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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

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Take Me Home Tonight

Summary: You run into a familiar face while working. (Bucky Barnes)

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, fingering, dry humping, flirting.

Note: look, we didn't expect Applebee's to inspire one fic, but now it's done two fics. Shit. We are deranged.

Please enjoy and let me know what you think. Please also reblog because it’s a lot longer than I intended.

You hug the menus to your chest as you approach the booth of four newly sat in your section. As you do, you stutter step, unsure if your eyes are seeing clearly. You know that hair, the subtle wave of brown with strands of silver woven in. You step up and give a smile to the men.

“Good evening,” you place a menu in front of each of them; the burly blonde comedically crowded into the corner beside the man with dark hair and darker eyes, the blonde you vaguely recognise from his acquaintance with the most familiar face at the table, “Mr. Barnes.”

“Oh, hi,” he sits up and sets the drink menu back at the centre of the table, “uh,” he gives you a peculiar look, “I thought you worked down at the Denny’s.”

“Used to. Just got hired here,” you chime, “uh, so, are you all ready to go with your drink orders?”

“You mind?” The blond with the short hair nudges him.

“Yeah, go ahead, I’m still thinking,” he sits back.

“Heineken,” the man orders with a tweak of his eyebrow.

“Seems you don’t carry Hansa so I’ll have a jolly rancher cocktail,” the big blond intones. You almost laugh, thinking of him with the bright blue drink with a gummy worm for garnish.

“Shirley Temple for me,” the other says, “designated driver.”

“Oh, of course,” you note each order in your head, “and you, Mr. Barnes?”

“Mr. Barnes,” the man across from him goads.

“Bucky,” Mr. Barnes corrects you, “uh, I’ll take a Corona.”

“Alright, Heineken, jolly rancher, Shirley Temple, Corona,” you list off, “I’ll be back with your drinks and to take your order.”

“Thanks,” Bucky smiles.

“Yeah, thanks, doll,” the blonde at his shoulder winks. You don’t miss the elbow he receives from his seat partner.

You go to the bar and put in the order. You do a round to check in on your other tables, grabbing a few napkins at request and clearing plates. When the drinks are set out neatly on a tray, you carry them to the booth and dole them out.

“So, are we starting with an appetizer?” You ask.

“We’ll do some nachos,” the man across from Bucky says, “thanks, sweetie.”

“Beef, chicken, or veggie?”

“Chicken,” he answers.

“Hey, I know you,” the blond drapes his arm over the side of the booth, “you’re the neighbour girl.”

“Steve,” Bucky reproaches under his breath.

“What? It was killing me. I just couldn’t place the face.”

Bucky utters your name, almost reluctant to do so, “I’m just out with buddies,” he explains, “buncha old men catching up;” he jabs his thumb towards the man beside him, “Steve, Thor,” he points to the other blonde then to the man across from him, “Sam.”

“Sounds like fun,” you chirp, “well, I’ll go get those nachos. Are we planning on entrees?”

“We’ll just share the chips,” Bucky assures.

Sam leans back and pats his chest, “heartburn.”

You humour him with a smile and nod before spinning away. You flit off and head for the kitchen. It’s strange seeing Mr. Barnes– Bucky outside the neighbourhood. He’s always just been next door. Odder even seeing him without his family. Well, you guess he deserves the break. Every time you see him, he’s on his way somewhere.

🍻

The night wears on. Your shifts always pass quickly as you’re kept afoot by patrons and managers alike. Several times you find yourself visiting Bucky’s table to top up drinks and they grow rowdy as the game comes on the big screen.

You’re almost amused as you’ve never seen your neighbour like this. He’s always so stern and standoffish. A small wave as he mows the lawn or a ‘morning’ as you pass by him unlocking his car. Even your father claimed he was the most serious man he’d ever met.

“Sweetheart,” Sam smiles at you as clear the empties, “can we get our check? I gotta get them out of here before they break something.”

“Sure thing,” you say as you stack the tray with bottles and glasses, “separate or together?”

“Together. I’ll have to chase them down for the difference,” Sam answers.

As you take the clear Corona bottle from in front of Bucky, he rests his chin in his hand and watches you. Your eyes meet his and your cheeks round even more. He’s definitely drunk.

“Hi,” he babbles.

“Hello, Mr. Barnes,” you return.

“I told you, it’s Bucky,” he grins.

“Bucky,” you repeat, “you want some water?”

He sits up and drags his elbow off the table, “I guess I should…”

“For all of them,” Sam says from your other side, “please.”

“Alright, check and waters.”

You almost click your heels before you sweep off on your mission. It’s almost closing time and the place is sparse. A few stragglers along the bar but no more hectic families of screaming toddlers breaking crayons and tossing napkins.

