#whenever i’m in the kitchen and board i just sit and scroll through my phone and eat them lmfao BUT THE BAG FEELS ENDLESS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hqbbg · 4 years

Text

still.

pairing: miya osamu x fem!reader

prompt: “I told you to stay still.”

genre: smut

word count: 5.3K (I got carried away, oops)

warnings: 18+, masturbation, some degradation, oral (f!receiving), fingering, some spanking, vaginal & unprotected s3x (make sure you wrap your presents, kids), like 2 seconds of cockwarming, uhm I think that’s it oop

author’s note: I'm back with another Haikyuu!! Headquarters collab piece! check out the master list of everyone else’s works here ✨ I hope y’all enjoy this!

The air in your room feels thick as you pant helplessly, feeling the familiar ache in your fingers as they begin to cramp up while plunging in and out of your sopping cunt. You feel so close to your own undoing, unable to control your thoughts as they drift to the man whose room is on the other side of your bedroom wall. You can’t help but think that it’s his fingers squelching within your warmth, though you’re sure they would reach much further than yours ever could.

You don’t do this often, touching yourself to the thought of your roommate while he’s out at work or running errands, but lately you’ve been frustrated.

When you had put out an ad for a roommate, you were hesitant. You didn’t have much of a choice, as your last roommate decided to move out in favor of moving in with her boyfriend, leaving you to scramble for a solution in order to continue to afford rent. As a full-time student with a part time job, it would’ve been inconvenient to move out in the middle of the semester, and it seemed reasonable to quickly search for a roommate to help with the bills until your lease was up.

Miya Osamu was hot, to say the least, though it wasn’t the main reason why you ended up choosing him to be your new roommate. On top of having manners and being financially stable, he knew how to cook and respected your space in the apartment. Unfortunately, you’ve been unable to say the same recently. The number of times his room door was cracked open as he changed almost made you consider that he was doing it on purpose, as if encouraging you to take a peek.

As you recall the way his back muscles flexed as he pulled his shirt over his head all those times you’d told yourself that you were just walking by, you let another moan slip past your lips. Your fingers begin to move quicker, toes curling, and you can feel your arm beginning to tire out. Your back arches as your other hand quickly moves to massage your neglected clit, rubbing harsh circles until your vision flashes white.

You fail to hear the front door open and close as your moans continue to fill the room. The memory of seeing Osamu stepping out of the bathroom in a simple pair of grey sweatpants with a towel around his neck is still fresh on your mind. You feel yourself clench around your own fingers as you recall your eyes briefly catching sight of the outline of his cock, the image practically ingrained within you. Too many times have you thought about how it would feel inside of you.

Another moan resonates on the walls and you bite your lip, though it does little to stop you from moaning Osamu’s name. Before you know it, you’re overwhelmed by pleasure and your whole body tenses before it relaxes. Your chest heaves as you lay there, trying to recover from your intense orgasm and you want nothing more than to sleep now. You hardly notice that your door is open.

Over the next few days, you can’t help but feel that something is off with Osamu. Though you aren’t particularly close, you’d like to think that you two have developed some sort of friendship with all the shared meals and evenings spent in the living room just chatting about life.

Did he hear you the other night? There was no way; you made sure to give yourself enough time before he was supposed to come home. Then again, you didn’t hear him come in…

Your cheeks begin to burn at the idea that he’d heard you. You let out a groan as you bury your face in your hands, leaning onto your desk. The little motivation you had to study has effectively disappeared and an unsettling mix of nervousness and shame begins to stir in the pit of your stomach.

Taking a deep breath, you try to push the dreadful thought out of your head and sit upright. An idea suddenly pops into your head and you abruptly stand up. You walk over to your door and poke your head out, scanning the area to locate your roommate. He’s conveniently in the kitchen, snacking on some leftovers he’d brought back from his restaurant the previous night.

“Hey,” you say awkwardly as you step out. He looks over at you and hums in acknowledgement, his mouth full. You decide to go ahead and speak, though your fingers fidget with the hem of your oversized shirt. “You’re not working tomorrow night, right?”

Osamu shakes his head, swallowing his food. “What’s up?”

“Well,” you hesitate, trying to find a way to come off as casually as you can, “I saw this recipe online for some salmon and vegetables, do you wanna be my guinea pig?”

“Sure,” he nods as he shrugs. “What time?”

“Dinner time,” you say, a little too eagerly. “How about seven?”

His lips quirk upwards into a small smile. “Sounds good to me.”

You watch as he takes another bite of his food before you realize you’re staring, clearing your throat.

“Okay, well, have a good night,” you say and quickly scurry back towards your room. Once you shut the door, you release a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding in. You swiftly move back to your desk, your forgotten notes pushed even further aside as you begin to look for that recipe you’d seen all those weeks ago.

The following day, you make a quick trip to the store to buy ingredients and find yourself nervously counting down the hours and minutes until it’s a reasonable time to start making dinner. You step out of your room to see Osamu already perched on a stool at the small island in the kitchen. He’s slouched over, scrolling through his phone when you walk up. He glances up and greets you with a small smile as you place your phone down near the center of the island countertop.

“Okay, so before I start, I just need to say that I’m definitely not a professional chef in any way,” you say as you move to wash your hands. You can feel his eyes on you as you move around the kitchen, pulling the vegetables from the fridge. You grab the apron hanging on the pantry door and sling it over your head, tying it behind your back.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen ya wear that,” Osamu muses as he leans his cheek on his palm. His elbows are both propped up on the counter and you resist the urge to playfully roll your eyes.

“I have to make sure my shirt doesn’t get dirty,” you say, “it’s one of my favorites.”

He says nothing in response, opting for a light chuckle as you begin to wash the vegetables. Once you finish, you pull out the cutting board in front of him on the other side of the island, placing a carrot in the middle.

You open a cabinet and pull out a knife, giving it a quick rinse before positioning the blade to cut through the vegetable. Placing your fingers on the edge, you lift the knife just slightly.

“Hey, be sure to cats paw,” Osamu pipes up, pointing to the hand that’s on the carrot, “If yer not careful, you’ll knick yourself.”

“Huh?” You blink your eyes at him, trying to prevent yourself from sounding like an idiot.

“Like this,” he says, lifting his hand up and curling his fingers inward into a loose fist. You try not to focus on the veins lining his hands, tearing your eyes away and mimicking his motions. You see him drop his hand from your peripherals and finally attempt to cut into the carrot.

Before you know it, the knife slips from your grasp, making a shallow but clean cut across your index knuckle. You let out a curse and hiss as you drop the knife.

“Whoa, are ya okay?” Osamu stands as you begin to make your way to the sink, blocking your path.

“It hurts, but I’m fine,” you reply, looking at him curiously before glancing at your finger. You examine it for a moment, seeing the familiar crimson begin to bead.

“Let me take a look,” says Osamu, gently grabbing a hold of your wrist. He lifts your hand up closer to his face, his eyebrows slightly creasing as you do your best to resist the blush creeping up to your cheeks. “You should be careful.”

“Well, it’s not like this was intentional,” you grumble, unable to meet his eyes. He sighs softly and you glance at him, opening your mouth to say something. However, your train of thought is completely derailed when his lips wrap around the small incision.

You feel his warm tongue gently lick around it and you can’t help but stare at the way his lips look around your finger. He catches your eyes and pulls away.

“I used to do this to my brother whenever he’d get hurt or something when we were little,” he says, letting go of your wrist. Your face is burning as you drop your hand back down to your side. “Wait here, I’ll go grab a bandage.”

You nod wordlessly, mind still reeling as you try to figure out and process what exactly had just happened. You watch his retreating figure head towards the bathroom, disappearing for only a moment before resurfacing with a familiar pink wrapper with Hello Kitty’s face scattered across the outside cover, a gift he had received from his brother. He makes his way back over to you, pulling the tabs apart and plucking out the bandaid.

Without prompting, you lift your hand up towards him and watch as he moves your hand towards him with his pinky, wrapping it around your finger.

“There, all patched up. Is that too tight?” He asks, picking up the trash and crumpling it in his fist. You lift your hand up and examine his handiwork, nodding in approval.

“It’s perfect,” you say, feeling your stomach flutter at the self-satisfied smirk that’s found its way onto his face. “I still have to cut the vegetables, though.”

“Hand it over; I’ll do it.” He motions towards the knife.

You pout, making no indication to hand the utensil over to him. “I kind of wanted to cut the vegetables though.”

He raises a brow at you. “Are ya sure? Ya already butchered yer first chance; I don’t want blood all over my kitchen.”

“Your kitchen, huh?”

Osamu shrugs. “I hardly see ya in here, so it might as well be.”

“So are you gonna help me or not?” You raise a brow and choose to ignore his statement as you cross the kitchen to grab your phone, pulling up the recipe to skim through the instructions before placing it back down. “I’m supposed to Juliette these vegetables.”

Osamu stays quiet for a moment. “Do ya mean julienne?”

“Yeah, same thing,” you wave your hand dismissively, walking back over to the cutting board. You pick up the discarded knife, giving it a quick rinse. Upon returning to your original spot at the island, your hands position themselves once again, curling your fingers like Osamu had previously shown you.

“Wait, yer gonna end up hurting yourself again,” he says as he walks up behind you. “How thin are ya trying to cut this?”

“About this much,” you reply, positioning the knife towards the edge of the carrot.

“Okay, first things first,” he says as he wraps his arms around you. Your eyes widen as you feel his chest press against your back, his hands moving to hold yours. “Ya have to cut it in half and get a flat surface.”

He grabs your hand holding the knife and moves it to the middle of the carrot, wrapping his thick and long fingers around the handle, completely swallowing yours. He ensures that his grip is stable before pressing down, the blade making a sharp cut.

“Okay, so now that ya have this, ya said ya want to make them look like noodles, right?”

You can only nod your head, afraid that your voice will crack if you choose to speak. Your head feels fuzzy, your senses overwhelmed by the scent of his musky cologne hitting your nose and the way his strong arms continue to guide you. The heat radiating off his chest envelops you in an oddly comforting embrace and something about it feels very domestic. You try hard to keep your knees from buckling under you, shifting your weight between your feet. You immediately tense when you accidentally press your backside against his hips.

Briefly scanning the island countertop, you see that his phone is on the other side where he’d originally left it when you began cooking and try to ignore the sinful thoughts threatening to infiltrate your mind.

“Makes sense?” Osamu says, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“I-I think so,” you stammer, though you bite your lip and mentally scold yourself for your faltering voice.

“Alright,” he says, taking a step back. You exhale slowly, trying not to think of the loss of warmth. “While ya keep doing that, I’ll prepare the salmon. Where’s the recipe?”

“It’s on my phone.” You nod towards it, setting the knife down. He walks over to the side of the counter you’d left your phone at and brings it over to you. “What’s yer passcode?”

“That’s classified information, sir.” You see his eyes darken for a moment as you pluck your phone from his hand, typing in the digits before placing it in his open palm.

“Never thought you’d be callin’ me that so soon,” he says offhandedly, locating the recipe in your browser. You feel your lips part to say something, but no words come out.

You simply resume cutting the carrot and grab more vegetables, shaking your head to clear your wandering thoughts. You see Osamu grab the salmon from the fridge, pulling it out and getting some seasonings you’d bought earlier.

“Hey, can ya grab a pan from that cabinet there?” Osamu asks as he points to one of the bottom cabinets in front of your legs.

“Sure,” you nod and take a step back, opening the cabinet door and bending over at the hips. You rummage around for a decent-sized pan, feeling Osamu’s eyes on you before you straighten up. He’s quick to avert his eyes as he holds his hand out to you. You place the handle in his open palm and he takes it, setting it on top of the stove.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you prepare your own things, with you seasoning and cooking the vegetables while Osamu prepares the fish, searing it on the pan. As you both finish your portions, you decide to bring out your nicer plates for the occasion.

Opening one of the top cabinets, you stand on your toes to reach for the plates, wondering how they ended up so high to begin with.

“Need help?”

