you around when you two were out shopping, letting you pull out shirts, put them against his chest, and then choose whether or not he was going to buy it. He would sit down whenever you asked him to, stand if you ever needed him to, and lay down beside you when you had a long day.

If you ever asked him for any advice, he would shrug and grin, saying you were better off deciding.

You usually frowned nowadays, wondering why he never put forth his own two cents. You were willing to listen, you had never shut anyone down before. So it confused you to no length when he never put his thoughts out on display for you.

"What's that frown for?" Steve asked, glancing over at you from where he was cutting the green peppers.

You shook your head and turned away, unable to stomach Steve's closed responses anymore. It had gotten to a point where you were beginning to think he was never in this relationship to begin with. That this relationship meant nothing and he was just here to past the time. And who were you to just turn up dating someone as kind and handsome and caring and popular as Steve fucking Rogers.

He was Captain America for fuck's sake.

He had woman lining up behind him, begging for just one chance with America's golden boy. And here you were with that one chance, hoping and praying to whatever god you decided to believe in that he wasn't in love with you. Not like this. Not if he was going to let you make every single decision. Not if he wasn't even going to fight for you if you made a bad choice.

"Y/N?" Steve tried, voice full of concern and worry.

You two had never fought. Not even once. Just because you were the one making all the verdicts. There was never an argument from him after you made a choice. He just accepted it and went on with his life as if it never effected him. As if your opinion was all he ever wanted.

That was true. It couldn't be true, you knew that.

You saw the way he hid his grimace when he bit into a dish he didn't quite like as much as you. He hid it well, but he had his little giveaways; the way his mouth quirked slightly, or the way his left eye twitched, or the way his leg started bouncing. He would rarely wear the salmon-coloured shirt—the one you never liked either and got for him anyway, hoping to engage him in an argument. It didn't work. He took it in and housed it, thanking you and giving you compliments on your style.

Your frown deepened.

"Y/N?" Steve was standing beside you then, looking at you with the same concern that was laced into his voice. "Are you okay?"

"Yep," you replied, popping the 'p' and then muttering, "as much as I can be."

"What d'you mean, love?" Steve's eyebrows furrowed and you said nothing, mentally cursing his super-hearing. You moved backwards to where Steve was and grabbed the cutting board with the cut green papers on them. You poured them into the sauce and ignored Steve's pursed lips.

"Did I do something?" Steve grabbed your elbow gently when you started to move away from him again.

"No, you didn't do anything and that's the problem," you finally answered, tone a bit snappy and harsh, but you were too into your head to notice it. Steve let your elbow go, his blue eyes firmly locking you in place when he caught your eyes.

"What—didn't do—I'm so confused, love." Steve's jumbled words and your jumbled thoughts made you want to cry.

"Why don't you ever say anything?"

"I do—"

"No, you don't." That was a final tone. There was no need for a further explanation, but you had this pent up rant and frustration that you gave him the explanation. "You let me choose everything for you, Steve. Your clothes, your shoes, your food, EVERYTHING! You don't choose anything and you what? I'm sick of it! It makes me sick to think I'm controlling your every little thing! It makes me sick to look at you in the eyes and tell you that I wanna eat this or that and you agree to it! Without saying anything in return!

"I could be asking for brussel sprouts and you would say okay even though I know you hate it! You hate that shirt I chose out and said sure I'll wear it as if it doesn't matter what you think to me! I care about what you think! About what you want! About whatever you think! I care! But you never let me know what goes through that thick skull of yours, Steve! You care about me and that's all I ever hear!"

You took a breath, tears flowing down your cheeks and sniffling when you felt that familiar tickle in your nose.

"So tell me, Steve, why don't you ever say anything?"

Steve looked ashamed, pained, and confused all at once. His eyes were darting around with whatever overwhelming feelings were going through his head. You wished you could have gone easier and softer on him, just as he has always been with you, but you had exploded. You didn't even know if half of what you said made any sense, but you got your mind out there and that's what mattered to you at the moment.

That and Steve's response.

A few seconds of silence and your stomach started to drop.

A few minutes of silence and your heart followed your stomach.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," Steve started, voice thick with emotions. "I didn't think—I didn't know that you felt like that. I just—I found it—I thought that this would've been avoided."

He didn't give you more so that meant you would have to ask him. Again.

"What would be avoided—"

"This!" He pointed between the two of you and heart lost a beat. "These arguments and fights! I wanted a peaceful life. I love you! I love you enough to swallow my dislikes!"

"I never asked you to do that!"

"You didn't have to!"

"Why would you assume I wanted—"

"It's what I wanted Y/N!"

Silence.

"I wanted to live peacefully with you. I wanted a life full of peace and love." Steve's blue eyes were trying to find yours, even though yours were trying to find anywhere else to look.

Tears were streaming down both of your faces by then. The argument was new. Arguing was new. New wounds were open and oozing out of them was hurt. Hurt was being transformed into words. Words were being thrown around and used as knives. Knives could be used to make wounds.

And you were back to square one.

"To love me, Steve, you need to accept the fact that we will fight. We will fight and come back to each other because we love each other." Your heart constricted in your chest when Steve shook his head. "Don't you love me enough to trust it?"

"I do." No hesitation on his part. He gave you the answer you were hoping for and you let out a sigh of relief.

"Then argue with me. Fight with me. Tell me what you dislike even if I like it." You reached out your hand and intertwined it with Steve's. He stepped closer to you and you looked up into his eyes, breath getting caught with the intensity of his pupils dilating more the longer he looked at you.

"I want to do what other couples do, Steve. Fight and make up. Argue and make up. Bicker with each other for no reason and laugh when we kiss. I want that, Steve. I don't want to get that sickly feeling when you agree with everything I say. It feels toxic."

"Okay," Steve breathed out, his free hand coming up to clear your cheeks of your tears and then tilted your face with your chin. "Can we make up, now?"

"Depends on how we're making up," you said, lips an inch away from his. His eyes flickered between your lips and your eyes. He found what he was looking for and he closed the inch between you, kissing you deeply as possible.

Kissing him made you feel like you were floating. When he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, you let out a moan, breaking the kiss. He never strayed away from you though, kissing down your neck and laying you back onto the bed.

"Do you want to—"

"Do what you want today, Steve, please," you whispered, hoping you never broke the bubble surrounding the two of you.

"Anything?" His eyes gleamed with something you had never before. Something that set your whole being on fire.

"Please," was the one word you come up with.

Steve didn't take long to undress the two of you. As said, he did what he wanted, asking you if it was alright and if you were okay at all the right times. He made sure you were comfortable and then helped you reach your high. The two of you shared hushed whispers, moans, and other sweet nothings in the dim lit room.

"If that's how we're going to make up every time we fight," Steve started, looking down at your face on his chest, "then I might start picking fights again."

"Like the good ol' days?" You joked, voice groggy with sleep.

"Something like that." His laugh rumbled in his chest and you kissed the spot right over his heart.

"I love fighting with you."

"I think I'm beginning to understand why you wanted regular fight sessions," Steve said, hand slipping down your spine and drawing out a shudder.

"Who said anything about regular?" You teased, chin coming to rest on his chest as you looked up at him. His eyes darkened and he rolled the two of you over.

As he hovered over you, he whispered, "Fight with me?"

#x reader #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #x y/n #marvel mcu #steve rogers x y/n #steven grant steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #avenger x reader #captain america #captain america x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america x you #captain america x female reader

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meowzilla93 · 4 months

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This little fic is just a pure angsty little thing of Baxter realizing his college deadline is coming up and he is going to need to deal with the turmoil of that, along side his parents being the uncaring people that they have always been.

WARNING: the parents do make a transphobic comment, so be warned before continuing

“The usual?”

Baxter was pulled from his thoughts as his hairdresser gets her tools ready for another colour session for him. Close to four years he has been coming to see her to sort out his iconic hairstyle, but today would put an end to that.

“Ah, no. It was fun whilst it lasted, but I think it is time to go a standard black now.”

“Baxter… After so long?”

He isn’t surprised at her reaction; After being dedicated to a certain style and colour choice, the question of ‘The usual?’ became more a silly joke. That now will be ending. Showing off his charming, amiable smile he looks at her in the mirror, not being able to truly meet her eyes,

“Yes, I am certain. I can guarantee to you that I will not be coming back next session, requesting you to turn back the clock.”

“Haha, very well. If your certain, let’s get started.”

“Yes, lets…”

Baxter stares in the mirror and watches the last three years of his life slowly be erased. A new deadline was approaching, his graduation was in six months, and he managed to succeed in nothing. He will have a piece of paper saying he has a degree but nothing else meaningful happened. He could try to lie to himself and say that he tried, but what point was there in doing that. He knew he was the reason behind his own unhappiness, might as well accept that and the obvious trajectory of his life.

Back in is his dorm, new black hair in full glory, Baxter stood in the middle of his room clearing out his closet. His iconic black and white shirts, outfits and accessories finding themselves in a pile in the corner of the room. If he wants to gain employment as soon as he graduates, he need to start going in for interview and with that, needs more professional clothing to present himself accordingly. After all, there is no need keep up with his monochrome themed clothes anymore, not when his hair will no longer suit and he simply just doesn’t care anymore. As the pile increases with each additional article of clothing, Baxter notes what he needs to replace with simple black iterations. Any lightness in his life is now gone. May as well encompass that in every aspect of his life.

His whole life has turned dark, there is no point to this anymore. Soon he will graduate, and he will back to square one. What would his younger self think right now? What would the people he once held onto think about him now?

The deadline was reached, and Baxter as found himself sitting across his parents at an expensive restaurant that they chose to dine at. “To celebrate his success” was their reasoning. But Baxter knew better; It was another celebration that his parents used to celebrate their own success in raising him. Another excuse to make themselves look good in front of their acquaintances rather than celebrate how he has completed his four years in study and is looking towards his own future. Not that his future held all that much at all, simply another lonely life in a different way.

As he pushed around the salmon on his plate, not feeling hungry at all, he listens to his mother talk about the most recent charity event, she suddenly catches his attention with her next words,

“Well then, now that you have your degree, you will be able to assist your father and myself with the business and events. What a brilliant way to start your career, if not by helping your family with the current work that already needs to be performed.’

Staring at his mother, he almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing,

“Mother, I didn’t plan on returning to Golden Grove. I thought that I had made myself abundantly clear about this matter.”

“Nonsense. Searching for a job will be difficult and can take a while, especially when you have little to no experience. Working for your Father in the meantime will provide you with the skills you need to eventually manage your own business and eventually take over your Fathers.”

Baxter was stunned at what he heard. Four years he tried to separate himself from his parents, four years he spent snubbing them as much as he could because he didn’t want to become anything like them. Yet, there they were, expecting him to come back as if nothing had changed, the last four years didn’t happen.

“We will discuss the particulars at a later time. But I must tell you, the Johnsons at the last event…”

Baxter stopped listening to whatever his mother was talking about, not at all surprised that they did not care about his opinion, nor wanted to hear what his aspirations were for himself. Not that he had much really. He lived a lonely yet safe life, not letting people in so to not allow himself to get hurt. He gave up his monochromatic black and white palette that highlighted his college years and failed relationships, opting to focus on just wearing black. Simple. Bland. Lacking in personality. Much like he was.

He looked down at his plate, not really seeing what was in front of him, not really seeing the food, but just wanting to exist in his own world, not wishing to listen to his mother prattle on about the gossip she heard at her recent event. But that changed when she mentioned a name he never thought to hear again.

“Oh I still cannot believe the Murrays’. Letting their son parade around like that.”

He lifted his gaze, looking at his mother who was paying her attention to his father.

“I know. Seems the town doesn’t care how this is going to affect the other children in the area, seeing him dress up like a girl all the time. And calling him by a new name? What utter nonsense.”

Baxter blanched, knowing without even saying the name who they were talking about.

Renee.

His old childhood friend, who found herself as she got older and realised, she was a woman. Renee, who was sweet and kind and gentle and deserved to be loved and supported by all around her. Someone he left behind over four years ago but still cherished in his heart, along with his other friends he made in his teenage years. And he was listening to his parents berate and talk foully about her, when she has done nothing wrong, and they have done plenty.

Refusing to listen to another word, Baxter placed his cutlery down, tidied himself and stood up.

“That is quite enough. Mother. Father. I will not be returning to Golden Grove with you. In fact, I will be having nothing to do with you from this point onwards. You are not the sort of people I want to have in my life, not with the way you look down upon others around you, simply for existing and wanting to be happy in this life. I am not you. I will never be like you. I do not want nor require your support to make something of myself. I am capable of succeeding in that on my own terms. I would wish you luck in your endeavours, but that would a lie. I ask that you do not contact me any further. Goodbye.”

With that, he turns and walks away, ignoring his mother calling out to him, demanding he return and explain himself. No. He didn’t owe them that, not with how cruel they are. As he steps out into the cool evening air, he feels a lightness in his chest as he makes his way to the cab pick up point, waving down a taxi. Jumping in, he directs the cab to take him back to his dorm, which he was already in the midst of packing in preparation to leave; Not just the campus but Virginia entirely. Watching the streetlights flash past, he can’t help but feel a sense of relief coursing through him. It didn’t completely alleviate his sense of self-loathing and utter numbness he had felt this last year, however it did grant him a piece of serenity in what he was doing.

This was the start he needed. A true new start. He had cut himself from his parents and the toxicity that they infected his life with; Moving to Southern California to start a new life where he initially founded his independence, though only temporarily. After all, he did hurt other friends there too. The last thing he wanted to do is stay somewhere he might not be welcomed. But it was better than staying in Virginia where his parents allowed him to study, or back to Oregon where he cant escape the memories of his sad childhood and his parents.

No. Even though he burnt some bridges there, it was preferable to potentially walk into them there, than have to deal with anything that his parents had touched and spoiled. As the night sky continues to darken and the stars shine in all their glory, Baxter feels a soft smile spread across his face. Perhaps some parts of his life he will never be able to improve on, but this part? This gave him a glimmer of hope that maybe he could still live a relatively happy life. Just maybe.

#baxter ward #our life beginnings and always #olba #our life #olba baxter #trigger warning

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escape-from-arcadia · 2 years

Text

Zouxie Week 2022: Day 4 - Motorcyles

"She's Beautiful"

Read on AO3

Douxie sat behind Zoe, the two of them precariously balanced on the bike. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he leaned forward slightly, resting his head on her shoulder and tucking his knees up. “Is now a bad time to mention that I’ve never been on one of these before?” She ignited the engine silently with a wave of her wand. “It’s like riding a bike. You were a newspaper delivery boy back in the 40s right?” He nodded as she slipped on a pair of black gloves. “It’s just like that, just a bit different to steer. And lucky for you, you’re not the one steering.” “Still not sure if I should be comforted by that.”

A/N: Late submission because I was in finals purgatory. But I'm back with a short thing for Day 4, and I'm currently writing Day 5.

Word Count: 1693

Tagging: @moppetwithamanbun and @emsprovisions for Zouxie Week 2022!

----

“She’s beautiful.”

“Douxie, are you sure this is a wise idea?”

“Oh, Archie, I’m certain of it. I think I’m in love. I’d pour my life’s savings into her to make sure she’s well and cared for.”

“You’re ‘in love’ with a strange contraption.”

Douxie swept his hand over the leather seat and turned back to a humanoid Archie with an astonished look on his face. “She’s a BMW, thank you very much, Arch. And a beautiful one at that too,” he gushed. He knelt down to examine the motorcycle and all of its nooks and crannies. “The new 1924 BMW R32.”

“There’s a hell of a lot of power in her. She’s got a 494 cc boxer twin. Nice shaft drive too. She can run nearly 60 miles per hour, which is kinda crazy when you think about it. With the new braking system, one should have less trouble stopping her. But you don’t look like the type who’d be able to take her out on the streets and manage not to crash.”

The wizard looked up, laughing. “You sure sound like you know your onions-” He gasped. A woman with short mousy brown hair, a streak of pink tucked behind her ear, and bright blue eyes looked down at him. Her arms were crossed, the sleeves of her shirt rolled up and a cap pulled low over her face. In her pockets were a few different sized wrenches, one of which seemed to be engraved with Elder Futhark runes. Despite her demeanor, she looked at the young man with a friendly smirk.

“Zoe! You work here?” Douxie chatted excitedly as he stood, readjusting his unbuttoned waistcoat. He stumbled upwards, and Archie caught him before he slammed into the young woman. As he stepped forward for a hug, Zoe backed away, raising her grease covered hands cautiously.

“Watch the grease-”

His face fell while Archie cleaned his glasses and put them back on. The latter’s golden eyes widened in disbelief. “Merlin’s beard. It really is you, Ms. Ashildr!”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me, alright?” She rolled her eyes, but there was no bite to her bark. A genuine smile played at the corners of her lips as she looked on at the two before her. “It’s sure been a while, hasn’t it?”

“A while?” Douxie waved his hands furiously, causing nearby men examining other motorcycles to cast a glance at the trio. “Zoe, we haven’t seen you since…it must’ve been 1889? In Paris? The tower they put up there! Yes, we visited the new tower, and then we went back across the channel, and we lost track of you..I thought you were still in England! In fact,” he added, pointing to himself and Archie, “we only got here a few weeks ago.”

Archie groaned, “And that is why I’ve been telling him not to try and spend all his meager savings on a motorbike.” He caught a glimpse at the look in the witch and wizard’s eyes and groaned again. Waving them off, he straightened his tie and turned towards the other bikes in the shop. “I’ll take a look around for anything remotely affordable. If not, we’ll just go grocery shopping.” He cast a knowing look over his shoulder. “If you two get into any trouble, I’m expecting salmon for dinner, Douxie.”

While Douxie let out affronted noises of astonishment, Zoe laughed. She took Douxie’s hand into her own, fingers calloused and still covered in grease, guiding him outside of the shop. He felt heat flushing his cheeks, turning his face towards the ground.

Stepping outside into the busy Chicago street, Zoe handed him a blackened cloth to wipe his hands on and stuffed hers into her pockets. He nodded sheepishly, eyes still trained on the ground as he cleaned his hands. She raised an eyebrow. “Not that chatty anymore? Are you really this shy after not having seen me for a few decades, or are you just mad about me making a jab at your driving skills? Or rather,” she chuckled, “the lack thereof.”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” he shot back. He snuck a quick glance. She looked incredibly confident with her arms crossed like that. Very pretty. Her eyes met his. He quickly turned his gaze across the street to a very attention-grabbing and not at all boring law firm office. “And I’m sure you’ve got excellent driving skills.”

“I can get from point A to point B in one piece,” she shrugged, looking at a woman dragging her child away from an ice cream parlor. “I’ve been a menace on the race course.”

With a jolt, Douxie turned to her excitedly. “You’ve been racing?”

She nodded, trying (and failing) to not come off as ridiculously proud. “Raced under the name Xander on a few different Harley-Davidsons. Won a few times too.”

“I missed a lot, haven’t I?” She nodded in response, smiling wryly. His brow furrowed slightly. “It’s been so long, Zoe. I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“Tell me about it.”

“No, seriously.” She turned and met his gaze. His face was strangely unreadable, unusual for someone as vocal as Douxie about his emotions. There was a strange combination of worry and relief in his eyes, but also something else that Zoe couldn’t quite place. “I haven’t heard from you since before the turn of the century. And during the Great War…Zoe, I wasn’t sure if you were even alive.

Realization struck her across the face. Her joking manner fell away. “Oh, gods. Douxie, I-”

“Arch and I came to the States looking for a fresh start after the war. It’s taken us so long because England is in shambles.” His voice cracked as tears came to his eyes. “The war devastated us. I fought because, for some stupid, stupid reason, I thought I could find you there. I spent years on the battlelines, fighting to survive, not only for England, but also for you. If I made it out of that war alive, I wanted to find you. And yet, I found you here, four, five years later. In the States. Zoe, I almost didn’t recognize you because of your accent. It was your wand that gave it away.

“You couldn’t even be bothered to write a letter? To try and find us?” He was growing angry at this point, years of worry and dread boiling over into frustration. “Why did you disappear after Paris, Zoe? Where were you? Where did you go?”

She knitted her eyebrows, making to argue back, but then she paused. She sighed, nodding and stepping to the side as to let a customer into the motorcycle shop. Her eyes lit up, and she turned back to her old friend.

“How about I take you for a ride?”

“Zoe, don’t change the topic,” he moaned, “please.”

“I’ll explain it to you, if you get on the bike.” A rebellious smile. “We can take the R32.”

“To be completely clear, Casperan, if this thing comes back with so much as a scratch, my boss will kill me.”

“I don’t know why you’re telling me this. You’re the one who snuck it out of the shop in the first place. Not to mention that you’re driving.”

Zoe laughed, “Right. And it’s your job to keep us from dying.”