You go to the till and print out the bill and grab a handheld from the charger. You place both on your cleared tray and fill three glasses of water. You carry them back to your last table and gently set the condensating drinks before each diner. Sam takes the bill as he holds his card between two fingers.

“You go to school?” Steve’s voice startles you before you can summon small talk.

“Uh, yeah, second year,” you answer him.

“I thought so,” he says, “college girls…”

“Shut up, Rogers,” Bucky grumbles, putting his hand up to block out Steve, “ignore him. He’s trashed.”

“Speak for yourself,” Steve swats his hand down and receives a swipe back.

The men slap at each others’ hands as Thor stands and leans over, his size deterring the men as he shoves their arms apart, “enough. Or I’ll drag you out like stray cats.”

You try not to show your discomfort as Sam hands you back the machine and it loudly prints his receipt. You offer him a copy but he insists you go and enjoy your night. You bid them all the same and set off to clear the last of your tables.

Your coworkers start their own closing tasks and the music turns off as closing time hits. You glance up, everyone’s gone. You go back to the booth and gather up the mostly untouched glasses of water and wipe it down. With your tables done, you turn in your apron and go to get your cut of the tips. Your tally comes up higher than you expect thanks to the table of middle-aged men.

You head out the back door and round to the front of the shining marquee. You’ll uber home since your mom is out of town. As you step up on the little pavement lip in front of the restaurant, a figure stands from their perch on the ground. You don’t recognise Bucky until he says your name.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” You ask as you lower your phone.

“Ah, well, me and Steve…” he rubs his neck and chuckles, “I’m waiting on a cab but none have passed by.” He shrugs, “plus, I figured we’re headed in the same direction…”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess,” you say, “I was just ordering an uber. Kinda don’t like taking them alone so late at night anyway.”

“Great,” he slurs, “uh, sorry about tonight. My friends are… a lot.”

“It’s fine, you were having a good time,” you select a ride and black out your phone. “Just make sure you drink lots of water.”

“Hmm,” he hums, “you’re so nice… I’ll be fine, you know? I can take care of myself.”

“I know, I just… I hate hangovers.”

“Oh? Didn’t take you for a drinker?”

“Well, don’t tell mom but once in a while.”

“My lips are sealed,” he surprises you as he reaches to squeeze your shoulder. “And I’ve never broken a promise to a pretty girl.”

You want to laugh. He’s tipsy and it’s kind of cute. The glare of headlights flash over you and he drops his arm away from you. The uber approaches and you check the plate, pointing Bucky in ahead of you.

He sidles over the seat and yawns as you climb in next to him. The driver confirms your destination as you let yourself relax against the seat. The tension of your shift slowly drifts away.

Bucky slowly slides until he’s leaning against you, “I’ll pay you back for the ride,” he grumbles as he rests his head on your shoulder.

The tension seeps back into you but you try not to overthink it. He’s just your neighbour, a friendly neighbourhood dad, a bit discombobulated from his night out. He probably doesn’t get many of those.

“Been a long time since I went home with a girl like you,” he chuckles.

You laugh, a nervous tickle in your throat as his weight bears down on you. You can smell a hint of citrus from his hair. Hopefully he’ll forget this all by the morning.

You’re quiet as the driver continues on. By the time you get to your street, you’re sure Bucky’s fallen asleep. You’re worried about getting him back to his place. As you get close to your house, you point the driver to the house right beside your own. That’ll be easier.

To your surprise, Bucky sits up and lets out a sleepy grumble. You thank the driver as your neighbour grabs onto your hand and tugs you towards his side as he opens the door. You let him and he clings to you as the uber leaves you in the shadow of the Barnes’ abode.

“Let’s go to bed,” he pulls you towards the walkway.

“Bucky,” you utter, “uh, Mr. Barnes?”

Is he that drunk? He must not realise you’re not his wife. You look around. You don’t see her car. That explains his little boys’ night. She’s probably visiting family again so he’s all alone.

“Hey,” you laugh unevenly as he drags you up onto the porch. He’s very strong. “Mr. Barnes, it’s me.”

He stops and sways. He squints at you and feels his pockets, jangling his keys through the fabric. He steadies himself and grins. His eyes hold yours, drowning you in pools of oceanic blue.

“I know,” he says soberly, “it’s you.”

You stare at him in confusion, blinking as he slides his hand into his pocket. You glance over your shoulder at the dark siding of your parents’ house. You face him again as he pulls his keys out but drops them between his shoes. You put your phone in your purse and shift the bag to rest on your hip.

“I should– oop,” you look down, “Mr. Barnes,” you bends to grab the keys, “alright, I’ll just get you inside and head home.” You stand up and hold up his keys, “which one?”

He points to the square gold one and you shove it into the slot. You push the door inward and gesture him ahead of you. He shuffles over the threshold, tripping before barely catching himself on the frame. You follow him in and look around cautiously. You’ve never been inside.