You jump slightly, startled when you feel his body pressed flush against yours with a hand on the dip of your waist as the other reaches above your head to grab two plates, placing them down onto the counter. You turn your head to look at him and realize just how close he is, his face merely centimeters away. His eyes are on your lips as you tongue pokes out to wet them before they flicker upwards to meet your eyes. You look up at him, anticipating his next move with bated breath, and feel his hand that had been holding the plates move to gently hold your jaw. He leans forward just slightly and your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet.

His lips move slowly against yours, though it’s nothing short of passionate. You feel his hand on your waist pull you closer to him and you lean into the warmth. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you open your mouth to welcome the warm muscle inside, letting him explore freely.

The both of you seem to run out of air at the same time, pulling away breathlessly. Before you can say anything, he kisses down your jaw to your neck as you crane your head just slightly so he can have better access and you’re not straining your muscles. He nips gently at the skin before dragging his tongue along, finding a particularly tender spot to pay special attention to. A hiss slips past your lips and you’re reminded of how close he is to you when you begin to feel something hardening against your backside.

“If ya wanna stop, ya have to tell me now,” he mutters against your neck as both of his hands settle on your waist, thumbs playing with the hem of your shirt.

“I’d rather not,” you admit rather shamelessly. You can feel Osamu’s lips curve upwards against your skin as his hands give you a slight squeeze.

“If ya say so,” he says before one of his hands reaches between the two of you to untie your apron. “If ya ever need me to stop, let me know.”

You nod your head absentmindedly, slightly dizzy from the reality of what’s happening right now. One of his hands begins to slide upwards from your waist, cupping your clothed breast and giving it a squeeze, while the other slips downwards under your apron and pushes past the waistband of your shorts, hovering over your panties. Suddenly very aware of the wetness between your legs, you move to close them a little.

“That won’t do ya any good,” Osamu mutters against the back of your neck. As if to prove his point, he presses his middle finger against your clothed slit and swipes upward, humming to himself. “Yer practically dripping and I haven’t even started yet.”

A moan slips past your lips and you can only bite your lip in embarrassment at your own shamelessness.

“It’s just the two of us; you don’t have to be quiet,” he says, as if encouraging you to be as loud as you want and disturb your neighbors. When you still refuse to make another noise, he nudges your legs open with his knees, almost forcing you to lean over the counter for support. As if to further prove his point, he pushes your panties aside and slips his middle finger in between your folds, causing you to let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden intrusion.

“Osamu,” you whimper as you feel him kiss his way towards the back of your ear.

“What is it, baby?” His finger is still and unmoving inside of you as you try to gain any sort of friction, attempting to grind your hips against him. His hand doesn’t move as you feel his tongue trace the outer shell of your ear.

“Stop teasing me,” you practically whimper as you ball your hands into fists on the surface in front of you.

“What do ya want me to do?” He sounds smug and you can almost visualize his teasing smirk behind your closed lids.

“Just fuck me,” you say. You fight the embarrassment heating your cheeks, too aroused to focus on anything else.

“I know we’ve been living together for awhile now, but let’s not forget our manners,” he says, beginning to slide his finger out.

“M’Samu, please fuck me!” It comes out too eagerly, too desperately, but you want him to just do something to you.

“That’s all you needed to say,” he lets out a soft chuckle before he slides his finger back in. You find yourself leaning completely on the countertop so you don’t buckle under him and moan when he slides another finger inside, stretching you.

You were right; his fingers reach so much further than yours ever could.

His calloused fingers continue to thrust in and out of you at a steady pace as his other hand that had been on your breast moves down to slip under your shirt. You bite your lip as you feel him expertly unclip the bra before sliding around to cup the flesh, nudging your loose bra aside. His fingers pinch your hardening nipple and you breathe out his name.

“Careful there, sweetheart,” he practically grunts, “if ya keep soundin’ like that, I won’t be goin’ easy on ya.”

Part of you has half the mind to take him up on the offer while the other is failing to form coherent words and thoughts.

A familiar tension begins to pull at your lower abdomen as you feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. It seems that Osamu’s also aware, quickly slipping his hands out from your dripping cunt.

“Why’d you stop?” You whine as you turn back to look at him. He offers a smirk before removing his hands completely from your pants and lifting his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. The way his half-lidded eyes are locked on yours as he swirls his tongue around makes you clench helplessly around nothing.

“Don’t worry, yer gonna thank me later,” he says, dropping his hand. He begins to lower himself so he’s on his knees on the ground before he pulls your shorts and panties down in one clean tug. The cool air hits your wet heat and you bite your lip at the sensation.

You watch him with anticipation as he leans forward, using both hands to massage your ass a couple times before spreading the cheeks apart. He nudges your feet so you can spread a little wider for him, which you wordlessly oblige, and inhale shakily as he leans forward and licks a fat stripe up your slit.

“Fuck, Osamu,” you hiss as you turn back to look at him. You use one hand to reach around and weave your fingers through his hair, fisting it as he begins to sloppily lap at your cunt.

His tongue dives in and out, the wet squelch echoing around the apartment. You feel your legs tremble as he angles his head to reach a bit further before opting to have his fingers rejoin the fun. Your moans sound nearly pornographic as you attempt to grip at anything, unable to get yourself to properly stand as Osamu wags his head a couple times, swirling his tongue in the process.

A sharp gasp leaves you when you feel his fingers angle themselves and hit a spot you didn’t even know existed, your walls beginning to clench and flutter around him.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan, pushing his head deeper against you. You feel him hum against you as if to encourage you to release onto his face, so you do.

A strangled cry erupts from your throat as you feel every nerve ending spark up and you come undone above him. He lets you grind your hips against him a couple more times before he pulls away, breathing heavily as he stands up. He turns you around by your hips and you see your slick coating his lips and chin.

“Look at this mess,” he taunts you, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. You don’t say anything and wrap your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to taste yourself. As you do so, he makes quick work to get rid of his sweatpants and pulls away to lift his shirt over his head. You go ahead and do the same with your apron, tossing it onto the island behind him and removing your shirt and bra to leave the both of you stark naked in the kitchen.

You take a brief moment to unabashedly check him out, admiring how toned and built he is. Chewing on your bottom lip, you let your fingers trace along the hardened and defined lines of his abdomen, trailing your fingers down to palm him through his boxers. You see the fabric straining and recognize the heat rising to your cheeks as you feel how hard he is, creating a slightly darkened and damp spot where the head of his cock is located. You glance up at him and meet eyes as you hook your thumbs on his waistband, pulling them down. His length practically springs to life, standing proud and tall before you and your mouth practically waters at the sight.

Wrapping your fingers around the base, you bite your lip as you drag your hand upwards to the tip and collect his beading precum, spreading it around generously with the pad of your thumb before using it as lubricant to continue stroking him.

“Fuck,” he moans softly as you lick your lips, getting ready to get on your knees to return the favor that he so generously had given you moments ago. He grabs your wrist to stop you and you look at him curiously. “As much as I’d love to see you suck my cock, I just want to be inside of that pussy of yours right now.”

The hungry look in his eyes is all you need before you kiss him again, this time much sloppier than the previous ones. He maneuvers you around the kitchen for a moment and before you know it, you’re bent over the island countertop with a leg propped up on the cool surface. You hear Osamu spit into his hand and look back to see him give his thick cock a couple generous strokes before positioning himself with one hand while the other holds your hip.

You feel the bulbous head nudge your lower set of lips apart before slowly easing in, your back arching at the pressure already building inside of you. A soft hiss escapes your throat as you try to take all of him, grateful when he pauses once he’s bottomed out within you. You take a deep breath for a moment and feel your muscles relax slightly as you adjust accordingly.

“Are ya ready?” Osamu’s voice comes out surprisingly soft as he leans over you, placing a kiss between your shoulder blades. You nod quietly before feeling both hands on your hips as he slowly begins to pull out. You realize just how thick he is when you feel empty, though it doesn’t last for long when he slams right back into you. A strangled mewl bubbles from your throat as he begins to thrust in and out of you. You lower yourself onto your elbows on the counter and ball your hands into fists, no longer caring how you sound; you’re too lost in your own wave of pleasure.

As Osamu continues his ministrations, you feel the counter buzz slightly and hazily look around with half a mind to simply ignore it. You see Osamu’s phone shaking across the surface next to your discarded apron, the screen lit up with an unfamiliar name.

“’Samu, your phone,” you say between moans, “your phone is ringing.”

His hips slow, though his thrusts continue to hit deep inside of you. He doesn’t have to reach far to grab it and glances at the screen.

“Shit,” he hisses under his breath. “Stay still for me, will ya?”

You halfheartedly nod your head, though you can’t help but whine at the loss of friction as he stills inside of you.

“Hello?” His voice is even as he answers quickly. “This is Osamu, yes.”

It’s hard to ignore the slight frustration bubbling in your chest as he uses one hand to keep your hips still while the other holds his phone. He continues to speak formally, so you assume it’s probably someone important or has something to do with work. You know better than to tease him in the event that this call is actually important, but you can’t resist the urge to just roll your hips a little.

There’s a slight hitch in Osamu’s voice before he clears his throat, though it sounds more like a warning to you than anything. However, that doesn’t stop you as you grow more bold, deciding to create your own rhythm of shallow thrusts. His grip on your hip tightens, though it’s not enough to hurt you just yet.

“Something just came up, so I’m gonna have to call ya back,” you hear Osamu say, his voice becoming more strained as each second ticks by. When he finally hangs up, the phone smacks onto the table, startling you to a halt.

“Sorry, I couldn’t w-”

“Ya think yer so cute, dontcha? I told ya to stay still.” His voice is dangerously low as he hunches over, practically growling in your ear. You whimper softly in response, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. You’re not sure if you should be as turned on as you are right now, feeling your walls clench around him.

He stands upright and reaches around to grab one of your arms, practically yanking you back so you’re also standing up. His other hand reaches around to grab your other arm, pinning your wrists behind your back.

“If yer gonna act like a slut, I’m gonna fuck ya like one,” he snarls lowly and you resist the urge to moan. He manages to reach for your apron and rolls it up, looping it around your elbows.

As one hand holds your newly bound arms behind your back, the other holds your hips before he begins to pull out of you. You feel his whole length leave you empty with the exception of the tip and you’re about to complain again when you feel him slam back in roughly.

“Is this what ya thought of when ya were touchin’ yerself?”

You hardly contain the cry of mixed pain and pleasure as your back arches, his hips snapping against yours at a relentless pace. You can barely process his words, though you know the embarrassment will hit you later; you simply can’t form coherent enough thoughts to care. The hand that was on your hip leaves but only momentarily before his palm claps against your ass. You yelp in surprise as he releases your arms.

“What, did ya never get spanked as a kid?” Osamu taunts as he rubs the reddening skin. You lean back over, supporting yourself on your elbows. His comment barely processes in your head as he does it again.

Coherent words fail to form as you feel your legs begin to tremble. You’re practically running towards another orgasm and you can tell Osamu is too, based on his unstable rhythm and sloppier movements. You feel one of his hands reach around you to play with your nipples while you let your own hand rub your clit, the sensations overwhelming you in a crashing wave of pure bliss.

As your walls tighten and flutter, Osamu pulls out and fists his cock a couple times before you feel hot ropes of cum paint your back and ass, a guttural groan leaving him.

“Holy fuck,” he pants once he recovers from his orgasm. You’re still shaking, bent over the island, breathing heavily.

A dull ringing can be heard in your ears from the intensity of your climax, but you faintly hear the sink running for a moment. Not long after, you feel a warm and damp towel wipe across the mess on your backside and Osamu’s gentle arm pulls you up.

“Hey, was I too rough on ya?” His voice is soft and you shake your head. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he hands you your clothes from the ground. “Do ya wanna eat now and shower later?”

“Yeah, I’m starving,” you sigh as your head begins to clear up. You look over to your forgotten food, your mouth curving downwards into a frown. “Wait, did you not turn off the stove?”

“I was a little preoccupied.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyū!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #miya osamu #osamu x y/n #osamu x reader #osamu x you #haikyuu smut #osamu smut #hrnybbg

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ilici · 3 years

Text

gentle.

Summary: After bring with George for years you’re ready for the next big part in your relationship.