She ignited the engine silently with a wave of her wand. “It’s like riding a bike. You were a newspaper delivery boy back in the 40s right?” He nodded as she slipped on a pair of black gloves. “It’s just like that, just a bit different to steer. And lucky for you, you’re not the one steering.”

“Still not sure if I should be comforted by that.”

The engine sputtered a little, and she made to give it a whack before thinking better of it and tapping it gently with her wand. Pink sparks flew from the metal as the R32 came to life. She looked over her shoulder at him. “Just hold onto me, and everything will be fine.”

He hesitated before finally nodding, and she took off down the street.

It was magical. The bike was made by very human hands, but the speed and the exhilaration of it all brought out a euphoric feeling Douxie hadn’t felt in ages. It was like when he first made fire in his hands from the energy around him. His nerves crackled, and he felt his soul being pulled forward to an unknown destination.

Yet, at long last, he finally felt like he was home.

Zoe masterfully made her way out of the city and onto the roads beyond alongside the Illinois River. For a time, they were quiet, simply basking in the thrill of being on the road together after decades apart. The motorcycle thrummed as they kept driving to the point where the road met the sky.

They’d keep driving, and driving, and driving.

At one point they’d stop, the bike having run out of gas miles ago, fueled only by Zoe’s magic and will.

They sit on the side of the road, looking out over the river. And for hours and hours, they’d talk of the things they’d missed, the moments they had lost, time they could have spent together wasted apart.

Here, where the road met the sky, Douxie would look at Zoe. Her laugh and charm. He was still slightly resentful. But as they spoke and the daylight faded away, he felt his heart warm, the long quiet embers catching aflame once again.

Sure, she had grown into an American accent and slight rasp. Her once long brown hair was cut short. But she still laughed the same way. She still punched his arm playfully and knitted her brows together when he teased her for her height. She still had lightning in her eyes, bright as her wit.

She was beautiful.

#zouxieweek2022 #hisirdoux casperan #zoe ashildr #zouxie #fanfic #archie toa #toa fanfic #ananonswriting

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thebrokentale · 1 year

Text

Chapter 3- Chance

Previous Chapter- Cavern

“And?!” One man spoke, clearly upset.

“And what?” Tilda put a hand on her hip and stared blankly. She liked messing with Roger.

“Tilda you jerk! What happened next? Did you kill him or his daughter?!”

Tilda smiled. “Oh, that. I killed Roura, of course.”

Tilda lowered her sword into his soul, watched as it exploded with golden blood, and smiled. She took it in her hands, and held it in the air. Her white and black wings stretched even more as her joy became deeper. She opened her mouth, and her sharp fangs came down on his soul, a pain so terrible and unique that few would ever know its truth. Roura’s body fell apart, as blood sprayed out of Tilda’s mouth. The fight was over.

“You’ve got me hooked,” Roger said with a smile.

“Well of course. I was hooked too. What would happen to the soul I let live? That’s the golden question, isn’t it?”

“Pfft…” Roger snorted.

“What?”

“The… The GOLDEN QUESTION!!! HAHAHAHA!!”

Roger’s laugh was wonderful, as he smiled deeply. Despite being 20 years old, he seemed much older, as if he’d lived far beyond that. He had short red hair, with small parts of his hair being brown, his human color. The car crash that changed him and gave him salmon colored eyes was a distant memory, him being affected much further by something else.

His fight with Zabbaninja completely transformed him. He seemed much bigger, more confident, and having an aura of responsibility. He was someone you could rely on. He had a strong voice, making it so that you would never have to ask him to repeat himself.

His most unusual feature was his skin. Around his eye was a large tattoo-like red arrow, stopping before his cheek. His skin had other red spots on it, almost looking like a rash. But they were clean, and any being with a soul would understand how strong he was. His pupils were shaped like arrows, and his body reflected strength. This wasn’t the scared intern anymore. He was Roger, Zabbaninja’s modern partner.

Echo’s color matched his salmon energy, just as it did for all the other partners Zabbaninja had had. Roger only wore a huge red t-shirt that just fell over his entire body, like a dress. He wore arrow shaped bracelets on his arm, and his eyes were particularly bright today. He sat on Tilda’s bed, sitting criss-cross. Tilda sat against the headboard, staring at Roger.

“W- What is it?”

Tilda wore a similar outfit, though she had a shirt and short-shorts. “I just like looking at you. You really have grown.”

“So… In the story, what happened next?”

“So impatient. Let’s hold on a moment.”

“Eh?”

“Just saying all that was exhausting. How are you not tired?”

“I’m excited. This story has already enthralled me.”

“It’s a tale, not a story.”

“The Broken Tale. Why is it called that?”

Tilda got out of bed, and began to walk out of the room.

“H- Hey, where are you going?”

Roger got out as well, and walked towards Tilda. The ninja opened his hand, and Echo came flying to it. Purple energy breached off of him, and his outfit changed.

“I’m heading out.”

“W- W- Wait for me!!”

Roger ran up to Tilda, who looked at him.

“Faster than expected.”

They were both already at the bottom of the building, with Roger panting and sweating.

“Don’t do that.”

“I didn’t ask you to come along.”

“But your outfit is so cute. You couldn’t have gone all alone.”

Tilda blushed, something Roger hadn’t seen in a while. “W- What? That doesn't make any sense.”

Roger stood up and looked at Tilda. She wore a black strapless top over a pink bra, the straps from it being visible. She had a brown knee-length skirt, and a necklace with a thundercloud pendant. Her red hair was bright, even in the nighttime.

“D- Don’t stare so hard. People might get the wrong idea.”

Roger wore a much simpler outfit, simply a red hoodie over a-

“Why are you wearing a kilt? I didn’t even know you had that.”

“W- What? I think it’s cool.”

“Yeah, maybe when I was a child.”

“H- Hey!”

Now Roger was blushing. Tilda used this chance to walk away, feigning disinterest.

“W- Wait!”

Both spirits walked out the door, and began to walk on the sidewalk. Tilda created an umbrella out of spirit energy, protecting them from the rain. It was a beautiful sight, the neon city lights being clouded in the humid rain. Thunder lightly boomed overhead, nowhere near as loud as the sounds of the city.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere new. As we walk, I’ll tell you a little about Ocean culture.”

“Culture?”

“Yes.”

Roger stood with Tilda as they walked, both under the umbrella.

��The reason I told you not to stare is not because I don’t like you, or me being rude. The reason is it’s unusual to be considered ‘straight’ in the Ocean.”

Roger was surprised. “Really?”

“Really. It’s not that it’s completey unheard of, but the majority is gay or bisexual. A straight, ‘normal’, heterosexual relationship is pretty strange. So it’s a little embarrassing if you are straight. If you’ve got friends in the Ocean, they will tease you about it.”

“W- Wow.”

“That’s not to say there aren’t any straight people, but it’s less than you’d expect. Stella, for example, is interested in men. I was very shocked to hear that.”

“On an unrelated note, you mentioned something very strange when you were talking to Sora-senpai.”

“Senpai?!”

“Well, she is my superior, seeing that she was your best friend for a short while.”

“W- Whatever. What is it?”

“You said some crazy long title, something about Mind Eraser… Something. You acted like you both knew what it was.”

Tilda and Roger stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to let them cross.

“Mind Eraser Sentinel 13. Or more accurately, The Tale of Daniel.”

“Well that sounds way less threatening.”

“In the Ocean, people need time to learn their powers, and so there’s a lot of troubleshooting and trial and error. But that means that there’s also a lot of mistakes you can make. Some of those mistakes have been laid out as messages to the future, to help others accumulate them.”

“T- That was a lot.”

Tilda thought of a simpler way to explain it. “They’re bedtime stories.”

The walk light turned on, and the two walked on the crosswalk.

“B- Bedtime stories?”

“The little engine that could. The boy who cried wolf. They’re a lot like that, but we call them ‘tales.’”

“What about your tales?”

“They serve a similar purpose. To give you knowledge. I don’t think of them as stories. They are legends, with truth and lies combined into one.”

“But you didn’t lie about anything, did you?”

“I lied about a few things.”

“A- Anyway, who is Daniel?”

“His story is relatively simple. People with souls can go inside their souls.”

“That does NOT sound simple.”

“It’s not dangerous. As long as you know what you’re doing. Daniel found that he could kill his own emotions.”

“S- Still not simple.”

“Is the Little Engine that Could realistic? It’s a story! G- Granted, the difference is that Tales are real. Anyways, Daniel became addicted to killing his emotions. He destroyed his fear, his anger, his sadness and eventually, his joy. He thought he would be stronger without them, but all it did was turn him into a zombie. A Mind Eraser. A robot. A sentinel. He killed 13 gods before he was stopped.”

Roger was flabbergasted, but he still spoke. “So the lesson is to never kill your emotions.”

“Of course.”

“Scary…”

“It’s an old, old story, but it still stands strong today. Checking on your emotions is a sacred and special opportunity that only souls have. It should not be abused.”

“I see.”

“Sometime, we should check on yours.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Let’s take a break and sit down there.”

“We only need to go a little farther.”

“I’m a little tired.”

“Ok.”

The two spirits sat on a bench under an awning, free from the rain.

“There was another thing I heard you mention. Something about samurai.”

Tilda had a dark look in her eyes.

“Another tale. This one is more important though.”

Tilda looked at Roger. “The Tale of the 15 Samurai.”

Lightning touched the ground at that exact moment, shocking both Tilda and Roger.

“Freaky…”

“The Tale is cursed. After all, it led to a massacre across Japan. The villain Tatsumi was born, and he took everything with him. Roger, this time I’ll show you it.”

Tilda struck her sword on the ground, and the scene around them changed.

A spirit zone.

“Long ago, before I was born, there was a young boy, a spirit with absolutely incredible power. When he was fourteen, he had a casual conversation with one of his friends about karma. Essentially, he asked, what would happen if you were to kill the emperor?”

Around the two spirits was a frozen mountain, with a single cozy, yet warm shed out in the open.

“He began asking even more concerning questions, challenging the thought of karma, and what it would do to you if you truly did something nefarious. His friend took his findings to the imperial court, and then the Emperor made his move.”

A dozen or so people began to walk towards the shed, all wearing armor.

“He assembled 15 spirit samurai to take down the boy. These were some of the strongest spirits alive at the time, all who had a strong sense of honor and righteousness. And yet, when they got to the house where the boy lived, they all did something unexpected.”

The fifteen warriors stopped at the shed, and then began to remove their helmets. They set them on the snow filled ground, and unsheathed their swords. Roger was confused, as Tilda recounted the story she had heard a thousand times. Her purple eyes burned as she spoke her next words.

“The fifteen samurai let go of their honor, and left it all behind. Instead of killing the boy in a duel, they all dropped their helmets… And ambushed him.”

The scene that happened next was horrific. The fifteen samurai all jumped in the air, and tore open the shed, all of their elements and powers activating at once.

“The battle was long and terrible. It was one young boy against fifteen grown men, all with extraordinary powers. And yet… And yet… The samurai all began to fall, one by one.”

The boy fought them all off with his incredible power, stabbing and biting them as the samurai forsake any sense of honor.

“Not one of them survived. All their souls were destroyed, and they each faded away, only leaving their armor.”

Roger shouted, “B- But how?!”

“All of them died facing the boy, leaving only him. But the boy had exhausted all of his energy, and so, he froze to death in the cold, freezing over. It took fifteen spirits to kill one.”

The spirit zone faded away, leaving Tilda to turn to Roger. “In the Ocean, nothing is frowned upon more than ambushing someone.”

Roger was speechless.

“Tell me, in all of my stories, why is it that most opponents face them directly? Why do people announce themselves, when they could have the advantage? Why are most of my battles one on one confrontations? Why is it that even when people have the element of surprise, they still give themselves away to fight?”

“I thought that it was a little strange but…”

“Ambushing someone is seen as unethical, insulting, and most of all, a bad omen. People think it’s cursed. It’s become a superstition. Some don’t believe it, but they always live to regret it. I didn’t believe it. I killed Beninizu by ambushing him, and moments after that, I had my bloody fight with Gyoza.”

Tilda stood up, getting her umbrella back again.

“Come on.”

“R- Right.”

The two spirits continued walking, Roger still speechless.

“It was a nightmare of the greatest degree. But the question still remains- Why did they all die?”

“B- Because they forsake their honor. Their whole purpose as samurai.”

“That’s the answer that most come up with. But this tale… It has many interpretations. There’s no true answer. What happened to the samurai is very divisive in the Ocean. People have arguments over whether to disgrace or honor them. Was it a tragedy, or did they all deserve it? That may be an even better question.”

“Tilda, is the Ocean really-”

“Hold it.”

Tilda and Roger both stopped.

“We’re here.”

Roger looked around, not seeing anything unordinary.

“This is where our tale continues.”

They were on a large road. It looked surprisingly closed off, with the buildings towering over it in the darkness. There were street lights, but the neon lights that had been so prevalent before were flickering, giving an eerie feel to the more run down part of the city. There were a couple quiet cafe’s, with few people in them. You could see the desolate alleyways and fearful energy. And yet, in the middle of the road was one street light, its purple glow creating a small spotlight.

“Tilda… I don’t like this place.”

“What? Are you afraid of the dark?”

Roger held onto Tilda. “A- A little.”

“You’re just going to have to bear with it. This spot… This is where I met her.”

“Her?” Roger’s curiosity overpowered his fear.

Zabbaninja walked down the long road, going nowhere in particular. He was looking for a nice place to eat. Natsume was still in a foul mood from their fight. After the Endless Death, Natsume felt betrayed by Zabbaninja breaking his promise and killing Rook, a Dragon Spirit from the past.

It was fine. He was going to die anyway… Zabbaninja was extremely happy to have Natsume back, even if she was mad at him. And yet…

I do feel kind of bad. “It will be just ahead.”

“Zabbaninja, you realize this is the run down part of town right? You aren’t going to find anywhere nice here. Let’s just go home.”

“Natsume, I want to make it up to-”

“You can’t make it up to me. You lied to me.”

Natsume held her body inside of Zabbaninja’s heart. “You betrayed me. Went behind my back. I never should have fallen asleep.”

“Yeah. You shouldn't have.”

“Hey. It wasn’t my fault.”

“Really? Falling asleep wasn’t your fault?”

“Tilda-san. Don’t make me angry.”

“Rinku-san. You’ve got to give it up.”

Natsume appeared out of Zabbaninja’s body, and stared at the stalwart ninja. The android girl’s body and outfit was incredible, a fusion of woman and machine. Parts of her flesh were robotic, while other parts were not. Her eyes shone in the darkness, both with different symbols in them. Her green hair was long and carefully taken care of, and her anger was genuine.

But even though she was beautiful, she was also getting older. Her body was not the same it used to be. Her green bones were even more visible, glowing in the dark. The bags in her eyes were beginning to appear again, after a decade of sleeping. Her outfit was not as clean as it used to be, with tears and rips in some areas. But still she stood tall, her anger rising.

“Til-da, I thought our promise meant something to you.”

“It’s not like I wanted to break it.”

“REALLY? Are you really sure?”

“Yes Rin-ku! I’m sorry I killed him! Just forget about it!”

Natsume was in disbelief. She threw up her hands in frustration, her energy beginning to form around her.

“Forget? Forget about it? Are you- Are- Are you fucking for real?! Please, for the love of god tell me that was a joke!”

“It’s in the past!”

“Oh no. Oh no no no. Right now, it’s here. It’s here, and you aren’t running away from it.”

Now Zabbaninja was annoyed. He said his next words very slowly. “Running away?”

“That’s right. You’re running away because you got caught. You thought you could get away with it, but you were wrong.”

“Running away?!”

“That’s right Tilda. Tilda the coward. The Ninja who Ran.”

“C- COWARD?!”

“I never thought my Zabbaninja would turn into such a joke. You were so strong, wise, and sexy before. Where did that person go? Now all I see is a stupid, dumb, little bitch that can’t keep her promises.”

Zabbaninja was flooded with so much anger that she almost lost control of her body. Her blood ripped out of her as she created a chainsaw of malice. She was just about to run it into Natsume, ripping and tearing her apart when… She stopped. She stood still, silence filling her voice.

“Well, what are you going to do…”

Zabbaninja’s chainsaw faded away, her body completely still, even her breathing stopped.

“Zabbaninja?” Natsume tilted her head, her anger fading.

Zabbaninja just stared outwards, looking past Natsume. Natsume turned around, but nothing was there. There was nothing to be found. She turned back to look at the ninja, and repeated his name.

“Zabbaninja? Are you ok?”

Zabbaninja shook his head, and then began to breathe again. “I- I’m sorry. I just… Felt something. But now it’s gone. Must have been my imagination. What did you say to me?”

Natsume looked at Zabbaninja.

She forgot?

Zabbaninja smiled. “I’m sorry for arguing with you. I’m just… Being stupid. I really shouldn’t have broken our promise. I’m really sorry. Truly.”��

Zabbaninja took Echo and flicked the switch.

“Z- Zabbaninja! What are you doing?!”

Tilda stared deep into Natsume’s eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

Natsume wrapped her arms around Tilda.

“We can’t let anyone see you! You can’t do this!”

“I have to-”

Natsume flicked the switch on Echo herself, changing Tilda back.

“C- Come on. L- Let’s find somewhere to eat.”

“Right.”

Natsume went back into Zabbaninja, and he began to walk forward. He walked on the road, heading down it’s cold and dark streets.

I did hear that there was a great restaurant far from here. Somewhere really tucked away. I’ll find it for sure.

Zabbaninja smiled as he walked, thinking about the future. He saw someone walking by him, moving in the opposite direction. And while they passed, what felt like an earthquake and a tsunami all at once slammed into Zabbaninja. It was the same feeling as before, but multiplied a hundred thousand times. He turned to look toward the person, and they turned to look towards him. Under the purple light, they stared at each other for a moment. For just a second, the entire world was destroyed, and it was just Tilda and this person.

They wore a cloak, and hid their face under a hood. Even still, you could see they were wearing a skirt under it, and women’s tights. Tilda could sense that this person was a woman… And that she’d felt her energy before. The woman’s brown eyes glowed in the darkness, her frown strong and undeterred. She was so unabashedly angry that it went beyond anger and became something else. She looked away, and then walked into the darkness, going somewhere else in the city. The world came back to him, and Zabbaninja just stood there, completely broken.

Slowly the sounds of the city came back to him, and feeling entered his body. He fell to the ground, on all fours, his hands keeping his body together on the ground.

“T- Tilda?”

Natsume was the first voice he heard. Echo fell to the ground as well, landing on the hard road.

“Zabbaninja!”

The ninja looked up at Natsume. His eyes were shaking, just like his entire body.

“It’s her. After four… No, five hundred years, I’ve found her. It’s the same energy, or at least, incredibly similar to it.”

“Who?”

“Rogan.”

“W- What?” Roger looked at Tilda.

“R- Really?” Tilda nodded.

“I wasn’t exactly right, but I was really close. You’ll find out everything later. For now, let’s get out of this rain.”

“R- Right.”

Characters-

Tilda/Zabbaninja- The Ninja of Legend. The previous chapters were actually taken place in the past, as Tilda was telling a story to Roger, her partner. This story is, of course, The Broken Tale. Now in the present, Tilda finds a good place to sit down and continue the Tale. She does not like kilts because one of her greatest enemies, Beninizu, wore one.

Roger- Tilda's present-day partner. A trans-man, Roger is strong-willed, optimistic, and one of the few spirits alive. He heavily respects Tilda, even though he acknowledges her terrifying, brutal nature. He knows that both he and she are just as much villains as they are heroes, and has accepted it. He had a horrible fight with Tilda after she became possessed by the idea of killing. Through this, he awakened his element and transformed his body, mind, and soul. Element- Direction.

Rogan- Tilda's oldest and most important friend. An extremely powerful spirit, she was well-known for her heroic and chivalrous nature. She was also considered a womanizer, but even so, she never pushed this onto Tilda. Even though Tilda never laid a hand on her, after she killed all the spirits in Japan, Rogan seemed to have disappeared. Tilda was just about to give up on finding her until she felt her energy once again, hundreds of years later.

Tatsumi- A young boy who was attacked by 15 Samurai after challenging the nature of karma. The Samurais' deaths made people superstitious of an ambush, thinking it cursed.

Sora- Tilda's distant, distant ancestor, not in blood, but in how she also wielded Echo, the sword that turned Tilda into Zabbaninja. She was a knight who became a spirit after gripping Echo. She was tasked with following the Undying Wind, but eventually refused, wanting to be with the girl she loved instead. Tilda met her after going into the past, and they formed a friendship.

Information-

Spirits- Spirits are humans that are able to use spirit energy. This usually involves a human undergoing a tremendously painful process of awakening, but once a spirit, they gain incredible advantages. If a spirit has a child, the child will be born as a spirit, skipping the painful transformation. Tilda was born into it. Roger was not.

