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kiwanopie · 7 months

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Overnight Lovin’

Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader

cw: smut, alcohol mention, oral sex(f!receving), dumbification, dirty talk, whipped!Kiyoomi, mutually cumdrunk, PnV sex, creampie. Minors do not interact.

wc: 3.2k

This is not your bedroom.

As much as you’d kill for it to be. Silk cotton stuffed duvet a rich maroon in accordance to equally as soft sheets. Carefully shined mahogany floors checkered in wine colored Persian, a bedroom that’s more fantasy love suite than any commonplace bedroom and fuck if this mattress isn’t like heaven to lay on.

But this isn’t your bedroom.

You point your nose to the oversized shirt flooding a little under your collarbones. It’s just a simple horror tee. Dark colored kanji hovering over an illustration of Jason half obscured by cartoon blood and soft to the cotton touch. It’s big enough to cover a good portion of your thighs that are… not dressed with anything. Huh. Yeah, you are- You feel up your modest covering with a quick pat down of your hands. - Completely naked under this. And honestly a little sore. A certain shift of your hips has your pelvic area throbbing back at you like it’s already tapping out, fingerprint bruises on your thighs that feel tender when you poke them; even your tits are sore - nipples perking under your shirt like they’ve already been prodded and played with. Whoever the hell you went home with last night gave you a run for your money.

Come to think of it, what the hell even happened last night? Last you remember you were twisting your hips against a bar stool while your college buddies raved on ecstasy and coke on the dance floor. — A Shirley temple was enough to start your party high without indulging in any illicit drugs, but you’ve never been much of a drinker. That fizzy cherry vodka already had you buzzing, a few more of those and who knows what’ll happen.

You bite your lip against the grain of new life and newer feelings of lechery. You look too good and too soft not to be bent over a sink somewhere.

“That sweet?” His voice turns your fine hairs into goosebumps. “Looks tasty.”

You gaze up at him with doey eyes so filled with mirth that it makes his palms sweat. “It is.”

You slide your bottom lip through your teeth. Voice as pretty as you are. “You want a sip?”

He’s the smell of Dior and vetiver as he lifts the glass cuplet out of your hands. “Sure.”

You don’t remember who he was or what he looked like but just the memory of his raspy voice turns your sore throbbing into a needy ache. — If the way the sink in his bathroom abruptly stops with a moment of sluggish shuffling, you’re about to find out who exactly it was that rocked your world last night.

You’re already looking up at him when the door opens with a neat click, his muscled limbs stretch his boxers in a way that can only be described as appetizing.

And then you get a good look at his face.

Oh. Holy shit.

There’s… That’s-… How? He looks exactly like he does on his team’s magazine covers. JSM’s top ten lists, Bungeishunjū, and news outlets that brandish his face for a chance at watchability. He’s even more handsome in person. Trademark resting bitch face does little to dilute how painfully attractive he is and if anything the intimidation factor is a bonus. As well as the fame, the money, and of course his position as one of the top most well known athletes in all of Asia.

His name precedes him, the renowned Olympic volleyball player feels even taller than the humble 6’4 his Wikipedia pages cite him as,

He’s Sakusa Kiyoomi.

If it weren’t for the disorienting confusion you may have screamed. This is the guy who fucked you last night within an inch of your life.

Your voice is a little raspy which is expected, but when you open your mouth your jaw is sore. “Ohayō Gozaimasu-“

He clears the floor from the bathroom to the bed in just a few footsteps, you can barely react when he’s grabbing you by the jaw and tilting your head up for a better angle.

And then he’s kissing you.

The kiss is slow and sensual, so sultry that you moan a little in his mouth and he breathes into it with a deep hum. He’s kissing you like he loves you, like he’s crazy about you and like he just can’t get enough. The current of the kiss follows a savory kind of spit swapping that turns your inner thighs misty, and he pulls away with a soft smack that all but leaves a gossamer trail.

His thumb rubs circles on the soft of your cheek. “Ohayō.”

Your heart skips at the little peck he leaves on your lips before finally pulling away.

He runs a large hand through his tousled hair as he moves for a dresser near the vanity. “I ordered us some breakfast that should be here within the hour,”

He pulls out a shirt. “I’d make you some breakfast from scratch but,” Sakusa tugs it over his head. “I figured it’d be cruel to subject you to my cooking this early on.”

You blow a humored breath out of your nose. “I appreciate the sentiment regardless,”

He approaches the bed again and sits himself down across from you, there are love bites on his neck that probably match yours. “I hope you slept well.” He hums. “I slept like a rock because of you, actually.”

Oh god, you don’t even wanna know what kind of raunchy shit you were up to last night.

“I slept like the dead.” You crawl up to him, he’s already opening his arms for you. “Whatever you did put me out like a light.”

You fit in his arms so well it’s almost scary, he wraps his arms around you like he might never let you go. “Uh, Sakusa-san?”

He furrows. “Last name?”

You smile apologetically. “Kiyoomi,” You correct yourself. “I don’t… remember a lot of last night. We came back here from the club, right?”

“You…?” Kiyoomi’s eyebrows shoot up incredulously. “You don’t remember?”

“Not a lot.” You shake your head.

He frowns.

But even still his hand rubs fond lines up and down your back, still holding you just as faithfully, and looking up at you like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. “We marathoned a few drinks and then I had us dropped off at my place. I think… we started in the car, and then in my living room, and then the kitchen, the hallway, my bedroom finally; and then after a few hours we finished each other off in the shower. Around five we kissed until you eventually fell asleep.”

Kiyoomi traces the curves of your lips as he gazes fondly. “Last night was the best night of my life, I think. I don’t know if I’ve ever been with someone who could make me feel so good.” He proclaims. “I hope it’ll all come to you eventually, it was really something special.”

Well with the way he’s been treating you up to this point, it’s not like you’ll have a hard time believing that. Every earnest caress and look of adoration, the way his voice timbres into a loving hum, so smooth it makes you shiver. Hopefully those memories do come back at some point. You’ll never live it down if you actually missed the best night of your life.

You muse it with a little pout at the thought of that, Kiyoomi debates leaning forward and sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. “Hopefully I do remember then. It sounds like we had a lot of fun,”

Your pout drops after a short moment of consideration and you lean in even closer. The soft tip of your nose grazes in feather strokes as you skim it over his and slowly ease your lips down the path way to his, tasting his shuddering breaths as you hover there for a few painful seconds. But he all but melts when you finally meet. A chaste lingering kiss at first, a few sensuous short ones; you do him the courtesy and suck his bottom lip in your mouth instead. — Letting it snap back before you’re starting a trail down his cheek and kissing up until you're nosing under his jaw, using your loving hand to tilt his head up and give you the access that you seek.

He could buy you a ring right now, he wouldn’t even regret it. You don't even remember what you two got up to last night and still you’re caressing him in a way that gives him goosebumps. If you keep this up, he might wind up funding your entire life.

You bring your head up again and pull him into another kiss. Slow and open mouthed, and he damn near purrs when you start pushing your fingers through his hair. “Regardless, you feel amazing.” You whisper against his lips.

God, you might be trying to kill him. “I wouldn’t mind a refresher if you’re up for it.”

He sighs through his nose as he ducks his head to burrow himself into the crevasse over your shoulder, already peppering in searing kisses down your throat. “I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

Kiyoomi sucks in a love bite that makes you whimper so pretty. “I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good you can’t take it.”

With the way you’re already making a mess in his lap, you believe him.

—

He’s a good kisser.

Regardless of where his lips end up. He’s a little messy, a little heavy with tongue, slow when it matters and firm when it counts. He’s great with his mouth. Surprising since he’s known for being somewhat of a recluse in the opinion of the public eye. Some call him aloof, others call him cold, the majority call him intimidating, but right now what comes to your mind is giving.

The way he spits on your already messy pussy makes your eyes roll.

You inadvertently hump into his face as the combination of his tongue and fingers set the pit in your stomach ablaze. He’s fucking you with his mouth so thoroughly that the skewlch of your building arousal reverbates throughout the room. You almost feel bad about how much your thighs are all but compressing the sides of his head, but every effort to lighten up on him has him tightening his hold on you to keep him locked against your sloppy cunt.

You hiss through your teeth as your fingers card through his hair. “F-Fuck… Omi…!”

Kiyoomi moans against your clit at the wanton sound of your pitched voice. Airy, and breathy, and intoxicating. He’s grinding himself so desperately into the mattress that he’s sure he’s gone sticky.

The veins in his arms pop as he persistently fucks his fingers into your tight little hole, sloppily sucking your swollen clit as the way you roll your hips into his face drives him crazy. “You’re gonna make me cum…!” You whimper. “Fuck, Kiyoomi!”

That crude mixture of his spit and your cum is starting to form a little puddle under your backside, every bit of you he doesn’t get to swallow he doubles his efforts to drink you up sprucely.

Hearing you teeter over the edge makes him feel like he’s following close behind. Your moans are so astonishingly pretty that it’s turning his brain all fuzzy. “Ffffuck! Oh fuck. Oh my god, baby! Fuck-! I-I’m…I’m cumming…!”

Kiyoomi groans drunkenly into your cunt as it suckles on his fingers, he’s so determined to drink every last drop of your cum that he almost comes off as depraved. Lewdly slurping you up as the way he desperately sucks on your clit makes you whine into the air. Still indulging himself in your mess even as you whimper from overstimulation.