“Let’s get you to the couch, Mr. Barnes,” you grab his arm as he wobbles, “you just need to sleep this off–”

You tug on his arm but he doesn’t budge. Once more, all unsteadiness fades and he’s suddenly immovably still. He turns his head slowly and puts his hand over yours.

“I told you,” he faces you as he guides your hand up his arm, “it’s Bucky.”

“Um, alright, uh–”

He backs you up and you collide with the door, the impact forcing it shut. You gulp and press yourself against the inside as he pens you in, clutching your hand to his shoulder. The beer on his breath mingles with the citrusy scent that cloys from him.

“Mr. Barnes, what–”

“Shhh,” his hand slips from your and he grips your chin, “it’s okay–”

“St–”

He smothers your protest with a kiss. You’re too stunned to do more than flatten yourself against the door. His grip makes your jaw ache as his other hand crawls up your thigh. You squirm and push against his shoulder with a whine.

He doesn’t relent. He pushes his foot between yours, edging them apart as he picks your fly open. You curl your fingers, jabbing your nails into him. He growls but doesn’t stop.

You turn your head, forcing your mouth away from his.

“Mr. Barnes… Bucky, please–”

He hushes you again as his hand falls from chin to throat. He squeezes, crushing out any hope of screaming for help. He nuzzles into the side of your neck, his nose tickling the line of your jaw. You whimper as his hand delves beneath the cotton of your panties.

His fingertips brush along your trimmed vee of hair and he swirls the short curls with a purr. He extends his middle finger, feeling along your folds and dipping between. He flicks his finger back and forth, exploring you until he finds your clit. He rolls his finger, stoking a heat beneath his touch.

You wriggle and trail your hand down his arm, gripping his wrist as you fight him. You’re too weak. You croak through your tight throat as you try to fight the swirling tide building with the friction of his roughened fingertip. This can’t be happening.

He’s drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s not like this.

A million thoughts race with as many sensations. You stand on your toes as your muscles knots and the tension coils in your core. You shouldn’t feel like this. This is wrong. This isn’t real. Your eyes roll back and you hide behind your eyelids.

His finger glides as you slicken against him. He quickens his pace, toying with you as he breathes against your neck, puffing damply as his hand remains firm on you. He keeps you pinned as he goads your body on, fueling a fire you’ve never lit before.

You squeak as you twitch without permission. You succumb to the brewing storm, blown away in the whirlwind as your mind is stifled by your body. You gulp and gasp, your hand slipping down to his chest as your other falls away from his arm.

“You’re so sexy,” he purrs as he lets you go.

You brace yourself against the door, breathless and paralysed as you watch him raise his hand. He presses his fingertips to his mouth and you see the glisten on them. He pushes them inside and sucks them clean with a growl.

“And so sweet, baby,” he steps forward, crowding you again.

The afterglow has you helpless. He feels along your side as his other hand wanders down your leg. He pulls your knee up and brings himself flush to you. He bends his knees as he presses his crotch into yours. You murmur at the hot weight between you.

He curls his arm around your neck and your head lolls back. He bows to kiss you, devouring you as he slowly rocks his hip. A fiery heat builds between the layers of fabric, the friction of your seam rubs you through the damp cotton of your panties.

He gasps into your mouth as his pace quickens. The door shifts and squeaks with his motion as he pounds you into it, hips pumping as his bulge pokes through his jeans rigidly. Your head droops to the side and his wet lips smear over your cheek. He bites into your ear lobe and snarls.

Another tickle flares and you moan. A small burst that has you just as senseless. Your delight leaks onto your panties, spreading to the edges.

“Mmmmm,” he hums and releases the pinch of his bite, “fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me go– right in my–” he chokes as his fingertips sink into the bottom of your thigh and he pulls your leg higher, “jeans–”

He shakes and lets out a long rattle, sprinkled with deep groans and soft mewls. He leans into you completely and shudders, stilling at last. He sinks down with you, bringing you to straddle him as his knees meet the floor.

You heave and lift your head, gaping at him as his eyelids droop sleepily. He smiles, the expression crinkling around his eyes. He leans in and kisses you again, nibbling on your lower lip before pulling away.

“I won’t tell your mom about that either, kitten.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #one shot #mcu #marvel #au #silverfox au #captain america #avengers #winter soldier #bucky barnes x reader

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adnauseum11 · 3 months

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Mess Hall (John Price x Reader)

John explains his early departure from poker night to you.

1.8k words

CW: swearing, explicit sex (MDNI)

second part of the two-part scene

feedback welcome! writing smut is hard (lol) if anyone has any tips I'm grateful for them. Always looking to get better so don't be shy :)

Dinner was not edible, to John’s lasting amusement. The veggies cooked at disparate times, some too mushy and some practically raw. The pasta had been fine, John’s contribution solid as always. The flavour of the sauce had been the real star, if one didn’t mind the shrapnel you had introduced to it. Both of you had decided after half a bowl each that it was more work than it was worth. Your real dinner ended up being the world’s saddest charcuterie board, but John assured you he’d made do with worse.