Female Reader

NSFW MINORS DNI

Warnings: Fingering, oral (female receiving), virginity taken

Word Count: 2838

Y/N sighed, as she was scrolling through Twitter, seeing a lot of people celebrating Easter together. She envied the people who got to celebrate Easter with their loved ones and significant other. Yet here she was, miles away from her significant other, although they’ve been together for 5 years, she moved away to study abroad leaving her boyfriend behind in Brighton. Y/N was a well known fashion designer, and she was also known for her ongoing YouTube channel that she has had for 8 years. “This sucks.” She whined to her roommate, Lily, who only gave her an annoyed look, “You’ve been complaining for the past six fucking hours, you’re literally leaving to go see him in two hours. Shut up.” She said, while Y/N threw a pillow at her, mumbling incoherent words under her breath. “Shut up, let me mope.” She said, with a dramatic eye roll.

Getting up and off the couch, going into her room to finish packing, she grabbed her phone. “Hey Siri, call Karl.” She said to her phone, which replied with, “Calling Karl..” Hearing the ringing sound, she waited till her friend picked up, and she soon heard the ringing stop and Karl’s voice speak up. Clicking the speaker button she smiled, “Hi Karl!” She greeted him kindly, “Hey Y/N! What’s up?” He asked, and Y/N looked around grabbing some extra clothes and stuffing them into her suitcase. “I am going to go see George tomorrow, but my flight leaves tonight. I want to have a special night with him, and I don’t know what to wear. I called you because you have good fashion sense.” She explained to him, and Karl smiled, as he clicked the FaceTime option, and Y/N quickly accepted it. Karl’s face soon popped up on her screen, and he waved vigorously, “Okay, help me choose.” She said getting up from her floor and walking towards her bed.

On her bed was three outfits, all lingerie sets. “Which one do you think would be good?” She asked, and Karl examined the clothes, “Well the violet set looks like you would wear it for a kinky night, the red seems too predictable, and the blue, well I think it’s the only color he can truly see. Plus it looks the most fanciest out of them all.” He admitted, and Y/N nodded her head, “Okay, I am truly surprised you aren’t embarrassed at the fact that I just showed you lingerie.” She said to him truthfully, as she grabbed the blue lingerie set, putting it in the suitcase. Karl just laughed, “I am but a friend is in dire need of help. I also find it ironic that you are a fashion designer and couldn’t choose between them.” He said, laughing once again and Y/N just scoffed, “I got indecisive, leave me be.” She groaned, and Karl just put his hands up in defense. “Okay okay.” He said, before he looked at her, “Wait, did you design those?” He asked, and Y/N just smiled a bit.

“Yeah I haven’t released them yet, I am dropping them on the first of May.” She informed him, and he nodded, “All your designs look so cool, look I am even wearing your hoodie you made for George’s merch.” He said, panning his phone camera down to show the hoodie. Y/N smiled, and shook her head, “Looks great, well I gotta go now. I will speak to you later, bye Karl.” She said, waving to him, and he waved back bidding her goodbye as well. Now that she was all packed, she sighed to herself a little nervous about how he would react to her outfit. Shaking her thoughts away, she got dressed in a comfortable outfit to wear on the plane ride there, an oversized jumper and sweat pants that she stole from George last time she had visited him. Texting him, she told him she was about to head out to the airport. “I can not believe I will be arriving at 4 in the morning, that’s just awful.” She whispered to herself, walking into the living room.

“Are you ready?” Lily asked, and she nodded her head, a little nervous. “Sorta.” She told her, and her roommate just patted her shoulder, “You’ve got this.” She told her, and the two walked out of their shared house getting inside the car. “The drive to the airport is about an hour, are you hungry?” Y/N asked, and Lily nodded, “A bit yeah.” She said, and Y/N nodded, “We can get fast food on the way there.” She told her, and the two were now driving. “Have you told George that you are moving back to Brighton yet?” She asked, starting up a conversation and Y/N shook her head, “No, I haven’t yet. I want to tell him in person, you know?” Y/N said, and the other just nodded in understanding. “I still can’t believe you’re just giving me the house.” Lily said, still in disbelief that Y/N is signing the house in her name, “You deserve it, you’ve helped me so much when I first moved here. You really deserve it Lily.” She told her smiling at her softly.

After a much longer drive than anticipated from traffic, Y/N was now at the airport, “I’ll miss you.” Lily said, and Y/N frowned, “I’ll come and visit when I can, and please make sure to keep safe. I’m having my stuff shipped to my house in two days, please make sure that the people I hired are careful with my stuff.” She asked, and Lily just nodded smiling a bit, before she hugged her friend, waving goodbye to her. “I’ll see you whenever I come back to visit.” Y/N said, as her flight was called. “Bye Lils.” She said, and soon walked with her luggage towards her plane. Shooting George a quick text, she boarded the plane and was not ready for the long plane ride. She luckily got first class, and got her own section to herself. Getting in her pod, she settled in and quickly drifted off to sleep. Shortly after, she was awoken by a voice through the speakers telling the passengers they were landing. Groggily she looked at her phone, seeing that it was 3:57 in the morning.

Getting up she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, stretching a bit as she was in a uncomfortable chair for hours, slowly she walked out, and sleepily walked to the baggage claim. Waiting for her suitcase to appear, she grabbed it and turned around, looking for George. Not seeing him, she turned her phone off airplane mode, and saw that George texted her and said he was waiting outside of her exit. Walking out, she nearly gasped as the cold bitter air struck her face, “Sleepy?” She heard the all familiar voice from beside of her. Smiling she turned and saw George standing there, “Hi baby.” He said, wrapping her into a hug, “Here let me get this for you, the car is warm and waiting.” He said, taking her luggage from her. Y/N smiled at his kind gesture, and walked with him, their fingers interlaced. “How was the flight?” He asked, as he put her suitcase in the back, Y/N just shrugged as she got into the passenger seat, “I don’t know, I slept the entire time.” She sheepishly admitted, smiling when George got in the driver side seat.

“Well, when we get to my house, I will let you sleep as long as you want. You must be jet lagged.” He said, pulling out and onto the main road, driving to his house. Y/N smiled warmly at him, “Sounds good to me.” She said to him, reaching over and patting his thigh. “Your glasses are really cute you know.” She said, and George just laughed a bit, “They help me see colors, hush.” He mumbled, and Y/N just nodded giggling a bit, “I know baby.” She said, before grabbing one of his hands, interlocking their fingers together. “I have missed you.” She said softly, and George’s heart melted, “I missed you too.” He said, pulling her hand over and kissing the top of her hand. Not long after, they pulled into his house, which was in a gated community. “Let’s go rest sleepy head.” He said, getting out and grabbing her suitcase. The two walked into his house, both immediately falling onto his bed, letting the comfortable mattress welcome them.

Finally, George woke up and decided he would unpack for her, as he quietly did so, his eyes widened and he felt himself blush when he picked up the blue lingerie set. Blushing madly, he placed it neatly in one of the drawers she was using, and shook her awake. “Baby, wake up, it’s one in the afternoon.” He said, and Y/N woke up and smiled at him. “Good-morning.” She said, her voice was quiet with an undertone of raspiness. “Go take a shower, I will fix breakfast.” He told her, and Y/N smiled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she slowly got out of bed, thankful that his house was warm. Grabbing one of his shirts, and a pair of her underwear, she walked to his bathroom which was open and had a window that had a view of the forest behind the house. Taking a quick shower, she got out, and walked into the kitchen in the clothes she got. “Feel better?” George asked, once he saw her enter the kitchen, and Y/N nodded her head, “I always feel so gross on planes.” She mumbled, sitting down and eating.

➽───────────────❥

“I wanted to ask you something.” Y/N spoke up, fidgeting with the hem of the shirt, as George and her were now sitting on his bed. “Yeah what is it?” He asked, looking over at her, “I think I am ready.” She whispered shyly, and George smiled at her, grabbing her hips pulling her onto his lap. “Are you sure baby?” He asked, and Y/N nodded her head slowly, after she thought about it. “Yes, I am ready.” She told him, and George softly kissed her lips, laying her down on her back. “I want you to just lay there, I will do all the work okay baby?” He told her, and Y/N blushed while nodding her head, chewing on her lip in somewhat nervousness and anticipation. George looked at her for permission as he grabbed the hem of his own shirt that was covering her body, nodding slowly Y/N licked her lips, looking away. “No baby, none of that, you have to be watching me, and use your words okay?” He said softly, and Y/N let out a small embarrassed whine, “Yes sir.” she said, looking at him as he pulled her shirt off.

George’s eyes widened when he saw the lingerie on her body, looking up at her in shock, Y/N just flushed fidgeting with her fingers. “When did you put this on?” He asked, and Y/N giggled slightly, “After the shower.” She explained, and George just nodded looking at how beautiful she was like this. Slowly, he put his hands around her back, pulling her back up so she was arching her back. “Stay like this really quickly.” He whispered to her, and Y/N nodded as she felt her lingerie set being unhooked. Slowly pulling it off her body, leaving her bare, Y/N closed her legs and covered her breasts shyly. George melted at her shyness, and gave her a reassuring kiss on her neck before he slowly pulled her arms away. “You don’t need to cover up baby, you’re absolutely beautiful.” He told her truthfully, as he also opened her legs. Letting the image of her like this soak into his brain, he hooked her legs over his shoulders as he kissed her inner thigh.

Feeling herself get chills from this, she watched him, as he scattering kisses on the inside of her thighs. “If it get’s too much, your safe word is ‘red’ okay?” He told her, and Y/N nodded, and he softly tapped her thigh, “Okay.” She said, with her words knowing that’s what he wanted. Slowly, he dipped his head down all the way, softly kissing her clit, feeling her body jump at the new feeling. George, then licked her clit, before sucking on it. Y/N gasped, and arched her back slightly, letting out a surprised moan. Reaching down, Y/N tangled her fingers into his hair, tugging at it a bit, as George ate her out as gently as he could, afraid he’d overstimulate her. Grabbing her hips, he kept them down, as she tried to grind her hips into him. Pulling one hand away, he slowly inserted a finger, and Y/N winced a bit at the pain it brought.

Stopping since he realized she was in pain, he waited till she adjusted, “You can go.” She whispered, and George slowly started thrusting his finger in and out of her. Y/N bit her bottom lip, now feeling more pleasure than pain, noticing she was ready for another, he slowly inserted another finger, now scissoring her. Y/N was now a moaning mess, she was highly sensitive to the newfound pleasure she was receiving and felt something tighten in her stomach. “Feels weird.” She mumbled, motioning to her stomach as she felt it growing. “You’re close baby, it’s okay.” He told her, “Just relax.” He said, rubbing circles on her hip, with his free hand while the other worked on her. Nodding, Y/N closed her eyes tightly as she felt an overwhelming pleasure rake through her entire body. Letting out a loud moan, she arched her back, as George felt her walls clamping around his fingers. Pulling them out, he licked them clean and let her come down from her high.

He pulled away, taking his shirt off, along with his remaining clothes, and grabbed a condom slipping it on. “This will be painful, let me know if I need to stop.” He told her, aligning himself with her entrance. “I’ll be okay.” She said, giving him a reassuring smile. George reached forward, and interlaced their fingers together, as he entered into her. Wincing Y/N dug her nails into the back of George’s hand, and he took that as a signal to stop. Taking in a deep breath, Y/N looked up at him with teary eyes, and George leaned down kissing her passionately. Pulling away from the kiss, Y/N looked at him, “Okay, you can continue.” She whispered, and George leaned down pecking her neck. Finally he bottomed out, groaning at how tight she was around him. Staying still, letting her adjust to his size, soon Y/N squeezed his hands, “Words baby.” He said, and Y/N blushed biting her lip at him, “Move.” She mumbled shyly, and George slowly rocked his hips.

Arching her back, their chests now touching, Y/N let out a strained moan. Keeping at a steady pace, George kissed along her neck, keeping their hands locked together. “Faster.” Y/N moaned out, and George complied speeding up his thrusts. He wanted to make sure her first time was passionate and not sloppy, so he kept his speed but was gentle with her. Moaning loudly, Y/N leaned her head back, clenching around him. George hissed at this, “Don’t do that.” He told her, and Y/N blushed not knowing what she did. Leaving marks all over her neck with the new access, he scattered them along her jawline as well. “I think I’m close.” Y/N said in between moans, and George nodded speeding up just a bit feeling himself growing close as well. “Cum with me baby.” He whispered into her ear, whining Y/N felt herself cum, and George soon after. Pulling out he took the condom off and threw it away, gently grabbing her he walked into the bathroom.