He only pulls away because the way you’re begging for him to fuck you is sending him into a frenzy. “Wan’ it so bad, Omi. Please? Do whatever you want to me. U-Use me up!”

“Yeah?” Kiyoomi hums into your mouth as you suck yourself off of his tongue. “Want me to use you? I’ll fuck you till you cry, you know.”

Your misty eyes make his heart skip, the way the head of his cock catches your entrance feels like stepping into heaven all over again. “Please, baby? Give it to me. ‘Wanna feel you inside!”

He gapes a little as he presses himself in, so overwhelmed that his head falls into your shoulder and it’s an effort for him not to outright cry out at how fucking unreal you feel.

He thinks he might just be falling in love with you. Having a pussy like this may just be a hazard for his mental health, there’s no way he’s letting this slip throughout his fingers. “Oh my god,” Kiyoomi chokes. “O-Oh my fucking god.”

“You feel… unbelievable, angel,” He starts his pace. God, fucking you is actually pushing him to the brink of insanity. “…oh my fucking-… s-so tight! So fucking wet for me, angel… holy shit…- you’re so good to me, baby.”

His breathless praises are sending you alight. He’s so deep in your guts that you’re sure you’d find a bulge if you looked down at where your bodies meet. “So good…! So, so good!”

The way you hold each other is so desperate and devoted that it feels biblical. “I can feel you in my stomach, Omi… So deep…! Y-You’re… too deep!”

Kiyoomi grunts as he pushes himself in to the hilt and holds himself there for a blissful second. Grinding his hips in shallow circles that make you choke on your tongue, but you barely know the half of until he’s lifting up one of your legs.

And then the other, lifting on his knees till he’s hovering over your pretty face, - and then he starts pistoning.

The way your face contorts from a flustered glimmer of welling tears to a blissed out gape that cutens as your tears fall is enough to make his balls feel tight enough to burst. Never mind how fucking amazing this new angle is, watching you lose your mind under him as those pretty tits move to the current of his thrusts is making his brain feel all cloudy. — He’s sure the eye contact he’s keeping is transparent in the fact that he’s turned a little love drunk. Ducking his head to press tempered kisses on your throat, but he can’t help himself from the way his lips skim up to your ear and his mouth moves without him really thinking about it.

It’s a pleasure induced haze, he’s sure. But he can’t be forgiven for the absolute filthy things he’s saying to you.

“You hear that?” He drags in a few particularly forceful thrusts that make you sob so prettily for him. “You’re really soaking me up, huh.”

“Is it that good? You feel me deep in your tummy?” Kiyoomi swivels his hips. “S-Shit. What a pretty fucking noise that just was. Fuck, baby. - Oh, are you crying?”

“Too much?” But even still he presses more of his weight on you until every thrust is hitting you to the hilt. So deep that every other press of his hips forces a yip out of you that makes his face hot. — He’s really starting to think he might be ruined for anyone else at this point.

“You’re g’nna take it for me anyway though, huh? Slutty baby… You’re gonna let me fuck you brain dead? Fuck you till you’re all stupid for me?”

You sound as far gone as he is. “Y- Yes! Yes!”

“Yeah, that’s it, angel. Such a… fuck… good fucking girl for me.”

You must be close to cumming cause you’re really starting to milk him for all he’s worth. Sucking him back in every time he pulls away and every moment he continues to fuck into you you only get tighter.

He’s losing his mind. “Ohhh fuck. Fuck! I swear to god I’m gonna break you. G’nna - shit - gonna fuck you till you’re all mine, yeah? H-Holy shit-“

Kiyoomi groans at the way your fingernails start to dig groves into his back. “Mhm. Mark me up, angel. Wanna see you all over me when we’re done.”

You grab a helping of his hair and hold on to it for dear life, you’re drooling at this point. “Oh my god… oh m’ god, Kiyoomi… I’m- I’m gonna make a mess!”

“Yeah?” Which obviously means he’s reaching down to rub messy circles on your clit. “Gonna make a mess? Wanna soak me in your pretty cum?”

“Give it to me then, baby. I’ll fill you up so good when you do.”

You croon in his ear and it sounds like gospel.

And then you’re soaking the bed with your cum.

Kiyoomi doesn’t let up even as your juices wet down his pelvis and legs. He doesn’t stop his punishing thrusts or the rhythm he’s keeping on your clit, still whispering words of filth and praise in your ear, — and it looks like you’ve completely lost yourself to the pleasure at this point. The way his name is clipping so desperately off your tongue is making his eyes roll into his head. And it’s just a few more moments of fucking into your spasming pussy till he’s following you off the edge.

“Oh god. Oh my god.” He hisses. “Mmmh - Oh fuck, baby. I’m cumming… f-fuck! I’m cumming. I’m cumming.”

Oh god, even after last night there’s still so much of it. So much and so hot. Just the feeling of clenching on his hot cum as he continues to fuck into you is sending you over the edge again. God, the sounds you’re both making. Thank goodness his penthouse is big enough to not worry about disturbing any of his neighbors, reinforced flooring probably snuffing out the sound of your debauched love making. He’s never been the most vocal in bed but you’re making him whine into your ear like a cheap whore. And the sounds you’re making - Fuck, the sounds you’re making, he wouldn’t be surprised if he turned his head and found the decorative plants near his terrace sprouting flowers. It shouldn’t even be possible to sound that fucking good and feel this fucking amazing all at once.

Kiyoomi doesn’t even realize that bed making firm clicks into the wall until he starts to slow up his thrusts. Gradually coming down from his high until his desperate movements become slow and sensuous grinding, still rocking into you even as you settle again in his arms.

He lifts his head to bring you into a lazy kiss, a little sloppy, a little butterfly inducing.

You sigh into his lips. “…Holy shit.”

Kiyoomi pulls away to press a few slow kisses into your jaw. “I think I just might be addicted to you.”

“You’re telling me…” You cross your legs over his back. “Is it too early to suggest we go steady?”

He snorts a little. “As if I’m letting you go anywhere after that.”

Kiyoomi raises his back to gingerly kiss you on the lips, so tender it feels loving. Even as he pulls away he seems ailed by it. He is ailed by it. He can’t even imagine how he’ll fare when he has to get up eventually.

His breath is warm against your lips. The way he speaks to you feels reverent. “You’re stuck with me now.”

You smile. And he goosebumps. “Aren’t I lucky then?”

reblog uwu?

#sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa smut #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa fluff #hq sakusa #msby sakusa #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa fanfiction #sakusa scenarios #sakusa x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#hq x reader #hq #hq smut #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut

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solarmorrigan · 4 months

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For the angst prompt if you’re still doing it:

“Don’t listen to them. Don’t you EVER listen to them.”

Please

Hello! I'm afraid this one might not have come out quite as seriously as the others (might be channeling all my Serious Angst Energy into my ongoing fic at the moment), but hopefully it's enjoyable, anyway??

[No warnings except maybe some unkind self-directed internal dialogue from Steve]

“Y’know,” Eddie drawls, looking Steve up and down where he’s standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the light of the front hall, “correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t look especially busy.”

Steve, caught out in a lie, clearly having been sitting around at home in his sweats when he’d specifically told Eddie that he couldn’t come over tonight because he was busy, does the only thing he can think of: he keeps lying.

“I am,” he says.

“Uh huh.” The way Eddie draws the hum of his agreement out says that he doesn’t believe Steve in the slightest. “And what, if I may ask, are you busy with, dressed in loungewear and sitting at home?”

Scrambling, Steve reaches for the first excuse that comes to mind, something he’d heard his mother say to someone over the phone years ago, when he was still a kid and she’d still made excuses to get out of social engagements and stay home with him.

“I’m washing my hair.”

Eddie bites down on a laugh so quickly and so visibly, Steve is surprised his teeth don’t go right through his lip.

“Are you?” Eddie asks, voice gone high and tight with mirth.

“Yep,” Steve answers.

“Well, damn, I don’t know why you didn’t invite me along to help,” Eddie says, grinning at Steve. “I feel like I’ve proven my skill in that arena before.”

Steve stares at Eddie, mouth working, feeling slow and useless and out of ideas. “Uh…”

With a sigh, Eddie lets his smile drop. “Look, can I come inside?”

The jig is up, so Steve just nods and steps aside to let Eddie in.

“What are you even doing here?” Steve asks as he leads the way back to the living room, where he’d been sitting on the couch and moping.

“Steve, I knew you weren’t busy tonight. You’re kind of a terrible liar,” Eddie says.

And that isn’t strictly true; Steve is a great liar – as long as he doesn’t feel guilty about it. He’s never been good at lying to people he loves.

They sit down; Steve shoves the magazines he’d been pretending he would actually be able to focus on out of the way (more proof of his pathetic attempt at a lie), and Eddie—ever blunt, ever direct—jumps right in.

“So I kind of feel like you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

Steve winces. “Not avoiding you, I’ve just been… limiting my time with you.”

Eddie looks stricken, and Steve would like to die, actually. Why did he phrase it that way?

“Did… I do something, or say something, or, like–”

“No!” Steve rushes to reassure him. “No, no, not at all, it’s nothing you did, you’re amazing, it’s not you, it’s…”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him. “It’s not me, it’s you?”

“I mean…” Steve sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Kind of, yeah.”

