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slytherinyourrpants · 3 years

Text

Slow

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader

Word Count: 1081

Summary: A quiet day off with Hongjoong

Warnings: fluff

A/N: I wrote this after having the cutest dream with the cutest man and I needed to write it to share with everyone! I hope you enjoy! (I edited this so many times I had to force myself to stop)

masterlist

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Lately life has been going by so fast, there was no time to slow down. No time for your thoughts, no time to eat proper meals, and certainly no time to spend with your boyfriend. Work has kept you on a packed schedule with seemingly endless projects. Unfortunately your boyfriend has been twice as busy. Performing both on two music competition shows and promoting his group's latest song, his schedule barely even allowed any interaction that was not through your phone. So the only time you saw him was when he accidentally woke you up crawling into bed in ungodly hours. That routine started in March.

It’s now June and miraculously you both shared a day off. It had been sometime since the last time, so getting to spend time together after so long was exciting. Yet he was still in bed and since you slept much earlier than he did, took the time to be with yourself. While the day was bright and the weather cool, today called for quiet time at home. No phone calls, no emails, not even turning on the television for white noise. The only sounds were the soft music from the speakers and the tapping of your stylus on top of your iPad.

You were situated on the couch, drawing different variations of butterflies. Fascination grew for the winged creatures ever since Hongjoong given you the nickname “Butterfly”. Said you were beautiful and intricate, his heart flutters with them everytime he looks at you. That when he realized he loves you a butterfly landed on his hand, a sign for him that you were the one. Needless to say, they have become your favorite since then.

With the last one finished, a pair of hands placed themselves on top of yours. You lifted your head to see your boyfriend winking as your gaze met, distracting you from his actions. One hand kissed your knuckles while the other put the device on the coffee table. He sat down next to you, lifting you on his lap, arms tight around your waist as he laid your head on his shoulder breathing you in. You closed your eyes and let out contented sighs as he peppered kisses from your hair, your neck, and ending with a 5 point kiss on your face. Your body slumped into him, relishing in his touch. It has been months since he last held you properly.

“I’m not complaining, but where’s this coming from?” You asked when he paused, his eyes showing the adoration he held for you.

“Nothing, I just wanted to hold you because you’re so cute.” It always puts a smile on your face when he talks in English.

“Your English is getting better, honey. I’m proud of you.”

“That’s because I have an amazing and beautiful teacher that teaches me well.” His giggles were music to your ears. Of course a kiss was earned for that answer.

This man was so adorable he is going to be the death of you one day. It was times like this that you cherished, knowing this is a side that only you witnessed. He was always so gentle with you, like he was afraid you were to break easily. He claimed that was because he didn’t want to break your wings.

It was astonishing to see the difference between him when he’s your boyfriend and when he’s ATEEZ’s leader. In front of others he’s in charge of seven boys, a charismatic performer, and a musical genius. Yet to you he was this soft and mushy man that was devoted to love you in any way he could. One who made sure to wake you with good morning texts when he wakes before you. He makes sure you never go to bed unhappy, doing all that he can to put a smile on your face no matter how silly he may get. Even going as far as writing a few songs about you to put in their next album or just to make for you to listen to. He made you feel special, no one treated you this way before and you were thankful you met him when you did.

When he placed his head on your shoulder, it was a signal it was his turn for affection. Starting with his hair, you ran your fingers through the short blonde locks amazed it still felt soft after the amount of bleach used to achieve it. Next was the ear, tracing each piercing, tickling him a bit causing him to lightly pinch your sides. Of course a small kiss was placed on your neck afterwards. Following was his face which was as smooth as a porcelain doll. It made you a little jealous that his skin didn’t suffer as much as yours no matter how much stress he was in, but that was another part that made him enchanting. Last were his lips, tracing from the corners in. Feeling how plump they are against your thumb, soft like always. As you reached the middle of them, he pursed his lips placing a soft kiss.

While it was a small action it caused your emotions to rise. You hadn’t realized how much you missed him until now. Tears gathered in your eyes. When he felt you linger, he opened his eyes. Just like always did, he managed to capture you by his beautiful eyes that expressed his feelings. He was telling you he loves you just by his gaze. This caused you to let go, tears now running down your face. Hongjoong could not help, but to chuckle a bit at the sight of them, thinking to himself how cute you look despite them.

“Don’t cry my little butterfly.”

“I missed you so much, Joongie.”

No words were needed to let you know he agreed. Hongjoong easily picked you up, holding you tight as he walked you both to your shared bedroom. He kissed the remainder of your tears away as he laid you on the bed. Soon you felt your eyes grow heavy with sleep, eliciting another giggle from him at the sight of you fighting it. Pulling you into his arms, he held you tightly, talking sweet nothings in English until sleep took him as well. Life may pick back up tomorrow, maybe it would go twice as fast, but for now it seemed like it slowed down just to keep you in the arms of the man who held your whole heart.

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kumkaniudaku · 5 years

Text

BROWN SKIN GIRL: ONE

A/N: Consider this the follow up to The Love Tonight. This sounds very reminiscent to @bribrisback‘s Dance With My Father which is amazingly cute. I promise it wasn’t intentional. It’s my fault for literally take a month to finish one prompt. People tend to beat you to things. Still, I wanted to stick with this. I hope you enjoy part one.

Little bodies danced in sync to classical music as classes at Tillman Dance Studio neared the end of the first block Saturday session. It was rare that Micah wasn't front and center in her designated age group. Also rare was both of her parents and her younger brother making an appearance to pick her up and whisk the little ball of energy to their scheduled Saturday froyo date. Yet, both of these occurrences came to a head when the Boseman family walked through the door.

"I wish you would stop," CoCo giggled as Chadwick held the door open for his wife and son, using his free hand to graze across her backside when she passed by.

"Well, aren't you singing a different tune. What changed in an hour?"