Souls- Both Spirits and Gods have souls as opposed to hearts. They are spherical in nature and with a strong-willed person, can force you to continue living even when you're body is destroyed. Even without a brain, heart, lungs, or any other organs, a spirit can still live if they have their soul.

Elements- Every spirit and god has a different element. Some are simple, like fire and water, while others can be much, much more abstract. One of the most important rules in the Ocean is- The more vague an element is, the stronger it is. God has the element of Ressurection, however, this doesn't just mean he can resurrect people. He can resurrect ideas, hope, destroyed buildings, and even emotions.

Next Chapter- Children

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ryllen · 3 years

Photo

Your one & only job is to lay down for a whole day, after console update & many standing nights, Mint

#next generation portia kids will never know that console spouse could never sleep and only sink half feet standing up on bed #my time at portia #mtap #mtap mint #mtap builder #fanart #mtap gale #putting this aside; portia on switch ran normally for me #now after update; i actually encountering bugs which make it scary to proceed on #i'm putting the switch back down #after crying at sleeping mint and extra interactions with the kids of course #*puts him in a golden salmon shirt #i fished those fishes specially for his soup #money was returned #mayor gale doesn't have gold statue of himself to build

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yanderenightmare · 3 years

Note

I have been reading and rereading your hybrid aus for the past week and they are just *chefs kiss* but how would you feel if it was reversed and the boys were the hybrids? 👀 (And what animals would you think they suit?)

I can also imagine this in like a "golden compass" au. These would be their daemons.

TW: predator x prey stuff, yandere

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

Striped hyena.

A carnivorous omnivore.

Will eat anything he can scavenge.

Doesn't mind living off scraps as long as he's surviving.

But he sure does love hunting.

He's a stalking predator.

Enjoys playing a bit with his prey before finishing them off.

Always snapping at their heels until they exhaust themselves.

Poor little thing falling to his feet all tuckered out and defenceless.

No energy spared to fight him back.

Tan jagged birthmarks lining his pale skin.

Running along his ribs and neck where they go side by side with his battle-scars and those scrapes he has from relentlessly scratching at his throat.

His white hair fluffy, pulled back up into a mohawk mane that runs right between a pair of large pointy ears.

The fucking smile he pulls.

With those sharp canines.

That swivelled-eyed look of utter insanity on his face.

As he chortles and cackles out that horrifying gut-wrenching laugh.

Sharp black claws and a long thick tongue.

Slobbering all over his prey.

His favourite meals are adorable antlered or horned herbivores.

Likes how hard they try to escape only to realise that he's been toying with them from the start.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

Lone artic wolf.

And a predator through and through.

Every word has a little growl in them.

Carnivorous.

But will result to an omnivore's diet in desperate times.

Though, he cannot survive on it for long.

He'll grow weak and thin.

Disgraced like a retched street-mutt.

Starving in back-alleys and underpass-bridges.

No home. No pack before joining the league.

Black tear ducks and waterlines, further intensifying his cold cyan eyes. Looking like a rockstar's eyeliner.

Fur white like freshly fallen snow.

If only he didn't dye the locks black all the time.

A dozen piercings running up and down his shaggy pointed ears.

A couple of cuts on them too.

They're so annoying to colour...

The paint always trickles inside his ear canals.

But his tail is even more of a hassle.

Thick fur constantly growing back out white.

Not to mention he isn't able to put a cap on displaying arousal.

His bushy brush always giving him away, wagging and whipping about like crazy.

Even when he's chewing someone's throat out.

His favourite meals are bleating cloudy-furred lambs.

They're like forbidden fruit in his eyes.

Pretty and untouched and so adorably naive.

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

Grizzly bear.

Classified as a fearsome carnivore.

He's way more of an omnivore in reality.

He's far from a beggar, but he'll use anything he can get his paws on to his advantage.

He's a fine diner though and doesn't find himself in a need to lower his standards too often.

He loves raw salmon in sashimi and sushi.

And berries and apples for a snack.

And has a habit of putting way too much honey in his tea.

He has a little tassel for a tail.

People tell him it's cute. Quite like a bunny-rabbit's cotton-dot.

Kirishima will even dare squeeze it every now and again to tease him.

He hates it. Always has his shirt covering it.

Not to mention his adorable round ears.

Which are a bit harder to hide even as they sit in the thick bush of his hair.

But he's far from cute all over...

Heavy footsteps.

Just massive in size and stupid strong.

Large sturdy hands, thick sharp claws.

Growls in his sleep and on every loud-mouthed gaping yawn.

Showing off those strong jawed fangs that can so easily snap a bone in half.

Likes smaller prey.

Like frisky flighty gibbering little squirrels with frilly red-brown bushy tails swishing about behind them.

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

Saltwater crocodile.

Reptile.

Purely carnivorous.

Always so kind, people forget he's deadly.

Cute snaggletooth in a mouth full of knifes.

A laugh so disarming you forget regarding the razors of his smile as made for tearing flesh.

Tough skin with some rough rocky scales.

Scattered in places they're needed.

Like knuckles, kneecaps and elbows.

Sharp claws. Solid, thick and sturdy.

Always marring the furniture and tearing textile.

Always indenting his palms with bloody leaking holes as he makes fist to calm himself down when he catches a whiff of blood on the breeze.

Abnormal eyes.

Blood-red iris with a black vertical slit for a pupil.

Made for discerning the strong form the weak.

Not picky when it comes to prey.

He's an opportunistic-hunter.

He'll grab about anything that dares come close enough to get snagged on his teeth.

KAMINARI DENKI

Bobcat.

Carnivore.

But he only picks on things much smaller than him.

Things that are easily snagged and held down by his razor sharp claws.

Retractable so they not dull.

Only used when pouncing on prey, climbing to escape or protecting himself through fighting.

Or threatening terribly soft skin.

Has a mouthful of strong pointy teeth.

Two long sharp fangs decorating both the upper and lower row of jaws.

Made for killing small prey with a single bite.

Cat-eyes.

Large and all-yellow with a drop of pitch-black.

Black waterlines and sharp tear-ducts.

Stylish dark spotted stripes in his blonde main.

Two fine pointed ears decorated with a tuft of black on the tips.

The signature bobbed tail, small and misleadingly cute.

He doesn't look too dangerous next to his friends but...

Good luck running from him.

He's quick as lightning.

It's really too bad his meal of choice are pretty birds that leave him in the dust.

With his speed he could catch about anything on the ground.

But he always seems to go for those who're just barely out of reach.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Fox.

Omnivore.

Loves the sport of hunting.

But will devour anything he can get his fine paws on.

Silent, fast, cunning, deadly.

Always watching...

Always thinking...

You won't see him coming and you won't see him leave.

You won't even know he's there.

Glowing green eyes.

Teeth small, but sharp. Always smirking.

Black tip on his pointy ears.

White tip on his thick fluffy tail.

He'll always tease with it, snake it about and tickle exposed skin.

Has a sick adoration for pretty little cottontails.

Can't get enough of their large innocent eyes on him.

And rubbing their soft fluffy lop-ears...

Finds them mouthwatering.

TODOROKI SHOTO

Snowy owl.

Carnivore.

Swoops in like a blizzard.

Merciless like the firestorm.

Eyes left human.

But no less abnormal.

One grey and the other cyan instead of them both being a deep unsettling yellow.

Majestic wings. Like a royal cape.

One as white as winter in the north.

Pearly feathers strict like pure starlight.

The other red like fire.

Bloody plume stark like the crimson glory rose.

So pretty, people mistake him for a swan half the time.

Only if it weren't for his curved and piercing talons.

Strong and ruthless.

Once those black claws tear into soft tissue...

They're not prone to ever let go again.

His favourite eye-candy are adorable little lemming.

A twitchy nose and bucked teeth.

They always scream so prettily for him.

SHINSO HITOSHI

Spider.

Imagine he has four more arms.

Three of them sprouting out on each side plus his legs.

He'd hold squirming little things down so easily.

Two hands pinning his tiny prey.

Leaving him with four hands spared to explore...

Fine silken string shooting from his palms.

Making the softest bonds.

Tying his prey up nicely.

Bringing new meaning to the art of shibari.

His main eyes left human, milky eyeball with a lavender ring surrounding a pool of black.

But the rest of his eyes aren't as normal...

With three slightly smaller ones decorating each of his cheek bones.

Pitch black looking like obsidian marbles.

Eight eyes in total.

Always watching.

Tusk-like fangs within his mouth. Behind that devious smirk.

Teeth secreting a special type of venom, seeping into his victims bloodstream.

A type of drug that has his prey weak to disobey his every little dirty command.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

Andean Condor.

More commonly known as the Black vulture.

Carnivore.

Considered the largest bird of prey in the world.

Despite the fact that their talons aren't nearly sharp nor long enough to catch and kill prey other than small rodents.

Like rats.

They mostly have other animals kill for them and swoop in at a later time to feast without needing to lift a finger themselves.

He'll wear gloves to conceal them.

Never allowing anyone to think of him as less a predator than what his other menacing features show off.

Wings as black as night.

Feathers sharp like blades, carving through the air.

With a wingspan reaching farther than twice the length of his height.

Third widest wingspan of anything gracing the sky.

Always flying above the fray.

Looking down at people as though they're all mere maggots wriggling about in the dirt beneath him.

Signature plague-mask always adorning him.

A curved beak complementing his natural bird-like features.

Feathered collar lining his bomber-jacket.

Also compensating for those vulture-traits he was left without.

Golden brown eyes.

Small and slim.

Regarding everything with disgust, judgement and scrutiny.

Rarely goes hunting for prey and therefor doesn't have a favourite.

But once he fixes his eyes on something... he's not quick to give up.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Do Us Part

Warnings: nonconsent and rape; oral, fingering, marital discord, cheating, spousal arguments and mental/emotional abuse, age gap (Peter is 24/25 and reader is 35/36)

This is dark!Peter Parker x 30s/’older’ reader and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find it hard to accept that not all good things last as you face the changes in your marriage, yourself, and your marriage.

Note: I wanted to write Peter again but also I’ve seen this nonsense about how 30+ writers are too old for fanfic which is dumb af. And I wanted to turn the age gap trope a little so that it wasn’t the reader being the younger one in the relationship. I label it older reader but I don’t think being in your 30s is old tbh (my bf is 36 so pfft). It was all just a conglomeration of circumstances that inspired a deceivingly sweet dark Peter and I hope you like it. Also it’s 7.4k so a bit of a longer read.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You walked slowly along the transparent shelves set into the pristine white walls of the cosmetics section. The department store was a haze of distant voices and the chirp of scanners as customers milled the aisles and waited their turn to check out. You whiled away your time looking at things you’d never buy as you waited for your husband to return from the men’s department.

You thought of the sparse make-up bag under your sink and the liners and shades you hadn’t used in years. They were likely expired and better tossed in the bin. You hovered along the crystal bottle of designer scents and stopped to test a particular blush-tinted fragrance.

You set the bottle back and peered over at the dark cubbies that housed the men’s scent. Even from there, you could catch a whiff of the heady scents as a younger man with reddish brown hair examined an angular vial of Dior Men. You suddenly felt out of place; a mid-thirties woman in her out-of-season clothes fantasizing about overpriced perfume.

Your husband's voice further cemented your reality as you fingered the golden cap of the Coach eau du parfum. Wesley rolled his eyes and flipped up the little plastic panel that hid the bold prices and huffed.

“I hope you don’t think I’m gonna pay for that shit,” he sneered, “what have you been doing? I was waiting for you.”

He waved a plastic bag as his lip curled and you pressed your mouth shut tightly and swallowed. The day began with another argument as he discovered the seared hole in his shirt and instead of blaming the crappy old dryer, he blamed you. Most of your clothes had been chewed up by the thing but you never complained.

“No, I was just… looking,” you teetered in your flats and glanced around. The young man at the corner display quickly turned to hide his nosy observation, “did you find some new shirts?”

“No thanks to you,” he sniffed.

“Oh,” you played with the hem of your tee and tucked your hands into your pockets nervously. You’d left him to look alone as you only seemed to irritate him and rarely took your advice on matters of clothing, “well, I thought I’d give you some space--”

“Stop acting so pathetic. Start taking responsibility for yourself. For god’s sake, you're almost thirty-six and you don’t know how to hang a shirt to dry?” He spun on his heel and snapped over his shoulder, “let’s go.”

You flinched but followed behind him as he strode away and you stumbled out behind him through the automatic doors. He tossed the bag into the back seat and slammed the door before flopping angrily into the driver’s side. You mirrored him daintily and squeezed your legs together as you tried to make yourself as small as you could.

“I told you about the dryer,” you said.

“And?” he started the engine and slapped his hand around the wheel, “call a fucking electrician or some shit.”

“Alright,” you shrugged as he stopped at the exit of the parking lot and checked his phone quickly.

“Benny wants to do a round of golf,” he peeled out and you grasped the door as your heart raced. You hated how reckless he was when he was angry. You hated how easily he got angry these days.

“Okay,” you picked at the fraying stitching of your purse.

“Don’t start moping,” he sneered, “I fucking work all week and I can’t go out and have a few rounds?”

“I never-- I didn’t say anything,” you murmured.

“You don’t need to,” he turned the wheel sharply as he cut off another car, “you sit at home all day and do what?”

“I work too,” you said.

“Uh huh, sure, if that’s what you call it.”

You ran your fingertip over the bleach stain on the knee of your jeans and said nothing. When he was in a mood, he would latch on anything until he outright exploded. You tried to think of when he changed, when he had stopped being the chill guy you met back in college. It felt like a slow trickle, small things you ignored until it was a mountain you could not see past.

You felt like crying but you’d stopped that a while ago. You existed in a purgatory of acceptance and helplessness. You wanted him to love you again, wanted to believe you could fix things. So you would keep trying. You would do better.

💍

You picked out a large flank of steak and winced at the price. You had a special dinner in mind. It was Friday and the work week was done. You wanted a weekend without a fight and Wesley was always one for a nice big cut of beef. You hadn’t made him one in a while, your dinners were the usual repetitive drumsticks and rice or your homemade mac and cheese.

You continued onto the fish section and grabbed some salmon for yourself. You’d gained some weight and decided to cut out dairy and red meat if you could help it. The pile of produce in your cart reminded you of the extra jiggle around your stomach and thighs. You also grabbed one of those women’s magazines that advertised a regimen to help slim your figure. You only hoped you could stick to it this time.

With your weekly haul in tow, you wheeled up to the check-out and waited behind a young man who looked oddly familiar to you. Maybe that was the passing years. You always felt a vague glimmer of deja vu, more often a sense of forlorn nostalgia of what you would never have again.

As you stared thoughtlessly, he looked over and smiled. He bent in front of your cart and picked up a thin packet of seasoning.

“You dropped this,” he said as he held it out and you thanked him before quickly snatching it and looking away.

He paid for his large bags of chips and over salted pre-packaged meals and packed up at the end as you loaded up your own goods, the cashier sending them down the parallel belt. You swiped your card and tried to calculate the chunk of money from your last check. You thanked the clerk and sidled past the young man as he finished up.

You rounded the counter as he lifted his three bags. You looked up without thinking, the sleeve of his shirt tight around his bicep. You caught yourself staring and looked back down as you packed in the cans.

It reminded you of Wesley; he’d also started being more mindful, he hit the gym after work and you noticed the little pudge that started just after he turned thirty was slimming out. It was that exact reason that made you notice the extra pounds on your own frame, not that you didn’t realise before.

The man left and you unfolded the little buggy you slid under the cart. You loaded your bags into it and dragged the cart behind you as you made an awkward exit with both wheeled trolleys. The compact fabric buggy was easy enough to fit on the bus if you stood.

You pushed the cart into the row of empty ones and continued across the parking lot. You rolled up to the bus shelter and checked the bus times on your phone. You dug out your strip of tickets and ripped one away. You leaned on the thin handle of your trolley and looked over your shoulder as you heard someone approach.

The man who checked out ahead of you put his bags on the metal bench inside the shelter as he sipped on a bright drink from the place just beside the grocery shop. He sent you a smile over his straw and you spun back to crane your head and search for the bus.

When the metal beast barreled up and cranked to a stop at the curb, the man waited behind you and as your wheels caught on the edge of the ramp, he reached around you and helped push it over the lip. You thanked him shyly and continued up. Usually you tried to keep the shop light on weekdays but you hadn’t really been paying attention.

You pushed your cart against the small barrier just behind the accessible seating and stood beside it, conscious not to take up too much space. The man stood just behind you two bags on one shoulder and the other dangling from the opposite elbow as he sucked on his straw. You grabbed the upright bar as the bus took off and watched the electronic banner for your stop.

A sharp stop had you veering back and you were caught by the young man as he chucked, “oop, you okay?”

“Yes, thank you,” you muttered and gave a sheepish smile over your shoulder.

“There’s a seat,” he gestured just behind you, “I’ll watch your stuff.”

“Um, no it’s… fine,” you gripped the bar tighter as the bus shuttled forward, “my stop is soon.”

You looked ahead of you and three stops passed before yours. You exited through the front with your buggy and headed down the sidewalk as the bus pulled away. You were exhausted just from your little sojourn and it wasn’t even two o’clock. God, you felt old.

💍

You had a salad chopped and tossed and the steak and fish laid out and seasoned. As you listened to your old Spotify list, the music dipped and the notification blipped over the screen. You washed your hands and grabbed the phone. You frowned as you read the lone message from Wesley, the only one you got from him all day.

‘Just finished at the gym, getting drinks with Andrew,’ you read and re-read the message as your heart fell.

You typed out a whole angry response and backspaced it all. You replaced it with ‘ok, have fun’ and blacked the screen. You shoved the meat back in the fridge and stretched saran wrap over the bowl of salad. You placed it on a lower shelf and closed the door, quickly swiping a can of the craft beer Wesley kept around.

You shut the light off in the kitchen and ignored the pang in your stomach as you cracked the can. You climbed the stairs as you sipped the hoppy foam. You put it on the night table and changed into the old butterfly pajamas you wore most nights and turned on the tv mounted against the wall.

You turned on Netflix but hardly paid attention to the carelessly chosen movie. You sat against the headboard and down the bitter beer until the can was hollow and your eyelids were heavy. You slumped down so that your shoulders were at your ears and dozed off in the stiff position as the room moved with the colours of the television.

The anger and alcohol shaded your shallow sleep and you hardly heard Wesley when he came in, only waking when your bladder was ready to burst and his snores rumbled in your head. You went to the bathroom and returned, wide awake, and stared at the shape of him in the dark.

You remembered when he used to kiss you when he came home, even when you were asleep, he’d wake you with the little pecks. You remembered when he was happy to come home. You remembered when you were happy.

You swallowed the acrid aftertaste of beer and left him to snore. You went downstairs and curled up on the couch but didn’t sleep. You just stared at the shadows of the furniture until the sun rose.

💍

The next day, Wesley didn’t wake until after noon and when he did, he didn’t say a word to you. He took his coffee and sat at the patio table in the back as you stewed and cleaned the kitchen. You had nothing to say to him even if you felt stupid for being mad.

“Gotta head down to the dealership,” he said as he interrupted your scouring of the stove.

“The dealership?” you said after a moment, deciding whether or not to break your vow of silence.

“I told you on Wednesday, I’m picking up the car--”

“We talked about this. We should wait a little longer--”

“It’s my money and I got a great price,” he sighed, “just because you have to pinch your pennies--”

“We’re married,” you squeezed the foam sponge, “it’s our money. Don’t act like I don’t pay for anything around here.”

“Oh thanks, honey, so wonderful you paid for a five dollar steak,” he scoffed, “I’ll be impressed when you can make a mortgage payment on your own.”

“How dare you!” you turned your back to him and kept scrubbing, “fine, but not a penny of my money is going to that thing.”

“That’s fine, I’m selling the old one, that should cover most of it--”

“What?” you slammed your hand between the burner, “you said we would hold onto it so I had something to--”

“Then you can buy it from me,” he said venomously.

“I’m your wife,” you spun to scowl at him again, “I-- what is wrong with you?”

He tilted his head and squinted as he poked his tongue out along his lip. “Nothing wrong with me,” he shrugged, “what’s wrong with you?”

“Don’t--” you warned as you pointed a finger at him through the bright yellow gloves, “don’t do that… I’ve been trying and you just keep pushing me away.”

“Me pushing you away?” he rolled his eyes, “you were passed out last night when I got home. Maybe if you didn’t fall asleep before nine I could actually fuck you… or at least get it up if you worked on losing some of that cellulite on your ass.”

Your lip quivered and you sucked in a breath. You shook your head and turned around again. You ignored him as your hand shook and you continued your work, scratching at the dried-on food around the burner. His empty mug clinked onto the counter and you listened to his exit.

Fuck him and his new car. You were done trying with him.

💍

Wesley’s new car was shrouded in the shade of the garage as the old black Hyundai sat out on the driveway with a red and white “For Sale” sign on the windshield. Right after he got back from his extravagant purchase, he made the listing online and several perusers stopped by Saturday night but Sunday morning saw the car still there.