For a long moment, Eddie sits, brows furrowed, staring at Steve. Steve fights the urge to squirm under the intensity of his gaze.

“I’m trying super hard to figure out what’s going on right now, but I’m kind of coming up blank,” Eddie finally admits. “Are we… Are we breaking up?”

“No!” Steve blurts again, reaching this time for Eddie’s hands, as if he can keep Eddie from realizing what a goddamn idiot he is and leaving if he just holds on tightly enough. “Shit, no, that’s – I’m completely fucking this up, that’s the opposite of what I want to happen, that’s why I’ve been limiting my time with you.”

Though Eddie’s hands have turned in Steve’s grip, automatically holding onto him, he stares at Steve as though he’s lost his mind, which is fair. “Okay,” Eddie says slowly, “I admit you have a little more experience with relationships than I do, but isn’t the point to spend as much time as possible with the person you’re dating? Because you like them?”

“It’s… Usually, I guess, yeah.” Steve shrugs, suddenly wishing maybe that he hadn’t taken Eddie’s hands, because now he can’t get away, can’t duck out from under those dark, searching eyes. He settles for staring down at their joined hands as he speaks. “It’s just – I can be… kind of a lot? I like someone and I just kind of slam my foot on the gas and don’t look back and that’s too much, I know, so I’ve been trying not to, like, overwhelm you, because I really, really don’t want you to get sick of me, and–”

“Who the hell told you that?” Eddie cuts in sharply.

Steve’s eyes snap back up, finding Eddie looking so thoroughly offended that he’s not sure what to make of it. “Told me what?”

“That you’re too much,” Eddie presses, his hands going tighter around Steve’s.

“Uh,” Steve says, uncertain of what kind of answer Eddie’s looking for. The fact that Steve goes all-in too quickly is just common knowledge; the fact that it overwhelms and annoys people is kind of a general consensus.

Eddie shakes his head. “Never mind, it doesn’t even matter. Don’t listen to them. Don’t you ever listen to them,” he says, low and intense. “You’re not going to overwhelm me, Steve. I can’t get enough of you. I don’t think I’ll ever have enough of you, but the only way I’m gonna know for sure is if I get to have you around as often as possible for as long as you can stand me.”

The words, for a moment, don’t make any sense. No one has ever wanted Steve around that much; no one’s ever met him where he is in terms of hunger for companionship.

“You… want me around that often?” he asks, eyes flicking from Eddie’s face to their hands and back again.

“I want you around all the goddamn time. I want you when I wake up and when I go to sleep and when I’m having breakfast and when I’m doing shit around the house and when I’m playing a show and when I’m watching TV,” Eddie rattles off. “I’m not even exaggerating, it’s honestly kind of a problem.”

“A problem?” Steve asks, brows coming together in concern.

“It’s a problem because you’ve been limiting your time, thinking that I’m going to get tired of you.” Eddie disentangles their hands and reaches up to cup Steve’s jaw, palms soft and a little sweaty from their combined grip, but gentle—almost reverent—against his skin. “Sweetheart, I am never going to get tired of you.”

From anyone else, that would be hard to believe, but the way Eddie looks at him, dead-on and so fucking sincere, Steve can’t help but take the promise in with a hopeful flutter in his chest. He leans forward, pressing his mouth to Eddie’s, keeping the kiss chaste and slow before he pulls back to murmur, “Promise?”

“Promise,” Eddie answers immediately. “I promise, I promise, I promise.”

He tugs Steve forward after that, pushing and pulling him until he’s managed to lay out across the length of the couch and has situated Steve over him, lying on his chest like a weighted blanket. He sighs and wraps his arms around Steve, like he still wants to pull him closer.

“Perfect,” he says.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, balancing his chin Eddie’s sternum so he can smile up at him.

“Mhm,” Eddie hums. “Now I just have to figure out how to keep you this close all the time.”

“Might be kinda tough,” Steve says, fighting to keep his smile from growing to ridiculous proportions.

“Eh.” Eddie shrugs, ducking down to press a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “I’m willing to take the time to figure it out.”

And somehow, Steve thinks that might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to him.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddiesteve #eddie is perfectly content to be smothered actually please and thank you #solar wrote #answers from solar #anonymous

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victortalkingmachine · 5 months

Text

tumblr in the 1900s simulator

🎀 basilgillgirlie

HELPPP i went to see a country girl and i SWEAR coffin looked directly at me while he was singing no. 19 😳😳😳

#im going to DIE #oh my godddd #hayden coffin tag #theatre tag

( 5 notes )

🪮 tortoiseshelllll

honestly just go ahead and block me if you're still not against the consumption of intoxicating liquors /srs

#temperance discourse

( 7 notes )

🤵‍♂️ h0ney-b0y 🔁 in-my-merry-oldsmobile Follow

💁‍♀️ soshineonharvestmoon Follow

Alright, let's settle this once and for all:

Do cylinders or discs produce the clearest sound?

‎ ‎‎ Cylinders⬜‍‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‍21.2%

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎Discs🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎‎78.8%

‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎Final result from 18,796 votes

🐶 yourwildirishrose Follow

literally who is voting for cylinders. #discsweep

#poll results that would give thomas edison neurasthenia

( 3,419 notes )

👨 lawrenceseldens 🔁 the-thing-with-feathers86 Follow

☕ the-thing-with-feathers86 Follow

hey. everyone. TAG YOUR HOUSE OF MIRTH SPOILERS!!!!! not all of us are able to keep up with the installments, especially ppl employed at factories/others who work 10+ hour shifts

#!!! #the house of mirth #edith wharton #scribner's magazine

( 102 notes )

🌌 impastolover 🔁 le-modernisme Follow

🔘 ilythomascole-deactivated19061203

There’s NO WAY you people are still supporting H*nri M*tisse after he posted THIS

🌈 chezlesfauves Follow

does this scare you

🌈 chezlesfauves Follow

i guess so lmaooo

#i wonder if op knows about la femme au chapeau…

( 10,675 notes )

🌻 emancipation-waist-official 🔁 localhoyden Follow

🐈‍⬛ localhoyden Follow

friendly reminder that it’s perfectly ok for women and girls to wear corsets if they want to!! don't ever let anyone make you feel ashamed for it - it's your choice, you can do whatever makes you happy 💗

🌻 emancipation-waist-official

Go outside.

( 984 notes )

👰 kittybristolsgf

i know it's been less than a decade since uh. you know. but can anarchists please go back to assassinating public figures and bombing government buildings and such all the time already, i have had ENOUGH

#the latest tariff law that was passed.... wtf #(for legal reasons this is a joke) #(please don't have me electrocuted <3)

( 2 notes )

🦚 fancyfeathers

Just got my widest hat yet!! An entire owl can fit atop it!

( 51 notes )

🏓 whiffwhaffwagerer

at the marathon in st. louis!👍 what is happening

#so the original winner cheated i guess #and the actual winner had to be carried over the finish line and is currently being treated by *several* doctors #also apparently some of the competitors are missing #...i'll keep you all posted?

( 9 notes )

🧳 thatkeenmotorist 🔁 thatkeenmotorist

🧳 thatkeenmotorist

driving my motor-car 😁

�� thatkeenmotorist

broken chain ☹️

🧳 thatkeenmotorist

driving my motor-car 😁

🧳 thatkeenmotorist

broken belt ☹️

🧳 thatkeenmotorist

driving my motor-car 😁

🧳 thatkeenmotorist

broken chain again ☹️

( 99 notes )

💃 lilyelsieinthemerrywidow 🔁 thegreat-trainrobbery1903 Follow

💃 lilyelsieinthemerrywidow

hey um whats going on in the balkans right now 😨 do you think theres going to be a war in europe soon im nervous

🙎‍♂️ thegreat-trainrobbery1903 Follow

well, a major war caused by a crisis in the balkans has been speculated on for a while. but it'll probably only last about a year like the war of 1870, plus you don't even live near the balkans, i wouldn't worry too much

💃 lilyelsieinthemerrywidow

yeah youre probably right

#and if it did reach us it would most likely be beneficial anyway #<-prev

( 13 notes )

#i've been editing this all day i have had enough. releasing it into the wild now #fake posts

529 notes · View notes

insomniumstella · 7 months

Text

spice & honey

bucky x baker!reader

summary: cinnamon buns and wickedly strong coffee must be the only reasons James Buchanan Barnes visits your bakery daily, despite the inconvenience of driving to a small town on the outskirts of Upstate New York. right?

warnings: first dates and crushes (absolutely classified as warnings), mead consumption, a curse word or two, soft!bucky

word count: 4,565

author's note: i've been watching Gilmore Girls a little too much lately (hence the little easter egg). on another note, autumn is my favourite season, so prepared to be sick of James attending harvest festivals and drinking apple cider 🍂🥧🎃

all the stories i've written

September 21st marks the official arrival of Autumn. Though the weather has been rather cheerful lately, today’s air is much crisper and heavier with the promise of looming rain. The streets of Eldermont remain far too green to your dismay, but Spice & Honey—the bakery you’ve owned for the past five years—is rich in shades of marigold and copper. A wide assortment of mugs, mostly in various shapes of pumpkins, and spiced teas, line the shelves, while the fresh jars of apple butter are neatly stacked alongside the register. Besides the usual treats, the glass display teems with seasonal favourite pumpkin tarts and apple cider donuts.