“Let’s take a bath.” He said, setting her on the toilet, turning on the bath. “How warm do you want it?” He asked, her and Y/N looked over still a bit in a haze, “Like, hot tub warm.” She mumbled, and George lightly laughed turning the cold down a bit. Picking her up, he slowly sank down into the tub with her, letting her lean against his chest. Now out of her haze, Y/N relaxed in the water as it kept raising, “George.” She said, and George hummed, “I’m living in Brighton again.” She told him, and George smiled brightly, “That’s great news baby, I’ll get to see you more often, and sooner or later you can move in.” He said, washing her body since she had already washed her hair earlier that day. “I can’t wait for that day.” He continued, kissing her shoulder, smiling.

#georgenotfound #georgenotfound x reader #georgenotfound imagine #georgenotfound smut #mcyt smut #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt imagine #mcyt #dreamsmp

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runtedfiction · 3 years

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the best

day 5: domesticity @zelinkweek2021

ao3

AN: i could spend a lifetime writing sleepy domestic scenes. also shoutout to @itcantbe, whose sweet and thoughtful comments have kept me going all week :)

* * *

Four times there’s someone waiting at home.

* * *

“You’re sure moving in together is a good idea,” Zelda says when all their boxes are already combined, stacked neatly on the floor of their new apartment.

Link laughs. “You’re asking me this now?”

“I’m asking you this now.”

He kisses the top of her head. There’s natural light, oak hardwood, and a kitchen with an island. This is everything they wanted, so she’s not sure why there’s dread gnawing at the bottom of her stomach. The loss of privacy? The merging of two lives? The thought of there always being a loving, patient partner to come home to?

He smiles at her when she hands him the scissors to open the first box. “I’m sure.”

* * *

They move in over the course of a weekend, and Monday is right back to work. It’s a rough Monday too--there’s a memory leak in one of her team’s apps and she spends all day trying to plug it. When she takes the train home she nearly gets off at her old stop. Remembering that her new place is slightly farther is enough to put her in a crabby mood when she comes home.

“Hey,” he says when she walks in the door. A waft of something warm and savory scents hits her. He didn’t mention that he’d be cooking today.

“Hello.”

Link looks up from the cutting board--her “Hello” did sound a bit terse coming out of her mouth. “How was your day?”

She flops down on the couch. “Ugh.”

“Ugh?”

“Ugh.”

“Well,” he says, sprinkling something on top of whatever’s in the pot, “dinner is ready whenever. I’m killing the heat now.”

“Mmhmm.” She pulls out her phone and starts scrolling.

“Man,” he says, and he goes to the couch. “Bad day?”

She puts her phone down to bury her face in his shoulder. “The worst.”

(“Better that you’re here now” goes unsaid. She wants a bit more time to mope around.)

He threads her finger through hers. “I’m sorry bud. You wanna talk about it over dinner? I made that veggie soup you like.”

She perks up, just a bit. “The one with the pasta?”

“The one with the pasta.”

* * *

The rest of the week isn’t much better. When Purah messages her asking if she wants to grab drinks after work on Friday, Zelda reacts with every “yes” they have in their company Slack.

“Fucking hell,” she says, sipping on a too-expensive drink in a too-nice bar. “Memory leaks on Monday, urgent stakeholder requests later, and unredacted log info today?”

Purah shakes her head. “They don’t pay you enough.”

“Amen.”

Robbie and Impa come, and Purah buys everyone a tequila shot. Then Zelda buys a round, because why not, and soon the four of them are out on the street giggling and searching for a karaoke bar.

Her phone buzzes. It’s Link.

“Hello?”

(“Ooooooooh Liiiink,” Purah coos. Zelda chooses to ignore her.)

“Hi,” he says. “I’m heading out from Daruk’s thing; I’ll be home in like 30.”

“Ok,” she says, and checks the time on her watch. “Oh, it’s one already! Don’t wait for me, I’m not too sure how long it’ll be.”

“Ok,” he says. “Have fun stay safe.”

“Yeah, I will!”

They find a karaoke bar that’s charmingly shitty with a two drink minimum. As soon as they walk in, someone is doing a very bad but very passionate rendition of “My House” by Flo Rida. They also queue up for the stage--Impa is willing to do a basic Taylor Swift song with her because she’s a stellar friend--and spend the rest of the night dancing and drinking.

It’s somewhere between four and five when Zelda makes it back home, still drunk but mostly tired. She changes into pajamas and brushes her teeth far too quickly, careful to not turn on the electric mode so Link doesn’t wake up.

She climbs into bed as quietly as she can considering her head is swimming and she can feel the blood rushing through it. Link stirs a bit, and she’s relieved when his breathing goes back to normal. But then he turns towards her, and fuck, maybe she really did wake him up.

Except all he does is sigh sleepily and reach for her.

Zelda, who was so exhausted and cold and tipsy a moment ago, melts.

* * *

The first time she plans dinner when he’s running late is mostly a success. She picked up a bottle of fancy French soda, the garlic bread is in the oven, and the sauce will come together soon.

There’s just one complication.

“You burned the spaghetti?”

She looks at the pot of clearly burned spaghetti. “No.”

He laughs, and redoes his ponytail to wash his hands and start slicing garlic. “Why didn’t you just get a bigger pot for the noodles?”

“Leave me alone,” she says, bumping her hip into his.

“No.”

He drops the knife to hug her. She tries to wriggle her way out of his grip to no avail.

* * *

When Sidon’s birthday rolls around, Zelda gets home earlier this time. Link insists that she go to bed, but he said he’d be home before three and she can wind down with some TV anyway.

(And if she checks his location every fifteen minutes and glances at the door every twenty to see if the lock will turn, what of it?)

When he does come in, she tries her hardest to look casual, and not like she’s been pining for the last two hours, and knew exactly when he would come home.

“Hello,” she says.

“Hi,” he replies, voice a little croaky. His hair is down fully, and he looks tired.

“Fun night?”

He shakes his head and smiles. “A little too fun. We went to that karaoke bar you recommended.”

“Nice!” She pats the seat next to her. “What’d you sing?”

“‘Home’.” When he sits down he smells like beer. “That Edward, something, Magnetic one?”

“Oh yeah. That’s a good one.”

“What’re you watching?”

“Oh.” She turns back to the TV. “Something silly. Paris Hilton has a cooking show now.”

“Huh.”

“Here’s a glass of water.” She lifts it off the coffee table. “Drink up so tomorrow morning isn’t that bad.”

His smile turns sheepish. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“You know,” he says later while they watch Paris Hilton make the worst French toast in the world, “sometimes I hate going out.”

“Why?” she asks, surprised.

“Home is nice,” he explains. He puts his head on her shoulder. “Warm and clean. And”--he hesitates, and she wonders if he’s going to say something cheesy because he always stops before that—”you’re here.”

“So cheesy,” she says.

He scrunches up his nose. “I know.”

She laughs and takes his hand. “But I get it. Welcome home.”

* * *

Months later, over a bowl of vegetable soup, he asks her if she’s sure this was a good idea.

Zelda looks up from her phone. “What?”

“When we first moved in together,” he explains around a bite of pasta and carrots and beans, “you asked me if I was sure this was a good idea.”

She laughs, and takes a sip. The tomato flavor is especially tangy today. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Yup.”

“Well,” she says with a shrug, “this place is everything we wanted. Hardwood, big kitchen, good light.”

He rolls his eyes. “You know that’s not what I'm asking.”

She smiles. “I know.”

She places a hand over his. He raises an eyebrow and asks, “So?”

“I think,” she starts, giving his hand a squeeze. He squeezes back and smiles. “I think this was the best idea ever. Having someone to come home to is nice.”

His smile grows soft. “The best?”

She nods, sure of it. “The best.”

#zelink #zelink fanfiction #zelink week 2021

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olivarryprompts · 3 years

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Fanfic Friday #11

Welcome to Fanfic Friday! Each Friday I post a new here and on A03. Enjoy x

Read and save it on A03 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/33567529

{fancy suits from dad}

Ships: Peter Stark & Tony Stark, Pepper Pots/Tony Stark

Warnings: swearing, just fluff otherwise :)

Wc: 2,319

Here’s the thing, Peter Parker grew up in Stark Tower, which eventually became Avengers Tower of course. So whilst his whole class was buzzing about their field trip, all he could think was, “shit, shit shit.” His dad was going to embarrass the hell out of him. His Aunts and Uncles were going to endlessly tease him.

So, no Peter was not looking forward to the field trip. Not in the slightest. He still wanted to go, though. He knew that the rumors of his internship being fake were started by Flash, the annoying teen. He also knew that Flash had not once said his real name, preferring the name Penis Parker. It didn’t bother him as much as it used to. Also since highschool began, Flash had calmed down with his bullying. Well, maybe Flash hadn’t calmed down and high school was just bigger and he had thicker skin. And a new support system with plenty of people to go to.

Peter had been adopted by the Starks when he was a mere ten years old. At first, he was terrible at receiving any gifts or even too much attention. Slowly but surely, he got more and more used to it. Now, he wouldn’t not know what to do if any of that was taken away. Plus, he really did find a liking for expensive suits, however shallow. He looked good in them, and his father always insisted on buying him more and more. Tony would always find an excuse to spoil the kid a little more, however much Pepper tried to stop him.

“Peter, please see me after class regarding an urgent matter.”

Brough out of his thoughts, Peter swiftly nodded his head.

He looked at the board to see the words from before still written on them, “Field Trip to Stark Industries!” It might as well have said, “Dig Peter Stark’s Grave!”

“So, let’s get started with today’s lesson, graphing imaginary numbers on the complex plane!” He’d done this one a while back with his father. Something about not only learning applicable science and engineering. Peter tapped his glass, and the episode of Arrow he’d been watching on the car ride over began playing. He’d be ever grateful for his father’s gift of EDITH to him. Pepper had tried to ban him from wearing them to school, but hastily gave up when Peter pulled the spiderman danger card.

“Alright, class dismissed. Please remember to do this homework pages 11-18 on this unit’s homework handout.”

Peter, forgetting his teacher's previous request, was very glad to be on his way home. He was one foot out of the door when the teacher called his name. Now, his day had gone pretty well up to that point. Bucky made pancakes for breakfast, which were delicious. There was wayyy less traffic on the way to school. He’d aced an essay and a couple of quizzes, and then he even participated in PE effectively. But alas, all good things had to come to an end.

“Mr. Parker? The discussion.”

“Right,” Peter thought, joining the teacher at his desk.

“Peter, you are truly a great kid. I know you’ve been through a lot recently and in your life, but it is no excuse to make up an internship. We both know that it is not real. Now, acknowledging that you have a bright future, the administration and I have come forward with an offer. If you agree to write an apology, expressing that you understand what you did was wrong and immoral, you will both be allowed to come on the trip and no punishment will be given to you. If you choose to not take this opportunity, you will be banned from the trip and will be chastised.

Peter just stood there, not really comprehending. Apparently Flash’s little rumors were a lot bigger than he anticipated.

“I-i-I’m not lying,” was all he could manage. He had filed all the right paperwork and proved his internship.

“I’m sorry to hear that you will not come forward with the truth. You have up until the day before the trip to hand in the letter if you change your mind. Goodbye Peter.”

Peter just let his legs take him out of the classroom, then out of the school, and then to the road, a couple blocks away, where his dad picks him up from.

“Hello mini-me.”

“Hey,” Peter said, jumping into the passenger seat.

“‘Hi Dad, thanks so much for taking time out of your busy schedule to pick me up each and every day. Sick new car by the way! I’d love to drive it sometime!”

Peter just rolled his eyes with a smile, “Car looks great dad. McLarren’s are superior yet.”

“Ungrateful, so so ungrateful. What’s got you in a mood then?”

“Nothin,” Peter said, pulling out his phone.

“Oh come on, tell me. Tell me or I’ll call Ted.”

“Ned, Dad. We’ve been friends for like three years.”

“Not the point.”