You sat by the border of stones around the garden as he drank beer in the garage and approached any interested buyers who appeared; although so far he’d only had two before noon.

You tucked your clippers into your apron pocket and dusted off your gloves as you stood. You were a little dizzy from sitting out in the sun and a glass of water was the perfect excuse to drown out the annoying sound of your husband’s voice.

You ignored Wesley as you trod through the garage and kicked your sneakers off on the mat right before the three steps up to the house. You went to the kitchen and put your gloves on the counter as you filled a glass from the dispenser on the front of the fridge. You’d given up everything but water and the slices of lemon were the only flavour you had.

You took the glass and your gloves and headed back. Wesley waited just at the bottom of the stairs as he glared up at you with arms crossed. You sighed and descended but he didn’t let you pass.

“What is your problem?”

“Are you really asking me that?” you hissed.

“You giving me the silent treatment isn’t gonna fix this,” he snarled.

“You know what you said so… I shouldn’t have to tell you to apologize,” you retorted and he stayed put.

“Is this about the car?”

“The car is just another thing,” you cross an arm around your stomach, “you think I couldn’t use it to get around, to get the groceries maybe? Or, I don’t know, maybe since you have such a problem with my home office, I could go out and get a ‘big girl’ job as you put it so many times--”

“Your mother has a car she never drives. You can just take her with you, two birds, one stone. I need to sell this to pay for the new one--”

“The one I begged you not to buy,” you huffed, “you could’ve waited a few more years until we were a little more comfortable--”

“Oh, wait? Until we have a kid and all my money goes to it,” he snapped, “yeah, I’m sure we’d have the money then--”

“You’d have to fuck to do that,” you stepped down the last step and pushed past him.

As you came into the sunlight and shielded your eyes, a figure stood by the garden, knelt just by your tulips as he felt the soft petals. You narrowed your eyes. You recognized him for sure. It was the stranger from the bus.

“Um, hi?” you croaked as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Hey, it’s… you again,” he chuckled softly as he stood, “I saw an ad for a car and… well, I’m getting tired of the bus.”

“Oh, uh, my husband,” you pointed over your shoulder, “you’ll have to talk to him.”

“Okay,” he smiled, “Peter,” he held out his hand and you stared at it. You introduced yourself and shook his firm grip.

“Like I said, it’s my husband selling the car,” you brushed by him and got to your knees by the flowerbed. “Unless you’re looking to buy some wilting pansies.”

“Hmm, I like the tulips better,” he said as he slowly inched away, “thanks.”

You sat back on your heels and he strode over to the open garage. You heard Wesley greet him and didn’t bother paying attention to the same pitch you’d heard all morning. You pulled on your gloves and wiggled your nose as it tingled. You really just wanted to keel over and bawl.

“Sold,” Wesley announced and you heard a clap, “all yours!”

“I’ll just transfer the deposit,” Peter said and a minute passed before he emerged again, the keys hanging from his finger, “Thanks, Wes.”

You hid your distaste. It used to be that Wesley hated being called ‘Wes’ but lately, he introduced himself to everyone as just ‘Wes’. He really had changed. You must have too.

“Hey,” you looked up and blinked as the sun made your eyes water as it shone around Peter.

“You bought it?” you asked as you yanked free a weed.

“Yep, but uh,” he glanced over his shoulder as the old car stereo Wesley used blared out a classic rock tune, “I… wasn’t eavesdropping but I heard some of it and… if you ever need a ride to the grocery store, I usually try for Wednesdays,” he tucked his hand in his pocket, “I don’t live too far and since we go to the same one--”

“No, no, you don’t have to do that,” you looked back to the soil, embarrassed.

“Well, if you change your mind,” he kept the keys dangling from one finger and reached into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet and slid out a card with some effort, “I’m supposed to have these handy but I never really use them.”

He offered the business card and you read his name above the title, ‘senior photographer’. You gave a half-hearted smile and put it in your apron pocket.

“Thanks,” you said, “I can manage.”

“You don’t have to though,” he said kindly, “but I’ll, uh, leave you to your gardening. Sorry if I bugged you.”

“You didn’t,” you assured without looking up, flattered that anyone cared enough to even offer help.

“Hey, Pete,” Wesley stopped Peter as he neared the car, “you can have one before you go.”

“Oh, no, I’m gonna be driving,” Peter argued.

“Pfft, it’s a celebration and one won’t put you over the limit,” Wesley insisted and handed him a dark bottle of craft brew, “come on.”

“I really should go--”

“It’s a Sunday, where do you need to be?” Wesley patted his shoulder and looked over at you, “hey, honey, you wanna see if we have any snacks for our guest?”

“I’m not hungry,” Peter said curtly, “really. Just the beer is fine.”

They disappeared back into the garage and you cringed. You hated that. Wesley only every acted like a husband when others were around.

💍

You waited a whole week before returning to the grocery store. You were short on everything and it was a reason to get out of the house. Your husband had made both your home and your workplace hostile.

It irked you that Wesley resented you working from home when a couple years ago he was so happy about it. Then, he’d been so enthusiastic about starting a family but when it didn’t happen right away, he grew disillusioned and bitter. Now, he seemed to have no interest in being a husband let alone a father.

As you packed up your spinach and bottles of Perrier, your cart rolled just a little as someone nudged it from the other end. You raised your head and hid your surprise and discomfort as Peter smiled back at you.

“I thought you said Wednesdays,” you murmured as you dropped a bag in your cart.

“I forgot eggs,” he held up the carton, “I guess I have good timing.”

“You do?” you asked as you pulled your cart forward and maneuvered around to push it out of the way of fellow shoppers. You bent to grab your trolley from beneath and he caught it as you unfolded it.

“I’ll drive you,” he said.

“I told you--”

“I’m here so why not? Save the ticket for next time,” he urged.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why does it matter? Why do I matter to you?” you asked.

“I don’t know, I… like helping people,” he shrugged, “what if I told you you were helping me? I have this horrible need to be the hero.”

“That will go away,” you muttered under your breath and he lifted a brow, “sorry, I… thank you.”

“Alright, let’s go then,” he collapsed the trolley and carried it easily under his arm as he cradled his eggs in the other, “I got the A/C fixed on the car too.”

“Mmm,” you hummed and walked with him out of the store.

You crossed the parking lot and helped you load up the bags in the trunk. That car should have been yours; you’d made enough payments on it yourself but Wesley was such a stubborn ass.

You sat in the front seat as he slid into the other and started the car. He drove cautiously through the lot and you read the store signs as he came to the exit.

“How long have you and… the old man been together?”

“Um,” you glanced over at him and chewed your lip, “since college so… almost fifteen years now.”

“Fifteen?” he turned out onto the street, “really? I thought he was older than you.”

“Christ,” you scoffed, “don’t flatter me.”

“Really, I woulda said twenty-eight at most,” he said coolly, “wow, I feel so young now.”

“And I feel so old,” you grumbled as you crossed your legs, hoping he didn’t notice the wrinkle in the pink capris.

“Whatever, you’re not even forty,” he said, “and time has treated you well so I can only think in a few years… oh jeez, sorry, that came off weirder than I intended. Not that I meant for it to be weird at all--”

You giggled at his rambling as he rolled to a stop at the sign and peeked over at you in the rearview. You caught his eye and quickly looked away, “what?”

“Just… you have a nice smile,” he said as he turned down a side street, “and a nice laugh.”

“Thank you,” your voice was brittle at the genuine compliment, “you’re funny.”

“Am I? I wasn’t trying to be,” he took the same short cut you took when you walked home from the convenience store which was closer than the plaza.

“And nice,” you said as he came onto your street, “you really didn’t have to drive me. You could’ve dropped me at the corner--”

“No way, I was raised better than that, and if you think I’m letting you carry that all in by yourself--”

“Raised to help little old ladies?” you mused.

“Raised to treat ladies properly,” he corrected, “especially pretty ones.”

“I’m married,” your heart pattered as you dared to flirt back, almost in disbelief that he was humouring you, “and your lies don’t work on me, young man.”

“Not that young,” he insisted as he pulled into the driveway.

You got out and went around to the trunk. He handed you the bag with the bread and other light products, and loaded up with the other bags.

“You get the doors, let me do the heavy work,” he said and nodded you towards the house.

You went ahead of him and unlocked the door. You let him inside and pointed him into the kitchen. He placed the bags on the counter and stretched his arms and hands as you set yours on the other side. The muscles of his arms moved under his skin and you could trace the lines of his torso through his grey tee.

“So,” he took out the bottle of Perrier, “this going in the fridge?”

“What-- you’ve done enough.”

“Fridge?” he ignored you and pulled out the other.

You gave a long blink and threw up your hands in surrender, “yes, please,” you came around and reached in to grab the whole grain buns, “bottom shelf.”

You finished unpacking your groceries and took the empty bags from Peter and shoved them under the counter. You stood and looked at him nervously as he watched you, his fingers tapping on the granite.

“Do you want a snack? Something to drink? Water?”

“I’ll have a water,” he said and moved to leaned his elbow on the countertop, his side snug to the edge.

“Sparkling or--”

“Regular’s fine,” he answered

“Ice? Lemon?” you pulled out a tall glass.

“Just ice is fine… then I’ll be out of your hair,” he said.

Ice clinked into the glass and you covered it with the distilled water from the fridge. You slid it onto the counter and stepped back.

“Oh, I… actually, it’s a good thing I ran into you,” he said and took a sip, “my aunt, she likes to garden too but she got some bulbs she’s not gonna use, I thought maybe… maybe you would like some to fill in the holes?”

“What kind?” you asked.

“Some daffodils and some crocuses, I think,” he said, “I could bring them over next week after work?”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” you scrunched your lips, “you could probably just give them to a neighbour.”

“It’s not out of the way,” he said, “you want them?”

You stared at him and thought. He was nice. Too nice.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing, I… I’m sure you have a girlfriend you could be spending time with--”

“I don’t. Not anymore,” he interrupted.

“Oh, sorry,” you said, “I didn’t--”

“Like I said, I always wanna be the good guy,” he finished his water and the last of the cubes settled at the bottom, “thanks.”

“No, thank you,” you said as he set his glass in the sink and backed away, “really, you made my day so much easier.”

“I hope your weekend is better,” he said, “but…”

He didn’t finished and you folded your hands together as he hesitated by the hallway.

“But what?” you prodded.

“Nothing,” he shook his head, “nothing. I should go.”

“Okay,” you rubbed the back of your neck, “see ya.”

“Monday,” he confirmed as he turned to the doorframe, “I’ll bring the bulbs. Just after seven.”

“Right,” you slanted your lips and watched him go.

The door marked his departure and you turned to exhale and lean against the counter. You could still smell his rich cologne. Then you felt guilty. It was stupid to think he was doing anything more than being nice, that the flirting was anything but a joke, but still, you missed feeling that way and it should’ve been Wesley making you feel that.

💍

You squeezed the phone as you clenched your jaw so tight it hurt. Your eyes were wet and finally the tears were ready to start falling. The smell of steak filled the kitchen, another meal you wouldn’t eat. At the last minute, Wesley texted to tell you he was hitting the gym. Again. He was already late after a long meeting but promised he’d be home to eat.

So you waited for him to answer your furious phone call but got his voicemail instead. Your eyes narrowed at the bottle of wine and your chest knotted as the tone sounded.

“Wesley, this is it. I can’t do this anymore! I’m your wife. Do you even want to be with me? I can’t go on like this and now you won’t even answer my calls,” you snarled. You knew he had his phone on him as he no doubt had his Spotify work-out list on shuffle, “when you come home, you can sleep on the couch.”

You hung up and grabbed a stemmed glass from the cupboard. You filled it to the brim with Pinot Grigio but before you could taste it, the doorbell made you jump. You set down the glass and walked up the hallway. Just on the other side of the frosted glass was a silhouette. You opened the door and touched your forehead as you faced Peter.

“I totally forgot you were coming,” you breathed, “I’m so sorry. But thank you, you really didn’t have to--”

“Are you okay?” he asked as the paper bag in his hand crinkled.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I… thank you for the flowers,” you looked at the brown paper bag and he handed it over, another bag on his wrist; white with ribbon handles, “what’s that? You headed out for a date?”

“Um, no,” he said, “actually, I was just…” he pushed his fingers through his hairs, the reddish brown locks slightly curled with sweat, “I wanted to talk to you.” He looked past you and his warm eyes returned to yours, “Wesley isn’t home yet?”

“No, he won’t be for a while,” you backed up, “so you might as well come in. I have a steak no one’s gonna eat.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t be,” Peter said glumly, “and steak sounds good.”

He closed the door behind him and followed you into the kitchen. You put the bulbs at the back of the counter and grabbed the bottle, “wine?”

“No thank you,” he said.

You plunked down the bottle and took a gulp of your wine before you turned to plate the steak and your chicken breast alongside the fried asparagus and roasted potatoes. You set the filet before him as he sat on the stool and climbed up across from him at the long island.

“Thank you,” he watched you slide a steak knife and fork towards him and his gaze lingered on your lips as you took another thirsty mouthful, “this is for you, actually.”

He pushed the white bag over to you and you smelled the subtle floral scent rising from it. You put your glass down and pushed open the top of the bag and peeked inside. You shook your head and rescinded your hand as if you were slapped. It was the same perfume from that day weeks ago.

“You… how?”

“You don’t remember?” he asked.

You thought back on the day you wanted to forget. He was the other shopper in the perfume section, the one who sent you that sympathetic look as Wesley reproached you. You winced and grabbed your utensils. You cut into the chicken and shoved it in your mouth. You swallowed loudly.

“Take it back,” you sniffed, “I don’t want it. I don’t deserve it.”

“You do. He doesn’t deserve you,” he carefully sliced into the medium rare steak.

“Is that what this is? Some perverted joke? A challenge?” you dropped your fork and knife, “you think you can seduce the sad housewife and then laugh at it? Sow your wild oats?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” he calmly put down the silverware, “I… what I didn’t say when I showed up is I just came from the gym.”

You frowned in confusion and wrinkled your nose. You took another drink of wine as you tried to understand.

“I saw Wesley,” he said as he leaned on his elbow and pulled out his phone with his other hand, “I didn’t wanna say anything but… you’re here beating yourself up over him and-- just look.”

He slid his phone across the counter and you looked at the screen. Your entire body felt heavy and your veins filled with ice. You dropped your head into your hands as you tried to wipe the sight from your eyes; the image of your husband groping a woman in yoga pants, an act she wasn’t deterring.

“I knew it,” you sobbed as the tears burst forth and leaked down your palms, “I knew it. And why wouldn’t he? I’m old, ugly--” you sniffed and pulled your hands away to wipe them on your pants. Peter held out a paper towel and you took it as you avoided his eyes, “thank you but I think you should go. I’m humiliated enough.”

“You shouldn’t be alone,” he said as he climbed down from the stool and rounded the island, “he’s an asshole. He’s blind.”

“Please, Peter, just leave me alone,” you slid off the stool and he caught your shoulders. You looked up at him as you dabbed away the streaks of sadness with the paper towel, “Peter--”

“I’m not leaving,” he said firmly, “he’s out there having his fun, so why don’t you have some of your own?”

“Peter, that’s-- that’s wrong. I’m too old for you. And… I’m fat and--”

“You’re perfect,” he reached up to frame your chin with his hand, “you’re gorgeous,” his other hand trailed down your arm and to your hip, “that’s the first thing I noticed about you…” he pulled you closer and tapped your ass lightly.

“No, I can’t-- I just want to be alone,” you pushed on his arms and felt the thick biceps as he flexed and kept you close.

“Well, baby, what I want,” he turned you so that you were pinned between him and the island, “is for you to put on that perfume… I want you wearing nothing but that.”

“Peter,” you pushed on his chest that time and the hard muscle wall didn’t budge, “Peter, go--”

“Baby,” he bent and scooped you up suddenly.

His hands spread over your ass as he lifted you and crushed his lips against yours. You murmured in surprise and he placed you on the granite countertop. He parted from your lips as you sat up and he shoved your legs apart, inserting himself between your knees. He played with the bottom of the dress you’d worn in hopes of rekindling your dying marriage.

“We can go slow,” he tickled along your thighs and pulled back suddenly, “just a little at a time.”

He leaned in as he reached around you and grabbed the small white bag. He pulled out the perfume and snaked his hand around your neck. He pulled you to bend over him and he kissed your neck just before he sprayed a puff of perfume across your throat. He stood back and took a deep breath. He put the bottle on the counter and his hands went back to your skirt.

“Peter,” you caught his hands as they crept under the fabric, “please.”

You tried to slide forward and he stopped you as he grasped your hips and held you in place. He bit his lip as his eyes glimmered up at you. He drew a hand away and took the glass of wine and held it before your mouth.

“Drink, relax,” he cooed, “forget about him.”

You stared at him and he brought your hand up with his and wrapped it around the full body of the glass. He nudged it to your lips and watched you until you drank from the crystal rim. He smirked and lifted your skirt as he bent to bury his head beneath the folds.

You gulped and choked on the wine as your skirt fluttered down over his shoulders. You felt his finger on the lace trim of your panties and winced. He squeezed your thighs with his other hand and nuzzled the crotch of your underwear. You tried to close your legs but he kept them apart easily.

He curled his fingers under the elastic of your panties and tugged. He pulled until you lifted your ass just enough for him to get them free and he guided them down your legs before quickly parting them again.

You set down the glass and almost overturned it, the last mouthful splashing up the side. You pressed your hands to the granite and peered down at the shape of his head beneath your skirt. You gasped as his cool tongue grazed your warm folds and delved deeper.

“Peter…” you wisped and closed your eyes as you tried to hide from your own shame.

He purred as his tongue flicked over your clit and you twitched. He caressed the crease of your thigh with his fingers as he lapped at your, his other hand pressed against your stomach until you fell back across the counter. You arched your back instinctively and his hand cupped your tit through your dress.

He blindly pulled until your chest slipped out and pushed the cup of your bra as he teased your clit with his tongue. He felt along your cunt with his fingers and shoved his index inside of you. You moaned as he pushed another inside and curled them as he suckled on your bud.

Your core burned to life. Your entire being was set alight after months without affection. You quivered in delight and fear. Your nerves stormed both out of guilt and hunger. It felt so good but you knew it was wrong. The scent of the perfume filled your nose as your skin grew hot.

He moved his hand in time with his mouth as he doted on you. His touch intensified as your legs bent around the side of the island and your fingernails dragged along the granite, your voice rising without thought. He pinched your nipple and you cried out as you came in a wave of sheer pleasure and grabbed his wrist as you tried to steady yourself.

He eased off slowly as you trembled in the afterglow, his lingering touch tickled along your legs as he pushed your dress up. He pulled you to sit up and lifted the fabric over your head and ripped your sleeves free from your arms. He tossed as side the garment and swiftly covered your mouth with his so you tasted your own arousal on his tongue.

He unhooked your bra blindly and slid it off your arms. You were intensely aware of your nakedness and as you brought your arms up to cover yourself, he forced them down and ran his hands over your bare torso.

“Beautiful,” he said as he laid a trail of gentle pecks along your throat and chest, pausing to take a nipple in his mouth as he rolled the other between his fingers and sent a shiver through you.

He kneaded your sides and hips, his fingers danced along your thighs and he followed the path with his mouth, kissing and nipping your flesh. He lifted his head again as he took your hands and twined his fingers through yours. He tugged you gently until you slid off the counter and landed on your feet shakily.

“Baby, you’re so amazing,” he placed your hands on his chest and pushed them down his muscled torso and brought them back up beneath his tee shirt, “go on.”

He let you go and you continued to roll up his tee. He dipped his head and raised his arms to help you and you clung to the tee as it fell limp in your grasp. Dazed, he snatched the shirt from your hands and flung it. He once more pressed your hands to his chest and guided you in feeling the lines of his toned flesh.

He pushed your hands against the top of his jeans and leaned into you. He kissed your temple and whispered along your hairline, “turn around, baby.” He squeezed your ass and purred, “mmmm, please, I wanna see that ass.”

You blinked, dazed, and spun slowly. You caught yourself on the edge of the counter as your legs trembled and you heard the subtle zip. He kicked his foot between yours and pushed your legs apart as he led you back so that you were slightly bent against the island. He ran his nails down your back and gripped your hip with one hand as his other drew away from your skin.

You flinched as you felt his smooth tip against your ass and he rubbed it between your cheeks. You inhaled and held in your breath as his hold on your tightened and he angled his dick under your ass and grazed your cunt. He poked your entrance and pressed his chest to your back as his hand covered yours on the granite.

He slid into you and your voice fizzled in the air as he forced the air from your lungs. You pushed your head back and it met his shoulder as his other hand crawled down your front. He spread your folds with his fingers and swirled another around your clit as he tilted his hips and thrust into you slowly.