The everlasting chatter of customers and soft sounds of a vintage record you scored at a neighbour’s garage sale just last month saturate the space as you place the second batch of cinnamon rolls on the counter. The clock reads 10:57 AM, and though you’ve been attempting to conceal your excitement, Vivienne could sense it the second you stepped through the door, teasing you about the very special visitor who’s always in need of sugary buns and black coffee at exactly five past eleven.

James Buchanan Barnes is a regular customer, you often argue. The nervous babble, flustered movements, and beaming smiles convey otherwise. And so yes, you might have a little bit of a schoolgirl crush on the freakishly tall, muscular brunette who brings in the latest editions of The Culinary Canvas magazine each Monday and notices the smallest of changes in your recipes. Just maybe, you reluctantly ponder when your thoughts inadvertently wander to that charming grin and baby blue eyes every time you knead the dough for his adored treat — a dessert once reserved for Autumn suddenly available year around.

“Staring at the entrance won’t make time pass quicker,” Vivienne whispers, arranging butterscotch cupcakes by the pumpkin tarts.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whisper back, covering the pans with aluminum foil.

Perhaps hiding the pastries, a favourite amongst Spice & Honey shoppers, is not the best business decision, but Eldermont is merely a small town in Upstate New York. If it wasn’t located a thirty minute drive south of the Avengers compound, most people wouldn’t be aware of its presence in the first place. And besides, everybody in Eldermont is connected to everybody — the town holds no secrets, including the pastries you keep warm and frost fresh.

“The tall, dark, and handsome man,” she points out, “still has a few minutes. Perchance the preparations of Eldermont’s Annual Harvest Festival made it trickier to find parking.” Vivienne turns to you with a mirthful grin, the cupcakes resting perfectly positioned in the glass case. “You should invite him. Heard Brad brewed an incredible batch of apple cider mead this year.”

You sigh, snatching the golden tray out of her grasp. “I’m not asking Bucky out.”

“Ah! Bucky!” The woman’s grin widens. “Forgot his name for a second.” Shades of mischief dance in her tone as she marks Elijah’s, the eccentric owner of Marigold Meadows flower shop across the street, special order of fifty maple bacon BLTs as completed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Only that you mention Bucky at least seven times a day.”

“Seven’s oddly specific,” you note and swiftly, “also I do not,” disagree.

“Bucky smelled great today,” Vivienne mocks your voice, the grin you’ve come to love—and hate—remaining on her features. “Should I add apple to the cinnamon rolls? I wonder if Bucky would enjoy apple cinnamon rolls with brown butter and maple icing unless he’s a creature of habit. Maybe I should suggest a sprinkle of nutmeg in his coffee to test the waters first—“

“Vivienne,” you groan, yet she persists.

“What’s the worst that could happen? Bucky could say no. Bucky could also choose The Sugared Whisk. Bucky wouldn’t. I adore their croissants, but the coffee is terribly weak, and even their tea selection is mediocre. Indigo should include spiced teas. And sure, Luke's doesn't offer spiced teas, but Luke’s sells great coffee and danishes, except the danishes are only available on Wednesdays.” She recites a recent monologue of yours, and if you weren’t mortified, you’d actually be quite surprised at Vivienne’s ability to remember conversations as if they happened minutes ago.

The doorbell chimes before she has the chance to finish, and you’re highly unsure of whether it’s a saved by the bell kind of situation or if you’d rather the floor magically swallow you whole.

“Good morning.” James smiles, and it’s then that you decide you’d rather the floor split open because you’re awfully flustered by his entrance despite secretly anticipating the moment since the sun arose.

“Hiya, Bucky,” she returns the favour, secretly nudging your side. “Have you ever been to the annual Eldermont’s Harvest Festival?”

“Cannot say I have,” he chuckles, breaking eye contact between the two for just a second to glance at her.

Though you’d never admit it aloud, those eyes, baby blue on sunny days and resembling the ocean on the ones of rain, cross your mind more than a pair of eyes should. This infatuation borders on obsessive, you often contemplate. James Buchanan Barnes is an Avenger for heaven’s sake, and you’re almost sure a man of his maturity and composure wouldn’t agree to a date with a baker, a clutz one at that. It’s not that you’d want to, nevertheless. The two of you have a great thing together — you serve coffee, he survives on coffee, and if time allows, the lighthearted conversations you have bring colours to otherwise monotone days.

“The decorations, the food, the people are phenomenal.” You might have to assign the redhead to kneading duty if she’s heading to that territory. “This beauty right here could take you on a real good tour. Eldermont is gorgeous this time of year.” Enjoy kneading bread, Vivi.

“Is it?” James grins, his stare flicking between you and Vivienne.

“Drop dead,” she reiterates, “much like the women.”

“Vivienne,” you suddenly cut in, “the coffee station is out of paper cups. Could you bring some from the back?”

She gives you another grin, less mischievous and more understanding, nodding at Bucky before she disappears into the kitchen. The heavy wooden doors create a boisterous sound once they close, and you couldn’t be happier for a distraction because you cannot look at the brunette just yet. The bakery is sweltering, and your hands are sweaty, and, if it wasn’t evident you’ve been nurturing a crush on James, Vivienne practically plastered a HEAD BAKER IN LOVE WITH SERGEANT BARNES sign out front.

“The station’s out of cups?”

“Yes!” You glimpse behind the shoulder, deciding to keep the lie alive. “Spice & Honey gets busy during the afternoons, and we run out quickly.” The words leave your mouth rushed and a bit muttered, but the effort is there. “Black coffee and a cinnamon bun?”

“It’s a habit,” his smile is as charming as always. James hesitates for a beat, observing you locate the plastic to-go containers. “The festival Vivienne touched on, have you ever been?”

The atmosphere stills for an awkward second as you gawk at him. “Oh, sure,” you answer at last, praying her babbling wasn’t too obvious because you couldn’t fathom Bucky choosing The Sugared Whisk. “Every year since I was four. The festival’s great. Brad brews the best mead, and Johnny, the mayor, is comically strict about the decorations, so it’s all pumpkins, and string lights, and festive garlands,” you mumble, scrambling for the pan and cream cheese frosting. “I’ve even heard whispers of fireworks this year. It’s next Saturday if you want to drop by. Cassie bakes the best apple pies.”

“Better than yours?”

“I don’t serve apple pies,” averting your eyes to study the grinder seems like the best decision to avoid his piercing gaze.

“I’m sure they’d be the best if you did.” Bucky beams, leaning against the counter as he observes you make coffee.

“Thank you,” the expression of gratitude melts into somewhat of a question despite your best attempts at keeping your voice level, “but the pies I bake often turn out horribly wrong. The apples were overcooked, and the dough raw last time I tried.”

“How undercooked?”

“The trash can enjoyed most of it.”

James laughs at that, the sound of it hearty and endearing. “I’m sure it found the pie delicious.” If he’s flirting with you, you can’t tell, and you don’t exactly want to, for expectations are the fool’s hope. “If you’re not terribly busy during the festival,” he speaks after a protracted moment of doubt, “I’d love to take you up on that tour Vivienne mentioned.”

“Tour?” The man in front of you must almost all but hear your heart pounding rapidly inside your chest.

“The tour of mead, pies, and decorations.”

“Oh?” You tinker with a couple napkins, peering at him. “I’m not sure I could give you a real good tour, I’m barely a guide, believe me. I got lost in that new Target on Cedar Lane, and I cannot understand maps, and—“

“I’m asking you out on a date.” Bucky chuckles at your flustered visage, baby blues never once breaking the eye contact.

“Shit,” the curse word leaves your mouth before you can stop it, and you silently reprimand yourself for the rash impulse of colourful words. “Alright.”

The sergeant titters at your sudden reaction, a shy smile dancing on his lips. “We don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable. I just thought we might have something between us, chemistry of sorts, and that it might’ve been fun,” he briefly pauses, eyes wild and roaming around your face. “It’s just that Vivienne mentioned Eldermont being gorgeous in the fall, and it got me thinking that I’ve never truly experienced it, because the only thing I visit in this town is your bakery, not that it’s the only place worth visiting—“

“Bucky—“

“There are many stores I should probably check out, and Samuel’s birthday is in a couple of days, which is convenient. I wouldn’t describe Sam and I as the best of pals, but Steve likes him, so I should probably get him a gift.”

“Who’s Samuel?” You ask puzzled, but the flustered soldier standing before you continues to ramble.

“Something small to indicate I remembered but not necessarily care. Something that screams I’m not a total jerk, but you are for reminding the whole compound that your birthday’s on the twenty third. A wooden statue of a bird. Sam likes birds, particularly Redwing, though Redwing’s not technically a bird. A wooden bird statue would certainly insult him, so it’s settled — the plan is to visit Artists & Wood on Land.”

“The shop’s name is Woodland Artistry,” you correct with a gentle smile.

“Right!” James clicks his tongue, studying your softly amused features. “We should probably forget this conversation happened. It was a stupid idea too—“

“Yes,” you interject. “I mean no.” Surely, this scenario is a strange dream that wicked mind of yours created to punish you for the sins you assumably committed in every single one of your previous lives. It’s the only possible explanation for the sergeant’s flustered behaviour. “I would absolutely love to go on a date,” you say and pinch the flesh of your thigh for reassurance, but the scene remains as it was, “with you.”

Gently placing a twenty on the counter, James gleams at you. “I’ve never actually given you my number, have I?”