Tasha blushed at the reminder of their earlier activities, but just as she opened her mouth to respond, Noah's yelling caught her attention.

"Key! Key!"

"You looking for your sister? Point to Mikey!" When the youngest Boseman extended his arm to point in his sister's direction, CoCo was genuinely surprised at what she saw. In a corner, Micah sat with her back against the wall and an odd mix of tear-stained cheeks and an angry disposition.

"Why is she sitting over there? Who made her cry," Chadwick asked. His body language had shifted from loose, relaxed energy to imposing dominance. "I'm going inside."

CoCo grabbed his hand to prevent forward progress, "Babe, wait."

"For what? Them to hurt her feelings again? Hell no!"

"Aaron!"

"Nicole!"

Tasha struggled to reign in her husband's emotions as parents in the immediate area passed around judgemental stares. She offered curt a smile to ward off attention before turning back to Chadwick.

"I know you're mad," she whisper yelled. "Hell, I'm mad too! But we don't even know what happened yet! Can we at least get the details before we start tearin' shit up?"

Chadwick looked back and forth between his wife and his daughter, who hadn't noticed her parents enter the building like she usually did. He couldn't move past the way she feverishly rubbed at her eyes to stop her tears before drawing her knees up to her chest.

"You promise to let me lead the conversation when get in there," Chadwick asked as he finally turned to face CoCo.

"I'm in the passenger seat on this one, baby."

Every nerve in his body was set ablaze as Chadwick made the tough decision to tuck away his anger and impatiently wait in the lobby.

The remaining 15 minutes of instruction felt like 15 hours until, finally, the studio door swung open, and little pupils in blue leotards filed out of the room. Micah trudged behind the group with her head down, following Miss Christy until she reached the threshold of the door.

"Mr. and Mrs. Boseman, can I speak with you all inside of my office for a moment?"

"We can't talk right here," Chadwick questioned.

Parents craned their necks for information, making the instructor's cheeks turn red with embarrassment.

"I think you'd much rather have this conversation in private. Trust me; we'll only be a few minutes."

Despite promising to take on the supporting role, Tasha stepped in to agree to Christy's terms on Chadwick's behalf. He instead turned his attention to Micah. She immediately reached out for him when their eyes met.

"It's okay, Princess. Daddy will fix it, okay?"

He continued to comfort his first-born during the short and mostly silent walk to the administrative area of the building. Finding safety in her father, Micah maintained a tight grip around his neck as he took a seat.

A soft drip-drop from the coffee maker across the room provided the only sound, working to push both parents to the highest heights of frustration.

"What happened?"

Chadwick's cold demand for answers frightened the young woman across from him, though she tried to hide her fear. Tasha's equally cold glare didn't ease any of the tension.

Folding her hands on the table and clearing her throat, Christy began her explanation. "Today, in class, Micah had an...issue with some of the other girls that turned physical. I recommend a break from the pro-"

"So, someone hit her?"

"No, Mr. Boseman, Micah was the aggressor."

"That's not fair! They were mean!"

Micah's outburst was uncharacteristic for a child that was almost always mannerable. Chadwick took that as a sign to press for more information.

"Did you ask what caused the altercation? I'm sure there was a reason."

"Micah says they called her a name, but still, violence is strictly forbidden here. Instructors are available if she wants to report a problem."

"Is bullying against the rules too, or do you make them up as you go," Tasha accused before turning to Micah. "What did they say to you, Mikey?"

The little ballerina fiddled with her thumbs and dropped her head to stare at her feet dangling below her. "Emily said...she said I wasn't pretty like them because my skin is so brown and my hair is frizzy. I'm sorry I pushed her, Mommy. But Ms. Christy wasn't looking, and they weren't nice."

Fearful of whatever punishment was next, Micah continued to avoid eye contact.

"So when my daughter, the only black child in the age group, was being tormented by a group of girls, were you simply unavailable to step-in or did you not care? I'm curious."

"Mr. Boseman, I can assure you that we are always watching the girls, bu-"

"Oh, so you saw but didn't care until she had to defend herself. Then, the black child gets in trouble for being the aggressor."

"Are you insinuating that this matter is about race," Christy accused.

"I'm asking questions. Were you paying attention when Micah was being picked on? Did you ask everyone what happened? Or was she punished while the others were left untouched?"

Christy opened her mouth to speak several times as she looked to CoCo to step in and stop the questioning.

"You should answer him," she advised.

"I-I," she stammered, tears threatening to spill.

"The answer to all of my questions is no, but you don't need to tell me that. You don't need to tell me anything because we're pulling Micah from the program. How should I pay the remaining tuition so that we leave in good standing?"

Chadwick's declaration stunned the other adults in the room, including Tasha.

"Mr. Boseman, I'm sure we can work something out. Maybe a short break? A meeting between all of the parents?"

"I don't want to meet about a damn thing. I've made a decision. If we need to pay by check, my wife keeps the checkbook. I have my credit card if you'd rather do it that way. But we will not continue to have our child come to a place where she isn't welcome."

There was no room for discussion despite Christy's multiple efforts. Chadwick had made his decision, and it was final. Fifteen minutes and a hefty check later, the family of four walked out of the dance studio Micah had called home for two years.

After strapping both children into their seats and entering on their respective sides, Tasha smiled at her husband, who was still reeling from the moments prior.

"Where to next, Captain?"

He thought for a moment, looking in the rearview to find Micah looking back at him. "You still want froyo, Princess?" Her bright smile instantly lifted the mood and alleviated the tension held hostage in his shoulders. Looking back at Tasha, he returned her smile and started the car.

"Pinkberry it is."

Frozen yogurt was a quick fix to the issue, but there was still a bleeding wound beneath the bandage.

As Tasha helped Micah choose her outfits for the upcoming school week, Micah silently ambled around the room. She hadn't said much outside of alerting her parents when she was hungry or ready to play by herself. Instead of pressuring Micah to talk, she was allowed to sort through whatever was in her mind until she was prepared to share.