“Just something at school.”

“Wow how very descriptive. You know I’m trying to do the whole feelings thing here, and you should appreciate that coming from my emotionally stunted self.”

“You’re so dramatic. Basically we’re having a field trip to your tower, and I’m not allowed to go because the teacher doesn’t think I really have an “internship.” Which, to be fair I don’t but that’s on you and not me.”

“Nah na na. I offered you an internship, and you said I’d be bored.”

“It would be. Doing a project for your company under strict supervision of some person would be sucky. I mean I can do anything I want from the lab you built me.”

“I know, but remember technically you are my intern. Remember we did that whole personal intern bullshit for the school.”

“Oh right. Is that why you keep harassing me about submitting all my completed projects.”

“No, that’s all your mother. Something about not wanting a lawsuit over a fake internship.”

“Make sense. She tends to be a lot smarter than you.”

“Ah, I feel so attacked. The abuse I suffer.”

“You’re terrible.”

“I am internally crying, kid. Sobbing.”

“Shut up,” we laughed.

“Who’s home?”

“You saw Buck and Sam this morning. Nat and Steve came back from their mission this afternoon. Thor and Loki are back for dinner tonight.. Strange might be coming round, not sure though. Cliff and the family aren’t back for at least a couple weeks. Oh and Bruce is wholed up in his lab as usual.”

“Shit. Everyone staying till the end of the week.”

“Yeah, oh the field trip. You’re screwed. You should have not told me.”

“Ughhhhh!!!”

“I love your life Petey.”

Peter walked into the kitchen and saw Steve reading a newspaper.

“Uncle Steve! Your back!” he smiled, dropping his bag off near the sofa. Steve got up to give the smaller boy a hug.

“Yep. Mission completed.”

“Nice. Can you tell me about it?”

“Yeah, it was nothing too interesting. We just needed some more intel into a terrorist organization stationed in the US. Most of the mission was recon. The next steps are being taken in a couple weeks.”

“Good to know there’s an active terrorist organization out there,” Peter said lightly.

Steve just smiled, not quite understanding the modern humor.

“Where is everyone else?” he said, realizing the living room was not in it’s normal chaotic state that he’d come to love. The chaos was his favorite reminder that he had so many people. He liked having lots of people, even after all this time.

“Nat and Buck are training, they invited you to join if you want. Bruce is in his lab, and dont worry he slept and ate last night. Not sure about the rest.”

“Right, thanks. I think I’m going to go train.”

Before he knew it, it was Friday morning, and his school was coming to his home. He was going to try very hard to ignore them. To do so, he asked his mum to let him sit in on some meetings. He had an easy in to the R&D and mechanical side of the company via the other interns. He was actually planning on hanging out with some of the “other” interns later that day. They were always happy to let Pete in on their projects and let him give them a hand. But he was always interested in getting more detail about the business side of the company, and he liked to get a window into it. Pepper was always happy to show her son the ropes. I mean he was heir to the company after all, even if he didn’t know yet.

He asked his mum to only schedule meetings after 12 as he requested a sleep in. Pepper was always happy when Peter slept as he was a little too much like his father. So, he woke bright and early at 11:00 o’clock.

After a scroll through his phone and a quick shower, he was ready to pull on his far too expensive Brunellio’s custom suit. It was one of his favorites. His father had got it custom made when he was in Italy, and told him he simply could not resist getting one for the kid. Pepper just smiled.

He had a large breakfast (enhanced metabolism) and headed towards the 34th floor where his first meeting was located. He’d been shadowing his mum for almost a year now whenever it was convenient, so he had the rointine down. He was almost sure he could take over a few of her meetings.

“Hi honey,” Pepper said, giving the boy a quick kiss on the cheek on the way to her own chair beside him. Peter blushed before resuming his professional posture and facial expression.

“Good morning everyone, as you can see Peter will be joining us today. I want to talk about some of the services we provide for our employees and their feedback. I’m aware we have a large portion to talk about so Kendra please take it away on that front.”

The first meeting went smoothly as planned. It was a discussion on the progress of the internal services, aka the IT department. Peter hadn’t learned much about their IT department, so it was good to listen in to. Pre these meetings, he, of course, does research into the background stuff, so he’s not completely lost. Pepper’s assistant usually provides him with a packet of info about the Stark Industries side of things. He is also given a list of key words and concepts he might want to make sure he understands. The research is fun for him, it makes him feel all professional.

Usually he spoke during the meetings, asking a couple questions and suggesting some ideas, but for this one he just learned and took in. The next meeting, however, was very much so his field. He’d spoken a lot with advertising, becoming very interested in the data analysis behind it. He even took a stats class so he could keep up. In that one he asked questions Pepper was on the verge of asking twice. He also contributed to the analysis of data once. Pepper usually liked him to participate as it was good for him, but he always felt bad suggesting stuff to the senior adults. He usually spoke to his mum or dad about projects for the company, preferring that.

They hung back in the room of the second meeting.

“Good job in this one Pete. Took two questions right off my tongue.”

“Thanks ma,” he said, always appreciating some approval.

“That’s all I’ve got for you today, kid. Rest of the stuff is, ya know.”

“Course. Thanks for these two. It was good to learn about internal affairs a bit more. Have a gap of knowledge there.”

“Yeah. Was that the first time meeting our CIT?”

“I believe so.”

“Well, next time we have a broader IA meeting, I’ll pull you outta school,” Pepper suggested.

“Really? That’d be epic.”

“Course, hun. Jarvis, sort that out please.”

“Of course Mrs. Potts.”

“Thanks J,” Peter yelled.

“Anytime mini-boss. No need to disturb the entire floor.”

“Are AI supposed to be so snarky?”

“Dad programmed it, what else would it be?”

“Valid point.”

“Right, got to run. See you later.”

“Bye, love you mum!”

“Love you too, Pete.”

“Jarvis, could you send me the tour plan for the visiting tour today?”

“Absolutely, sir. They’re on your phone now.”

“Thanks J.”

Looking at the plans Peter smiled. He had successfully avoided them the entire day. It said they were supposed to head back to school at 2:30, and it was about to be three. Smile on his face, he trotted down to the lobby to grab a coffee before going to meet Loki at the arcade. Don’t judge them, it was their thing. Taking the private lift down, and then walking straight to the coffee stand and ordering.

“Mr. Parker!” he heard the angry voice of his teacher, “How dare you show up here aft-”

Shit. shit. Shit.

“Edith, call dad, and tell him it’s urgent in the lobby.”

“Of course Peter.”

“Peter, are you listening to me! You are going to face extreme consequences for this.”

“Your coffee,” the man said, not realizing it was Peter, level ten personal of the tower, that was being yelled at.

“Thanks.”

“How dare you get coffee! In this building! Security!”

Tony arrived spotting his son instantly.

“Kid this best be impor- I see.”

“Hey Mr. Stark,” Peter said weakly.

“Mr. Harrington is it? Please stop harassing my intern.”

“H-he, he is y-your intern?”

“Yes. My favorite. Please exit the building and never question him again. You will be hearing from me.”

Let’s just say, Monday was an interesting day. At least Flash backed off, he was definitely an intern at SI, and no one embarrassed him on the trip.

#peter parker field trip #irondad #ironfam #iron man #tony stark #pepper potts #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #avengers fanfiction #the avengers #mcu fanfic #bucky barnes #domestic avengers

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iamtheblondestblonde · 4 years

Text

Temptation

AN: I... I don’t even know what to say except for I’m so sorry? We had some tech issues at work today and I had this idea while I waited and it didn’t fit with Slides so here’s some plot with porn at the end with Mat? I wrote this in first person narrative but there’s no name or description in it. Also this is my first time writing anything like this and I didn’t spend much time proof-reading so please don’t judge too harshly

AN 2: I wrote a sequel called No Control and you can find it here so please check it out!!

Word count: 7.4k (things escalated what can I say..)

Warnings: cursing and smut, like really explicit content

He was only wearing a towel. Again. Seeing him walking around in nothing but shorts was already bad enough but this was on a whole other level.

When Mat had first invited me to come with him to his lake house by Vancouver to wait this mess out I had been thrilled. Fancy lake house overlooking the water with my best friend definitely sounded better than stuffy Brooklyn apartment in a city crammed with thousands of people infected.

Thankfully my online classes made the journey across the country possible and I only had to fly back for a short while to take my final exams. This wasn’t really how I envisioned my summer after graduating college but it could be worse I guess.

As I took a look at him all glistening wet from his shower on his way over to me by the kitchen island, I felt like I was trapped in an episode of temptation island or something like that.

Neither of us had expected this lockdown to last this long and almost two months of being holed up together was starting to take its toll. I’d known for a fact that I’d go batshit crazy if I were to stay with my own family or my crazy roommate though so his offer had truly been godsend. With the fancy club I usually waitressed at closed there was no way I’d be able to pay for my rent either, so I’d given my landlord my notice, put everything that I wouldn’t take with me in storage and followed Mat across the country.

His family was supposed to be up here with us and that way I’d have his sister as a distraction, but they’d decided to stay in the city, meaning it was only Mat and I. And my sexual frustration.

It didn’t help that my quarantine buddy looked like a fucking Greek god either. Any nun would probably go for him as well, frustrated or not. And I was definitely not a nun.

“Do you want to go paddle boarding after breakfast? The water shouldn’t be too cold today with the sun out.”

I looked out through the large floor to ceiling windows at Mat’s question, I’d been so distracted by him running around practically naked that I hadn’t even noticed that for the first time in three days there were almost no clouds visible. With May well underway British Columbia was apparently finally getting ready for summer.

“Yeah let’s do it. I still have to respond to a couple of emails before we leave tho.”

He took a look over my shoulder at my laptop, water droplets from his hair falling down my neck making me squirm.

“You’re getting me all wet”, I huffed before giving him a shove. Not thinking about the way his muscular shoulders felt underneath my fingers at all. Definitely not thinking about that. Nope.

“You’re the first girl I’ve ever heard complain about that you know?” He winked at me before throwing his head back in laughter as I flipped him off. The flirty banter that had been going on between us ever since we met almost two years ago wasn’t really helping my case either.

I was convinced the only reason why we hadn’t hooked up yet was terrible timing. We’d met at a time when both of us were seeing others and by the time we both were single again the previous months of platonic friendship had set our relationship in stone, never allowing for anything more than playful flirting and teasing. I’d thought about it for a couple of times, because honestly who wouldn’t with the way he looked?

Mat filled a cup with coffee and grabbed some of the breakfast I’d prepared before pulling out the chair next to me, looking at me expectantly. I was still munching on the remainder of my overnight oats so it took me a couple of seconds to swallow before I could ask what the hell he was waiting for.

“For you to finish whatever it is that you need to do. I have nothing else to do”

“I can’t concentrate with you hovering over me like this. Go work out or something.”

Mat had a really nice gym set up in one of the rooms and let me tell you if I had to pick one place to plank for the rest of the life, it would definitely be in there so I could at least watch the calming water while I died such a slow painful death.

“I already worked out, that’s why I just got out of the shower.”

“Well then put some fucking clothes on, you’re not some cave man who can get away with only wearing a loincloth”, I exclaimed, slowly getting flustered with him in such close proximity while knowing that one tuck could expose him completely. He cackled but got up nevertheless, making his way back towards his bedroom.

“Me being naked is yet another thing no one has ever complained about either, you wound me.”

“I’m sure Tito would disagree!”, I yelled, desperate to have the last word so I could at least keep some semblance of control in this situation. I could hear him laugh all the way from the other end of the house and quickly shook my head so I could finally get some things sorted out before he got back.

With the way the sun was shining right now I could probably get away with wearing only a t shirt over my swimsuit, which was a lot better than the full-on wetsuit we’d donned whenever we’d spent our time doing any water activities over the past few weeks. Although Mat in a wetsuit was truly a sight to see, with the way the fabric clung to him so tight that you could see every ridge of his muscles underneath.

I hustled through my emails, ready to relax for the day. Perhaps I could even start on my summer tan already, being out on the water always sped things up. Thankfully I’d bothered to bring lots of clothes and a bit of online shopping had closed any gaps that I had in my wardrobe, this bikini being one of the new acquirements as well. It was super cute and my butt looked really good in it and it would look even better once I finally got my tan going.