“Ah, Peter,” you slapped the counter and he shushed you as his hand left yours cold and his fingers stretched over your throat.

His motion picked up as the noise of him crashing into you echoed around the kitchen. Your eyes rolled back as he rammed into you even harder. You were on tiptoes as he was driven by the weak moans that leaked from your lips and your wet pleasure squelched around him. He pressed two fingers to your bud and rubbed until you squeaked and your thighs quaked around him.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, “I bet you never cum like that for him.”

You whined and he sped up again. He pinned you against the counter so that the lip pressed into your stomach. He took his hand from your cunt and pushed your head down as he kept his other hand around your neck. He didn’t waver once as he fucked you.

“Touch yourself, baby,” he commanded, “I want you to cum again for me. I know you want to too.”

His thick breath warmed the air and grazed your back as he held you down and his hold on your neck tightened until silver stars rose in your vision. Your feet dangled against the tile and you reached down to play with your clit as it buzzed. It was only seconds before you were murmuring in ecstasy once more.

“Fuck, baby, can you feel that? The way your clinging to me,” he puffed as he slammed into you over and over, “he can hardly fill you, can he? Hmmm? Little man.”

You wheezed as he choked you and his other hand kept your head pinned. You heard a distant creak but could barely do more than keep your fingers moving as your heartbeat deafened you. You came again and croaked as your cunt squeezed him hungrily.

“What the fuck?” the voice broke your lusty trance and suddenly you were pulled away from the counter.

Your head lulled as Peter held it up and turned you around, his pelvis slapping against your ass as you faced your husband. Your mouth hung open as your blurred vision barely registered the scene and the deep grunts only got louder behind you.

“Look who’s here,” Peter rasped as he snaked his arm around you.

“The fuck are you doing?” Wesley sneered as your eyes closed and your ass rang with each thrust.

“What you can’t,” Peter snickered, “doesn’t she look so happy?” He grasped your chin and pushed his fingers into your mouth as he held your head up, “well, you into watching or you gonna let us finish, old man?”

#peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #fic #peter parker x reader #dark fic #one shot #dark!fic #do us part #marvel #mcu #spider-man #avengers

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missallsundaes · 3 years

Text

Sanji x Male Reader — Amateur Chef

2111 Words • CW dealing with repressed bisexuality

When Luffy heard your self proclaimed cooking skills in the town market to a friend, he immediately invited you on to the ship, even without trying your food. A bigger crew needs more cooks, was his reasoning for Sanji. Sanji wasn't exactly happy about the new addition to his kitchen, possessive about his things and how the kitchen was maintained. And he was sure that you wouldn't take the same care as he did. At least you had your own set of knives, he thought with a sigh.

The first night cooking together proved to be...a challenge. He was paying you no mind, working in his own entrees for the crew, but the haphazard slap of the kitchen knife against the chopping board, well he could only stand it for so long before his temper got the better of him.

“What the fuck are you doing over there, amateur?” He seethed, turning to face you.

You sheepishly set down your knife on the counter, stepping back to show Sanji the vegetables you were cutting. His heart skipped a beat, seeing your rough cut shapes and uneven chops.

“What are you doing to that poor food!” Worded like a question, but spat at you like an insult. He approached you cutting board, staring down at the mangled shapes of potato, carrot and celery, hand frustratingly pulling through his hair.

“Well I'm just making soup..” You started, you were a bit offended but the chef in front of you was too intimating to talk back to. You'd heard enough stories about Black Leg Sanji to know when to keep your mouth shut.

“So you decided to torture your poor ingredients?” He reached for his own knife, wiping it clean with a cloth before trying to salvage the vegetables. You watched in awe as he saved first the potatoes, then the celery. He looked at you before touching the chunks of carrot on the board.

“You taking notes, amateur?” He said. His voice was softer now though his tone was still harsh. He raised the visible eyebrow, “Come over here and learn how it's done.”

He waved you over to stand in front of him, placing his hand over yours on your knife, he guided your left hand into place, showing you the gentle fist to protect your fingers without losing grip on the vegetables. He started slow, chopping motions in cool even bursts, slicing the chunks of carrot into perfectly measured cubes. You tried to pay attention but the beating of your heart in your throat, his warm hand over yours, and his firm chest placed against your back was all that your mind could focus on.

When the carrot was taken care of he let go of your hand, leaving you feeling you were missing something. You watched him cross the kitchen again, standing again in front of his own prep, you watched him skillfully pull the bones from a huge fish in one movement, running his hand over it to make sure it was all removed, looking for even the smallest of bones.

You hadn't heard about how gentle he was. How careful in the kitchen with perfect mannerisms. He looked at you, and you realized how obviously caught up in watching him you were, jumping to peel the garlic in front of you for your soup. He laughed, turning back to his prep, beginning to make a marinade with fresh lemons and cracked pepper for the fish.

“You're not a chef are you?” He said, looking at you briefly as he squeezed the lemons of their juice.

“No not at all,” you said sheepishly, ”I know a few recipes but when a wanted pirate grabs you and tells you you're going to be a chef on his crew you listen, you know? It's not like I was in a position to refuse..”

He sighed, knowing exactly how enthusiastic Luffy could be when he set his mind on something. “Don't worry, you can be my sous chef. I'll teach you what you need to know. We'll start with more knife practice for breakfast tomorrow, I hope you're okay getting up early.”

You thought briefly of how much you were not a morning person, though this was not the time to mention that. You nodded, “Thanks for helping me. You're a kind man.”

Sanji's face flushed at the genuine compliment, turning around quickly as if there was a pressing matter in the fridge to attend to. “N-nonsense it's just the right thing to do.” He stammered, head buried in the fridge, looking desperately for an ingredient to pull out that would make sense.

///

He kicked your hammock in the men's cabin, foot still perched on your side as you swayed back and forth, trying to regain your senses, shaken from a dream about your new crewmates, the one in front of you in particular.

“I thought you could be up early,” he laughed.

The room was still full of the snoring of the other men, the only light from the lantern in Sanji’s hand, casting golden light across him. He was already dressed in his slacks and dress shirt, looking primed for the day. You were sure that you looked the absolute opposite, feeling the drool caked to your cheek and knowing your hair was probably a wreck.

“Uh, about that,” you chuckled, climbing out of the hammock and hopping to the floor of the cabin. “I may not be as much of a morning person as I said.”

“I figured as much when you didn't wake up the first few times I kicked you.” He said, “Though I bothered you enough for you to say my name in your sleep.”

You turned from him, hiding your face by searching for a clean set of clothes, forcing an awkward laugh, “Oh yeah I must have subconsciously known you were trying to wake me.”

“Well hurry up, these idiots won't be asleep forever, and you do not want to see Luffy without his breakfast.” He left the room for you to get dressed, and you trudged to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

When you met him in the kitchen, he had a multitude of fruits set up at your station. You could smell bacon in the oven already, and he was whipping a large bowl of eggs for what you could only imagine was the biggest omelette of all time.

“Took you long enough.” He said, though he had a smirk on his face, his harsh attitude from yesterday softened.

“Am I chopping these?” You said, lifting your knife to slice the strawberries laid out on the board.

“Ah ah wait. Hold on I'm almost done.” He said, setting down the bowl of whipped eggs on the counter. He approached you, watching over your shoulder. “Do you remember the lesson from yesterday?”

You nodded, ”I think so.” you put your hand in the position he showed you, holding the knife how it felt under his guiding hand, breathed in and started slicing the strawberries.

The difference in your cuts from yesterday to this morning was leagues away. He adjusted your elbow, his firm gentle touch making your heart flutter, and just the adjustment of your arm made your slices neater. “Breathe,” he said, his own breath hot in your ear and making you catch your breath instead. You struggled to retain your breathing, but your cuts were messier now. He took your hand again, your heart beating through your chest. “You're making this so much harder than it is, watch. Breath with me.”

You times your breathing to match his, his firm chest pressed into you, his hand over yours. You felt your chests rise in succession together, making you feel as one. His hand held yours in place, but you were doing the work.

“Exactly like that,” he praised, you felt like you could melt right then and there. “You're doing great.”

He let go of you, stepping back to the stove top to heat a huge skillet for his omelette. “You've got it from here I presume.” You watched him for a moment, testing the temperature of the pan before adding his eggs and watching them diligently. “Most of breakfast is ready, so just get the fruit cut and plated and then we can wake up the crew.”

You nodded, “Thanks again, Sanji.” You said, continuing to chop the fruit in front of you, plating it up on the large platter he had set out.

///

The next few weekswent the same, Sanji waking you in the morning. Him teaching you new techniques to use in the kitchen. Making three meals a day together, not including if someone wanted a snack, getting closer and closer until you couldn't bear it. Your feelings for the man were definitely growing, you had a sneaking suspicion that he had similar feelings for you, but the constant doting of the girls on the crew made you doubt yourself, fearing that he wasn't into men the way you were.

You had already made fresh baked bread together that morning, as you watched his hands knead the dough tauntingly slow, his strong hands rolling it out and beating it down, his sleeves rolled up you could see the flexing of every muscle in his forearms.

You were cracking about two dozen eggs into a large skillet to fry, trying not to think about how close he was to you, chopping chives to put on top of your fried eggs.

“Sanji,” you said, rinsing your hands of the raw eggs in the sink.

He didn't look up from his work, now slicing pieces of smoked salmon, “Eh?” He said.

“I think I might have a problem,” you said, trying desperately not to look at the blond sharing the kitchen with you. He set down his knife, immediately checking your eggs over, the stove temperature, any kitchen error he could think of before looking you incredulously in the face. “It's not my food.” He looked more relieved than you expected and you laughed.

“What is it then?” He said, curly brow peaked with curiosity.

“I think I fell for one of my crewmates since I've been on the ship.” You flipped your eggs carefully, trying not to break your yolks.

“Oh? Nami? Robin?” He said, going back to work at his salmon. He wasn't jealous, per say, it's not like he really expect to feel this way about you. Plus the girls were gorgeous in every way, how could a red blooded man not fall for them. He still didn't know how to accept his feelings for you, forcing down any hint of bisexuality that he ever felt, blocking out those feelings, usually with anger.

“Uh no,” you said, turning off the heat on the stove and letting the residual heat finish your eggs as you seasoned them with salt and pepper. Beginning to set up the crews plates with thick slices of your fresh bread, two eggs each (four for Luffy and Zoro), sprinkling the chives on top, and passing the plates to Sanji to top with smoked salmon and hollandaise sauce.

After a moment of silence so thick you could slice it with the kitchen knife next to you, you continued, “Sanji, it's you.”

He almost dropped the plate he was holding, and you both moved quickly in reaction, hands one on top of the other under the plate. “What,” he said, worded like a question but tone flat in disbelief.

“Just, spending all this time with you has meant so much to me,” you withdrew your hand, looking away from him to hide the tinge of crimson on your cheeks. “Having you close to me, your guiding hands. Your strength. I can't help it.” He was still frozen in place, thoughts racing. “Just don't worry. Never mind, forget I said anything!” You said, plating the last of your half of the plates.

“Wait,” he said, as you were leaving the galley to wake the crew, “I think I fell for you too.” You stopped in the doorway, turning back to face him, but his back was to you. “I grew up not allowed to be who I wanted and even though I can now it's still hard to accept who I am. But I want to learn and be better. I want to be with you.”

“Do you mean that?” You said, letting the door swing back closed.

“Yeah,” he laughed, he turned to you smiling with tears in the corners of his eye. “Yeah I definitely mean it.” He wiped his eye, “Come on then, let's go wake up the ravenous beasts.”

#Sanji x reader #sanji vinsmoke x reader #black leg sanji x reader #black leg sanji #sanji #sanji vinsmoke #one piece #one piece x reader #male reader

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tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

Till food do us part - Rowaelin one shot

Good evening everyone.

I am back with a quick Rowaelin oneshot. This short fic came to me last week while I was in my hotel in Inveress getting ready to check out. Once on the train back to Aberdeen I had two hours and a half and I wrote this.

It’s a simple story and just pure undiluted Rowaelin domestic fluff. I think I had to compensate for the angst in ALB. There’s no angst, just our two lovebirds being their adorable selves.

The title is ridiculous. It took me more time to choose it than to write the whole fic. And it’s still bad. Sorry, I hate choosing titles.

Ach well, I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy.

Word count: 2.5k

Aelin was in the kitchen all alone, in front of her on the counter she had all the pots and pans she would require to prepare her meal. At one side she had her cooking book and on the opposite side she had lined up all the ingredients needed.

That was meant to be a special night and she wanted everything to be perfect. And because of that she had been nervous. She was not good at cooking like her boyfriend so for her to prepare a full meal from scratch was a monumental task. She just hoped not to burn down the house. He had been teaching her slowly, starting with very simple things but that evening, no matter what she was going to cook for him.

The plan was to prepare everything a part from the dessert which she had bought from the local bakery. Although her boyfriend was not a fan of sugary stuff, the night called for dessert.

She and Rowan had been together for five years. They worked for the same company but on different floors and departments. She was in marketing, Rowan was part of the legal team and was one of the company’s lawyers.

They had a bit of a turbulent start. They met in the cafeteria and Rowan had the bad habit of being always a bit of ahead of her in the queue and always take the last portion of the food she wanted. Far too many times she had ended up eating food she did not want because of him. She had even tried to go to lunch at a different times but the man was always there. Her own personal hell. So after a whole month of that she had decided to take matter in her own hands and slowly plan her revenge. Rowan was a creature of habit, so she spent a few weeks studying him and his routine. Aelin had learned he loved to eat alone. He had friends but the lunch hour was his time to wind down and he did not want any drama or any shop talk. That would make her plan much easier. Eventually she hatched her plan. She started swapping the content of the salt and pepper shakers or even replacing them with other stuff. Aelin had also started making his table sticky or cluttering with empty trays. He still had no idea it was her but she enjoyed watching him muttering and probably cursing whoever did that to him. She had quickly learned that the man was hard to tick off completely. She would notice some small signs of irritation but that’s all the reaction she got, so she decided it was time to go big.

And her final plan came into existence the day the cafeteria served mac and cheese and he took the last portion from her. She was fuming. If she could not have mac and cheese so wouldn’t he.

She waited for him to make his way back to his table and then she walked straight into him. Their trays smashing against each others and the food landing on his shirt. She had muttered a weak sorry and had fled with a grin on her face.

She had later found out that she had made him late for an important meeting and caught hell from his boss Lorcan.

Until one day he started to retaliate. Apparently, she had found out, he knew all long it was her messing with his meals.

And so a long series of pranks had begun between them, most of them taking place in the cafeteria since that was the place they used to share the most.

However, sometimes along the way, Aelin realised pranking him was not fun anymore and that pesky feelings had started to take root in her.

Until one day he showed up in her office with two portions of mac and cheese from Emrys and a peace offering. They had the lunch in the privacy of her office, they talked and she realised very quickly that he was quite a fascinating man. Also, she would have lied to herself if she had ignored the fact that the man was hotness incarnated. He was tall and had a healthy muscular build. He would always wear impeccable tailored suits which made his backside very prominent and more than once her eyes had wandered. He had the most beautiful pine green eyes and she adored his silver hair.

Soon she had to admit that she had a crush on him. And then some.

And when Rowan finally asked her out she could not believe her ears. The sexiest man in the company wanted to go out with her. So she said yes.

Fast forward five years and Aelin was now cooking for their fifth anniversary and as a joke she had put mac and cheese on the menu. It was their dish and their own joke as well.

Aelin had a look at the clock and realised she had half an hour tops before he came back home.

While preparing mac and cheese she took a sip from the glass of wine at her side. She had bought two bottles of Rowan’s favourite wine and she had started the celebrations a bit earlier.

In the oven in the meantime, the pork roast and the potatoes were cooking and she was busy checking the food that she almost missed the sound of the front door opening and closing.

“I am home,” shouted a happy voice.

“Kitchen.” She shouted back.

When she stood she saw him in leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, his arms at his chest and a strange grin on his face “you are cooking?” He asked surprised, raising an eye brow in a question.

Aelin grabbed a glass of wine, took a step closer to him and gave it to him “Happy anniversary, buzzard.” And she went to him for a kiss he did not deny it to her.

“Oh, so you waited five years for your final revenge and win with food poisoning.” Still leaning against the doorframe he took a sip of wine and looked at her with a smirk.

Aelin just glared at him “I can cook.”

“Aelin, I love you, but cooking is definitely not your strongest asset.”

She waved her wooden spoon in his face “I’ll show you.”

Rowan chuckled happily and stooped for a kiss “happy anniversary, menace.”

Aelin moved another step in his direction “now go,” and she patted his chest “get changed and let me finish.”

Half an hour later the dining table was all set, with some candles on to set the romantic mood and a new bottle of win in the middle. Everything looked perfect and she was chuffed.

“This looks lovely,” his voice reached her as he re entered the room and his arms wound around her waist.

“I hope it’s good as well.” She said while pulling back from the embrace and pushing him to his seat.

“Let me help,” he offered but Aelin pushed him again.

“No, just sit down.”

Quickly she went to get the appetisers: she had prepared raw smoked salmon on oatcakes with cream cheese and chives. They had that at a party and they loved it and realised it was something easy to make and almost impossible for her to mess it up. The only thing she had to do was to assemble the ingredients in a nice display.

Rowan in the meantime poured some wine for both and made happy noises at the wine.

“Fancy,” he added, commenting on the appetiser.

“Easy mostly. I took inspiration from the last party we went to.”

Rowan took one of the oatcakes and she relaxed when she saw him smile. Oh well, at least if the rest of the meal was a disaster they could eat oatcakes and salmon.

“Did you have a good day at work?” She asked, she had a day off and she hadn’t seen him since the morning when he left for work.

“It’s the end of the month and as you can imagine Lorcan has been his unpleasant self.”

“I need these reports on the desk by the end of yesterday?” She said, imitating the man’s voice.

Rowan chuckled and took another oatcake “that’s the gist.”

Once the appetisers were over, Aelin stood and went to get the next course. That was the surprise and the dish that meant the most.

She brought the oven dish to the dining table.

“You made mac and cheese.” Rowan’s tone was full of love.

“I did.” She took his plate and was ready to serve him his portion. It looked great and for a moment she had hoped. The recipe was for the baked version and the crust at the top looked golden and crunchy. Then she dipped the spatula to cut it and terror took her. It was runny.

“No, no, no, no, no…” she panicked.

“What happened?” Rowan stood and moved at her side.

“It happened that I should not be allowed to cook.” She sat on the chair and sniffled.

“I am sure it’s not that bad…”

“Ro,” Aelin almost shouted in frustration at his tone “you can drink it with a straw, mac and cheese is supposed to be creamy.”

He looked over “I think you put too much milk,” and with his hand he brushed her lower back in support.

Aelin started sobbing “I messed up the main dish. It was meant to be like the one we shared in my office.”

Rowan was about to reply when he smelled smoke “is something burning?”

“Holy fuck,” Aelin stood abruptly and ran to the kitchen and when she opened the oven a cloud of smoke engulfed her. The roast and the potatoes where charcoal. She sat dejected in front of the oven and Rowan joined and sat at her side “you have the most useless girlfriend ever.”

He brushed her hair off her face “ I do not.” A gentle kiss on her lips “my girl is brilliant, fearless, intelligent and very, very hot.” She gave him a wet chuckle. Gods, she loved him.

“I ruined our anniversary.”

Rowan stood and offered her his hand “you did not.” She took it and stood in front of him.

“We are going to Emrys, he does some amazing mac and cheese.”

“Fine,” she conceded.

Rowan cupped her face, refusing to let her be sad. He knew Aelin was not good at cooking and he had tried to teach her but once on her own she seemed to struggle.

But as the boyfriend madly in love with her he was more than happy to cook for both, everyday, forever.

Aelin did not seem convinced and still pouted at her mess. Rowan noticed that and cupped her face in his hand and kissed het tenderly “Hey, it was a lovely gesture and I am proud of you.” He took her hand in his, “now let’s go.”

They got changed and not long after they were walking to Emrys. Rowan’s arm on around her shoulder.

Aelin looked up at him and noticed a strange light in his eyes and a small grin. Whatever it was, he did not seem bothered by her fiasco.

Once they reached Emrys froze and cursed the evening that was turning into pure hell “it’s Monday, they are close. We are two idiots.” But all Rowan did was to push her toward the front door.

“Ro, they are closed.”

“Shush,” he said gently placing his hand on her lower back.

A moment later Emrys’ smiling face appeared on the door “hello Rowan, come in, it’s all ready.” Said the man stepping aside to let them in.

Aelin was stunned. speechless. He had an evening planned.

She turned to him “did you know I was going to mess up so you had a plan b?” Her tone full with irritation at his lack of trust in her.