"Mommy."

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Am I ugly because I'm brown?"

The hangers in Micah's closet roughly collided as CoCo lost focus and dropped the dress in her hand. Tasha whipped her head around, her eyes softening when she found her daughter sitting with her knees to her chest.

"Of course not. You're beautiful."

"Well, how come they said I was? I just wanted to be friends, and they were mean. What did I do?"

CoCo could feel her heart and mind going through a range of emotions. On the one hand, she was upset to the point of rage. Someone had destroyed all of the self-esteem they had instilled from the day she was born in one day. On the other hand, she had to fight the urge to cry to stay strong for Micah.

Placing the dress across a chair in the corner, Tasha moved to sit next to her daughter and pull her into a hug.

"Sometimes, people are going to be mean to you because you look different than they do, and it's gonna suck. It might even make you wanna cry. But it's because they aren't taught better at home, not because you aren't pretty or smart or anything else. Do you understand?"

"No," Micah muttered before snuggling closer to her mother. "I want friends that like me, Mommy. And I wanna dance too."

"You'll have friends, baby. They'll be the bestest friends you could ever have, not those mean girls that make fun of you."

Even though she acknowledged Tasha's statement with a head nod, Micah was still hurting. And her hurting was automatically transferred and magnified in her mother. She and Chadwick always knew that their kids would face these issues in their environment. But this situation felt like a punch to the ribs.

When Tasha finally trudged back into the master bedroom, she found her husband silently pacing around the room while scrolling through webpages on his iPad.

"How'd it go," Chadwick asked without looking away from his device.

Taking a seat on the chaise near their bed, CoCo kicked off her house slippers and sighed. "She thinks she's ugly because she's brown and I did a shitty job of explaining that people are terrible. So, that's how it went."

"You told her she's beautiful, though, right? She knows that it's because she looks different than the people in her class."

"Baby, a six-year-old just wants friends that aren't mean. And, if we're completely honest right now, telling her that only non-black people will dislike her for her skin is a lie. Some of us are going to give her the same shit." The weight of knowing they were only at the tip of the racism and colorism iceberg made Tasha's stomach turn with an uneasy feeling.

Sighing, Chadwick took in CoCo's words as he placed his tablet on the bed and motioned for her to slide over in the chair.

"Raising kids is tough work," he spoke, the words coming out in a rush of air.

"Hell yeah, it is. I feel...powerless."

"We are doing the best we can given the circumstances. Especially you," Chadwick encouraged while pulling CoCo closer to his side. "What we can do is continue affirming Micah in every way and putting her in spaces where she doesn't have to feel so different."

"So, we're moving to Wakanda?"

"Absolutely. Let's pack our shit." The pair shared light laughter despite the issue at hand. When the moment passed, silence began to sit over the room as they both settled into their thoughts to come up with a good solution. "Can I show you something?"

Tasha nodded while her eyes curiously followed her husband's movements to the bed and back with his tablet.

"I know you usually take the lead on this stuff, but I would love to see Mikey do something like this. The program director is nice, their reputation is stellar, and the students that give it their all tend to succeed."

Colors from the various pictures and videos that filled the screen danced across CoCo's face as she examined the website. Chadwick apprehensively watched her face while she browsed to gauge his wife's reaction. He couldn't decide if his efforts were appreciated until Tasha's poker face warmed into a bright smile.

"This is amazing, baby! How soon can we sign her up?"

"Surprise, she's already signed up. Her first day is next weekend."

Tasha's grin continued to spread across her face as Chadwick smiled back at her like a child and made jazz hands for dramatic effect, "I should've known Dad would come to the rescue."

"We're a team, baby," he correct, kissing her forehead. "But you're gonna need to step back when we go teach baby girl these dance moves. I can't have you confusing my baby with your two left feet."

Chadwick skillfully dodged a pillow flying through the air as retaliation for his dig at CoCo's dancing skills before sliding out of the room to give Micah some much-needed attention.

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radicallyred · 5 years

Text

Down for the Count

Steve Rogers is irritated.

He's been stuck in a training session for over 5 hours listening to the new recruits bitching and moaning about the heat, and if he’s honest, he’s tired of watching them run laps whenever Fury gets mad. He checks his watch as they seem to wind down. 2:30. Good. They’re done.

He really just wants to get back to the tower and see Tony. He wants to lay down on that couch across from the big window and close his eyes as he puts on a vinyl, maybe convince Tony to join him. His phone has been ringing incessantly in his pocket, vibrating fiercely enough to curious looks from his colleagues, and he'd ended up turning it off completely when Fury threatened to crush it. By the time they’re dismissed and he was able to step outside to turn it back on, he has 15 missed calls and 3 missed texts from Pepper Potts.

And, curiously enough, none from Tony.

In fact, he realizes suddenly, he has nothing from Tony, not since right after he left the tower this morning. His stomach goes cold, a heaviness settling in his gut and when his phone quiver's to life seconds later, he picks it up on the first ring.

"Pepper? What’s going on?"

Steve almost never calls her by her first name, so he can hear the woman take a deep breath on the other end. "I wanted to talk to you before you heard about it somewhere else. I don't know if you have, but I assure you, he's going to be fine..."

He turns abruptly toward one of the exits, beginning to make his way out of the facility, his free hand already in the pocket of his uniform for his keys. "Tell me where, I'm on my way."

-------

The first thing he registers is the brightness. The pure white flare of the fluorescent bulb above him makes him wince in his groggy state. He pushes back into the pillows, attempting to turn onto his side to shield himself from the light, but he finds his body somewhat unresponsive, dulled by sedatives and painkillers.

Oh, but there is some pain.

He groans out loud, squeezing his eyes shut. He feels like he's been hit by a Mack truck (in actuality, it was a Prius). He forces his eyes open, blinking slowly a few times before his surroundings begin to come into focus. Everything is white. There is a beeping. And the smell...