Mat was already lounging on the couch in the living room, scrolling through his phone and looking annoyingly perfect as ever. I knew for a fact that he hadn’t done anything with his hair and it looked so soft that I just wanted to push my hands through it. And pull it until he groaned.

“That one’s new”, he immediately said once he lifted his gaze to look at me, pulling me out of my fantasies. I hadn’t put my shirt on yet so he was getting the full view of me in the bikini, which might have been on purpose. I knew that quarantine must be getting to him as well and he wasn’t the only one that could be a tease.

I nodded, biting my lip before twirling around so he could get all angles. “You like?”

This bikini was a little bit skimpier than the ones he’d seen me in before and I could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn’t as relaxed at the sight as he pretended to be. Finally.

We grabbed our paddles and boards and slowly made our way out on the water. It still took me a couple of minutes to find my balance, no matter how many times I’d done this before but eventually I managed, Mat now slightly ahead of me. If I had my phone with me I would definitely take pictures of him right now, they’d be outdoor magazine worthy.

“Come on slow poke, what’s keeping you?”, he yelled over his shoulder and I was tempted to splash him but I already knew that that would end up in a fight I couldn’t possibly win so I only stuck my tongue out before working to catch up.

At first we kept close to the shore but eventually we slowly made our way out farther onto the lake, laying down on our boards to enjoy the gentle up and down of the water. The sun was hotter than anticipated so both Mat and I ended up taking off our shirts and using them as pillows instead. I closed my eyes to keep me from staring at him, instead relishing in the way the sun warmed my face.

“This is what life should always be like”, Mat sighed contently, breaking the comfortable silence.

“You’d miss hockey eventually. You belong on the ice.”

“Probably. But right now I’m not missing a thing ‘cause I got everything I need right here.”

I didn’t want to look at him out of fear of what I might see on his face, only giving him an affirmative hum instead.

“You’re seriously the best”, Mat sighed after emptying his drink yet again. I had decided that tonight would be taco night and made some margaritas to accompany them, both of us a couple of glasses in by now. It honestly could be a Tuesday but who even knows anymore. I was convinced that at least part of the reason why Mat had asked me to come with him was because he liked my food so much, especially when I cooked Mexican.

The sun was setting over the lake and we were sitting outside on the porch so we could watch the sun set above the water, music playing quietly in the background. He reached for the pitcher and I grabbed the golf club leaning against the sofa we were currently sharing, even though there was lots of space to lounge elsewhere.

Now I didn’t really like golfing, in fact I thought it was among the most boring sports to watch and not much better to play, but I did like to swing at the ball as hard as I could. I’d found some golf balls that would dissolve into food for the fish so for the last couple of hours Mat and I had taken turns in trying to get the ball as far as possible, both of us with a subpar form that only got worse after every margarita.

“No you need to rotate your hips along with the swing”, Mat commented and I threw him a look over my shoulder.

“You’re not much better you know.”

“Yeah but I’m also stronger than you so I can hit harder.”

“I’m not sure if that’s how it works Matty.”

For my next swing I made sure to exaggeratedly turn my hips with the movement, causing me to lose balance of course. In a split second Mat was there, his big hands resting on either side of my hips so I wouldn’t fall.

“Good reflexes”, I giggled, letting my head drop back onto his shoulder so I could look up at him, our eyes locking in an intense stare. He was standing so close to me that I could feel his breath fan across my neck it was very tempting to take the little step that was needed for me to be pressed against him completely. I knew I shouldn’t be thinking about him like this, but the alcohol wasn’t exactly helping.

I could see him swallow hard, closing his eyes for a second before reluctantly letting go of me. “It’s what they pay me millions for you know.”

“Cocky little shit.” And just like that we fell back into our old rhythm again. I pushed any and all dirty thoughts out of my mind and instead focused back on my golf swing.

With every sip I felt myself relax more, the amount of alcohol in the second pitcher definitely stronger than in the first. I knew that Mat felt the effect of the alcohol as well by now, the way his gaze would turn unfocused from time to time giving him away.

I gave him a curious glance when he got up, knowing for a fact that him with a golf club would be a dangerous combination if he tried anything right now. To my surprise he walked over to the box where all the blankets were stashed, pulling out the fluffy grey one that I liked most before spreading it across both of our legs. He surprised me even further when he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close to his side so I could rest my head on his chest. While behavior like this wasn’t completely unusual for the two of us, it had been a while since we last cuddled. It was as if Mat had been careful to not get too close up until this point, his resolve now gone.

“You know, I really like knowing things and learning how stuff works, but sometimes I just wanna be a kid again who doesn’t have a clue. I remember how I used to think that every star was a little fairy like the ones in Tinkerbell or something, I don’t know. The world used to be so full of wonders and now it’s all science this psychology that, you get me?” I listened to him ramble, the alcohol making him stumble on his words a couple of times as he tried to figure out how to properly articulate himself. I’d listened to his drunk thoughts for years now, still amazed at his ability to get all philosophical out of apparently nowhere.

“Kinda yea, but I also think there’s still lots of wonders left, some of them having to do with science. Why do comatose patients wake up? What must it feel like as a surgeon to be able to give someone a new heart, a new life? How can we know so much and yet still be wrong so many times? So the way I see it there’s still wonders, you just got to know where to look”, I finished my rant, looking up only to see Mat intently staring down at me. This wasn’t our first drunk real talk, but the way I was wrapped in his arms somehow made it feel more personal.

“By the way, I think I got lucky because I wasn’t even looking and yet I still somehow ran into you”, I continued, needing him to understand his importance to me all of the sudden. He’d truly been my rock over the past few months, keeping me from going insane as I approached the final stretch of my senior year. He’d reminded me to take care of myself and practically forced me to whenever I didn’t.

I couldn’t even count the amount of times I’d crashed at his place because my roommate was having some kind of crazy rager in our apartment, effectively making it impossible to study. He’d even offered up his spare bedroom once he moved into his new apartment but I declined because I wouldn’t be able to afford the rent at this place and I wasn’t about to leech off of him when I had other options.

“You are my wonder too, you know. I couldn’t have wished for a more supportive friend.” I smiled up at him, drunk happiness mixed with genuine love for the guy that had slowly turned into the most important person in my life. We’d come quite far.

It didn’t take long until the both of us were yawning so frequently that it was impossible to keep up a conversation, quickly gathering everything so we could go back inside. I hadn’t even realized how cold it had gotten until Mat’s arm dropped from my shoulder and my legs were exposed again from underneath the blanket.

“You wanna have a sleepover?”, Mat asked grinning at me cheekily while walking across the living room. Never one to say no to cuddling with Mat, even before all this quarantine horniness, I nodded before dashing off to my room to get ready.

Mat was already snuggled under the covers and he lifted up one side as soon as he saw me getting closer. He liked to be the big spoon and because that was one of the best feelings in the world I basically let him do whatever until he deemed our sleeping position comfortable. He’d definitely pulled me a little tighter than he usually did, our bodies now practically touching from head to toe.

He’d tangled up one of his legs with mine and my back was flush to his chest, his face nuzzled into the back of my neck. He had wrapped one arm around my waist so even if I wanted to leave or move, I wouldn’t be able to. It was like a big perfect Mat cocoon.

As I laid there listening to his breathing slowing down I thought back to what Mat had said on the paddle board a couple of days ago, about how he had everything he needed right here with him. I knew that that wasn’t exactly true because he missed his family and even if he denied it I knew he missed hockey as well, but he’d also admitted to needing me with him and I would be lying if I said that I didn’t feel the same.

A few rays of sunshine had lit up Mat’s bedroom the next morning, but that wasn’t what had woken me up. Mat was calling for me from the ensuite bathroom and I could faintly make out the sound of water running.

“I need you to bring me your shampoo, I’m all out”, he yelled and I groaned before slowly rolling out of bed. In daylight I could make out the mess his room had become, clothes littering the floor and every other surface and I almost stumbled over a set of weights on my way out of the door.

I grabbed my shampoo out of my shower and even reached for the conditioner for good measure. His hair had gotten so long by now that it would surely appreciate the extra attention.

Making my way into the bathroom I was faced with a problem that I hadn’t thought of up until this point. The lake house was pretty new, meaning the interior design was cozy yet still modern. Meaning all bathrooms were equipped with big glass showers. Meaning that there was currently no shower curtain preventing me from seeing Mat fully naked in the shower.

I could close my eyes but I would 100% trip over his clothes that he’d strewn all across the bathroom floor so my only option was to try and keep my eyes up high. Keyword being ‘try’. At least he had his back turned to me but I was still mesmerized by the water running down his body and the way his back muscles rippled as he reached up to push his hair out of his face. And that ass..

I slowly approached the shower, praying that he wouldn’t turn around to face me but also kind of hoping he would. I opened the door a little bit so I could set the bottles down inside and thankfully he stayed put.

“Don’t put the conditioner on your roots or your hair will look greasy”, I said on my way out and even I could hear how breathless I sounded, the view having my thoughts run a mile a second.

As soon as I had the bathroom door closed I squeezed my eyes shut to try and regain my composure. The image of him in that shower was one I wouldn’t be able to get rid of for a long time. I couldn’t even take a cold shower to cool down because Mat had my stuff and he’d know something was up if I were to simply rinse myself off and I couldn’t exactly tell him that the sight of him naked had gotten me all hot and bothered.

So instead I decided to use all of my pent up energy to go on a run, hoping for the runner’s high to clear my thoughts. By the time I got back Mat was laying in the corner of the couch, an episode of The Office on the big flatscreen.

“We need to go to the store later”, I reminded him, knowing that I couldn’t walk in on him naked again without losing the little control I had left in my body. He nodded and then looked me up and down and for a second I was embarrassed. Even with only wearing running shorts and a sports bra I was still drenched in sweat, probably looking disgusting.

At least he’d put my stuff back so I could finally shower in peace, my thoughts still wandering back to earlier this morning. I wouldn’t have turned him down before all of this shit started but now that I only had my own hands and trusted toy to take care of myself, I was borderline desperate. Two months without sex was the longest dry spell I’d had in years and I couldn’t imagine Mat feeling any different. I knew from firsthand experience that he brought lots of girls home as well. Perhaps he needed something to happen as much as I did.

It was hard to believe that his shampoo had just been empty all of a sudden without him noticing first and then there was the fact that for the past few days he’d been parading around the house in only his boxers or towels.

Two can play this game, I thought to myself, pulling on a comfy shirt and some tight booty shorts, foregoing a bra which he was bound to notice because of how it stretched over my chest.

I pretended not to notice how Mat almost choked on the sip of water he’d just taken as I made my way into the living room, walking over to the kitchen to grab my own bottle. Even if I couldn’t see it to confirm, I was pretty sure that he was staring at my ass as soon as I turned away from him. For good measure I even made sure to lie down with my head in his lap, murmuring something about how he’d taken up the best spot so he really left me no other choice.

The first few minutes he didn’t move an inch, resembling a statue. I knew that he could feel my boobs pressed against his thigh and I made sure to shift a couple of times to make sure before placing one of my hands on his thigh. Eventually he relaxed and even went as far as to rest one of his hands on top of my hand, slowly moving his fingers through the tangles in my still wet hair. When he accidently pulled at a few strands I let out a content sigh while simultaneously digging my nails into his thigh out of habit. I pretended to not hear him groan lightly and instead gave him the most insincere apology of my life, thoughts now definitely elsewhere.

I was royally screwed. Or actually I wasn’t, and that was becoming a big problem.

I’d made it my personal mission to get a reaction out of him as much as I could. Mat was the same, I hadn’t seen him wearing a shirt in days. It was like this competition to see who could make the other one snap first. Currently I was making breakfast in nothing but a shirt and my panties. Granted, the shirt went to my mid-thighs because I’d stolen it from Mat a couple of months ago but still.

One of my upbeat playlists was playing over the speaker system and I was dancing around in front of the stove, careful to not let the our breakfast burn.

“What a sight to wake up to”, I heard Mat’s voice behind me and his hoarse morning voice did things to me I would never admit out loud. I gave him a cheeky grin over my shoulder and wiggled my butt for good measure as my favorite part of the song came on.