Rowan looked at her, his eyes dancing with mirth “I didn’t even know you were going to cook. I booked all of this over a week ago.” He told her “I knew our anniversary would fall on a Monday, so I asked Emrys and Malakai if it was okay to use the place for our dinner.”

She stood on her tiptoes “I love you.” And kissed him. Rowan took her hand and walked inside the main room of the restaurant and Aelin again was stunned. The whole room had been decorated with white fairy lights, the table had candles and there were kingsflames in a vase as well.

“Happy anniversary, Fireheart.” And pulled her to his chest “I hope you’ll love this.”

“It’s perfect,” she said to him, feeling teary.

They sat down and Malakai brought wine “Emrys is just finishing up the last few things, it should not be too long.” Explained the man while pouring the wine.

He came back a moment later and brought back freshly baked pitta bread and hummus “just as a starter.”

Aelin attacked the appetisers, realising she was starving.

Once the appetiser was out of the way Rowan took her hand.

“I am glad I burned dinner, this is so much better.”

They had gone to Emrys for their first date which turned out to be their favourite restaurant and slowly their weekly dinner treat. It had become their place pretty quickly.

She was talking to Rowan when she noticed Emrys walking to them with a large oven dish and when Aelin looked, she saw mac and cheese. And it looked incredible.

“Of course,” said Rowan at her expression and poured more wine. It was a good thing they walked. Emrys plated their dinner and then walked away with a Cheshire cat grin.

“Go on, tuck in,” Rowan said to her once he noticed her eager expression.

Aelin did so and almost moaned savagely. It was divine.

After a few bites Rowan put the fork down and took her hand again, brushing his thumb on the top of it “thank you for walking into me that day in the cafeteria.” He told her, his green eyes on her “I know we had our ups and downs but these five years with you have been incredible.” He stood and took her hand inviting her to follow him. She stood with him and Rowan pulled Aelin to his chest. She wanted to complain she was eating, but whatever he was doing it seemed important.

Violin music spread in the room and Aelin recognised one of her favourite pieces of classical music. He swayed gently as if to dance, placed her hand on his shoulder and held her, his hand on her lower back.

“And I hope we’ll have many more together.” Aelin looked up at him and nodded, emotions threatening to overwhelm her. He kissed her with passion and then he pulled back a little “Aelin, my fireheart, will you do me the honour of joining me in the next adventure of our life and become my wife?”

Aelin sobbed loudly “only if you promise to keep cooking for me.”

Rowan laughed “Always.”

She threw her arms around his neck “yes, yes I will marry you.”

Rowan placed the ring on her finger then lifted her in his arms and kissed her.

He would cook for her, make her happy until his last day.

To whatever end.

#rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #fluff #domestic fluff

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steviespanties · 3 years

Text

Special Treats For Good Cat Boys on AO3 for full tags. 2.6k, Rated E. Unapologetic smutty fluff with a chubby catboy!Steve in panties, pregnancy kink (without mpreg) and a very successful Valentine’s Day date night~ Fitting for the @harringroveheart-on prompts Lingerie, Champagne and Date Night and a belated b-day present for @rvspberryjvm 😊💗💗

It’s the second week of snow coming down on the city, covering houses and streets in sheets of white over and over again until all sound is muffled when Steve walks outside. Even with his sharp hearing, face wrapped in his favorite scarf, he has to strain his ears to not get surprised by people coming around corners.

Icy wind bites into his cheeks and once again he’s grateful for the incredibly fluffy knit hat Robin sent him for Christmas. It’s got holes for his ears to poke out in perfectly placed spots- something Billy sneakily helped figure out for her, she’d admitted on the phone.

“Good thing I convinced you to buy the more expensive winter coat, huh?” Next to him, wrapped in said coat, a blood red scarf, his hat and mittens, Billy looks a lot less grumpy when he doesn’t have to complain about freezing his ass off. Steve snickers at the glare thrown in his direction.

“How could I’ve known that winter in Michigan is even worse than Indiana?”

Steve laughs. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe someone tried to warn you in advance and you turned deaf all of a sudden?” He gets an adorable pout in response that Billy will deny up and down ever showing. He wants to reach out and kiss the corner of Billy’s pouty lips till he can’t help but react with a grin.

Bags full of groceries swing between them as they bicker back and forth. At a street crossing Billy reaches out and carefully brushes snow off Steve’s ear. He smiles back in thanks.

Steve’s ears have become extra fluffy this winter, with a thick undercoat that keeps the snow from melting and seeping into his skin. It’s like his body knew it had to prepare for the more serious cold. Billy can’t keep his hands from petting the new softness of Steve’s fur, taking every opportunity to brush his equally floofed up tail and give him head scratches. Steve’s started to feel very spoiled lately.

They arrive home to a warm apartment and close the door with relieved groans behind them, both glad to have escaped the cold. As they peel off their many layers of clothes, Steve sneaks a glance at Billy. He looks so beautiful when he’s flushed, his tan faded, but his freckles even more visible due to the winter sun. It’s not like Billy isn’t aware that he’s beautiful. Despite getting a bit soft around the middle, he’s still proud of maintaining his muscles. Gives himself finger guns and winks at the mirror when he’s all primped. But he’s also pretty. Long lashes and soft lips, a shimmery fuzz of golden hair on his body that Steve constantly wants to rub himself against. In the dark grey henley he reveals under his coat, he looks effortlessly stunning.

Of course, he catches Steve staring and throws him a smug grin.

“Ready for some food?” Steve nods and grabs his share of grocery bags to follow Billy into the kitchen.

“Starving,” he says. As they unpack, their limited counter space soon overflows with the clutter of their united assembly of their dinner: A spread of baguette slices with cream cheese, topped with caviar or smoked salmon. Cucumber salad, dark grapes and strawberries. Sliced-open croissants stuffed with bacon and scrambled eggs. Ice cream waiting in the freezer. And, of course, two bottles of champagne, already cooled in the fridge and now fizzing enchantingly in two glasses. Steve’s tail swishes excitedly at the mouth-watering smells and it takes a lot of self control not to sneak a bite. Still, Billy seems to have a sixth sense for Steve getting too riled up, because soon enough he bumps their shoulders together. “Why don’t you go ahead and get settled. Put on some music for us while I clean up.”

Steve bumps right back into him. Enjoys the way Billy barely even moves, unbothered and rooted firmly in place. “That sounds good. Thanks.” He can’t resist placing at least a quick kiss to Billy’s shoulder. This close, he can catch a good whiff of Billy’s scent, warm and a little woody because of his perfume. Billy playfully swats at him, which Steve evades in a fluid motion and a with laugh before he slips into the living room.

They’ve spent all afternoon working on a blanket fort that looks even more cozy and inviting than when they left to go grocery shopping. All the lights in the room are covered in red cloth, bathing the place in muted, warm light. Where their sofa usually stands, they’ve turned the entire thing around, thrown a futon in front and surrounded it with pillows and cushions. The cushy interior is flanked by chairs they’ve thrown a massive white sheet on top on, which trails over the back of the sofa and is illuminated by fairy lights on the inside. The mountain of blankets Steve insisted on adding might be a bit overkill, but his stomach gets all fluttery with elation when he looks at it. Like they’ve built their own little nest that calls for him to curl up between soft blankets where he can wait for Billy to join him.

So he hastily selects something sappy to softly play in the background: A REO Speedwagon album that Billy would never admit to liking, but that he has also never protested listening to when Steve's put it on or insisted on turning off either. Steve slips out of his pants, places them behind a cushion where he’s also snuck a bottle of lube and then quickly dives under a blanket when he hears Billy’s approaching footsteps.

“Hey there, kitty cat.” Billy comes into view holding a whole tray with their food, cleverly arranged so he can carry everything in one trip while an ice bucket with their champagne bottles dangles on his arm.

“Here, let me get that.” Steve leans up, careful not to let the blanket slip to reveal his surprise. He takes the tray off Billy’s hands and carefully lowers it to the ground. No snacks directly in the blanket fort if they want to sleep in here tonight. Billy huffs as he puts the bucket down. Lifts his head to make eye contact with Steve, just long enough to notice the mischievous glint in his eyes- and then he leaps forward with a whoop.

Steve yelps at a sudden armful of heavy, cackling boyfriend on top of him. Billy's happiness is infectious and he quickly feels himself join in on the laughter. It's Billy's turn to kiss him, just a lightning-fast peck on the lips that makes Steve wish he'd linger just a bit longer.

They share their first glasses of champagne that tingles on Steve’s sensitive tongue, making him chase its lightness into Billy’s slick mouth. There’s the explosion of briny, salty caviar and mild cream cheese in Steve’s mouth, more sips of champagne followed by cool, smoked salmon. The sensation of the tips of Billy’s fingers against his lips when he feeds him a bite. Holding a strawberry against Billy's lips in turn, he's enthralled by watching sharp teeth pierce the red flesh. Each sip of champagne slips down his throat easily, a perfect, decadent balance to all the different flavors that have danced over his tongue- none quite as addictive as the taste of Billy, though.

And suddenly, their tray is shoved to the side. Shirts are thrown off and Billy’s pants shoved down. The second champagne bottle is halfway empty and Steve’s belly is pleasantly full and warm in satisfaction, making him wriggle in satisfaction. Next to him, Billy inches closer. Crowds into his space until Steve leans back into soft pillows, ears standing up at attention. There’s a different kind of hunger in his eyes, now.

“I got a surprise for you,” he confesses in a hushed voice and slips the blanket down to reveal his present.

“Is that for me?” Billy’s words are smooth whiskey. Sweet and sharp and running over Steve’s body in an intoxicating caress that makes him squirm in place and his tail swish in gleeful anticipation. Billy’s hands close around his soft hips and tug him closer. Thumbs dig into the recently added softness of Steve’s tummy, all plumped up for the winter. He really feels like a spoiled and pampered housecat now, all drunk on treats and alcohol and skin contact.

Billy’s eyes are dark with want when his gaze catches on soft pink lace panties that finally show in all their glory when he fully slips the blanket off.

“You take such good care of me,” Steve says quietly. He wraps his arms around Billy to pull him in and feels a thrill run through him when Billy’s erection brushes against his leg. Clearly, the surprise is a success. “I figured this would be a nice gift.” A tender kiss to his neck.

With a teasing smirk, Billy looks down at the panties. “Oh, I’m very happy.” He snaps the waistband against Steve’s side, making a shocked mew slip out at the sting and his dick respond with a twitch. “But don’t pretend you’re being all altruistic here, babe.” A finger runs over the rapidly hardening outline of his dick and comes to rest right at the head. He pushes down, enough to give a tiny drop of pressure that makes Steve writhe in place, unable to open his mouth and ask for more. There’s just Billy’s warm hand on his hip and that unrelenting point of not-enough-contact. Steve moans.

“Ah, so- so what, not like we can’t both enjoy me dressing up for you!” For a moment, the pressure lets up.

An agreeable hum. “True. You sure enjoy being my pretty boy, though, huh?” And the pressure is back again, just at the sensitive underside of the head of Steve’s dick. That place is like a switch where he’s quickly set on fire just by Billy’s fingers and knowing eyes drinking him up. A small wet spot starts to form where a splash of precome gets trapped between his dick and the fabric of his panties.

“Yeah,” Steve admits as he rolls his hips up. Seeks the pressure and attention as another drop of precome pushes out. “Would enjoy it even more if you fucked me.” That gets him a small laugh.

“Someone’s been getting too spoiled.” Billy sounds positively delighted at Steve’s whining. He can’t help it! He’s spent most of the day opening himself up as sneakily as possible whenever he could get away with it, has made himself drip with lube until his hole has felt open and tender for way too long. Especially now, with Billy hovering above him, he feels himself want a reward for putting in all this extra preparation. He blindly gropes for the lube. Smacks Billy’s hand off his dick and the bottle into his palm and then pulls the fabric of his panties to the side to reveal his twitching, loose hole.

The frown he throws at Billy’s wide-eyed expression might be more of a pout than an intimidating glare. At least there's no protest from Billy, just a determined set to his jaw as he slicks up his fingers in a practiced motion. He shifts from confusion to palpable excitement when first one, then two fingers sink inside Steve with almost no resistance.

“Oh baby,” he croons and leans even further into Steve’s space. Kisses him slow and deep as he presses his fingers in and out in a pleasant drag that finally comes close to what Steve’s been craving all day. He grabs Billy’s arms and luxuriates in the indulgent slide of their tongues against each other and the sting of Billy’s teeth at his lip. He undulates his hips to meet Billy’s movement inside him, chasing the elusive need for more.

When they separate to breathe, he groans a desperate “Come on, I’m ready” into Billy’s ear. No matter how much of a hardass Billy likes to think he is, the strung-out tone of Steve’s voice never fails to give him a palpable full-body shudder that Steve triumphantly notices.

“Fuck, fine.” Billy looks flushed, all gold and pink and glowing in the soft light surrounding them.

The panties are stretched taut over Steve’s dick. Divine, almost too much pressure that makes him squirm as he watches Billy slick himself up. Being trapped drives him a little crazy and makes it impossible to fully hold still, even as Billy clearly tries to go slow while he savoring the sight of Steve all laid out in front of him. He doesn’t want to wait anymore till Billy finally decides they’re ready and shoves his hips down. Pops the thick cockhead inside and makes them both moan at the way Steve hole flutters around it.

“You’re so goddamn hungry for my cock, huh?” Billy thrusts deeper, clearly losing composure. “Pretty princess gagging to be filled up.” Steve helplessly moans as heat pools at the base of his spine and in his belly. He desperately meets Billy’s hips and lets out a long, drawn-out whine. “Bet you can’t wait to get pumped full to carry a whole litter of kittens for me.”

It’s like Billy has found the string he needed to tug on to open the floodgates to fill Steve with an overwhelming, fierce need. To open himself up even more for Billy to claim him inside and out, deeper even than Billy’s cock thrusting into him where it drags at his insides. “Billy,” he sobs, barely coherent, and clings to his back. Digs his fingers into skin and feels strong back muscles shift underneath his hands.

A rising pressure of something primal, inexplicable pulses through him. He drinks in the sensations- of Billy’s body heat and sweat-slick skin rubbing against Steve’s. Billy’s scent that makes Steve salivate for a taste of him. His hair falls down in soft, wavy strands that frame his face and tickle Steve's skin gently. A hand lands on his soft belly, above his trapped dick steadily pulsing hot precome into tight fabric. Billy's claiming where he’s warm and soft and still desperate for more of his touch.

“Or maybe,” Billy breathes against his ear, makes his breath ghost over the sensitive fur. His hand presses down a little harder. “Maybe you’re already carrying.”

He can’t breathe. He’s blinded by the fireworks going off behind his eyelids, unable to keep them open any longer.

There’s just Billy. Inside and out. And the thought of Steve's belly, carrying a small piece of both of them.

It’s too much. He comes, orgasm rolling over him relentlessly. He cries. Scratches at Billy’s back and pushes himself into Billy’s hand, consumed by his cock spreading him wide open, lost in the thought of more. His panties are filled with pulse after pulse of warm, sticky come, trapped mess turning into a feedback loop of shivery, delightful aftershocks.

There’s the most feather-light kisses on his eyelids. Billy’s thrusts slow to an intense, shuddering grind as he empties himself deep into Steve, all satisfied moans and grunts. Finally, there’s air in Steve's lungs again. He fills his nose with deep inhales of their satisfied scents all mixed together.

They rest. Clean up a little. Put on The Breakfast Club while they wrap around each other as they trade kisses and sips of leftover Champagne. Steve’s tail is curled around the arm Billy has thrown over his hips and he purrs in sleepy contentment while his ears are being pet. “You’re gonna be such a good parent” Billy teases at some point and earns himself a light smack to the shoulder that makes him hiss in mock-hurt. Steve places a kiss where he hit to ease the light sting anyways.

#harringrove #harringrove heart-on #harringrove fic #lingerie #bottom steve #catboy!steve #pregnancy kink #(without mpreg)

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farahblack · 3 years

Text

“darling!” dirk shouts from the bedroom, “have you seen my tie?”

todd, who is in the kitchen, cutting the crusts off sandwiches, yells back: “which one?”

“the one with the little lobsters? it has stripes!”

todd cuts the crust off the final sandwich and debates whether he should cut them all into triangle halves as well. “have you checked the tie drawer?”

“who do you take me for, todd?”

“did you?”

there’s a brief moment of shuffling around, and todd smiles to himself, knowing that dirk is rifling through the tie drawer.

“yes! it’s not here!”

“check in the laundry basket,” todd says, and slices a sandwich in half. “the clean one, dirk. if you wear a dirty tie i’m divorcing you.”

“oh, hardy har har,” dirk responds. “you love me too much and you know it.”

todd rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning. “damn right i do,” he says, just loud enough he’s sure dirk hears it. he finishes cutting the sandwiches, and neatly arranges them in the tupperware container he’s set aside.

dirk kisses todd’s cheek when he walks into the kitchen, still adjusting his tie, before jumping up on the counter. todd half-heartedly swats at his thigh; one day he’ll convince his husband that it really is unsanitary to put his ass where they make food, but judging by the smug grin he receives in return, they’re both well aware today is not that day.

today dirk’s jacket is salmon, paired with a crisp white shirt and the pink lobster tie. he has a golden earring dangling from his right ear. todd remembers how dirk begged him to pierce it -- it’s the gay ear, todd, come on -- and smiles fondly.

“penny for your thoughts?” dirk says. he’s reached behind himself for the picnic basket, nudging it toward todd.

“it’s a beautiful day,” todd remarks, tucking the sandwiches into the basket.

dirk makes a strange face -- it’s a bit of a fond smile and a pained frown rolled into one -- and says, “my god, you’ve turned into an old man, husband.”

“such is the influence you have on me,” todd says in a terrible british accent, hand pressed to his chest as he swoons, which has dirk letting out a snort-laugh and pushing half-heartedly at his shoulder.

“i can’t believe i put up with you.”

todd offers his hand to dirk, which he takes, hopping down from the counter. “that’s my line.”

dirk presses an obnoxiously loud kiss to todd’s cheek. he grabs the picnic basket and loops their arms together, half-dragging his husband out of the kitchen. on their way out the door, todd stalls to grab his keys from the turtle-shaped key bowl, locking the door behind them. he unloops their elbows and reaches for dirk’s hand, swinging it between them as they make their way down the stairs.

it’s a beautiful day out. in front of their building, todd pulls his husband in by the tie and presses a firm kiss to his mouth; they’re both smiling too hard for it to last long.

#dghda #gentlyman #todd brotzman #dirk gently #nik words #textbox writing #minific #misc #dghda fic #pretty much all i write of them these days is self-indulgent mushy BULLSHIT #and i wouldn't have it any other way <3 #they are HUSBANDS #going on a daaaate #:)) 💞💞💞#lmao i didnt proofread this the slightest bit and i dont think i will

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fastbreakpoints · 3 years

Text

JAYLEN BROWN'S TOP 10 OUTFITS OF THE 2020-21 SEASON, according to me (again lol)

i am BACK on my bullshit, but this time ranking jaylen's outfits of the season -- which is basically me analyzing sweatpants for 10 pics because the man sure does like to be cozy. again, nothing abt this post is based on true fashion knowledge. i'm just here for the vibes lol

you can see jayson's top 10 here!

10. at brooklyn, game 1

something abt the oversized sweatshirt w the rolled up sleeves and the oversized t-shirt underneath and the oversized sweatpants really, truly speaks to me. iconic depression outfit but make it celtics green instead lol

9. vs dallas

i'm not gonna lie, there were at least 7 variations of this same outfit in the JB 2021 outfits folder lol this one won out bc i like the black and green color combination and the lightning on his thigh and the way these sweatpants are like, slightly more fitted but still very cozy <3

8. at golden state

where 2 cop the t-shirt bestie!!! i love this outfit bc it epitomizes something that @swinginsportscutebasketball has very wisely pointed out to me and in the tags of a post that i can't find right now, which is that jaylen is the "i Do Not wish to be perceived" to jayson's "i have to be the most fuckable person on the grocery store basketball team" fashion style lol

7. at milwaukee

birb sweater birb sweater!!!! i feel like this outfit was like, THE staple jaylen brown fit for the season: a very soft sweatshirt and very cozy sweatpants, majorly composed by earth/neutral tones. in the words of @knicksknacks, “the man likes to be cozy, sue him!!!!!!!”