"No," you shake your head to indicate disagreement, pinching the flesh of your thighs once more. “Only the pleasure of our little chats,” the response makes you wince. The pleasure of our little chats? Something’s definitely wrong with me.

Chuckling, James grasps one of the pens you keep by the cash register and scribbles down a series of numbers on his receipt. "If I don't reply, Steve must be holding me hostage.”

"Duly noted," you grin, folding the piece of paper to tuck it into the back pocket of your denim shorts.

He stands there for a second as if absorbing the situation. “Good. It’s a date, then.” he smiles in the end, taking the coffee and the plastic box, and peeks at you behind his shoulder. “And keep the change, please. These treats of yours are more than worth it.”

A timid smile spreads across your lips at the compliment before you sink your teeth into the soft of your bottom lip, observing the soldier scramble out of the bakery, the phone in his flannel jacket ringing for attention.

“Next time,” the redhead appears beside you once James disappears out of sight with a final wave goodbye, “you should give the man coffee and buns on the house," Vivienne nudges you, "both of them."

A surge of warmth rushes to your cheeks at her innuendo. “It’s great you suddenly possessed the ability to teleport and all, but the dough back there won’t knead itself.”

“No,” she gasps, and you only laugh at her realisation, turning to help the next customer.

It’s a date.

The evening of Eldermont’s harvest festival is pleasant, neither too blazing nor cold, but despite the temperature and the appropriate sundress you’ve chosen for it, you’re on the verge of fainting. I cannot faint on our first date, you think and decide it’s the man next to you’s fault, really. The smell of his cologne is too addicting, the hints of pine and cinnamon in his aftershave too intoxicating. James is a gentleman, which you expected and appreciate, but it’s overwhelming, the way he holds your hand to lead you through crowds and attentively listens to your overdrawn stories about the origins of pumpkin carving. Heavens help me.

“Have you checked out the corn maze yet?” Brad asks cheerfully. He’s surrounded by large beverage urns and stacks of disposable drinkware. “Mary mentioned Elijah’s still in there,” he chuckles, pouring two paper cups full of steaming apple cider mead. “The fool must’ve gotten lost or something.”

“Must’ve,” you glance at him, the corner of your mouth quirking up into a half smile. “Happens every year.”

“The two of you should go,” Brad speaks once again before smiling at Bucky. “It’s a great first date activity.”

James chuckles, and you wonder if he regrets asking you on a date. The small town you call home is ludicrously close, and if Vivienne didn’t spill the beans to Mary as she promised, Mary must’ve spread the ‘rumours’ around herself. The town’s beloved bookshop owner is an incredible woman, but she loves to gossip, and you should’ve expected the second person after Vivienne to consistently insert themselves into your dating life to jump to conclusions. Though the situation isn’t precisely comfortable for you, it must be worse for James. Whilst he has never outright mentioned, the soldier has important reasons to stay under the radar. Bucky has witnessed a lot, horrors you’ve even heard about on the TV, and currently, every resident of Eldermont is aware that James Buchanan Barnes is on a date. With a local baker, nonetheless. Participating in acorn tossing and harvest bingo and conversing with Brad Monty about all kinds of sneaky activities couples get up to in the corn maze. You're certain that James is bound to vanish without a trace due to the town's antics if your diffident and often rather awkward behavior hasn't already scared him away. The anxious parts of your brain have even compiled a mental list of today's disasters:

Johnny wiped his sweaty hands on Bucky’s jacket, realising the blunder only to mumble “I love this jacket, Sergeant Barnes”, and pretending he wanted to initiate a hug before he disappeared.

Cassie offered you a sample of pecan pie, which you eagerly tasted due to Bucky’s “If I had to choose the second best pie after apple, it would be pecan” comment, and completely choked on.

Vivienne located you in the farmer’s market to say “hello”, and persuaded James to purchase a pair of beaded bracelets, the two of you had ridiculed moments earlier, for “every first date needs a souvenir to remember it by”.

James guided you to Mary’s bookstore because you conferred a series of rare hardbacks Mary hides in the back for special customers, and the older woman steered you towards a selection of intimacy guides.

Indigo, The Sugared Whisk owner, pleaded with James for Captain America’s number in the middle of a busy intersection and discussed his “timeless looks” for the next couple of minutes until a car almost struck the three of you.

Elijah phoned you in distress, panicking about “having to live out his best years in a smelly corn maze”, which disturbed the sergeant and resulted in an “Elijah will find the exit eventually” monologue on your side.

You accepted to take a photo of a tourist couple, accidentally dropping the wife’s phone and shattering the screen because James stood so close, your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“Thanks, Brad,” you fumble with your wallet, hastily placing a ten on the stand. “See you around.”

“Doll,” Bucky doesn’t move once you attempt to remove him from the nightmare that is the situation the two of you found yourselves in. It gives you a second to evaluate his expression, and much to your surprise, his features are as soft as ever. James is blushing, too. “I wanted to pay for that.”

“You paid for the apple pie,” the words slip past your lips mumbled because the only thing you can truly concentrate on is the fact James is blushing. Blushing as a result of Brad’s stories about couples so in love they simply cannot be bothered to locate the labyrinth’s exit before proving their emotions to the world. Couples that could be the two of you. Possibly. A sane person shouldn’t rush to assumptions unless they earned the sweetest nickname from a dream of a man. You’ve never paid much thought to whether you would enjoy being called a ‘doll’—you do, but you would probably adore every label he’d choose. The notion steers your head toward unexpected and dirty waters, and you couldn’t be happier for Brad’s decision to chime in.

“Cassie outdid herself this year,” he nods. “I’m most definitely going to dream about that blackberry pie tonight.”

“Yes,” James agrees never once breaking the eye contact with you. “The pies were delicious, and it was my pleasure to pay. It was me who demanded a tour.”

“You may pay for the maze then,” you smile at him, “but leave the ten — I’m not that great of a tour guide, and I’m afraid of the dark.”

“Dates should be fun,” James suddenly speaks. “We could’ve skipped the labyrinth.”

The corn maze is high and intimidating, but Bucky’s presence and the soft glow of an orange sunset manage to silence your fears a bit. The passages are almost entirely empty except for the two of you, and each corner you take makes your heart jump at the possibility of encountering spooky surprises.

“This is fun,” you reassure, taking a sip of mead. James shoots you a look you cannot truly decipher, but you decide the meaning is somewhere between worried and teasing. “It is,” you hesitate for a beat. “I just keep remembering the haunted corn maze in Greenwood. They have scare actors there, who jump out of the bushes when you least expect it and completely startle you. Vivienne took me there last year, and I cannot shake the memories.”

The expression on his face melts into sympathy. “If it’s any consolation, I would protect you against all the zombies and monsters this maze might throw at us,” he speaks before, “not that it has any,” adding.

“If theme’s anything to go by, I think we’re OK,” you chuckle at his offer, referring to the cutesy signs and charmingly painted pumpkins scattered throughout the labyrinth, “unless Johnny decided to include a couple gory scenes at the end, though it’d end worse for him than it would for me.”

“Johnny The Mayor?”

“Johnny The Mayor,” you take yet another sip, nodding. The beverage is barely warm twenty minutes into the attraction, providing only the comfort of a soft alcohol tipsiness.

“He’s a charming little fella,” Bucky notes, and you don’t have it in yourself to deny the statement. “I’ve never experienced someone initiating a hug by wiping their hands on my jacket.”

“Sorry,” you offer sheepishly because what could you say after an occurrence so bizarre. Everyone in this town is strange? James must’ve caught on to the fact by this time.

“It’s alright, and besides, I now have a humorous story to recount at parties, which is a first,” he gleams at you. “It may come as a surprise, but I’m not usually the life of it.”

“Can I ask you a question?” You shift to gaze at him before emptying the cup of mead to steady your nerves.

“I don’t promise to answer,” James grins, fiddling with the beaded bracelet, “but yes.”

“Who’s Samuel?”

“That’s your question?” He laughs as his flesh arm slithers to rest upon your waist. At least you think it’s his flesh arm. The man wears gloves whether the sun shines or the rain pours. You’ve seen pictures, though, and read stories of The Winter Soldier in possession of a metal arm. Neither raise concern, not for the reason you’re smitten with Bucky. Rather, because James was manipulated and stripped of free will, and if heaven would descend, perhaps because that metal arm is sinfully attractive. It’s a thought forbidden to be mentioned aloud, for the gloves are a large indicator he’d enjoy staying silent about the matter. “Who’s Samuel?”

“Yes,” you sputter. The butterflies his simple action caused you don’t mention. “I want to hear about this Samuel. I’ve been informed he likes birds, especially Redwing, who’s not technically a bird?”

“The Samuel I was babbling about is Sam Wilson. The Falcon, if you’re a fan of CNN,” James teases, steering you into the left pathway of the maze. Despite your instinct to choose right, you stay silent. “Redwing’s a drone of sorts Sam uses on missions, and, this is a direct quote, for surveillance. I despise the thing.”

“If we get lost, forget the second date,” you playfully threaten. Though the coziness of his body pressed to yours is intoxicating, it does nothing to ease the goosebumps painted on your skin, and as the sky bleeds in shades of crimson and purple, the sun melts into the horizon, teasing you for forgetting a sweater. “I would’ve categorised holding a grudge against an object as below you.”