“Just happy to be eating.” He said, brushing off your concerns about him going hungry.

“We could go to the pub.” You pick at the salami, perched on one foot tucked under you on a chair at the table.

“I just want to be with you, not up for the pub if that’s alright, love.” John’s honesty takes you by surprise, you glance at him but he seems otherwise content, building cheese and pickle onto a cracker.

“Yeah, of course that’s alright. You want to tell me what happened?” You ask carefully, not wanting to call back his bad mood but curious what brought him to your doorstep now that he seems a bit more even keeled. He stuffs the food into his mouth and chews thoughtfully, looking at you from under his lashes. It’s the most indecisive you’ve seen him in a long time and you wonder suddenly if you want to know at all. Then he sighs and pushes his plate away, seemingly deciding something.

“I was offered a contract. Walk on, ready to go.”

Your lungs freeze, and you forget how to breath for a moment. Your focus narrows onto the man beside you, who is closely watching for your reaction. The question must have been written across your face because he answers without it needing to be spoken aloud.

“I told them no, love.”

“Oh, thank god.” You say in a rush, your lungs sucking in a breath desperately. You can’t help the selfish sentiment, reflexive as blinking. Your hand lands on your chest as if trying to keep your heart contained. John watches you, a soft smugness pulling at his features.

“Good to know you want me around, darling.”

“I always want you around, John.” The bald truth is out before you can temper it with humour.

If anyone had told you a year ago that you would be dating your oldest friend and making heartfelt confessions in your kitchen over a crappy dinner, you would have thought them crazy. But here you are, a mere few months into this with your heart in your throat at the thought of him leaving for any length of time. What used to be routine seems devastating now.

“Is that…are you upset you said no?” You ask cautiously, breaking the intense eye contact to pick at your plate.

“What? No, they wouldn’t take no for an answer. Can’t play cards being badgered like that. They ought to know better.”

Relief that you aren’t the root cause of the bad mood floods through your system, making you bolder.

“You are incredibly stubborn. One ‘no’ should be enough.” You agree, earning yourself a dark look. You smile sweetly at him and reach across the expanse between your seats to cup his cheek, leaning in to his space to press a soft kiss to his frown.

His big palm slides up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place when you would retreat. He deepens the kiss before you can move, his fingers sliding into your scalp with delicious pressure. When he finally releases you, instead of backing off you follow, slipping out of your seat and crawling onto John’s lap, his thick thighs spread wide. He accepts your weight without even blinking, shifting you into a more comfortable position before fisting his hand in your hair and kissing you again. The delectable rasp of his tongue against yours makes liquid heat pool in your lower belly. You’re suddenly desperate to feel his skin pressing against yours, your smaller hands grabbing at his sides and shoulders.

Your urgency seems to bleed into him, his fingers finding the hem of your shirt and tugging it up your back, pausing only for you to lift your arms before he’s pulling it free from your body and throwing it on the floor. You mimic his actions, pushing his shirt up to reveal the thickness of his chest. He grabs the fabric and tugs and it joins a growing pile of clothing. The dark wiry hair of his body whispers against your delicate skin, sending lightning bolts of desire through you, eager to be pressed against his heat.

Without any warning John is shoving the plates out of the way, the clanking tableware startling you out of your lust driven haze. Before you can speak, he’s lifted you, depositing you on the cleared space of the table with a gentle tinkle as glass knocks together. You look up at him wide-eyed but his intense blue eyes are darkened with desire and locked on your bra, his fingers moving faster than your brain can catch up. The look in his eyes and the cool air has your nipples pebbling, biting your bottom lip as he leans into your space and kisses you again. You have a vague notion of him throwing the piece of clothing, in the next heartbeat both of his hands are on you, urging you to recline backwards.

John’s hot mouth trails over your collarbone and sternum as you recline, your fingers curling into his short sandy brown hair. The wet pull of his mouth on your nipple has you gasping, arching into him. His hands have dropped from your sides to your abdomen, flicking your jeans open with hurried movements. He pauses long enough to cup your mound, the heat of your body making him groan low in his throat.

“Fuckin’ hell love”

His voice has slipped down an octave, desire making his cheeks and chest flush under his dark hair. Your body has a pavlovian response to his, anticipation spiralling through your limbs. When his fingers curl in your jeans and panties, you lift up automatically, using his thighs to balance as he tugs the clothing free of your body.