6. at new orleans

again, where 2 cop the shirt (and the bucket hat) bestie!!!! this is another fit for the "i Do Not wish to be perceived" category. like literally. u can't even see his face. strong summer goth bf vibes on this one

5. at san antonio

this one DESTROYS ME every time i see it because GRAD STUDENT JAYLEN VIBES!!!!!!!! on his way 2 class!!!!!!! i LOVE his plain beige boring oversized sweater AND his slim fitted dark green pants that are NOT sweatpants for ONCE!!!! cute. I love u my king

4. vs lakers

this one is a 4 on the "i Do Not wish to be perceived" scale but only because the jacket is literally. royal blue and yellow. it would be a solid 10 otherwise probably. i love how cozy he looks in his beanie and his cal varsity jacket :(((( also, the way his pants are so long that the fabric is all?? bunched up around his ankles??? why are ur pants so wrongly sized jaylen lol

3. vs brooklyn (i think?)

the PEARLS!!!!! the SALMON PINK kicks!!!!!! the sweater!!!! his usual oversized sweatpants!!!!! the golden bears cap!!!!! he LOVES being cozy!!! I love him :(

2. at brooklyn, game 5

picture THIS: jaylen and his SWEATER PAWS on the BENCH. trying not to feel sorry for himself and BE THERE for his teammates. devastatingly handsome and UNABLE to HELP. god I truly am the worst. anyway here's what I love abt this fit: the hoodie, which manages to be both colorful and still right up his slightly goth emo bf alley somehow, and his yellow converse kicks???? who ARE YOU. I love him

1. all-star game

baby's first all-star game!!!! this outfit got #1 mostly bc of the Emotional Significance it has but also because of how cozy and like, put together he looks at same time, if that makes sense? like, the combination of the beige sweatpants and beige socks and slightly oversized shirt with the structured lines of the cropped (!) blazer is very Good to me? i don't know??? it just occurred me that this is basically. jaylen's take on jayson's turtleneck/sweatpants fit. like literally the earth toned, shorter coat version of it. prove me wrong. u Can't lol

#this is completely deranged oh my god I'm so sorry lol #his outfits were way easier to rank tbh it just took me a while because i couldn't bring myself to write uhh anything #but it's here now!!! i did it #honorable mentions: the butterfly pants (jayson wore them better lol sorry jaylen but not really) and the big orange red coat w the beige #oversized sweatsuit he wore to one of the philly games #sorry again if i missed any personal favorites!!!#the jays top 10 outfits of the season #*#jaylen brown #league fits

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hutchhitched · 4 years

Text

Naked, Hungover, and Married

Written by: @hutchhitched

Prompt 63: Katniss and Peeta who are exes wake up together naked, hungover, and married. [submitted by anonymous]

Ratings/Warnings: M

A/N: I’m continuing to post the nine @everlarkficexchange prompts I took and then sat on throughout the early months of the pandemic. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays.

_________________

Katniss blinked her eyes open slowly and squinted against the sunlight streaking through the…very unfamiliar bedroom.

“What the hell?” she grumbled and slapped her hand toward the side of the bed where she hoped she’d find her cell phone. Her head was splitting, and she needed to inhale a gallon of water stat to start the rehydration process. Obviously, she’d had way too much to drink last night.

“Ow! What the fuck?”

Spooked out of her mind, Katniss shot upright in bed at the sound of the deep, masculine voice that emanated from under the covers and quickly grabbed the sheet and clutched it to her very exposed, very naked chest. She resisted the urge to glance under the covers. Her stomach sank as she realized she was completely nude and lying in bed with a squirming masculine something or other.

And if she wasn’t mistaken, that voice sounded really, really familiar. But it couldn’t be. Could it?

“Shit!” she screeched when Peeta Mellark emerged from the tangled pile of bedclothes and pillows, his blue eyes cloudy with sleep and creases in his skin from where he’d slept with his face pressed into the pillow.

“Katniss Everdeen?” he mumbled in a gravelly baritone that made her toes curl and tingle. He’d always had a gloriously sexy voice, even when she wanted to claw his eyes out. Most especially when he turned his pouty mouthed, dimpled face to hers and blinked his bluer-than-the-Caribbean eyes at her in an attempt to get what he wanted. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t even know where I am!”

“Stop yelling,” he grumbled and pressed a palm to the spot between his eyebrows. “I have a killer of a hangover.”

Peeta tossed the covers aside and rolled over so he could sit up. Her mouth gaped open when she realized that, like her, he was completely naked. And his ass. Was. Glorious. Golden skin over plump cheeks so rounded and ripe she wanted to take a bite out of them. She didn’t usually like peaches so firm, but she’d make an exception for—

“Don’t stand up!” she screeched, intentionally interrupting her very inappropriate train of thought, and threw a pillow at him. Startled, he grabbed it and held it over his crotch but not before she glimpsed his (very impressive, if she did say so herself) morning wood arcing proudly out of a dark blonde thatch of hair between thick, muscular thighs. “Good God. Put some clothes on.”

If he wasn’t already infuriating, he certainly was when he smirked and ran his gaze over her curled frame hiding under the sheets and blindly groping for her clothes on the floor by the side of the bed.

“You’re one to talk. Besides,” he added and lowered the pillow so it rested just below the cut of his hips. She couldn’t quite stop herself from glancing at the trail of coarse hair leading from his belly button down to his— “this is my house. I’m not the one naked in a bedroom that’s not mine.”

She gaped at his ass as he turned and strode across the room to the en suite. Just as he reached the door, he tossed the pillow back toward the bed and entered the bathroom naked as the day he was born. Infuriated at his audacity, she snatched the pillow out of the air and caught a glimpse of her left hand.

In particular, the ring finger on her left hand. Where a ring graced her finger. Two rings. One a small but beautifully cut diamond and the other—oh shit!—a plain gold band. She was wearing a wedding set.

“What the fuck?”

“I thought I told you to stop yelling.”

Stunned, she tore her gaze away from her hand and gawked at the man standing in the doorway, bare chested and bemused with his long, lean legs half-covered in cutoff sweats and crossed at the ankle. He leaned against the door like he was perfectly at ease. That he was, in fact, used to waking up with naked women in his bed every day of the week.

And maybe he was. She hadn’t seen Playboy Peeta since back in college, but then again, she hadn’t exactly been spending a ton of time with him since they’d graduated.

“How the hell are you so calm? I have an engagement ring on. I have a wedding band on!”

“You’re freaking out.”

“I am! Join me, won’t you?”

“Now, why would I want to do that?” he asked and sauntered toward her. The way his abdominal muscles shifted under his skin almost distracted her from his left hand, which he lifted to show—

“Oh my fucking hell.”

“Looks good on me, doesn’t it?”

She sputtered, “B-but th-that’s a wedding ring!”

“You know, I always told people I was going to marry someone really smart, and you, dear wife, just proved me right,” he said as he plunked down on the edge of the mattress next to her and leaned over to kiss the side of her head.

“What the actual hell?” Katniss spat and shoved him away from her. “Are you high?”

“Definitely not high, but I might still be a little drunk.” He stood quickly and swayed a little bit. He stopped and steadied himself with hands out for balance. “Nope. Scratch that. Not drunk but definitely hungover.”

“You’re insane. I mean, I suspected it before, but now it’s confirmed. You are absolutely nuts.”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence, but I’m not insane. I am, however, your brand-new husband.”

Katniss narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Two minutes ago, you didn’t even know why I was here, and now you’re coolly announcing that we’re married. Something doesn’t add up here.”

“It all came back to me in the bathroom.”

“You were in there for 45 seconds.”

“What can I say?” he shrugged and offered an infuriating smile. “Last night was memorable. It didn’t take long for it to all come flooding…”

He trailed off suggestively, and her mouth fell open. Again. Because seriously. What the fuck?

“We didn’t do that,” she insisted. “You are disgusting.”

“Funny. That’s what you said last night right after I cleaned all the, well, you know, off your chest and stomach and from between your legs. You weren’t wrong then either.”

She started at him, aghast, her mouth hanging open. Memories flickered in erratic flashes, and it wasn’t what she wanted to see. Most were definitely in the vein of what he’d just hinted. Something about him crawling up her body and licking creamy fluid from her belly before moving to her breasts and then devouring her mouth.

“I’ve got to get out of here. Where the fuck are my clothes?”

“What?” he asked, mock surprised. “You don’t want your loving spouse to cook you breakfast in bed? It is our honeymoon, after all.”

She glared at him before biting out, “I. Will. End. You. Where the fuck are my clothes?”

“You know, if you can’t keep track of your things, maybe you shouldn’t have any.” She raised her face to rip him a new one, but he was dangling her lacy salmon colored tank top from the tips of his long, artistic fingers. She absolutely did not notice the raised veins in his forearms and the size of his palm when she snatched her shirt from him.

“Can you give me some privacy, please?” she said as primly as possible through her disgust, but he just chuckled and shook his head.

“You’re priceless. After what we did last night? Playing virginal doesn’t become you, Everdeen.”

“Yeah, well, if I actually married you, I’m not Everdeen anymore, am I, Mellark?”

Peeta froze, his eyes wide at her observation, and she took advantage of his surprise to push past him to the relative safety of his bathroom. He didn’t even protest that she’d pulled the sheet from the bed to cover herself when she went.

A hesitant knock sounded on the door, and she grumbled at him to go away. He repeated his gesture a couple more times before finally growling, “I found the rest of your clothes. At least take them.” She didn’t bother to thank him when she cracked open the door and snatched them from his hand.

She took her time putting herself back together, long enough for her hands to stop shaking and her heartrate to slow to a slow canter instead of the full-on gallop it had been beating since she woke up next to Peeta Mellark.

“What the hell happened last night?” she demanded in a harsh whisper. No matter how hard she tried to remember, nothing else came to her for several moments, and then only flashes of a club and the press of bodies and heat and so much alcohol and a really hot man grinding into her on the dance floor. “And this is why you don’t drink more often.”

When she felt like she had some kind of control over herself, she inched the door open to an empty bedroom. Wadding the sheet into a ball, she tossed it on the bed and scanned the space for her purse and phone and keys. Nothing. They must be in the living room, which meant she couldn’t sneak out the window to avoid seeing that smug bastard.

She crept down the hall in the direction of what she hoped was the front door. Sounds echoed down the hall, those remarkably like someone cooking, and her stomach grumbled loudly despite her hangover and horror. A sharp sizzle pricked her ears, and she sighed at the scent of freshly brewing coffee and something that smelled distressingly close to thick-cut slices of ham. God, she’d kill for a hunk of cooked pig right now.

Katniss rounded the corner and glanced furtively around the open room. A small living area, exceptionally neat and beautifully styled, stretched into a chef’s kitchen that held a disheveled, discomfited Peeta with a spatula in one hand and a carton of eggs in the other. When he saw her, he offered a lopsided, apologetic smile.

“Good morning, officially. I’m making breakfast,” he said and motioned to the barstools on the other side of the island where he was cooking. “It won’t take long.”

“Oh, uh, ah, I don’t think I can stay,” she stammered and edged to the door by which her purse and shoes sat.

“Katniss, please,” he asked, suddenly unsure and vulnerable. “I— we—”

“Very articulate.”

Peeta had the grace to flush before shoving a riot of blonde curls off his forehead. “Look, Katniss, last night was pretty insane. I agree with that.”

“Insane, crazy, completely irresponsible, absolutely not what we should have done.”

Hurt colored his features, and she regretted it for just a second. But then he opened his mouth again.

“Absolutely what we should have done. We’ve been skirting around each other for years. I, for one, am glad you finally admitted how you feel about me and gave in,” he insisted. “I mean, it’s not what I would have done if we’d been sober, but a quickie elopement is just as good as a big ceremony.”

She didn’t have words to answer him because, despite understanding every word he said, it seemed like he was speaking a completely different language.

“Admit how I feel about you?” she scoffed. “I thought that was perfectly clear. I can’t stand you.”

“That’s not what you said last night.” His tone was stubborn, and his mouth turned down into a frown. “Last night you told me you loved me. That you’ve always loved me since I bought your lunch at the cafeteria that day back in college.”

“Last night I was blackout drunk! I would have told a monkey I was in love with him.”

“Katniss,” he started, but she backed away from him.

“No! I don’t care what you say. I’m not in love with you, and I don’t want to be married to you. We’re not married! Not really. It’s not possible.”

“But—”

“Just don’t,” she shouted and grabbed her shoes and purse. “Goodbye, Peeta.”

And then she was out the door and running. She didn’t really care where. She just needed to be away from those wounded blue eyes and gentle voice that did something to her no matter how much she didn’t want anything to do with Peeta Mellark.

****

The truth was she had loved him at one point. For a brief period during their senior year when she’d given into his charms and slept with him. After he captivated her with his slick words and hooded looks that made way too many other women throw themselves at his feet. She’d been stupid enough to believe him when he told her she was the only one for him, and she’d agreed to be his girlfriend for two deliriously happy months. Until he broke her heart, and she refused to ever speak to him again.

And it’s not like he hadn’t tried a million times. Peeta had called her, emailed and texted, even shown up on her porch with flowers and some ridiculous present she didn’t give him the satisfaction of opening. She wasn’t going to allow him a chance to hurt her again, not after catching him lip-locked with Cashmere, one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen. Not even when the woman herself let Katniss know that the kiss had meant nothing to her and that Peeta was still hers if she wanted. Katniss wasn’t going to settle for anybody’s seconds, even if he’d been hers in the first place. Graduation came just a few weeks after that, and she’d managed to avoid him around town in the years since. Now, at twenty-seven, she didn’t care enough about him to notice he seemed to have a different woman with him every time she glimpsed him in public or at an event where their infuriatingly small circle of friends had invited them both.

God, she must have been hammered to get anywhere near him last night, let alone marrying him and ending up in bed together.

She was three blocks from his house before she slowed long enough to reach into her purse where, thankfully, her phone rested. Snatching it out, she ignored the notification on her screen and dialed her best friend. When Gale answered, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hey, Catnip,” he greeted her in his deep voice. Amusement echoed over the phone line, and she wanted to smack him.

“Thank fuck you answered. Where the hell were you last night when I was, apparently, getting plastered and leaving the club with my arch enemy?”

“You didn’t seem to think he was too bad last night,” Gale laughed, and Katniss almost hung up on him. Unfortunately, she needed to figure out what had happened because she didn’t remember a damn thing that made sense.

“Seriously, dude. I woke up naked and in bed with him. I wouldn’t do that if I was in my right mind, so tell me what happened. And also, why didn’t you stop me?”

“Well, shit, Catnip,” her best friend laughed. “You never could resist that guy, but I didn’t think you’d jump into bed with him after one night back together.”

“Back together?”

“You really don’t remember anything?”

“No,” she mumbled, but something pricked at the edge of her memory. Something about running into the back of a stocky, muscular, strong man who she’d leaned into gratefully. He’d been protective when another guy hit on her lewdly, and they’d started talking. Realized they already knew each other. Decided to catch up. Her discomfort at first because…

Oh god. Because it was Peeta, but she’d been just tipsy enough to be a little forgiving, and he’d looked amazing in his tight green t-shirt that made his skin glow and his eyes tint toward turquoise instead of aqua. And he’s looked so eager and repentant and his smile wide and his touch so gentle and warm.

“Well, it was entertaining for the rest of us, anyway.”

“Glad I could make your night better,” she groused. “Now, spill it.”

“You disappeared for a little while. Thanks for bailing on my birthday, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll make it up to you,” she snapped.

“When you didn’t come back, we got worried and went looking for you,” he explained. “Annie went first and couldn’t find you. Then Finnick took a turn and said he’d caught a glimpse of your back at the bar, but you disappeared before he could make his way over to you. So, I went to track you down, and, when I couldn’t find you, Johanna went on the prowl.”

“Not Jo,” she groaned.

“Yeah, she found you cuddled up to Mellark in the back room. You were talking in the corner and then kissing and then—”

“She didn’t know who he was, so she didn’t try to stop me.”

Gale huffed an irritated sigh. “Jo didn’t stop you because, when she tried, you told her you were getting reacquainted with your former lover and would she please kindly fuck off.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t bite my head off.”

“She did, but lover boy stopped her cold. And when he did, you told him to take you home or lose you forever.”

“I didn’t misquote Top Gun to him,” she insisted. “I wouldn’t disrespect Goose that way.”

“Apparently, you did, and then you left with him. We tried calling. I would have come and gotten you, but you only answered once, and you were absolutely insistent that you wanted to be with him.”

“Gale,” she said as patiently as she could, “I was clearly drunk. Maybe not the best time to trust my judgment.”

“You weren’t drunk.”

“I woke up hungover!”

“I paid yours and Peeta’s bar tab. A total of two drinks each.”

“Then… Oh, good night, nurse,” she gasped. “I remember now.”

“Well, then fill me in. I wasn’t there for that part of it,” he said, and she could practically hear him roll his eyes.

“I had a flask in my purse. I stashed it in case you all wanted to stay longer than I wanted to pay for drinks, and I pulled it out and started drinking.” She gulped and groaned, “I came onto him. Asked him to take me to his place. That I wanted to apologize for not listening to him back in college.”

“And you woke up naked with him? Uh…”

“No, it wasn’t his fault. I wasn’t that drunk, and he was soooooooo… Dammit, he was so sweet, so apologetic. And then he kissed me.”

“I don’t really think I need to hear the rest of it, do you?” Gale muttered.

She snapped her mouth shut. She didn’t need to justify herself or share what had happened between Peeta and her the night before. Suffice it to say that she’d shed her clothes willingly, and they’d both slammed a lot of alcohol.

“Shit. I’ve got to go.”

Katniss dropped her phone back in her purse and turned in her tracks. She took a few hurried steps and then ran. She was out of breath by the time she stopped at his stoop, but she knocked while she sucked air into her lungs. It only took a few seconds for him to open the door, and when he did, she wanted to reach for him.

Hands twitching, she stated, “We’re not really married.”

“No.”

“But we slept together.”

“Well, I didn’t get a lot of sleep—”

“Peeta!”

He grinned sheepishly and nodded. “You were kind of insistent about the sex part. I didn’t mind so much.”

“If I remember correctly, I was very enthusiastic about it.”

“Yeah.”

“To be fair, I don’t remember much.” Peeta’s face fell, and she reached out to touch his hand. “But I remember wanting to. It’s the rings that don’t make any sense.”

He huffed and averted his eyes. Staring over her head at the tree in the front yard, he mumbled, “You wanted to see them. It’s the set I bought when we were in college. I wanted to propose to you, but we’d only been together for a little while. It didn’t matter to me. I already knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, so I bought them and thought I’d bide my time until, until…”

“Until you kissed Cashmere.” It still hurt to say, regardless of the years that had passed.

“Until she kissed me,” he protested. “I was telling the truth about that. She came onto me. It surprised the hell out of me, and I was pushing her away when you caught us. I tried telling you that for weeks, but you wouldn’t listen, and then graduation and I didn’t know where you went and—”

“And I wouldn’t answer any of your attempts to get ahold of me.”

“Your friends wouldn’t help me, and then I got my job and moved. It wasn’t until I came back last year that I knew how to find you, and you obviously hated me by then. I figured I might as well give up and take what I could get.”

“That was a lot of women, Peeta.”

“It might have looked like a lot of women, but none of them held a candle to you. There were so many because none of them got a second date.”

Katniss wiggled her fingers and then slipped the wedding set off and held them out to him. “You should have these back.”

His shoulders drooped, and he nodded when she placed them in his palm. He’d already taken his band off. His left hand was bare.

“If it helps, I thought they looked really good on you,” he said, his voice choked with emotion.

She smiled gently and took a step off the porch. As she backed away, she called, “Not ready for an engagement, but a date might be nice.”

His head popped up, and she could see his hopeful gaze from halfway across the yard. “Really?”

“You free tonight?”

“Yes!”

“Let’s try that bar from last night again. This time I’ll introduce you to my friends. 9:00?”

His smile stretched across his face, and he lifted his fist in triumph.

“I’ll be there!”

Katniss turned then and allowed herself a satisfied grin. It wasn’t every day you woke up married and ended up with a date.

#everlarkficexchange #springtime edition 2020 #prompt 63 #everlark fanfiction #everlark #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #naked hungover and married

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Note

From the angst list: "I never loved you" with WinterIron if you're up for it? :)

Bucky takes a long look at the screen.

“Why me of all of us? Why can’t Nat do it?”

“You’re the closest to his type, whereas I am not,” Natasha says, looking particularly miffed. “At least, that’s what Bruce said.”

“And I’m the smart one on this team for this one,” Bruce says, sliding his glasses down his nose. “Stark likes tall, dark, and handsome. Also potentially someone who could kill him.”

“I can kill a man! You’ve seen me do it dozens of times!”

“And as satisfying as it is each time, still not who we need,” Bruce says. “You can be part of clean-up.”

“Why exactly are we doing this again?” Bucky asks. “Not saying it’s not necessary, but I’m assuming we can get past security.”

“Ix-nay on that,” Maria says, frowning. “We’re getting Tony out of the weapons distribution game. He’s been selling under the table to a group called Ten Rings, and we need that shut down. Also, his security is impossible to break into. Trust me.”

“Even past government level?”

“Especially past government level,” Bruce says, admiration laced into his voice. “Government level is stupid-easy to hack compared to Stark Industries. Theirs is like breaking into Heaven itself.”