He swears aloud as everything crystallizes and he realizes where he is. He does everything he can to push past whatever is in his system as he tries to rise up and out of the bed, objecting audibly. He feels a hand on his arm, a hand on his shoulder, a hushing voice that is trying to calm him down but he's not feeling very calm because not a hospital, never a hospital...

"Tony, STOP, you're gonna bust your stitches!"

Pepper's voice stops him in mid-flail and he stills in place for a moment as he gets his bearing. Pepper. Not Steve. Pepper is still his emergency contact. He needs to fix that.

“Where is Steve?”

“He’s on his way.”

He allows her to lower him back toward his pillow, let's her pull his blanket up over his hospital gown and she looks down at him with something like pity as she gets up and pours him a glass of water.

"What time is it?" He asks softly. "How long have I been out? What happened?"

She hushes him gently, handing him the paper cup and telling him to take it easy. He sips at it slowly and, finding himself parched, downs the rest in a gulp. When he licks his lips, the copper taste of a fresh formed scab follows and he makes a face. Pepper has the audacity to smile a little.

"They told me it looks a lot worse than it is, but don't worry, you won't scar." She nods toward his face. "It's almost 4. You've been out all morning and afternoon, but I guess the anesthesia is wearing off."

"Anesthesia?" He gapes at her and she nods in response.

"You were crossing the street and some asshole who was texting hit you with their car. They weren't going very fast, thank goodness. But you did get thrown quite a ways. You have a broken wrist, concussion, ruptured spleen, hence the anesthesia, 2 broken ribs and bruising everywhere. But other than that, you're fine."

"Other than that." He bites. He throws his head against the pillow, arching back toward the ceiling. "Fuuuuuuuck."

"Yeah." She nods, sliding back into the chair beside him. "He's gonna be pissed when he sees your face."

He groans again, sliding his hand to grab his hair at the crown. "Thanks for that. Thanks."

He looks down at his body. He can feel where the gauze bandage is affixed under his gown near his ribs (broken, he notes, and attributes the dull throb to that) and he rolls his eyes, thinking of all the aftercare bullshit he's gonna have to deal with, and mostly, how up his ass Steve is going to be, and not in the fun way.

He hears the door to the room open and a woman walks in in scrubs with a iPad, a tired smile on her face. "Mr. Stark. I'm Amy, I'm your nurse for this shift. How are we feeling? The pain okay? You need the drip adjusted?"

Christ alive, he has an IV and everything. He closes his eyes with a shake of his head. He wants the needle out of his arm. This was ridiculous. They had taken him to surgery, they had patched him up. Yeah, he didn't feel great, but he would rather feel not great in the comfort of his own home. There, he could just stay all doped up on some pain pills and he would sleep for a couple of days straight-Steve would insist on it-and he could maybe be back on his feet by Monday, if he were lucky.

"Alright then. Let me check your incision real quick."

He suffers through the indignity of being manhandled by a stranger without much fuss and as she draws the gown back down, hums a noise of approval. She pokes around on the tablet a few times until she confirms his check up for the afternoon, and hugs the device close to her chest, smiling brightly in an overly cheerful way that irritates him, but he knows that's kind of her job, so he holds back. "We're good for now. I'll be back in a few hours to check the drip again and everything."

"When can I go home?"

"You're gonna need to ask the doctor that, but honestly, probably another day or so. They'll just want to make sure that's healing alright, but getting your spleen out is relatively routine and everything went just how it should. She'll want to talk with you about what to look out for, what to do, how to change the dressings." She nods to Pepper with a smile as well and turns to leave before stopping herself as she gets to the door. “The doctor will be in shortly as well to give you the rundown of everything. Make sure to buzz me if you need anything, okay?"

She waits for him to nod before she leaves. He doesn't hear the door close.

A woman in a white coat walks in before he and Pepper can say anything to each other, holding what is probably the same tablet as the nurse had. She assessing the information, nodding slowly, muttering under her breath and finally looks up at him as if she's just noticed he's in the room. "Mr. Stark. Welcome to GBU."

"Pleasures all mine." He responds dryly, shifting in the bed so he crosses his arms. She humors him with a chuckle.

"I want to get the shop talk out of the way. Are you alright with Ms. Potts hearing all this now as well?"

"She can stay, she knows me better than me at this point."

"Alright. We have two broken ribs, a broken wrist, contusions throughout the body, a concussion and a ruptured spleen that was removed at 10:25 this morning. As long as your incision site stays clear of any signs of infection, I wager you'll be on your way home by Sunday. We'll send you with a few prescriptions and have Pepper here makes sure you don't re-injure yourself.”

He's burning with embarrassment, a dirty look on his face as he looks between the two. He knows the doctor won't be able to tell, but Pepper is holding back a laugh. They're close enough now, and they've known each other long enough for her to know how much this is going to irritate him, and it seems to be giving her boundless amusement, especially since in the end, she won't be the one to deal with it.

He looks back at the doctor, who is motioning at the doorway. He hears it open a little more, hears the swish of a curtain being pushed aside, and he hears footsteps too heavy to be the nurse who was just checking up on him. He watches as Steve slides into view, looking at the doctor, at Pepper, anywhere but at the bed where he currently lay.

Steve looks depleted, drawn, like he's been up for 3 days straight and is barely standing from exhaustion. He keeps his eyes on the doctor, because she begins talking about work and not letting Tony push himself and that he will make a quick and full recovery if he rests like he should. Steve is nodding with spirit, and Tony knows that regardless of what the doctor was saying, his exile from everywhere but their wing of the tower is already planted in Steve’s head.

Pepper rises from his side with a squeeze to his wrist and a sympathetic glance. "I have to get going.” She says softly.

"Are you going to be alright with him, Captain?” The doctor asks. Steve nods, a small smile tugging on his lips.