He’s back on you as soon as the clothing leaves his hand, fingers tracing up your calves and thighs, making room for himself between them while his mouth blazes a trail over your ribs to the delicate underside of your breast. His whiskers dragging across your skin make you gasp and twitch, the tableware clinking together by your head with each sudden movement. When the wet heat of his mouth closes over your nipple again you moan, fingers pressing into the back of John’s neck to keep him in place. You can feel the backs of his fingers grazing against your low belly as he’s undoing his pants, twisting and pulling something out of his back pocket.

“John, let me.” You try to sit up but he won’t allow it, rasping his teeth over your nipple, making you suck in a breath and squirm underneath him. He releases your flesh with an obscene ‘pop’ and a smug smile slides across his face.

“Too late, next time.” His voice is a rumble, one hand fisted around the condom on the base of his hard cock and the other landing on your chest, keeping you pinned to the table and spread out for his viewing pleasure. The slow back and forth glide of the head of his cock over the seam of your pussy makes you groan and hook your heels into the back of John’s thighs. Your hands curl around his forearm, your nails biting into his flesh as he presses into you slowly, eyes locked on your face.

The heat of John’s palm on your sternum makes you aware of how fast your heart is beating against it. Your rattling moan spurs John on, the rocking thrusts of his hips making the dishes dance by your head. The obscene symphony sends shockwaves of sensation up and down your spine, making you squirm as you clutch at his arm.

John hisses a curse, followed by your name and you can feel the muscles of his arm fluttering under your grip. The world narrows to just the two of you, John rocking you and the contents of the table with his thrusts, gripping your hip to steady you under his body. You can feel your body start to pull taut, your orgasm building in pressure and a whine climbing the back of your throat as your senses start to overwhelm.

John slides his hand off your chest to hunch over you, putting his full weight behind his thrusts. He drops close enough to run his open mouth over your collarbone, panting hot breath against your skin. The increased pressure and change in angle make you clench around him, wrenching a low moan from his chest. The tableware crashes in time with your movements.

“John, please.” You’re begging mindlessly, wrapping your thighs high on his hips, your legs trembling.

“You make me crazy when you say my name like that.” John rumbles into your ear, giving you what you want and sliding his thumb over your clit in small circles. It only takes a handful more thrusts before you’re reaching your peak.

Your orgasm overtakes you and you claw at the back of his neck and shoulder with your nails, desperate to ground yourself. Your keening cry bounces off the walls of the kitchen as your body clamps down on his, bucking underneath him. The throbbing grip of your inner muscles is enough to drag John down with you, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he cums hard, his cock pulsing inside you. He groans deeply, his grip on your body bordering on bruising as you both slowly come down and try to regulate your breathing.

“Holy fuck John” You whimper, aftershocks making you tremble and grab at his arms as he leans back, easing out of your oversensitive flesh with a hiss. His palms are stroking over your body, cataloging the shape of you, soothing both of your nervous systems before stepping back. He disposes of the condom in the trash and is back between your legs, giving orders like he never left.

“Legs around my waist darling. Good girl. Up we go.” He’s gathered you against his chest and is hefting you off the table before you can process. Your brain finally catches up and you clamp your thighs around his waist tighter, your arms slung around his neck, hanging off of him like a burr. You trust him implicitly, doing as you're told, your brain still too gooey to do its own processing.

John checks the lock on your front door before carrying you upstairs to your bedroom. Both of you are too exhausted to give a shit about the state of the kitchen at the moment, curling together in your smaller bed. You try not to focus too hard on how suspiciously tight your chest feels when he spoons you, face buried in your hair with a contented sigh.

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @syoddeye @cadotoast

#fanfic #call of duty #captain john price #john price x reader #john price cod #friends to lovers #this work has smut #smut #john price x f!reader #john price #captain price #safe sex #sex positive

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yoonsdoll · 5 months

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snow day - ksy

content : bf!soonyoung x gn!reader ; fluff , humour ; 1.1k words ; no warnings ^^ - soonyoung wants to go on a snowy walk. an : please give feedback by reblogging / sending in thoughts and suggestions !

“baby look! it's snowing!” soonyoung shouted out, his nose wrinkling up as he sniffled thanks to the warm meal you cooked him. he looked really cute, his favourite loungey grey hoodie paired with some black sweatpants really contradicted his constant energetic mood.

“you’re right!” your face lit up, happy to see the little snowflakes falling down for the first time this year. he adored you, the way you’d always respond with just as much excitement and energy even if you were having a bad day. as you sat down in front of him, he immediately picked up a spoon of the soup and brought it to your lips. “its your food soonyoung.”

“yeah but its just so good, you have to eat it!” he giggled out with lots of enthusiasm - he really did want you to try your own delicious cooking, “plus you need to eat before we go outside!”