“If the shoe fits,” he chortles, leading you down a long passage before abruptly stopping. Hesitating for a beat, he drapes the flannel jacket you’ve come to love on the man around your body. The garment is red and weighty, and it smells of James. The gesture makes your heart swell with admiration, but you ignore it. Dates should be approached with a blank slate because expectations are easily shattered. “I shouldn’t deliver Steve that woman’s phone number, should I?” Bucky’s arm finds your waist again.

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, “on the bright side, Indigo is quite a pleasant woman,” you verbalise the thought. James observes your expression, baby blues studying the same features he cannot resist thinking about at nightfall. Blood rushes to his cheeks at the notice of your fingers on his lower back, the heat of your skin piercing through his charcoal henley. “She’d certainly treat Captain America right. On the downside,” you pause, “Indigo is the exact opposite of Steve as the media portrays him. Come to think about it, both of us are.”

“How so?”

“The media portrays supersoldiers as courageous, but Indigo and I once had to call Luke to get rid of a teeny spider. Steve’s active in politics, whilst we often skip the town’s meetings—“

“Eldermont holds town meetings?” James chuckles, subconsciously drawing you in closer.

“Once a month, always on the first Tuesday,” you gleam at him before drawing in a deep breath to calm your violently beating heart. “Last time, we discussed the very pressing issue of Halloween decorations. Johnny insists every business on the main street must participate in the festivities. Indigo and I escaped out the back before the mayor could finish his speech. At the least, Steve would’ve stayed in that meeting, and at the most, he would’ve managed it.”

“People do say opposites attract.”

“Heard that before,” you agree. The loose strand of Bucky’s auburn hair tempts you to tuck it behind his ear, but you halt the impulse of committing such a ludicrous decision. “It must be true because you drink coffee black, and I prefer lattes. You have cinnamon buns for breakfast, and I, if time would be gracious enough for breakfast, would choose danishes.”

“The jury’s decided, then.” The corners of his mouth quirk up into a lazy and wickedly attractive smile, and, you almost wonder if Bucky’s aware of the effect he has on your body because if he isn't, your buckling knees must’ve given it away. “Opposites do attract.” His wildly confident attitude is a new discovery, but you decide you like it. “It would be a shame to ignore matters of the universe.” Confidence is a good shade on him.

“Is this your way of asking me on a second date?” You tease the man, memorising the pink hues veiling his cheekbones.

James guides you around the corner, observing the corn maze’s exit, and halts his movements. “Only if the lady agrees,” he shifts to stand before you, catching your forearms in his gloved hands, “which I’m sincerely hoping she does.”

Resting your arms on his shoulders, you gift yourself a quick moment to explore his features — the stubble gently lining his sharp jaw, the little scar above his eyebrow, and the red lips you, despite hiding it, wanted to kiss since he first visited Spice & Honey. “The lady would love to go on a second date.”

“Good,” an emotion you cannot comprehend waltzes in his eyes, but, for the sake of your composure, you abstain from thinking it could possibly be lust. “The gentleman is looking forward to it.” There's an argument happening inside him, you can sense it by the way he keeps drawing you closer until the space between your bodies is virtually erased, but retains his posture straight and almost rigid. The weight of should he or should he not lingers in the air around you before James catches your stare and smiles timidly, shattering the flicker of hope you have for him to kiss you. You don’t exactly yearn for him to kiss you. In theory, kiss-less first dates are a great idea, paving the way for deeper conversations and a closer bond. They build anticipation. Anticipation is good, you ponder for a second, but all you can truly focus on is whether James would taste like apple cider mead or the sugary desserts you two savoured earlier. “The night is still young," he speaks, the tone of his voice light and reticent. "It would be a shame to end the date this early."

“Luke’s open if you want to grab a quick dinner,” you say with a grin, stepping away from him. “Though we should probably exit the maze first.”

“Yes,” Bucky laughs and extends his arm towards the light at the end of the passage. “Lead the way, pretty lady.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x baker reader #bucky x baker!reader #insomniumstella #bucky x reader spice & honey

711 notes · View notes

demodoggonetired · 10 months

Text

It's a quiet night in with just the two of them - Wayne having already left for work. A gentle drizzle has settled over the trailer park.

Eddie's hunched over at his desk with the old table lamp on, painting his latest miniature for the upcoming campaign. Steve's perched on the bed right near him, using that same lamp light to read one of Wayne's magazines. A tape randomly picked from their collection plays in the background.

There's a quiet 'clink' as Eddie rinses his brush in the paint-water cup (newly labeled after one to many mix-ups). The brush is dried then slotted into the cracked mug holding the rest of his painting tool hoard.

He pauses to stretch out his back from its scrunched position, scars giving a minor twinge at the action. Then reaches for his small, detailing brush.

Only, it's not where he put it last.

It's not on the pallet. Didn't slip under the paper towel. Sitting in the paintbrush mug? Nope. Roll onto the floor? No dice. (Well actually, many dice. Including the d8 he lost last week, he should remember to grab that later (he won't)).

It's as he's pulling his head back out from under the desk that he notices it.

The subtle, upturned pinch at the corner of Steve's mouth.

Like he's fighting not to smile. Trying to act like he hasn't noticed Eddie's obvious searching.

"Steve?"

"Mhm?" The thief doesn't even deign to look up from the magazine.

"Have you seen my small detail brush? Bright red handle?”

"Nope."

Right, of course. Because the hand Steve wasn't using to hold his magazine just happened to be tucked behind his back, out of sight.

Clearly this called for drastic measures.

Without giving the other a chance to react, Eddie lurches forward to push his boyfriend back onto the bed, simultaneously planting himself atop Steve's legs.

"You sure about that one, loverboy?"

Steve crinkles his nose with a slight blush at the pet name. Then reaches up with the hand that previously held the magazine (that has now ended up in the abyss of the floor, sorry Wayne).

Eddie stills, curious to see how Steve will defend himself, as the hand continues up... and plucks the missing paintbrush from behind Eddie's ear. Where Eddie had earlier, unthinkingly stashed it.

Steve's face breaks out into a grin at Eddie's affronted noise.

"What do you have to say for yourself now, Eds? Accusing your boyfriend of such a heinous crime?"

Eddie hums, rolling the now reclaimed brush in his fingers, staring down at the boy beneath him. His sure-fire grin. Eyes crinkled in mirth. How the soft lamp light and dappled moonlight played across his features.

He leans down, hovering over the other.

"I say that I'd forgive you anyway. How could I not, with such a pretty face like that."

They meet in a gentle kiss. No rush as they simply enjoy the other's company. Warm in the knowledge there's nowhere else they need to be tonight. The tape clicks as it finishes and the rain becomes their only background noise. They seperate.

"Mmgood. Cause I did steal your paint tube."

#Showing affection by temporarily stealing your loved ones things until they give you attention #Damn y’all this is the first fic of any kind I’ve written since like 2013 or so??#Both of which were very somft #Steddie #steddie fic #steddie drabble #Stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #My posts #My writing #wow didn’t expect to ever have a writing tag lol

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wynnyfryd · 1 year

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UPDATE: FINISHED IT!!

you can read the full fic here:

preview of my new fic Monsoon Season (in which i saw this tweet and immediately took it so, so personally)

“Harrington, are you fucking kidding me?” Eddie asks as he slams a magazine down in front of Steve, rattling the coffee cup perched on the edge of the little round table.

Monsoon Season, the headline reads. Just who is the man behind America’s hottest new book series?

Steve’s eyes are far too full of mirth for Eddie’s liking. “They think it’s you, don’t they?”

“Of course they think it’s me, you jackass.” Eddie snatches the magazine back, sniffing indignantly as Steve openly laughs at him.

Eddie doesn’t have a workplace nemesis — does his best not to participate in all the petty office politics that go on in the publishing world, thank you very much — but ohhh, boy. If he did. If he did have one, it would be this fucking guy.

Steve fucking Harrington. Former King of Hawkins High, Current Pain in Eddie’s Ass, and not even in the fun way.

See, three years ago Eddie finally got his first big break — topped charts, stole hearts, and broke records with his swashbuckling adventure series aimed at the 10-13 year old crowd. He hadn’t ever really planned to become a children’s author, but hey, turns out he’s great at spinning a tale that a fifth grader can’t put down. Kids love him, parents love him, and now—

Well, now, parents hate him. Are two seconds away from calling for his fucking head. And that’s the whole problem, isn’t it?

One group of ravenous mommy blogger watchdogs becomes unwaveringly convinced that beloved children’s author Eddie Munson is secretly writing filthy gay erotica under the pen name Freddie Monsoon, and now his whole career is in jeopardy.

It’s not even a good pen name.

“A source close to Munson assures us this scorching erotica can’t be his doing,” the article in Eddie’s claw-like grip reads. “‘He’s stupid,’ our source tells us with a bright laugh and a wink, ‘but not that stupid.’”

You know who is that fucking stupid, though?

“You’re still here?” Steve asks mildly while Eddie glares some more.

He knows the pen name belongs to Steve, because one, Chrissy’s a gossip and told him the second she found out, and two, King Shithead himself told Eddie to his face. Gloated about it in this very coffee shop, actually; smirked over the lip of a chai latte while angry mothers protested with homemade signs on the sidewalk outside of the building.

“Yes, I’m still here! Why the hell are you doing this to me, man?”