"I can handle Tony." He speaks for the first time, tone placid, without any implication that something is amiss, and the Doctor nods, seemingly content with the answer. The doctor hurries out, Pepper following slowly behind, and he's pretty sure he hears the distinct sound of the lock being pushed in before the door closes. Steve has moved over to the narrow window in the corner, looking out over the city, his left side facing the bed in the middle of the room.

"Steve..."

Steve holds up a stiff hand, and Tony can see his Adam's apple working in his throat as he blinks against the sunlight. After a few seconds of silence, the hand curls into a tight fist that falls to his side as he turns to face him, meeting his gaze for the first time.

"Tony."

His name is uttered in a whisper, a shuddering breath that seems like it's been held in for hours. It's made up of both fear and relief, and his expression is pained beyond anything Tony is ever okay with seeing on that face. Steve's hands are both clenched at his side, and his entire body seems coiled tight, barely restrained.

This is because of him.

"I'm sorry." And, God, this is fucking pathetic. He’s fifty years old, damnit, why is he crying over the fact that his boyfriend looks tired?

"Tony, no." Tony hears him walk toward the bed and he feels the shift in weight towards his left side as Steve rests against it. "Baby, it's alright, I'm here." Steve responds softly. He pulls himself close to Tony's side, pulling the younger man's good hand from his face and threading his fingers through it. His free hand ghosts up along the bruises and scrapes all up his jawline, barely caressing them with a hiss. "Oh baby, your face..."

"I know, I'm sorry. I’m fucked up..."

"Tony, I'm not angry. And this isn't your fault." He reassures with a gentle hush. "That young man was texting while he was driving."

"I was definitely in the crosswalk when I shouldn’t have been.”

"Be that as it may..." He trails off, not taking his eyes off of him. Tony finally allows himself to meet his gaze fully, and his stomach flips like he's on a roller coaster to see his lover's eyes shining.

"Steve, I'm okay."

Steve doesn't respond, doesn't seem to be able to. He just closes his eyes, swallowing a few times intermittently, deep, shuddering breaths before he brings Tony's hand to his mouth. He presses a kiss to the knuckle of his thumb, working his way up to the knuckles of his fingers, just holding his hand there against his lips. When he speaks again, rubbing his thumb now along the trail of kisses, he doesn't look up at Tony.

"Pepper called me so many times and I didn't pick up until the Fury dismissed us. And when she spoke, even though she told me you'd be fine, I just..." He shook his head. "You scared me, Tony."

Bruising be damned. He lifts Steve's hand, strong and stable and safe, to his face and presses it against his cheek, turning to kiss it's heel before letting it rest. Steve curls his fingers in the strands of hair there and Tony lets himself relax for the first time since he woke up.

"Will you lay with me?"

His voice is so small, he would usually be embarrassed, but this reaction has kind of made this whole thing a reality. He got hit by a fucking car. He could have fucking died. He's always been so reckless, ever since his mother died, living like it was all on borrowed time, through binge drinking and Afghanistan, NYC and Malibu, Iron Man, all of it, because it just didn't matter.

He scoots to the far side of the bed as Steve stands and slides in to join him, molding his body to Tony's, arching his arm around his side. Tony realizes for the first time that he’s still in his Captain America Uniform. "Am I hurting you?"

"No. I don't care."

"Tony, your stitches..."

"I'll tell you if you get too close." He promises, and he would be embarrassed at how he sounded if not for the day he'd had. He may have been flippant and fiery 10 minutes ago, but the weight of the day's events reflected through Steve had changed that.

He was scared too, he realizes somewhat in surprise. He had never allowed himself to be this close to someone, to need someone the way he knew he needed Steve, had never allowed himself to be the one who was needed. Usually by this point, he'd have done something abhorrent enough to drive them away. But this was different than then. Different than Afghanistan. He feels Steve's arm tighten snugly around his midsection, and bring his left arm down intermingle with it, grasping his hand once more.

It mattered now.

"I'm sorry I scared you." His voice is small. Steve nuzzles into the crook of his neck in response, kissing it softly. He can smell the man on him now, spicy, soapy, a hint of sweat and whatever warm smells like (cause he swears it has a smell, it does).

"Just promise me you’ll be more careful from now on." He smiles as Tony snuggles into the pillow. "Only the sidewalk, far away from the cars."

Tony chuckles, shaking his head a little. Steve places a kiss to his temple and Tony leans into it, spooning closer to Steve's front, letting his fingers trail up and down his arm. "You aren't the boss of me." He finally mumbles.

This earns him a dry chuckle, a heavy hand sliding to his waist. "Aren't I?"

Steve presses another kiss to his temple, and Tony melts more into him, closing his eyes. "We'll talk about it later."

He feels Steve laugh again softly as he drifts off to sleep, warm, and safe, and well loved. He barely hears the response.

"I'm sure we will."

#stony #fanfic #radicallyred #steve x tony #SUPERHUSBANDS

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wishingforatypewriter · 6 years

Text

A Casual Opening

Summary: Chapter nine of On Casual Commitments!

It was the night of the soft opening of one of the most anticipated new restaurants of the decade, and every titan in the culinary world had fought, bribed, or begged his name onto the guest list.

On the far left side of the rooftop bar, overlooking the city, a reporter from the New York Times attempted to get a quote from Kobayashi Rindou, while her husband tried to stop her from stuffing an hors d'oeuvre down the poor journalist’s throat. And to the right a rising statesman hashed out the politics of hunger with Arato Hisako, who was dressed in a black evening gown with a slit up one side, her huge engagement ring blinding passers-by as she gestured.

But in the midst of all the pomp and circumstance, all the envy and intrigue, they were still just four guys chilling at a bar.

“It looks like Arato-san has that ambassador on the ropes,” Marui said as he glanced around the open space.

Shoji, who had always possessed a quixotic sort of affection for her, nodded emphatically. “Hayama doesn’t deserve that woman,” he said, and they let him have that personal truth.