“we’re going outside?” you hummed, taking the spoon of soup in your mouth, the warmth heating up your cheeks in an instant. he quickly took the hair falling on your face and as carefully as he could, placed it behind your ear. he always made sure to take care of you as if you were a porcelain doll because to him, you indeed were his doll.

of course you were going to go outside. soonyoung wouldn’t miss a walk in the snow with his favourite person even if it meant he was going to die the next day. at least he’d die with his heart full of your love, he thought. “yes! we can go to the marketplace, we need to restock on veggies anyway, right?” you nodded, looking back at him as he spoke so excitedly. you’d think he won the lottery with the amount of emotion in his voice, mouth curling up, his eyes smiling too.

in just minutes, he managed to finish the food and clean up, already in his boots and big black coat when you walked over to the door of your apartment. “dress warmly, its cold outside.” he muttered to you as you were picking out a coat. acknowledging his comment, you decided on a pretty white coat he bought you a while ago - ‘you need a warmer coat! you will get sick if you keep wearing your other ones.’ you remember him saying as he gifted you it.

soonyoung has always been a thoughtful boyfriend. he always made sure you had everything you needed, from coats and jewellery to light kisses on days you were unwell. it didn’t surprise you when he told you he already had everything on him so you both could leave to the market immediately. when you stepped out of the apartment building after a (cute) interaction in the elevator consisting of him humming christmas songs for you, you both gasped in awe. it had only been a little over twenty minutes since you had checked the view outside, but the snow had covered the entire floor and layed on top of the remaining leaves of the trees.

you felt a hand sneak to yours, fingers interlocking together in silence. it didn’t take long for them to lose contact again as your boyfriend let go to run at a pile of fresh snow, bundling it up into a snowball with an evil grin on his face. you knew better than to run, last year you tried to run instead of fighting back - it only got you face first into a mass of snow with soonyoung laughing his ass off before hurrying to ask if you were okay. (apart from a frozen face and a new embarrassing story soonyoung is sure to tell his friends, you were indeed okay).

you ducked down to grab your own snowball, ready to get the revenge you were seeking all this time. his throw was miserable, it was off by at least three metres, and so you snickered as he huffed with that endearing pout of his. instead of comforting his sulkiness, you threw the snowball at him, hitting his shoulder. “woah.. don’t start something you know you can’t win!” you heard him yell before kneeling back down, ready to fight back. and fight back he did, throwing snowballs at you for a solid ten minutes before you came up to him saying that his throws were actually a little too powerful and they did hurt you, to which he immediately apologised with a soft kiss.

he returned to embracing his palm into yours, shoving them both into his coat pocket and swearing you’ll both be warmer that way. you didn’t argue back, content with your boyfriends random acts of fondness. you both entered the marketplace to be greeted with pretty christmas decorations everywhere. soonyoung pointed out a large gingerbread man stand that he swore looked like chan, then a bear statue that he compared to wonwoo. and then he pointed at the massive tree that hurt your eyes to look at but was impressive anyways, especially since you’re used to looking at the very poorly decorated one at home, which you still love since your boyfriend helped you with it.

as he was walking around admiring the decorations one by one like a little kid excited for candy, you were picking out the vegetables you originally went there for, picking up a sweet treat to surprise your boyfriend with later. he didn’t have to know just yet, he had more important things to be doing. (continuing to take photos of the various statues and sending photos of them to his friends).

“lets go soonie.” you interlocked your arm with his, dragging him out the store as he didn’t seem to want to leave just yet, having a whole section of penguin decorations and candy canes to still look at. “we can always come back another day.” you tell him with a convincing smile, one that manages to make him follow you in an instant.

it was now chillier, the wind a little stronger and the snow heavier. soonyoung couldn’t help but admire how perfect you looked in that moment, a red nose with snowflakes sticking to your hair. he wondered if you looked this ethereal to everyone else too, if everyone else noticed the way your lips curled when he pulled you closer, if everyone else saw how happy you looked to be by his side. not anyone else's, just his.

but it didn’t matter, because he noticed. he noticed how your head rested against his shoulder, he saw how your eyes struggled to stay open as you walked hand in hand, he studied the way your chest rose then a puff of condensed vapour left your lips soon after.

“lets go on another walk tomorrow.” you heard him voice.

you really liked the idea - in fact you loved it.

“okay.”

an 2 : for @alsktudy my lovely!! husband mingyu dedicated to me,,, boyfriend soonyoung dedicated to you!!! merry christmas (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

#soonyoung fluff #kwon soonyoung #kwon hoshi #svt soonyoung #soonyoung x reader #svt hoshi #hoshi fluff #hoshi #seventeen soonyoung #seventeen #svt #seventeen fanfic #christmas #laura : writing !#laura : fics !#yoonsdoll

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jhoumous-fr · 2 years

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VeganNanti

#mème végan #mèmes végan #memevegan #meme vegan #humourvegan #humour vegan #humour végane #végan #végane #véganisme #humour veggie

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jhoumous · 3 months

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Carnist reactions

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misforgotten2 · 2 years

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Tureen, Tureen, Tureen, Tureen I'm begging of you please don't take my goop Tureen, Tureen, Tureen, Tureen Please don't take it, it is my soup

Better Homes and Gardens New Cook Book 1965

#cook book #cookbook #vegetables #veggies #1960's #1960s #funny #humor #humour

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fayes-fics · 3 months

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6. A: Friends+ - Friends & Family

For uhhhh no particular reason and nothing at all to do with anyone particular person nope 😇

Hi lovely!