Does he know how many angry emails Eddie’s gotten in the last hour alone? Seriously, what the fuck?

Steve slides another glance his way — sideways through hooded lids, some sadistic delight gleaming just below the veneer. “Because I like it when you’re flustered,” he smirks, and then he stands to collect his things. “See you tomorrow, Munson.”

#steddie #steddie fic #modern au #crack treated seriously #steve harrington #eddie munson #feral little shit 4 feral little shit #the spiritual successor to TITS! magazine #like #cannot express how stupid this fic is gonna be i can’t wait #(if you saw me promise to focus on more chapters of stardust au no tf you didn’t 😂)#my writing #my fics

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ughthisisntright · 8 months

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The Stroke | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Written for @roosterforme 's '80s Rocktober Playlist! SO GLAD no one else chose this song!

Song: The Stroke - Billy Squier

Summary: Rooster plays an unlikely part in two friends' special day and you reap every benefit.

Word Count: 1,958

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, nudity, sexual themes, Rooster being a total dork.

Orchestral overture over your arrival in the gardens. A gentle breeze carrying the scent of peonies and roses. Indistinct chatter amongst guests finding their seats. All the fixings of a perfect day.

A perfect wedding day.

Summer’s late heat lingered and persisted. As if it were a child stubbornly hanging onto an old stuffie that had been loved too much. Mid-September brought a comforting segue to Fall. Partially colored leaves and still that warm breeze that enveloped all whom it touched.

Again, the perfect wedding day.

You walked your way up the aisle, finding a seat a little back from the front. You'd keep yourself close enough to see, but not to obstruct. Up far enough in importance, but still following tradition. Family sits in the first few rows. That’s the rule.

You looked around the garden and found peony bushes and arrangements. The simple gold arch at the makeshift altar and unity candle on a table set back just a touch. Pristine white chairs and a small stone pathway up the center of the aisle. It was everything you knew she’d have picked. Everything she'd told you she'd picked. But was it ever more beautiful than it is in person?

As the rest of the guests filed in, familiar faces made their way to your side. Mickey, Bob, Reuben, Jake. Friends you'd made along the way. Friends who'd been invited to share this occasion. You preferred to be a guest. It was better to observe. You were surrounded by people you love. Surrounded by people who loved you. And you all loved the couple you came to see.

A romantic processional played just a little louder over the speakers in the garden. Each head in the crowd turned to watch as the officiant, followed closely by Javy, came down the aisle first. Groomsmen you didn't recognize followed suit, smiles on their faces. You assumed these were family members and the assumption made you smile.

Bridesmaids soon followed, more family you were sure, and took their places at the altar opposite Javy. Lined up in perfect succession, it looked straight out of a bridal magazine. The gorgeous processional faded, confused faces exchanged. But the group of friends around you began to snicker softly, knowing what was coming.

Booming over the speakers, loud and clear: Billy Squier’s “The Stroke.” Looks of realization dawned on the guests’ faces and laughter could be heard amongst every guest. Your eyes were transfixed on the archway everyone else had arrived through. A smirk tugging at your lips, a laugh bubbled in your chest as you watched him strut through the entrance to the garden.

In all his mustachioed glory stood Bradley. Bright yellow fanny pack secured to his hips and those obnoxious Pit-Viper sunglasses on his face. Oh, he was the perfect man for this job. Sexy, bitchy, and absolute heaven to look at. He held a bottle of beer in his hand and swallowed all of it down quickly before chucking the bottle on the ground - quickly picked up by the wedding coordinator standing close by with a smile on her face. He grinned widely and slowly unzipped the fanny pack and produced pink flower petals, sprinkling them in front of him.

The song continued, Bradley easing his way down the aisle with a cocky grin and spreading those pink petals along the stone pathway for the bride to walk down. He threw some in a couple of family members' faces as a joke, being met with raucous laughter and applause.

Once he spotted you, though, in your late-summer beauty, he pulled up a handful and blew them all over your face. You laughed with mirth as he continued on until he reached the end of the aisle, reached the altar. He gave Javy a firm clap on the shoulder before turning to the rest of the guests and taking two handfuls of petals and tossing them in the air like confetti.

That song. You'd never be able to hear it the same again. As it faded out and a beautiful rendition of Canon in D began playing, a warmth became present at your left side. You turned your head to see Bradley, sans Pit-Vipers, looking at you with a shit-eating grin.

Everyone rose to their feet and turned to face the archway. Excitement bubbled in your chest as you prepared yourself to watch the bride come into view. Bradley’s hands snaked around your waist and he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

“I've got a surprise for you,” he groaned in your ear. The shudder you produced sated him for the moment. But you were sure it wouldn't last.

But then, there she was.

Natasha was wearing a floor length satin wedding gown. Spaghetti straps and a cowl neck with a low and revealing back. Just how you'd pictured when she described the dress to you. Before you got too lost in how she looked, you turned your head to look at Javy.

And he was a wreck.

Tears streaming down his cheeks, he held his hand over his mouth and stared at her as she walked down the aisle toward him. Her arm linked with her father’s, a gorgeous bouquet of peonies and other greens in her hand, she made her way to the altar.

They’re married now. Married. You couldn't believe it. Javy was always a romantic, and sure you'd always seen the sparks between them, but you couldn't believe they actually pulled it off. Natasha was gorgeous, Javy was so handsome. You only hoped yours and Bradley’s wedding would be so gorgeous someday.

And you knew it would happen.

The long glances, the closeness the two of you shared, it was all too comfortable to be casual and not going anywhere. You found yourself staring at Bradley a little too long as the reception wore on. His head turned to you and he smiled as he met your gaze.

“Having fun, honey?” He asked sweetly with rosy cheeks from all the wine.

“A blast,” you returned just as sweet. “Oh, you said you have a surprise for me?”

“Ah ah, I’ll show you when we get back to the hotel room.” His eyes crinkled in another one of those shit-eating grins and you simply rolled your eyes. He then grabbed your hand and pulled you to the dance floor.

Wedding classics, some old and some new, pulsed through the speakers as everyone had the time of their lives. Nat did say the wedding would be fun. And boy she was right. You were more than happy to dance the night away at their wedding. But you also knew she wouldn't have it any other way.

As time passed, your shoes came off and Bradley’s jacket was hanging off the back of his chair. Additionally, his sleeves were rolled up and some buttons had come undone on his shirt. His Pit-Vipers hung on the bridge of his nose as he went absolutely nuts with the other Daggers on the dance floor. You laughed at his silly dance moves, but when he put his arm out to tuck you against his side, you were running over to join him.

Hips rolling together, you two danced to some disco song Jake had surely requested. Bradley’s hand was firm on your waist as the two of you moved. His hips certainly didn't lie, and you were being brutally reminded of this as he moved behind you.

It was sinful, really.

And it made you want to go back to your hotel room.

Eventually, you'd lost all your energy and were sitting down at your table. You rested your head down on your arms and your eyes remained closed. You'd given your love to Nat and Javy who were outside taking pictures and would still be when you and Bradley left for the night. The music persisted, and so did Bradley. He was cutting a rug with Mickey and Bob all while you begged silently to go.

Fortunately, all that wine had finally caught up with Bradley and he was making his way back over to you. A lopsided smile on his face made him look even cuter than he was. And it made you ache.

“Ready?” He asked softly. You nodded and stood up, grabbing your shoes and his jacket before heading out. You thanked God that the two of you were staying in the same hotel as the reception venue as you didn't have to drive anywhere. You were sure you'd have fallen asleep in the car if you had to drive all the way home.

Bradley held your hand as you walked to the elevators. He was still wearing that goofy fanny pack and the Pit-Vipers were perched on his head. He looked down at you and kissed your temple before the elevator doors opened and he yanked you inside.

Before the doors were even closed, his lips were on your neck and his hands were all over you. You stood there with your shoes in one hand and his jacket in the other, unable to return the favor in any way except moaning his name into the thin air of the elevator. He chuckled against your skin and then yanked you out of the elevator as it opened up on your floor.

A flurry of kisses and touches and gasps and moans became your entire being as Bradley backed you against the door of your hotel room. He fumbled with the key card and pushed the door open, the two of you crashing inside like a couple of horny teenagers. He then quickly put the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door and returned his attention to you.

His hands were everywhere. And once your dress was off, they were gripping your flesh hungrily. As though he hadn't ever tasted you before. He gently laid you on the bed and smiled down at you before removing his dress shirt and undershirt. He kicked his slacks off and got on top of you. He kissed your lips, jaw, neck, collarbone, anywhere he could. His big hands palming the weight of your breasts and massaging the flesh gently. Your soft gasps overwhelmed his senses and he sat up.

“What's the matter?” You ask, breathless.

“Nothing…” He replied, a smirk tugging at his lips. He reached over and grabbed that obnoxiously yellow fanny pack he was wearing during the ceremony. He unzipped it and pulled out those familiar pink petals he'd thrown hours ago. You snickered softly and he wagged his eyebrows at you.

“They thought I needed extra,” he started. “Looks like I lucked out.” He kissed your lips softly before lifting his hands up over your bare chest.

The petals slipped from between his fingers and cascaded down to land on your skin. You bit your lip gently as they kissed your breasts and other parts of your chest. The light tickle of the delicate material of the petals had you stifling giggles as Bradley hovered over you with a smug look on his face.

“Only you, baby,” you quipped.