“Don’t think of it as her marrying him. It’s just old money marrying new money,” Daigo pointed out. “It’s gotta be a hundred million US between them.”

Shoji only shrugged. “He’s still an asshole.”

“That’s how it goes sometimes,” Marui said, pushing his glasses further up on his nose.

“Says the man who just left his fiance,” Ibusaki replied as he sipped his beer.

The bespectacled man shook his head. In truth, he had walked right into that one. Two months ago, he had been engaged to Enomoto Madoka. But after returning to Tōtsuki to help move Fumio-san to her retirement community, an old spark unexpectedly ignited.

Namely, as they packed the boxes and revisited all the vestiges of their Polar Star years, he was faced with the fact that as long as Yoshino Yuki walked this earth, he couldn’t spend his life with another woman.

“I’d rather not discuss it—”

“Leave it to Marui,” Daigo chimed in, slapping the grad student’s shoulder. “To think you’d be the one to spark the biggest scandal since SouMegeddon!”

“It’s still fucked up that we call it that,” said Shun, as he sipped his drink.

Marui had to agree. All things considered, the breakup had been pretty drama-free. He was about to tell them as much, but the words died on his lips when she walked in, wearing a fuchsia cocktail dress and flanked by Ryouko and one of her colleagues from the Food Network. He had always known that she belonged on TV.

She winked discreetly at him before taking a champagne flute from a passing server’s tray, much to the amusement of Daigo and Shoji. Already he could tell that it was going to be a long night.

“What craziness is Yukihira up to this time?” Takumi asked as he scrolled through the menu questionnaire.

“Hey! It’s like a Buzzfeed quiz,” Hinako pointed out, shoving her Canvas iPad in her husband’s face.

“Calm yourself,” Shinomiya said, even as his eyes remained fixed on the menu. “It’s just another one of the brat’s cheap tricks. Once we figure out the code, it won’t be that impressive.”

A small smile grew on Megumi’s face as she ran her fingers over her tablet’s sumptuous leather case.

She remembered lying in bed with him on some rainy Sunday afternoon in Paris or Milan, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on the small of her back.

What if you could make dishes out of people’s moods?

She had given him an indulgent smile, a lingering kiss; leave it to him to start thinking about cooking right after sex.

What do you mean, Souma-kun?

You know, if you could know what your customers want even better than they do.

I think only a god could do something like that, she had said, stretching. A god or you.

His cooking had finally reached Olympus.

Megumi shook her head softly, returning to reality as Doujima-san and another Tōtsuki executive joined their table. As the years went on, sometimes it was easy to forget how much she had loved him. It was why she couldn’t let herself hold him back from all of this, from the pinnacle. More than anyone else she knew, Yukihira Souma deserved to make history.

“Is something wrong, tesoro mio?” Takumi asked her after they finished ordering, so to speak. “You’ve been so quiet.”

“Just thinking,” she said, resting a palm against her slightly protruding stomach, remembering that she had also gotten everything she deserved.

Nakiri Erina heaved a great sigh as a young sous chef held the plate in front of her for inspection, fatigued by the unrelenting incompetence that surrounded her in this world.

“What is that?” she asked, pointing to the red sauce’s arrangement.

The boy blinked a few times, clearly taken by surprise. “I-is there an error, Chef Nakiri?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I specifically told you that the chili sauce should be arranged in the shape of a comma.”

The sous chef looked down at his work. “Yes, and—”

“And that is clearly a single quotation mark,” she said through gritted teeth. “Wipe it off and do it again. Before the filet loses heat.”

“Yes, Chef Nakiri! Right away.”

When Erina turned around another assistant was waiting patiently for her to taste test a pottage.

“If you would, chef,” the dark haired girl said. This should be fun.

Erina grabbed a clean spoon and tried it. Everything was fine, really. The girl had followed her recipe to the letter, but...

“You left it on the stove for half a second too long.”

“I deeply apologize!” the girl cried out, hanging her head low. “Allow me to start from scratch.”

“And how do you intend to make up for all the time you’ve lost us?”

“I...I um...” The girl’s eyes quickly started to well with tears.

“Don’t sweat it,” Souma told the sous chef as he came over, all bright eyes and electric smiles. Erina could tell the little whelp would fall in love with him before the night was over. “Just ladle the pottage into a different pot and leave out what’s at the bottom.”

The girl shot Erina a nervous glance before heading back to her station.

“Nakiri, you need to chill,” he told her with an easy grin when they were as close to alone as they could be in the crowded kitchen. “They’re gonna make more mistakes if you keep them on edge like that.”

“And what would you have me do? You know how particular those critics can be!”

“I know no one but you can taste half a second’s difference.” Souma kissed her, then pressed his forehead against hers. “Just relax.”

Erina, knowing that half the kitchen was probably watching their quasi-romantic spectacle instead of doing their damn jobs, pulled herself away. “You’ve got some nerve telling me to relax. Neither one of us handles stress particularly well.”

“That’s not—”

“You smoked a whole pack of cigarettes this morning. Let me yell at people.” With that she turned on her heel and left to attend to half a dozen rabbit entrees, determined to only ream out the staff for the most egregious of errors.

“So,” Doujima Gin said to his longtime friend as the event was drawing to a close, “What are you gonna do now that the boy’s finally surpassed you?”

“In cooking?” Jouichirou smirked, drinking his bourbon. “He did that a long time ago. But he’s still losing.”

“How can that be true?” asked Jun as she made meager progress with her pinot grigio.

“When I was his age I was already married with a kid.”

“What’s that got to do with anything, Saiba-senpai?” Jun asked, scowling. “You can’t just make up new criteria out of nowhere. That’s just like you!”

Jouichirou merely shrugged. “I don’t know how Erina entertains that dumbass.”

“They’re good for each other,” Doujima said. Then his face turned stern. “You’d know that if you came around more often.”

“Exactly,” Jun said. “It’s wholly unacceptable.”