“Or Hell, depending on your outlook,” Maria says.

“If their security is good, then it means I’ve been had,” Bucky says. “I don’t think they’re gonna bypass this face and go ‘oh yeah, perfect for the job,’” Bucky says. “Which, by the way, am I just seducing him or getting a job?”

“Seduction,” Natasha answers. “Bump into him. Disregard his status as a billionaire. He’ll swoon. Rich guys always do.”

“Good to know next time my rent is late,” Clint adds, actually writing it down.

“I have no idea why you always grumble that we never send you on missions when you do this,” Steve says. “But back to the subject.”

The plan is this:

Bucky runs into Tony as he’s out walking. For a billionaire, Tony is surprisingly easy to track down. Maybe it’s because he knows he’s built up a tech empire and if anyone does kidnap him (and they try) his tech quite literally saves him.

They’re theorizing if Bucky is an outlier, a chance encounter, they might have an upper hand.

He’s not sure, but hey. What the hell. Gets him out of the house.

Tony frequents a coffee shop that is unfairly tacky, has lemon-blueberry muffins, and Bucky is ordering an iced latte.

He bumps into Tony, sending him off-balance.

The man is tinier than anticipated.

Bucky all but lunges to make sure his head doesn’t go right into the glass windows.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “Wasn’t thinking that hard, sugar.”

Tony calls all of his friends by pet names. They figured he’d appreciate it.

Judging by the small smile making its way onto his face, he does.

“No harm done, not if I get to see someone as gorgeous as you,” Tony says, all but purring. “I’m a regular here, and I’ve never seen you before.”

“Just moved back to New York,” Bucky supplies smoothly. “Work opportunity.”

He buys Tony a coffee for the trouble.

Buying a man with all the money in the world, coffee.

He gets a number printed in blocky, engineering script on a napkin with a promise to “call for a date, if you want.”

He calls the next day, heart jack-hammering out of control.

It feels awkward to have Steve and Nat right there, egging him on to take him on a simple date.

They go on a picnic. The weather’s nice, Bucky’s nervous, and Tony grinning at him is not helping.

He feels...guilty. He’s pulled undercover work before, hell even gone down the same line of thinking.

But this...this is different. Tony doesn’t seem to even acknowledge that he’s the most well-known person in the world. Sure, there are the signs. Allusions to business, Obadiah Stane “killing” him so to speak, if he doesn’t get a weapon done in time.

Tony Stark is far more different than Bucky had expected. He wears old t-shirts and jeans that have definitely been in his closet for a long time, doesn’t always remember to style his hair, and definitely enjoys having Bucky around.

The terrible thing is that Bucky actually really enjoys the man’s presence. He’s casually affectionate, unaware that Bucky could kill him if he was feeling particularly bored.

Tony tells him about his day. About the little things in life, like that he discovered that he likes a certain kind of creamer or a funny thing Rhodey said.

His friends are guarded, but nice. They don’t trust Bucky, and for good reason.

(After all, Bucky’s just another one in a long list of people that have dated Tony for something.)

And he hates it when his eyes light up because he’s excited to see him, or when Tony pecks him on the cheek when they get to Bucky’s place (and it’s not his place, it’s a safe house that he had to personalize a bit), and just...

“You catching feelings?” Natasha asks.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Good.”

They both know it’s not good.

In order to maintain a cover and not have it blow up in your face, you need to feel a little bit. Or be a hell of an actor.

Bucky’s not the type to be nominated for an Oscar. .

When he’s lying in bed, he remembers that Tony is the one who’s selling under the table. He’s causing needless deaths and it’s a shock to the system.

Because Tony can’t even kill a spider. He gets a napkin and shrieks as he flings it out into the patio garden he has. He coos when he sees a dog walk past the breakfast place they tend to frequent in fair weather.

Tony goes to farmer markets early and buys bouquets and hands out the baked goods to people on his way home.

He complains that he needs a pinstriped suit but nowhere makes it right. He puts his head against Bucky’s shoulder after a long day at work, and is very tactile. He puts Bucky’s hair into buns and is so delicate.

And it all is a lie.

It is a lie when Bucky pushes that one unruly curl out of the way when he kisses Tony on the forehead. It is a lie when he gives him fun space socks and laughs when Tony’s first action is to slide on the wooden floor.

It is a lie when they go to the art museum with hands interlaced and make fun of modern art. When Tony whispers that he loves Michelangelo, and everyone says he should like da Vinci, but he doesn’t. He can’t.

“Michelangelo painted and sculpted what he saw, and that was strength in people,” Tony says. “He used everyday models. He created a sense of pride in creation. And I never forgot that, that pride of creation.”

And Bucky swallows and it’s hard to breathe for a moment because creation is not something he would say.

Obadiah Stane knows about Bucky. He doesn’t approve of him because he is yet another distraction that pulls Tony away from work.

“You’re a golden goose, boy,” he says, putting a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

Bucky can’t help but be uncomfortable in his presence. He calls Tony “boy” and maybe that’s from knowing him from such a young age, but that doesn’t feel like it.

“Well this golden goose likes going on dates with his love,” Tony says, pecking a kiss on Bucky’s cheek. He smiles on instinct.

“Sorry, sir,” Bucky begins. “But he’s only human.”

Stane doesn’t like this Barnes guy. There’s something off about him, something that’s too...close.

He looks into Bucky Barnes.

Had some military service, was MIA. Almost declared KIA until a guy named Captain Rogers brought him back from somewhere in Eastern Europe, somewhere that Stane was familiar with.

He calls two numbers.

One is to inform the military of a surprise cancellation on a weapons demonstration regarding the Jericho missile.

The other is to a man who he hadn’t dined with in quite some time.

“Pierce, how do you feel about lunch on Saturday?”

Alexander Pierce is a man who is quite easy-going. He can do a lunch on Saturday, particularly with Obadiah Stane.

“Good to see an old friend again,” he says, taking his wine glass. “What do I owe an occasion for? Did you finally get Stark to agree to marry one of my nieces?”

“Not quite yet,” Obadiah says, smiling at the waiter. “Could I get the sirloin, medium-well? Thank you so much.”

“I’ll take the grilled salmon,” Pierce says, handing his menu over.

“How are the kids?” Obadiah asks as the waiter’s gone.

“Fine, fine. You know how the younger generation is. Think they know everything when they get to college. Samantha wants free college. Thinks we didn’t pay for anything back in the day.”

Stane laughs.

“They’ll do that, for sure. Tony comes back with all sorts of ideas in his head about medical fees and do-good-community-bullshit.”

Pierce takes another swallow of wine.

“I assume you don’t want to just know about my kids.”

“No, no that’s not all. I need to know how much you know about one James Barnes.”

Pierce stills.

“What do you know about him?”

“Tony has a new...partner,” Obadiah says, “and he goes by Bucky. I saw that he was nearly declared KIA. Can’t imagine that that was satisfactory for you.”

“It still isn’t. You know where he is?”

“I can point you to his apartment.”

“Excellent. Are we splitting the check?”

“I’ll get it, you get the other thing,” Stane says. “And don’t make it too big of a thing, okay? Dramatics aren’t what we need.”

“Got it. Thank you.”

They enjoy the steak and the salmon.

Stane tips absolutely nothing.

What Obadiah doesn’t know but probably should have is that Tony was sleeping over at Bucky’s place.

He would not have sent Pierce there at the time that he did.

He’s lucky that Bucky still remembers how to kill a man and gets out of the bed, knife already in hand.

Tony is clutching the blankets, frozen.

“You...what.”

“Do you have anyone after you to kill you?” Bucky pants.

Another guy comes up, and he’s not even looking at Tony.

Well. Looks like Stane looked into him a little bit.

“Babe, what the fuck is going on?” Tony asks sharply. He’s scrambling to get under the bed, yelping as he finds what is either the handgun or the machete. He thinks he put the handgun on the opposite side.

Tony pops out with the machete.

“I may or may not have not told you some things,” Bucky says, throwing the guy against a wall.

“Like fucking what?”

“I might have been a secret agency’s weapon for at least a year,” Bucky says. “In my defense, I remember nearly none of it except for sometimes.”

“Except for sometimes?!” Tony yells, brandishing the machete.

He’ll have to remember that he has the handgun on the other side.

“Darlin’, I need you to go to the kitchen and grab my cellphone. Call Nat, tell her you need help.”

It’s a whole clusterfuck is what it is. Bucky’s dealing with three different men all in varying states of pain in his apartment, his boyfriend (well, kind of a boyfriend, he doesn’t know he’s not one) is on the front lawn, and Bucky is in his room debating on redecorating tips and panicking.

“Why the fuck would someone send people after you?” Natasha hisses. “Who knows?”

“Stane, most likely,” Bucky says. “Got suspicious. Hated that I would take Tony out for dates.”

“Why, he homophobic?”

“Among other things. I think I cut into Tony’s productivity time.”

“Oh my fucking god, seriously? You took Tony out for ice cream and that’s what did it?”

“Most likely. Rhodes and Potts didn’t suspect a thing. I’m thinking Stane knows Pierce, probably made contact. But it begs the question as to why. Because he could get around my timing.”

“Maybe it’s not Stark who’s selling,” Natasha says, “and that means we’ve wasted a fucking year with this whole shtick.”

Tony is standing outside the door.

“You...so you were exactly like the other ones?”

Bucky’s chest constricts.

“I--I can’t say no.”

“So you never loved me?” Tony asks quietly. “Every single time you got me a present, it was just to lead me away from something else? Every single time you picked me up for brunch, it was an act?”

“Tony--”

“So after all this,” Tony says, gesturing to the framed pictures and the set of drawers that were specifically for him in mind, “you were gonna look me dead in the eyes and say ‘I never loved you’?”

“We thought you were selling weapons under the table,” Natasha explains. “We needed to get close without tripping any alarms.

Tony freezes.

“Well. You did your job. Now I’m getting the hell out of here. And I’m taking the fucking machete.”

Tony tears apart Bucky’s tires on his way out.

That’s fair.

Bucky was not expecting to feel like absolute fucking shit.

Or try to apologize to Tony.

He calls and texts and even shows up to the tower, but Jarvis says if he comes in then he’ll be obliterated to pieces.

“Does it help if I don’t care that I die?” He asks hopefully.

“I do not want to bother our cleaning services with something so trivial, Barnes,” Jarvis says.

Even his AI is mad at him.

Existence is a curse and a prison. He is definitely writing his own eulogy and telling everyone it was Bruce’s fault that he sent him instead of Nat. Nat probably could’ve done it. And not fucked it up and gotten feelings and now feel like drowning to Lana Del Ray.

“You’re so fucking sad,” Sam says, poking Bucky in the leg. “Stop listening to sad shit, I think it’s affecting Bruce. You know how Bruce is when Lorde comes on.”

“Yeah, he gets all mad and tells us we’re disappoints to natural worlds,” Steve calls out. “Bucky, you want a grilled cheese or are you gonna deny yourself a functional dinner and eat two pretzel rods later tonight?”

“Aren’t we out of pretzel rods?” Bucky grumbles back.

“I’m making you a grilled cheese now then. If you don’t eat it I’m going to tell you all about my day, and I had to wait in a really long line at the DMV.”

“Ugh,” Bucky groans. “How is your life sadder than mine at this point?”

“His life isn’t sad, it’s just boring,” Sam answers. “Steve, you’re boring.”

“If I’m so boring, then why the fuck am I still here?” Steve asks. “You never call Bruce boring when he rants about nineteenth century art and elitism.”

“That’s because I’m right and I called Cezanne a ‘punk bitch’ and made it funny,” Bruce says. “You are around for entertainment value and aesthetics only. Also because occasionally you let Sharon visit and I love her.”

Despite his best efforts, Tony is crying on a Friday afternoon at 2:34 p.m. This should not be happening, but it is.

Pepper says he shouldn’t have his desk face the door, it’s kind of sad.

“Just...god I hate that I like him!” Tony exclaims. “I hate that I know he kind of didn’t mean to do this, except he did, but he thought I was a criminal! And I still like him! Even though objectively what he did was bad but I haven’t talked to him!”

“You’re a sad little man,” Pepper says.

“If you call me a ‘little man’ one more time I think I might go unhinged and destroy the fourth floor,” Tony says. “And I know that you store your and Rhodey’s favorite coffee there because they don’t mess with cabinets.”

“You monster.”

Pepper reshuffles her papers.

“Well, while you sign these--and you willl, stop pouting--I’m going to tell you something.”

Tony starts signing.

“While I think that Bucky is questionable at best, I don’t quite think he was there because he wanted something. Other than you in jail, but like. I don’t think even that.”

“Should I be consulting a therapist about this?”

“Probably. Are you going to?”

“I’m me. No.”

Pepper snorts. She gets one signed form back.

“He felt guilty taking your gifts. He liked baking you desserts so when you got back home the house would smell like cookies. You’re not the only one who misses that, by the way.”

“So are you saying I should take him back?”

“At least talk to him. Decide if you want him back or not. Keep in mind he can’t come to family dinner for a hot minute.”

“Understood.”

Bucky gets a text asking about dinner.

He says yes.

Obviously.

They go to a restaurant neither of them know. Tony still passes an old dinner favorite, and remembers that Bucky had hated the fish.

Bucky passes by a breakfast favorite. Or late night favorite.

He remembers making little pyramids of the coffee creamers and Tony figuring out how to get creative with the tin foil for leftovers.

The restaurant has a fucking wait list.

Fifteen minutes.

So they’re standing there and making the most awkward small-talk available because it’s not like you can ask if someone is doing fine after they were attempted to be killed and you also found out they thought you were the criminal mastermind.

At least, you can’t ask it while you’re on a wait list at a restaurant.

They get seated at the bar because Tony is a gigantic pushover and Bucky doesn’t mind bar seats.

They order drinks and then Bucky orders an appetizer and it occurs to Tony that for the first time in a long time, he’ll have to ask to split the checks.

“How have you been doing?” Bucky asks.

How have you been doing. What a fucking sentence. What a damn question.

“Are you asking me how I am doing?” Tony responds. “When I found out that my boyfriend was faking it, my uncle was basically Claudius from Hamlet, and I also have to revamp my company entirely from scratch and fired the most amount of people I think I’ve ever done because of said-tragic-uncle? Oh James, I’m doing just absolutely peachy.”

Oof, James.

Bucky orders a martini.

“For the record, I am very sorry,” Bucky says. “About everything. I shouldn’t have done all that I did, and I probably should’ve just asked you if you were selling weaponry.”

“You think I would’ve told you?”

“Well no, but you’re the worst liar on planet earth,” Bucky says. “You said you liked my cardigan. You never did.”

“It was a monstrosity and you know that,” Tony argues. “I hope you burn it.”

“I’ll let you burn it,” Bucky says.

“Are you serious?”

“Course I am.”

They order from a very nice waitress who most likely has no idea the amount of shit they need to talk about, or the epic level of just...drama.

“How are you doing?” Tony asks, stirring his lemonade. “Still being a weird conman?”

“I usually am not the conman,” Bucky answers. “I’m usually the guy who’s long-distance.”

“What the fuck do you mean long--oh. Oh. Never mind, I don’t wanna know. Nope.”

“Well other than that, I’m fine. You know. Making coffee. Getting up in the morning. All that fun jazz.”

(Tony politely does not mention that all of those activities are not “all that fun jazz.” They are not fun, nor particularly jazzy.)

They sit awkwardly. Tony checks his phone.

“I still like you. And I want to hear your side of things,” Tony says. “I’m...open option.”

“You did not just say open option like you’re a college tour guide.”

“Get to the point,” Tony says.

“We thought you were the one double-dealing under the table,” Bucky says. “So we decided that I would go in. We couldn’t surpass your security, Jarvis is too good.”

“He’ll be glad to hear that.”

(This is because Jarvis is a Smug Bastard. Just like his dad.)

“And so I was introduced to you. Bumped into you completely by accident, or so it seemed. Sincerely didn’t mean to drop coffee.”

“Okay.”

“I was to get to know you in a way that didn’t involve anything with the company so that there wouldn’t be added security measures. You vetted me as a romantic interest, not a threat. You didn’t do deep digging.”

“Good to know,” Tony murmurs. “I did it after all of...that. You have an impressively mysterious background, Bucky.”

“I tried my hardest,” Bucky says.

“Continue with your story.”

“Somewhere along the line, I started...well I was conflicted. Because Tony, I don’t mean this as a way to sugarcoat, but you are genuinely one of the best people I’ve ever had in my life.

And I just...I couldn’t stop hurting myself every single time I saw you because I thought you were this person who put profit over people, and then you weren’t. And I completely fucked that up. And I was a terrible person who manipulated you. That wasn’t okay.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Tony says. “But it also should be said that I let the wool get pulled over my eyes. I wasn’t personally checking in on the company that I own. And if there were under-the-table dealings, the CEO should know. And I was just compliant with whatever Obie was doing because I thought that he was good just because I knew him. That was...stupid of me.”

They order food. It’s kind of awkward. They are both pretty sure the waitress has caught on that something is up with them.

Bucky decides to eat his mac n cheese.

Tony is looking at it.

“You want some?”

“Better not. Your appetite is always huge.”

“Yeah but you like mac n cheese.”

Bucky scoops some of it onto Tony’s plate. In usual circumstances, Tony would’ve just swooped in with his fork and stolen it like the gremlin he is.

But this is not the usual circumstance.

They split the check. Get the wrong bills. Pay them anyway, because they are nothing if not nice and slightly desperate for each other.

“I’ll..see you soon,” Tony says. “It was nice talking to you.”

They get to know each other as people, after that amazingly awkward lunch.

Tony finds out that Bucky really, really loves getting up early in the morning. He has a ritual that he rarely strays from. Bucky also likes working on cars and bikes, and that’s something they enjoy together.

Tony loves quoting old movies and talking in the very stupid but very adorable transatlantic accent.

They find new restaurants to try. They figure out that they both would prefer to not go into sandwich shops. (Varied reasons, all stemming from events from 2004. Do not ask.)

Bucky gets Tony a series of old movies and movie posters, which Tony adores. Pepper and Rhodey approve.

“You’re no longer on the kill-list!” Pepper exclaims brightly.

“I think Bucky here could kill you if he wanted to,” Tony defends.

“I could not,” Bucky immediately counters. “All of your friends terrify me on a level that shouldn’t exist.”

“I’ll keep this in mind the next time I want late night pizza,” Rhodey says. “You should not have shared with the class, Barnes.”

“Like you wouldn’t have found out anyway,” Bucky answers, snorting. “You found out where to find my middle school pictures and blow them up on Stark Industries’ presentation boards. What else couldn’t you find out?”

“Bruce’s phone number,” Rhodey says, sighing.

“Oh, I have that,” Tony says.

“And you didn’t tell me?” He screeches. “I could’ve been taking him to brunch by now!”

Tony rolls his eyes.

“You’re so dramatic. I have no idea where you got that from.”

Rhodey flips him off.

Pepper delicately sighs, picking her plate up.

“I’m turning in the for the night. Rhodey, I’d suggest you do the same.”

It’s not subtle at all. They all know that Tony and Bucky are going to talk.

They’ve been doing this dance for a couple of months now. Going on dates, leaving each other at the door and kissing on the cheek goodbye. Only recently has Tony restarted activities they used to do. It still sends a zing to Bucky’s heart when Tony kisses him on the cheek before he leaves.

“So.”

God, what a great start. Really and truly. Their best one yet, of course.

“Listen,” Bucky says. “I don’t have a lot that you don’t already know. But what you should already know is that I will and can die for you. Doesn’t matter what the circumstance is. And I know you’d do the same, I can always tell. But I know that you dying for somebody is different from me because you carry the world on your shoulders and I don’t.

And these months have been rough, I know they have. I’m beyond grateful that you got that lunch with me and we agreed to actually date and have no secrets--except for the time you used the last of my blackberry preserves--but that’s okay. You can use all of my jams and preserves for whatever you want as long as I get to see you for the rest of time.”

Tony stills.

Because he wasn’t expecting this many words. He had actually prepared a whole speech. Even practiced it in front of his mirror.

(Also he was not expecting to be in his ratty old workshop t-shirt, but here he is.)

Tony melts.

He crawls into Bucky’s lap, sighing.

“I’m never leaving.”

“Really? After all that, and all I get is cuddles?” Bucky sighs dramatically. “The folly of man.”

“You get cuddles for the rest of time,” Tony says, “plus a little more. Discounted rate, of course.”

“Oh, a discounted rate?” Bucky says, cackling. “Debit or credit?”

Tony grins, laughing. He pulls Bucky into a kiss.

“Missed that.”

“Me too.”

They won’t miss it anymore. At least, not for as long as it was.

#lovelyirony writes #winteriron #bucky barnes #tony stark #rhodey #pepper potts #bruce banner #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #sharon carter #clint barton #steve is a little shit in this and i LOVE it #i need to write him like that more

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