“You shut up,” he responded with a snicker. He dropped more petals on your chest, taking note of how your nipples stiffened to peaks from the sensation. “I can tell you love this.”

“Maybe I do,” you said with a sigh. “Or maybe I just love the view of you up there.”

“Mmm…” he hummed as he dropped another handful of the petals on you. “I gotta be the flower dude more often then, yeah?”

“You don't have enough friends for that-” you laughed. He simply bent over and kissed you hard in response to your little jab.

But, yes, he'd have to do this more often.

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oldschoolfrp · 8 months

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"My familiar tells me that there is great danger up ahead." (Adam Homeyer, "Dragonmirth," Dragon 159, July 1990)

#D&D #Dungeons & Dragons #Adam Homeyer #Dragon Mirth #beholder #Dragon magazine #gaming humor #dnd #Dragonmirth #dungeon #familiar #AD&D 2e #Dungeons and Dragons

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suiseisyojo · 8 months

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"Hey, Ace, which outfit should I wear for this upcoming date?" /c

"Why do I have to help you pick out your outfit?" Ace remarked as he glanced up from a magazine, rocking the chair he brought over into your dorm room, "I already told you, I don't think this date's a good idea."

You got the fuzzy, shapeless notion that Ace was seething beneath his words—although he deftly kept any acrimony from leaking out as he stood up, ambling over to you.

Ace couldn't let you know the true depths of his resentment towards your little rendezvous, lest he wish to cleave open his chest and admit it was because he liked you that birthed his distaste for you going out with someone else.

Bringing himself up from behind you as you rifled through your wardrobe, Ace leaned his frame against your back as he extended an arm out to plow through the depths of your clothes.

The propinquity between your bodies was so warm, so hot. "Your clothes suck. You don't date much, do you?" Ace quipped with an almost mirthful sounding tone, although he wasn't smiling as he continued, "You should just stay in tonight. With me. Save yourself the embarrassment, yeah?"

#ace trappola x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #chara interactions #ace trappola #gn reader #x reader #twst #ace ur kind of horrible. i love you for it tho

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lizardsfromspace · 10 months

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Reading about Ao3 being DDOS'd by Russian government hackers pretending to be Muslim fundamentalist hackers and being reminded of when New York Magazine posted their big Bill Cosby expose and their site was instantly DDOS'd

People started speculating: what is supporters of him? Was it a misogynistic attack? Then it turned out the hacker was just some guy mad at New York City like, all of it, because he once went there and got "pranked" on the subway. It was all a coincidence bc he was going down the list of every site he could find with "New York" in the name and taking them down one by one as revenge for New York City's mirthful and prank-filled subway jestering

#technology

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inukag-archive · 5 months

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Inuvember 2023 Part 1

In honor of @inuvember InuKag Day, the Archive Mods have put together a 30 item InuKag recommendation list: one InuKag fic per prompt. Since this list is longer than our usual, we've split it into two parts. Enjoy!

Day 1 Inuyasha

I Hate That Fucking Well by @kstewdeux (M)

Post-manga. Inuyasha POV. Inuyasha's inner thoughts and monologues. Rated M for fucking language

Day 2 Kagome

Cinnamon Hearts by @fandomobsessions016 (M)

"So, you may be wondering, what’s this story about anyway? Well, I’ll tell you. It’s about how this queen, almost lost her crown, her throne, but worst of all… it’s about how this queen almost lost her king…

Hindsight, of course, has perfect vision, but at the time I did not. I was a girl becoming a woman who fought bitterly against change that was inevitable. I didn’t want to open my eyes. I didn’t want to see what was right in front of me.

What I wanted more than anything was to keep Inuyasha.

High school forced my eyes open, tested our “unshakable” bond and made me confront my biggest fear. All because…

I caught feelings for my best friend.

I like-liked my king."

Day 3 Sango

Forever Home by KittyKatz (M)

How long had he roamed the earth in a form that was not his? Beaten, dirty and caged, he finds one last bit of fortune when she comes to rescue him from this place. But his road to redemption will not be easy. And he will find, that no matter how the world has changed, his old enemy remains. And this time, they plan to destroy him once and for all.

Day 4 Miroku

Under the Northern Lights by @lostinfantasyworlds (E)

Kagome Higurashi has her dream job, working as a photographer for the internationally well-known Yugen magazine. Her career whisks her all around the world, leaving her feeling lonely sometimes but mostly just incredibly grateful to be doing what she loves. When she gets assigned to Alaska for a month to photograph a series of celestial events, she runs into Inuyasha, a half-demon who lives on his own in the middle of nowhere. A mutual attraction draws them to each other, but Kagome's time there is limited. Will giving in to their desire lead to love or heartbreak?

Day 5 Shippo

Oh, But You're Good To Me by @witchygirl99 (E)

It’s a terrible photo, really. The action figure takes up the entire bottom of the screen and part of both of their faces. Shippo’s giggling though, eyes shut and crinkled in his mirth while Inuyasha looks at him. His expression is clearly fond. It’s the softest Inuyasha has ever, ever seen himself.

This is fatherhood, he thinks a little wildly.

He sends the photo to Kagome.

Inuyasha is a single father. Shippo is his adopted son. Kagome isn't supposed to be in the picture, but somehow, she returns anyways. A story about family, love, and all of its obstacles.

Day 6 Sesshomaru

Whispers in the Wind by @ruddcatha (G)

It has been 500 years since Kagome jumped back down the well to be with Inuyasha. A messenger waits to see her family, and is joined by a surprising guest.

Day 7 Rin

My Life Before You by @len-barboza (E) -- based on a story by Mizune-mei

No English language summary provided. Inuyasha había vivido la mayoría de su vida huyendo, un huérfano medio demonio considerado por la gente una aberración, rechazado por demonios y por humanos, pero quien pensaría que esa era una mejor vida, al menos un propósito lo movía; sobrevivir, que sucede con un hanyo con una vida longeva, en completa soledad.

Day 8 Kikyou

Stolen Soul by Kimberly-A (T)

COMPLETE Kikyo uses a spell to exchange bodies with Kagome, leaving Kagome stuck in the dead shell and Kikyo comfortably human. In the aftermath, Inu-Yasha faces difficult choices. InuKag, not very Kikyo-friendly.

Day 9 Koga

A New Moon, A New Start by @pinestripes (T)

Kouga visits the village near the Sacred Tree. On this particular evening, he finds that a certain half-demon is more on edge than usual.

Day 10 Kagura

The Portal Between Worlds by @neutronstarship (E)

Ten years ago, a portal transported Inuyasha from the demon realm to the human realm. Now a half-demon alone in a world he doesn't understand, he will do anything to get home. When Onigumo brings him a book with all the answers, Inuyasha pushes aside his misgivings and works with the man. He just wants to get home, after all.

Kagome just wants to make an extra buck (and find demons), much to Kikyo’s chagrin. That is why she published Demons Among Us! after all. But strange things start happening when she puts the book online. As if people are using it to open the portals that it hypothesized… When Kagura and Sango join the fray, the stakes grow higher as they try to find the source of the portals.

When Inuyasha encounters Kagome, fate is not what it seems. Not one, but two realms are in danger for their survival. What happens when the final portal opens and an unknowable terror is unleashed? Can the Demon Hunters save the world?

Day 11 Naraku

You Rescued Me by @keizfanfiction (E)

Maybe it was fate that he decided to take the back way home that night, but whatever the reason, Inuyasha was grateful for arriving just in the nick of time to rescue a waif of a woman who had clearly been through hell. He never would have imagined that she would end up rescuing him, too.

Day 12 Band of Seven

Delicate by @akitokihojo (T)

To trust someone, to let them in, what an unsettling ordeal. Kagome is easy and safe, and Inuyasha is difficult and guarded. She can put him at ease with a smile, simultaneously setting him on edge. It was nothing until it was something, creating absolute chaos and uncertainty within the both of them.

Day 13 Jinenji/ Shiori

How Does Your Garden Grow? by @dawnrider (M)

An Ingary-esque AU: Kagome, the newest generation of caretakers of the Higurashi House, finally starts to feel like her garden and business is thriving with the help of her friend Jinenji. Their routine is thrown off by the arrival of an injured visitor who does not want to be found...

Day 14 Toga

Taisho School of Acting: A Quick Guide by @jeremymarsh (G)

“Excuse me, what?” Kagome looked at her best friend with eyes as big as saucers, lips parted, and her mind replaying what he had said a moment before – trying to find a sense but to no avail. “You heard me.” Inuyasha scowled, looking down, arms crossed and lips pouting, just like he did every time he didn’t like the topic at hand. The problem was he had started it this time. “Yeah, I did.” Kagome shook her head and inhaled deeply before she continued. “And that’s why I’m asking you to repeat yourself since I’m having problems believing that certain sentences left your mouth.” “I said,” Inuyasha started through clenched teeth, still not meeting her gaze, “come to my family Christmas dinner this Sunday.” He stopped, ran a hand through his silver mane, closed his eyes, murmured something unintelligible and then added: “As my girlfriend.”

Where Inuyasha tries to fool his parents and miserably fails.

Day 15 Izayoi

The Silence of Daisies by Fierywenchxo (T)

Inuyasha shares with Kagome one of the biggest secrets he's ever kept. One-shot.

READ PART (2) HERE

#inukag archive #inukag fanfic #inuvember #long post #inuyasha fandom

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