“Why is it that I can’t show up anywhere without being lectured by you two?”

“Because even after all these years your behavior is still too loose,” Doujima told him. “How long are you going to keep acting like a teenager?”

Jouichirou sighed. “How about this: when I get some grandkids, I’ll straighten up.”

“I’d have to see that in order to believe it,” Jun said. After all, this was a man who had slept through half his exams during finals week.

“Maybe you will,” he said before standing to take his leave.

“You’re not going to congratulate your son?” Doujima asked, though he already knew the answer.

“The newspapers will do that well enough,” he said. “And I have a flight to catch.”

“That man.” Jun rolled her eyes once he had left her line of sight.

Doujima shook his head. “If nothing else, I imagine he’d be fun as a grandfather.”

#sorina #soueri #akisako #shokugeki no soma #marushino #penultimate chapter #maybe

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vintagemichelle91 · 7 years

Text

A Hard Lesson in Matrimony: Chapter 2

Author’s Note: Thank you all for the lovely feedback on last night’s first chapter! @rauliskafan and I are always so excited to hear from you guys! We hope you enjoy chapter two and make sure to check back a little later because there is something we would like to ask all of you guys!!

“Maggie, do you have a fairy godmother?” Violetta asked curiously, pulling her soft peach blanket up to her chin and snuggling at Maggie’s side as Cinderella’s raggedy pink dress transformed into a sparkling blue ball gown that was sure to capture the entire kingdom’s eye.

Maggie was slightly taken aback by the strange question from her niece She paused the movie and turned to face Violetta with an arched brow. “Unfortunately, no. But there are so many people in my life that have helped me.”

“Like who?”

“Well, like your Mami and Papi for sure,” Maggie replied sincerely. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she would never be able to repay them for all they had done. In so many ways, they rescued her from herself.

Violetta nodded in agreement. “Me too. They help me lots.”

Maggie giggled. “Of course they do, silly. You are so lucky to have such kind parents.”

“Can’t say the same for Cinderella,” Violetta stated sadly as she pointed towards the flat screen. A small tear glistened in her eye and Maggie couldn’t help but cuddle her closer.

“Don’t worry; I’m sure she’ll get her happy ending,” Maggie promised as she pressed play and the movie continued. Natalia and Rafael would return from the opera soon before the night was out, sure to laugh at their sweet pea’s sympathy showing through the sass. Someday, Maggie hoped for a little girl just like---

With a sudden knock at the door, they stirred from under the blanket and glanced at one other. Maggie checked the time on her phone and noted that they were not expecting anyone this soon, and their dinner had been delivered over an hour ago. Balancing Violetta on her hip, Maggie went to go answer the door with slight hesitance.

“What are you doing here?”

“Trevor!” Violetta bounced excitedly in Maggie’s arms as she saw the older man standing on the doorstep with two small pink gift boxes in hand. “You bring presents!” Her little eyes widened in excitement as Trevor smiled.

“For my best girl,” he said as he kissed the top of her head.

“Maggie, put me down!” Violetta squirmed until the ballerina complied with her demand.

“You come here expecting to buy your way into her heart?” Maggie huffed.

“Maggie, be nice! Or I tell Mami!” Violetta threatened as she tugged at her skirt.

“Quite right, Mind your manners, Maggie.” Trevor chuckled as he got down to Violetta’s eye level. “Now, I have one for you and one for Harold.”

Violetta smiled in pure glee as she patted Trevor’s cheek. “Glad to see you have your riorities straight.”

“Priorities, little one.” Maggie corrected gently as she avoided Trevor’s gaze. Maybe Natalia had reconciled with the man. But she just couldn’t allow herself to let him in, especially after all that had happened in London.

“That’s what I said!” Violetta declared with a roll of her eyes as she shook the pretty pink box. “Can I open it? Please?”

“Of course! I want to be sure that you like it.” Trevor encouraged her with another kiss to her cheek, his gaze softening as Violetta tore into the package. Maggie couldn’t help but hold her breath, wondering what it would have been like to know him as a child, wondering if he could have shielded her from her mother’s many moods.

“Oh just what I needed!” Violetta exclaimed excitedly as she pulled out a small sparkly tiara. “Harold and I can play queen and princess!” She opened the other box and appeared pleased to see a much smaller tiara for her hippo friend. “I go show her! Thanks, Trevor!” Violetta kissed his cheek.

“You are most welcome, your majesty.” Trevor bowed and seemed to relish the sound of Violetta’s delighted giggle.

“So…” Trevor started. “How are you?”

“Wonderful,” Maggie said quietly. “You know you’re unbelievable.”

“Why do you say---?”

“Because you come around and fill Violetta’s head with stories,” Maggie quickly responded. “But I’m not so easily swayed.”

Trevor tried to draw nearer to his daughter, but she placed a harsh palm in front of him.

“Maggie, please. I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

“Then why the hell are you here?” Maggie asked exasperatedly. He shuffled his feet and spoke slowly.

“I… I wanted to congratulate you on your engagement and… and tell you that I am happy for you,” Trevor said gently.

“God, Natty talks way too much,” Maggie said, none too pleased and thinking that she might have to have a little conversation with her sister tonight about sharing her stories out of school.

“Natalia only means well,” Trevor continued. “She loves you Maggie.”

“She has a funny way of showing it sometimes.” Crossing her arms over her chest tightly, Maggie held her ground, wanting him to turn away and not take another step.

“She only wants the best for you. And so do I.” He dug into his breast pocket and pulled out a small black velvet box. “This is for you. I hope you like your gift, too.”

Maggie cast him a weary glance and reluctantly took the box from his hands. For a few moments, they stood in silence, neither one knowing what to do next.

“Why should I accept a present from you? Isn’t it too late for this now?” Maggie struggled to keep her voice from cracking. Far too many painful memories flashed across her mind and she so desperately wanted to move on… move past them. To forget and hope for the future.