Bwhaha. Well, apologies for being a few days late on this, but as both you and the wonderful @colettebronte asked for Friends & Family... I wrote ten or so sentences.

This is what I hope is a sweet, fun humour scene during this fic. It may vary a little from the final version I post, as this is the first draft.

___

“Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, what is this??”

There is an undignified yelp, and your spatula drops to the floor with a loud splat. Apparently, he didn't hear you come in.

“Bloody hell! You scared the shit out of me… And what is the full name business all about?” he spins around, holding his hands aloft as if in a hostage situation. The sight is made even funnier by the fact he is wearing one of your novelty aprons, complete with floppy bunny ears….

You have walked in from afternoon coffee with some old friends to find your kitchen in absolute disarray. Pots and pans on every surface, opened containers, the contents of your spice cupboard all pulled out and haphazardly dotted around. There is a large pile of reusable shopping bags with half-open veggies in and what looks like a sourdough loaf cut open and likely going stale next to the completely wrong knife for the job at hand. There is almost no worktop surface not unused or covered in some sticky looking residue from god knows what.

“I said yes to you making dinner while I was out, I did not say you could conduct some kind of controlled explosion in my kitchen,” holding your hands up in exasperated resignation.

He walks towards you with that adorable puppy dog expression that is his perennial get out of jail free card. You pick a fleck of what you think is broccoli from his hair as he reaches you.

“Points for effort?” he pouts, a tiny smile seeking forgiveness toying with the corners of his mouth.

“You are lucky you are so damn handsome,” you sigh, letting him pull you into his arms as he breaks into the full charming grin and drops a kiss on the tip of your nose.

____

Thanks for your ask, lovely 😁🧡🧡

#faye answers #tag games #finish your fics friday #except its monday and Im useless sorry

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vegan-childrens-stories · 2 years

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"The next stage of my genius plot!"

“The next stage of my genius plot!”

Marvellous Mildred and the Girl Scout Twins, Episode 4 – Serious Trouble for Sindy Snowdrop – continues from Monday. For the story so far, click here 😀 Blast that Flat-Capped Menace and his robots! Hurry Mildred – they’re getting away! Come back on Friday to see if our heroes can stop them before they reach the ship 😀 *********** Marvellous Mildred, the Girl Scout Twins and the Flat-Capped…

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#funny children&039;s story #funny comic #funny vegan comic #humour #Vegan #vegan children #vegan children&039;s story #vegan comics #vegetarian #veggie kids

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lawendowylove · 2 years

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"The next stage of my genius plot!"

“The next stage of my genius plot!”

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#funny children&039;s story #funny comic #funny vegan comic #humour #Vegan #vegan children #vegan children&039;s story #vegan comics #vegetarian #veggie kids

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the-penguinspy · 1 year

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19. “You deserve so much better.” mary x shannon

thanks for the prompt, em :)

The late afternoon sunlight casts a muted, golden hue on the courtyard, light shining through in lazy bursts at the behest of the clouds fast-moving eastward. A gentle breeze ruffles the grass and provides a welcome respite against the heat, no doubt refreshing for those sister warriors at the tail-end of the day’s training sessions, especially evident to those who close their eyes and tilt their heads toward the heading of the wind.

All-in-all, a serene end to the day. Mary is certain that she’d be enjoying it a lot more if she wasn’t currently following Shannon to the outdoor sparring mats.

They reach the mats and Shannon starts stretching immediately. Mary stares for a second before she starts her own warm-ups. “Remind me why we’re doing this again?”

“Your shotguns do an excellent job at keeping enemies at bay, but what happens when you run out of ammo? What happens if someone gets inside of your guard?” Shannon stands and brings her legs together, bends at the waist until her palms touch the floor. Mary simply continues with her arm stretches. Show off.

“That’s why I have two shotguns, instead of just one.”

Shannon frowns, straightening her body once more. “I’m serious. I know you can take care of yourself, but I still worry about you.” She takes Mary’s hand and squeezes gently, and when she speaks, her voice is soft. “Humour me this once. We can see how it goes.”

Mary squeezes her hand back and sighs. “Fine, but only if your next prank is played on Lil. It’s her fault that I still double-check the sugar and salt shakers each time I use them.”

A dozen instances of eating mat and Mary finally, finally performs the disarming maneuver successfully. Shannon grins proudly, canines sharp, and Mary looks at her mouth just in time to catch a tongue darting quick over teeth. She resets her body into the starting position once more, and Mary rolls her shoulders before mirroring her stance.