“Can you set the table? Breakfast is almost ready”, I asked and he nodded before moving to grab everything. We’d gotten our morning routine down to a t by now and I couldn’t help the warmth that spread in my chest at seeing him do something so domestic. Our friendship had certainly evolved since practically moving in here together. It would actually be weird to not have him around constantly once all of this was over.

The day continued like most of the days before, us lounging on the couch after working out together for a while. It was something we’d made a habit a while ago. His trainer knew that I was with him so he’d give Mat tandem exercises from time to time or he’d ask me to take videos so he could make sure that Mat’s form was okay. I certainly didn’t mind the view.

Mat was always hot of course but there was something to be said about the way he looked after a workout, all flushed and just downright delicious. It was definitely a great motivation to join him in the gym.

This time I had managed to snatch the corner seat and I was sprawled out on the couch, Mat’s head resting on my stomach. While I’d managed to put on some shorts he was of course still shirtless and I’d given in to temptation long ago, my fingers now slowly running across his back. He had one of his arms thrown across my stomach, hand resting on my hip and drawing slow circles on the little patch of skin that had been exposed when my shirt had ridden up. While cuddling wasn’t unusual between the two of us, this was certainly new territory, the show we’d been watching kind of forgotten by now.

“Use your nails”, Mat pleaded and his voice was so raw that I would’ve done anything he asked of me at this point. He let out a groan when I softly raked my nails across his back and I was glad that he couldn’t see my face right now. There was a spot on the left side of his back that would cause him to shudder slightly, goosebumps spreading quickly. I found myself watching him in awe, fascinated by the reaction I could get out of him by such a simple act.

I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what kind of damage I could do if I really worked for it.

It finally happened a couple of nights later after yet another day filled with sexual tension so thick that you could probably cut it with a knife.

Mat helped me clean up after dinner, music playing to help speed things up. I was in charge of taking care of the leftovers while he cleaned up everything else. Obviously I was done before him and since he refused to let me help him I hopped on top of the kitchen counter, making casual conversation while watching him put stuff in the dishwasher.

“This is my jam!”, he exclaimed, quickly wiping his hands clean before motioning for me to come dance with him. I shook my head while laughing, which only led to him grabbing me and lifting me off the counter so I would join him.

His moves were ridiculous, arms kind of just flapping around. I knew that he could dance if he wanted to, we’d been to our fair share of clubs together but right now he definitely wasn’t trying. He held his hand out for me and with a laugh I accepted, letting him spin me around as he wished. The third time while he was spinning me back towards him he pulled a little to hard though and whether it was on accident or not I ended up almost smacking into him, only stopping myself by placing my other hand on his chest.

Both of us were a little out of breath by now and any laughter died down as he wrapped both of his arms around me, pulling me even closer. I looked up at him, gripping onto his shoulder with the other hand. Mat looked down at me with an unreadable expression. We both stared at each other for a couple of seconds, trying to figure out what the other one was thinking at the moment. How had things gone from him twerking to Lizzo to this?

He gulped heavily before bringing one of his hands up to cup my face, ripping me out of my trance. His gaze was flickering between my lips and my eyes and he leaned in a little closer, yet still waiting for me to take the final step. Deciding to throw all caution to the wind I moved my hand to his neck, finally pulling him down to where I wanted him.

When our lips met it was as if everything was falling into place. The kiss started out slow, both of us still kind of figuring out what the hell was going on without scaring the other off. As soon as he realized that I wasn’t going to push him off of me he kissed me back with the determination that he showed in every other aspect of his life. His hands started wandering, first sliding down lower on my back before he moved them to my side, tightly gipping my hips.

I let out a light moan and he used the chance to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue inside my mouth. He tasted like home and I willingly let him walk me backwards until I could feel the kitchen counter behind me, grateful for the leverage it would give me. He surprised me by lifting me back up on it and then pushing himself between my legs, gripping my thighs.

Eventually I did have to come up for air but Mat apparently didn’t concur to the basic laws of biology because he moved straight to my neck, sucking and biting gently until I was sure that goosebumps covered every square inch of my body. I knew I should stop and think about what was going on right now but I really didn’t want to, so instead I just dove right back into another toe curling kiss. Kissing him had quickly become one of my favorite things and I wanted, no I needed more.

“Mat, wait…”, I murmured against his mouth and he immediately took a step back, looking up at me with an expectant look. I could tell that he thought he’d done something wrong, when in reality it was the exact opposite.

“I want you but I don’t know if the kitchen counter is the right place for that.”

As soon as my words registered with him he groaned, burying his face in my neck.

“Then let’s get you somewhere comfortable… for now”, he teased and the wink he gave me told me that we’d definitely continue this in here another time. I let him lift me down, following behind him as he pulled me towards his bedroom with an urgency that I had only seen in games so far. He was pretty laid-back usually but I could tell that I’d riled him up over the past few days or weeks really.

It seemed like Mat couldn’t hold out until he got me onto his bed though, instead pushing me against the door and leaning down to kiss me again, pushing one of his thighs in between my legs. He fumbled around for a while before finally hitting the right light switch, making the room glow in soft yellow lighting.

His lips were addicting and even when he moved back I didn’t let him, chasing after him for another kiss. Using one of his hands to brace himself the other was slowly pushing up the fabric of my shirt. That wasn’t enough for me so I quickly moved to pull it off. I wasn’t wearing a bra and he cursed as soon as he saw my exposed chest, taking his time to look me up and down.

“So beautiful”, he murmured in awe before moving in again, one of his hands cupping my breast. I let out a moan when he started playing with my nipple which only seemed to spur him on further. I was so turned on already and he hadn’t even done much yet.

Determined to change up the power dynamics I pushed at his chest and he took a step back with a confused look, probably wondering if he’d done something wrong. Confusion turned into amazement as he watched me kiss down his chest before finally sinking down to my knees in front of him.

I took my time kissing his abs and mouthing along the ‘V’ that disappeared into his pants. I could see him straining against his shorts, impressed by what I could make out through the fabric. When I licked along his waistline he let out a beautiful groan and I decided I’d had teased him enough, finally hooking my fingers into his shorts and pulling them down along with his boxers. Him being shirtless already certainly made it easier to get him naked.

I watched his dick spring free, bouncing against his abs and looking absolutely delicious. He was impressively long but it was the girth that truly wowed me, finally making me understand all of the girls that came back time after time.

I gripped his thigh with one hand and reached for his dick with the other, making him curse. When I gave the head a little kitten lick he threaded his hands into my hair, practically pushing me down on him so I’d give him more. I didn’t object, wrapping my mouth around him and taking as much of him as I could, my hand taking care of the rest. The filthy sounds he was letting out above me only making me more enthusiastic and I was pretty sure that he’d have little crescent marks on his thighs for the next few days from how I was digging my nails into his thigh. He didn’t seem to mind though, only moaning my name.

“Fuck, you look so good like that”, Mat murmured and I looked up to him watching me intently. I kept my gaze locked on his as I moved back to let him go, my hand continuing to stroke him but my mouth dropping down to suck at his balls. The moan he let out would have made any porn star jealous.

It didn’t take long for him to pull me off of him in a way that told me that he didn’t actually want to, both of us panting as if we’d just ran a marathon.

“You need to stop or I’m going to cum”, he let out, his hoarse voice turning me on so much that I was pretty sure I’d be dripping down my legs if it weren’t for the fact that I was still wearing some clothes.

“Would that be such a bad thing?”, I teased, grinning up at him, not being able to resist licking up the entire length of his shaft once more. He practically pulled me up to my feet after that, moving in for another searing kiss.

“I’ve wanted you for so long and there’s no way I’m gonna finish before we even started.” He started to push me back towards his bed, changing his mind halfway there as he bent down to pick me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. For the first time I was able to feel him press against me, the thin fabric of my shorts not really doing much and holy shit did he feel good. He sat down on the edge of his bed, me now straddling his lap and I couldn’t help but roll my hips against him, desperate for any friction at this point.

The both of us let out a simultaneous moan at that and Mat buried his face in my neck, slowly sucking along my collarbone. He gripped my waist, his big hands nearly encircling it entirely.

“You’re wearing too many clothes still”, he said with his lips moving against my skin, making me shudder yet again. I’d long lost count a long time ago.

“Then do something about it”, I responded, not really willing to move at this point. He quickly stood up with me still perched on top of him before turning the both of us around, dropping me down onto the middle of the mattress. Him throwing me around like I weighed nothing really did something to me and I looked up at him through hooded eyes, waiting for him to make the next move.

He didn’t disappoint, leaning down to trail kisses from my neck, mouthing along my boobs before finally moving to pull my shorts and panties off. He took his time, making sure to appreciate every new inch of skin that he’d just exposed on the way back up and the closer he got to my core the more I was squirming underneath him. I had been waiting for this for so long that I wasn’t sure if I could make it through another minute without him inside me.

“Mat please, I really need you”, I whined and I could see him smirk up at me from where he’d situated himself between my legs.

“Don’t worry I’ll make you feel so good baby.” Hearing him call me ‘baby’ only made things worse but he finally put me out of my misery when he ran one of his large beautiful fingers through my folds.

“Holy shit you’re so wet for me already”, he cursed and I was about to respond when he literally took my breath away by licking up my slit. I couldn’t help but arch off the bed, already so keyed up and he quickly threw one arm across me stomach, forcing me to stay still. He started out slow and I knew that he was only trying to egg me on further but his resolve didn’t last long and he soon dove in with a determination that had sounds coming out of my mouth that I’d never made before in my entire life.

He moved my legs to rest on his shoulders so he could have better access and because I really needed something to hold on to for dear life, I gripped his hair. He’d said a couple of times that it had gotten too long during this quarantine but I certainly wasn’t complaining now, using it as leverage. I could see him grind against the comforter, desperate for any kind of friction himself and it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen in my life.

He moved back a little and I was about to complain when he slowly pushed a finger inside of me, any words dying in my throat at the feeling. He lowered his mouth again, sucking hard on my clit and I moaned so loud that I was glad that we were alone in the house.

“More, Mat please”, I whispered and I almost couldn’t believe that he already had me begging. He groaned and the vibrations in combination of him pushing a second finger inside of me were almost too much. I was close and I knew that he could tell from the way my thighs were starting to shake, curling his fingers inside me until he finally found the spot that made me cum so hard with a scream that I could see stars. He brought me through it, still pushing in and out slowly when I finally returned back to earth, grinning up at me proudly after wiping his mouth on the inside of my thigh.

“That was so fucking hot”, he said and I laughed, throwing my arm over my eyes in embarrassment. I’d had my fair share of hookups as well but nobody had managed to make me feel this good. I could feel him move up my body, reaching for my arm so he could look me in the eyes again before leaning down for a kiss. I could taste myself on his lips and while kissing him was still amazing, it wasn’t enough anymore. Mat seemed to catch my drift because he rolled off of me, only to reach for his nightstand, feeling around for a bit before triumphantly holding up a foil packet.

Taking advantage of him on his back I moved to straddle his thighs, taking his cock in my hands once again. He bucked his hips involuntarily and I could tell that he needed this as much as I did at this point. I took the foil package from him, ripping it open with my teeth before rolling the condom down his shaft. He gripped my hips, helping me scoot up until I was positioned above him, holding him so I could slip the tip inside.

Both of us let out simultaneous groans when I finally sunk down on him, the stretch painful in the most delicious way. He gave me a couple of seconds to adjust but I wasn’t really willing to wait any longer, rolling my hips against him.

“Your pussy feels so good around me”, he panted as he helped guide me along with his hands while looking me deep in the eyes. His pupils were so blown at this point, his cheeks were flushed and he’d never looked better. I was a moaning mess above him and I wanted to remember the way his cock was dragging against my walls for the rest of my life. One of his hands still rested on my hip while his other grabbed my boob, twisting the nipple and making me moan even louder.

At one point he moved to sit up, our chests now pressed together. The new angle had my clit rub against his pelvic bone and I knew that I’d come again like this with no extra help needed. Mat moved to kiss my neck, sucking and biting so harshly that I was sure that there’d be marks there the next day, not that anybody besides us would be able to see them.