The pitter patter of Violetta’s feet filled the silent void as she returned to the doorway. “Tia Maggie. Trevor bring you a present, too?” she asked as she curiously eyed the box.

“It would seem so.” Maggie bit her lip and sighed.

“Open it! I wanna see!” Violetta jumped up and down tugging on Maggie’s free hand. Against her will, she opened the box and her breath hitched. Inside were a pair of antique sapphire earrings. The most exquisite pair she had ever laid eyes on and a part of her was slightly taken aback by the grand gesture.

“Oh those are pretty!” Violetta said as Maggie passed her the box and the little girl gently traced her tiny fingers around the blue gems.

“Something old, borrowed, and blue for your big day.” Trevor’s voice was but a mere whisper. “Even if you won’t… if I can’t attend, I still want---”

Maggie snapped the velvet box shut and looked to her father. “Thank you. But this is too much.”

Trevor shook his head. “It isn’t nearly enough. But it’s… it’s the least I can do.”

“You wanna watch the rest of Cinderella with us?” Violetta asked as Trevor smiled down at her and Maggie tensed.

“I’m afraid I can’t say. But you girls enjoy. It’s a lovely story.”

With that, he waved goodbye before disappearing into the night.

“He so nice!” Violetta mused as the little tiara glistened amongst her honey-colored tresses and Maggie blinked back a few stray tears.

“Not as nice as the fairy godmother. Come on little one.” Maggie took hold of Violetta’s hand and led her back to the living room. “Let’s see what happens at the ball.”

She left the black box on the side table, wanting to forget it for the rest of the night.

“Maggie, look I found this on Pinterest.”

Natalia pulled out her phone to show Maggie a centerpiece idea. She had spent the past few weeks pinning to a virtual mood board to help Maggie plan. Rafael rightly pointed out that her novels lay long forgotten on her nightstand because she spent most of her time before going to bed incessantly scrolling through her iPad

“Natty, you showed me that the other night.”

“Oh?” Natalia’s brow furrowed. “Did I? I can’t remember.”

“Yes, you did. And you sent it to me via text message.” Maggie pulled out her own phone and showed her sister the text.

Natalia’s cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. “Sorry. I know I have been going a little crazy.”

Maggie smiled. “I know. But I mostly have everything covered.”

“You do?”

Rollins glanced over her shoulder while she browsed the endless racks of dresses.

“Yes. Mike thinks I’m going overboard but---”

“Watching Cinderella helped,” Violetta said as she climbed onto a plush chair to get a look at the picture on Maggie’s phone.

“Cinderella sure has some expensive tastes,” Rollins pointed out with a light chuckle.

“Maggie,” Natalia whispered. “Are you sure you don’t need us to help?”

“Everything is fine, Natty! Now let’s get me a gown.”

Liv arrived at the bridal shop to help as Maggie tried on dress after dress. Two hours later, the room was overflowing with tulle skirts, lace mermaid-style dresses, and heavy beaded garments that sparkled against the chandelier hanging above them.

“Mami, I hungry,” Violetta whispered to her mother as they watched as Maggie turn this way and that in her latest selection.

“Oh no, this isn’t right at all,” Maggie said, scrunching her face in disgust.

Natalia patted Violetta’s cheek and offered a granola bar from her purse. “I know, sweet pea. I promise we’ll go eat as soon as Tia Maggie is done.”

“Got another granola bar in there?” Rollins asked.

“I have a spare box of Noah’s Teddy Grahams somewhere,” Liv said as she rummaged through her large tote bag.

“At this point, I’ll take a crumb,” Rollins sighed as Maggie disappeared into the fitting room to put on yet another dress. Violetta hopped off Natalia’s lap and handed Rollins the rest of her granola bar before walking to the dressing room door and knocking as hard as she could.

“You know Cinderella was happy with what she got, Tia Maggie. And she not make such a fuss,” Violetta scolded as the others burst into laughter. Natalia couldn’t help but see so much of Rafael in her at that very moment, eager to tell him as much when he returned home that night.

“Smart girl,” Liv said as she smiled at Violetta.

Maggie quickly flung the door open. “I thought we had each other’s back, little girl.”

“Not when I starving,” Violetta whined as she made her way back onto her mother’s lap.

“She has a point, Maggie,” Natalia said as she gestured towards the many discarded dresses. “I mean, the last one was lovely on you.”

“And this one.” Rollins stood to present a heart-shaped strapless gown with pink embellishments. Liv followed her lead and pulled out the second one Maggie had tried on, another strapless dress with flowers cascading down the bell-shaped skirt.

“This one looked great, too,” Liv said.

“I like this one!” Violetta declared.

“I thought you wanted me to narrow this down,” Maggie teased. Everyone seemed to have a different style in mind, and the bride-to-be stood before all four dresses and listened as each lady made a case for their choice.

“Okay then,” Maggie started. “It will be one of these. I’ll keep you posted and let you know what I decide.”

“Keep us in spense why don’t you.” Violetta threw her little arms in the air and fell back to the plush chair.

“Suspense, sweet pea,” Natalia corrected as she sat next to her.

“Well, as long as we can go eat I have no objections,” Rollins said as she started gathering her things. “Maybe we could try that new place on 7th?”

“Yes! Rafael said it was wonderful!” Natalia buttoned up Violetta’s little white cardigan and sent him a quick text.

“Bill said something about it, too. Said the paninis were the best.” Liv also typed a quick text as she slung her tote over her shoulder.

“Not so fast, ladies. There’s a bunch of dresses I want you all to try on.” Maggie emerged from the fitting room dressed in her own clothes. She paid no mind to the groans coming from her bridesmaids and her little flower girl.

Violetta sighed. “You paying for lunch when this over, Maggie.”

#rafael barba #raul esparza #law and order svu #svu #svu fanfiction #mike dodds #andy karl #Natalia Barba #maggie ivers #Olivia benson #amanda rollins #Rafael Barba/OC

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