“Again.”

By the time Shannon calls for a stop, the sun had already reached the horizon and painted the sky into a beautiful red-orange. Mary flops down on her back to better appreciate the view, heartbeat hummingbird-quick, her breathing still ragged from the impromptu training session.

She hears Shannon shuffle down beside her, looks over to see legs stretched parallel to her own. Shannon leans back on her hands, nary a hair out of place and with only the slightest sheen of sweat on her forehead to give evidence of physical exertion.

They stay that way until Mary’s stomach growls. “Any idea what they’re serving for supper?”

“Mashed potatoes and roasted veggies, if my sources are correct.”

Mary closes her eyes and groans. “Ugh, mashed potatoes again? After that workout you put me through? I deserve so much better.”

“You deserve so much better,” Shannon agrees.

Something’s off about her voice. It wavered a bit at the end, and Mary looks over to assess if there’s anything wrong. Shannon keeps her gaze trained in front of them, squinting at the sunset, her mouth set in a neutral line. Her face is a careful mix of nonchalance and solemnity, and she would have succeeded in her portrayal of such if her lip hadn’t wobbled when Mary looked over, if her teeth hadn’t bitten down on the inside of her bottom lip to tamp down a smile. For an enthusiastic practical joker, Shannon’s got a surprisingly bad poker face.

Mary narrows her eyes and scrambles to sit up. “Shan.” A responding hum. “I know that look. What do you have planned?”

Shannon turns to face her and, now caught, releases the abused lip to offer her happiness freely. “You deserve so much better,” she repeats. “You deserve someone who you can kiss in public, someone you can love in the open.” Her smile wavers slightly. “You deserve someone who can stay.”

“Shannon.” The name rasps out of Mary’s mouth, and she brings a hand up to cradle Shannon’s cheek. “It’s my choice to be here, to be here with you. I love you, I’m staying, and there’s nothing that you, or anyone, or the goddamn universe can do that’ll make me leave.”

“Language,” Shannon says, but her smile settles, is no longer turbulent, and she turns her face into Mary’s palm to hide it. The heat of her cheek spreads evenly through Mary’s palm, and the small kiss that Shannon places there electrifies her skin. Tiny bolts of lightning travel up her arm and through her veins, thousands strong; restarts her heart and awakens her body, and Mary blinks fast in an effort to stabilize her focus.

“You also deserve,” Shannon continues, “a reward.” The words come out muffled against Mary’s hand, vibrations smoothing out over the skin, and Mary leans in to hear her better. “Seafood paella. That place by the beach, the one with the perfect shrimp-to-clam ratio? I’ve made a reservation.”

Mary laughs, touched, and her affection spills out in the form of a thumb stroking reverent over Shannon’s cheek. “And what exactly am I being rewarded for?”

Shannon’s smile turns sharp. “Finishing a session of hand-to-hand combat training. I think they call that positive reinforcement or something.”

The eye-roll from Mary is inevitable. “They don’t take reservations. It’s barely busy at this hour, too.” “Is it so wrong to want everything to go smoothly?”

Mary smirks. “Everything, huh? There’s more to this little date of ours?” Shannon flushes, cheeks turning rosy. She keeps her gaze locked with Mary’s and brings her own hand up, fingers circling Mary’s wrist. Her thumb brushes over Mary’s pulse – a quick one-two pass – and Mary watches as the thumb is replaced with lips, as Shannon presses a slow kiss over thin blue veins, pressure feather-light, imprint barely-there.

The expression on her face must be amusing at the very least, because Shannon’s mouth curves upwards and chuckles, and the breath that Mary had been holding in finally finds its way out. Her lungs snatch greedily at the air, and she’s certain that her unsteady breathing isn’t due to the lingering exertion from their earlier spar.

“Are you coming, or what?”

Shannon’s already on her feet. She stands in front of Mary, extends a hand down and wiggles her fingers to entice a handhold. The sun from behind her casts her shadow long and dark over Mary, over the courtyard. In the shadow of her face, her smile is a gentle arc; small and shy, directed towards one recipient, and one recipient only.

Mary takes her hand and hoists herself up from the ground. “Obviously. Can’t let that hard-fought reservation go to waste.”

Shannon shoves at her shoulder playfully, but their hands stay linked all the way to Mary’s parked motorcycle.

#warrior nun #warrior nun fic #mary x shannon #shotgun mary #shannon masters #penguin writes #[grits teeth] it doesn't have to be perfect. it doesn't have to be perfect. it doesn't have to be-#nahh 'twas a fun one as usual so ty em :)#brain's just gotta thinkie less sometimes...smth im working on #sloooowly making my way thru these prompts jfdjdjf #birgittesilverbae

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