His groans had become more erratic as well and I knew that he probably wasn’t far behind me, my name constantly on his lips. One last drag against him had me arch into him with yet another earth-shattering orgasm, Mat doing his best to fuck me through it before turning us around so he was on top of me, using his hands to hold himself above me so he wouldn’t crush me.

He grabbed one of my legs and pushed it up to rest on his hip, thrusting into me with a force that had the headboard slam into the wall repeatedly. He felt so good that with every thrust I let out a little moan, still sensitive from my orgasm, which only seemed to spur Mat on even more. I was digging my nails into his back to the point where I was sure that there would be red streaks after but he didn’t seem to care at all, too lost in the moment. It didn’t take long before he threw his head back and I could feel him pulse inside me as he came, the most beautiful groan coming from his lips as he finally stilled inside me.

He crashed down on top of me, burying his face in my neck, both of us out of breath by now and covered in sweat. He was silent for a while until he caught me off guard when he started laughing.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just thinking.. we could’ve been doing that for weeks, I certainly wanted to.”

“I did too but I guess we’re both stupid.”

Now we were both laughing and Mat moved off of me so he could pull out, gripping the condom so it wouldn’t slip off. He threw it in the trash can in the corner before coming back, his hand outstretched for me to take.

“I guess we have some catching up to do then, starting right now with me and you in the shower”, he said with a wink and I couldn’t think of a time where I’d gotten out of bed faster.

#Mat Barzal #smut #nhl smut #hockey smut #Mat Barzal smut #mat barzal x reader #new york islanders #hockey writing #ice hockey #nhl #nhl imagine

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libsterslobsters · 3 years

Text

Whole Lotta Love

Synopsis: For some people, Valentine’s Day is another word for "stress", especially when you don't know what the other person is expecting. Several years into their relationship, Bucky’s pretty sure he has a good understanding of the Reader, until a word from Sam makes him question everything he thinks he knows. The race is on to make their first Valentine’s Day since saying their vows a special one, but as per usual, fate has it's own ideas about what will make the holiday truly memorable

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! Enhanced! Super-soldier Reader

(Reader can see bits and pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)

Warnings: Smut, Fluff

Author's note: This fic contains references to earlier stories. For more information, click the series masterlist link. As always, the reader is unnamed so that this can be read as a self-insert, but at this point, I think of her as an OC.

The song referenced is Hearts Don't Break Around Here by Ed Sheeran

Series Masterlist

A The Song Remains The Same Fic

---------‐-----------------------------------

“So, Valentine’s Day.”

Bucky doesn’t look up from his laptop (or more specifically, the field report he’s typing) at Sam’s words. Despite his concentration, he can tell that his partner is staring at him, boring holes into his back with his gaze.

“Uh-huh.” He’s listening, but so far, he doesn’t care.

“What are you doing for it?” For Valentine’s day? Um…

“Not much.” It’s a Tuesday this year, right? Then probably working, like most other people, he’d imagine.

The room is silent as he types, so Bucky assumes that settles the matter. That is, until Sam mutters a quiet, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“About what?” How many paragraphs does he have to type before he can pass this off as a full report? When he joined the Avengers, he thought the hardest part of his job would be the bad guy of the week, not doing paperwork!

“You’re really not doing anything for Valentine’s Day? Seriously?” He nods absentmindedly and clicks the save icon. He’ll finish this tomorrow. It’s five o’clock. Time to head home. Home to-

“What’s your wife gonna think about that?” He shrugs and cuts the power to the laptop.

“She thinks that the whole holiday is a rip-off. See you Monday?” He turns around for confirmation, only to catch Sam staring at him, mouth hanging wide open. “What?”

“A rip-off?” Is he just going to be stuck repeating himself?

“Yep.” Told him that the first February 14th they spent together.

“And you actually believed her?”

He nods. “She’s not one to lie.”

Sam nods incredulously. “Uh-huh. And are you planning to ever have sex again?”

He’s not going to dignify that with an answer (because really, isn’t it obvious?).

“Fine.” Sam shrugs. “You do you, man. All I’m saying is, if I had a wife who looked like that-” he indicates the lock screen of Bucky’s phone (a picture of her laughing, telling him to put away the damn camera after wrestling the dog for the tie to her favorite robe). “-I’d have my V-day plans set up a month in advance.”

Normally Bucky would take what Sam says with a grain of salt, but he is after all a man out of time, so maybe it’s worth considering that his partner may be right.

“What would you suggest I do?”

“Outside of the bedroom?” He narrows his eyes at the Falcon. “Okay, bad joke.” Sam scratches at the back of his head, thinking. “I don’t know, man. That’s your girl. You know her best, but flowers are always a good place to start.” Good to know that hasn’t changed since the 1940s. Although, last time he brought her flowers, she spent the afternoon sneezing until he eventually convinced her that it was okay, he wouldn’t be offended, she should throw the damn things out. Then again, that was before she was a super soldier.

“Flowers.” He repeats, earning a nod from Sam.

“You can get creative. Do a little research. But I’m just saying, when a woman waits five years for you to reappear, the least she deserves is a few flowers.” On that, they can agree.

He must bid Sam some sort of goodbye and make his way through the Avengers compound, but he’s unaware of anything until he’s in the parking lot, sitting behind the wheel of his car, googling “What to do for your wife on Valentine’s Day.” There’s a web page that boasts twenty different selections. Might as well give it a look.

___________________________________________________________________________________

She’s nearly home when her phone dings with a text from Barnes. “Just got in. Forgot to get milk. Can you swing by on your way, or should I go to the gas station and pick up a gallon?” A frown forms on her face. It’s pretty rare that Bucky forgets things. Must’ve been a hell of a day at work, then. Either that, or his brain has completely turned to mush thanks to typing out field reports. Either way-

“I got it. See you in twenty.” She thinks about tacking on a “love you”, but the light turns green before she can.

The grocery store is packed thanks to so many people getting off work. There’s only three carts left, all with bad wheels. She chooses the least squeaky option and, grabbing an add on her way, heads into the grocery store. Milk, and if she remembers right from this morning, they’re running dangerously low on coffee and tea. Despite caffeine having absolutely no effect on their enhanced bodies, both of them are nightmares to be around in the mornings without their beverages of choice. Force of habit and all.

She’s halfway to the checkout when she sees it. A sign, decorated in garish shades of red, pink, and purple. “All Valentine’s Day chocolates 10% off.” Shit. Yeah, that is coming up. To tell the truth, she’d completely forgot all about that day halfway through February. For most of her life, it only meant giving homemade cards at school when most kids had store-bought. Then, once she reached adulthood, it was a reminder that she was destined to be alone. Who would want someone who’s on the run, and what’s more, sees the future? Once she and Barnes got together, it didn’t change much. That first Valentine’s Day, he mentioned the holiday, and she shut it down immediately. They were both broke (or at least, he had no legitimate way of making money while she was broke), and celebrating a mostly commercial holiday seemed like a waste. Plus, she didn’t want to put a strain on a new relationship. Over the years, the subject never came up again, and she’s content for it to stay a non-starter, thank you very much. In her opinion, you should show your partner you love them every day of the year, not shoe-horn it into one twenty-four hour period. Call her unromantic if you must.

She’s completely immune to the various displays of cheap chocolate in heart-shaped boxes and overly sentimental cards as she approaches the register and starts to unload her items. Milk. Tea. That one specific brand of coffee that he likes because, “It tastes like what we drank in basic training. Terrible, but I kinda got used to it, so now everything else tastes like it’s trying too hard.” whatever that means. He’s right; she’s tasted it, and it’s fucking awful. Still, every morning, he drinks at least three cups while she drains her pot of tea.

“You got a hot date for Valentine’s Day, hun?” The cashier asks her, never breaking her rhythm as she rings up the items.

She chuckles. “As a matter of fact, yes.” The cashier’s eye go wide, and she holds up her left hand. “And every other day.”

“Ooh, nice. How long have you been together?”

“Nine years.” Wait… “Or four years, depending on which of us you ask. He blipped, I stayed.”

The cashier nods. “So are you older than him now?”

Physically? They’re not completely sure, but if you calculate the times he was off the ice with HYDRA and add that to the age he was before the serum, then they’re not far off. But chronologically- “No, he’s still older.” And yes, it will always be funny that Sam responds with “Okay, boomer” whenever Bucky makes an outdated reference (even if he’s off by a good twenty years).

With a little more light chatter, she pays for her items and leaves. Now, for home.

As soon as she opens the front door, she’s greeted by their dog, Sarge, barking excitedly and hopping around like he’s on a trampoline despite missing a leg. Bucky’s not far behind, placing a quick peck on her forehead before taking the bags from her and unloading them in the kitchen. Tonight’s his night to cook, but unless her nose has suddenly decided to give out, he hasn’t started dinner yet. She doesn’t mind taking over tonight, and when he sheepishly apologizes while she begins her preparations, she brushes it off. Although, for the second time in an hour, she’s seen proof of his unusual absentmindedness. Oh well. She’ll ask him about it later.

Despite being relieved from tonight’s chef duties, Bucky stays in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar scrolling through his phone as she cooks. His expression is neutral, which can mean one of two things; a) he’s just killing time and there aren’t any interesting posts or articles vying for his attention, or at the opposite end of the spectrum, b) he’s deep in thought, possibly angry, sad, or even frightened, but he’s gone into Winter Soldier mode and shut down so that she won’t pick up on his mood. Damn the man and his poker face.

Eventually dinner is served and she sends him off toward the fridge in search of two beers while she serves their plates. Just as she’s spooning a generous helping of salad into her bowl, it happens. A vision, but a limited one. All she’s seeing is a phone. Well, that and the hand holding it. She’s not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed that she immediately recognizes the hand as Bucky’s, but that goes by the wayside as she takes in the article he’s reading. “Should you do something for Valentine’s Day even is she says no?” It’s a thread on some anonymous discussion board. The reply that has his attention is in reference to a now divorced individual who “was dumb enough to believe that, on our first V-Day as a married couple, she didn’t want anything.” Oh boy. Not good. This will be their first Valentine’s Day since exchanging vows, and if the fact that he’s read this reply (if not already read, will read soon) means that it’s at least crossed his radar that she might be feeding him bullshit. That’s not the case, but after his research, she knows from experience that no matter how much she tries to convince him otherwise, a small part of his mind will be stuck on, “But what if this is a big deal?” Which means-

“Doll, are you just gonna stand there with the salad tongs in your hand?” That snaps her out of it.

“No. Just a vision.” He frowns as she passes him his plate.

“Anything important happen?” Should she say?

“No.” She’s not sure if the smile or not, so she takes a bite from her roll to cover it. “Random sneak peek.” It’s not a lie. What she saw really isn’t important. Still, if he’s in that mindset, she should probably go on and do something for him just in case. After all, why should it only be the ladies who reap this holiday’s benefits?

___________________________________________________________________________________

Not flowers. That’s the one thing that, after copious amounts of research Bucky is one hundred percent certain about. They may still be a common romantic gift, but since they were also a go-to back when he was courting girls in the 1940s, it’s safe to say they’ve been overdone. Plus, he doesn’t really want to remind her of that time she had such a severe allergic reaction to the flowers he picked her on a walk through the park in Bucharest that her eyes nearly swelled shut and she sneezed herself sick. That doesn’t exactly seem like prime romance.

Chocolates or other candies have the same issues as flowers. Contrived and predictable. A bottle of wine is nice, but neither of them can so much as get mildly tipsy thanks to the super serum. The fourteenth is his day to cook, so he guesses he could do some reading and try to create something a little more special than spaghetti (he thought about going to a nice restaurant for dinner, but there’s a few issues with that, not the least of which is they’re likely to be recognized without their disguises, and he’d rather not look at his wife through sunglasses on Valentine’s day), but that seems a little underwhelming.

As he loads the dishwasher (she fell asleep half-way through the third episode of whichever nonsensical comedy they’re watching this week, so he sneaked back downstairs to clean up the dinner dishes), he thinks back to the dozen separate articles he read on the subject of Valentine’s Day gifts. Jewelry was a common theme, but that’s out. She’ll say thank you to his face, but worry about the cost behind his back. Plus, he has absolutely no idea what she’d like, and there’s no sense in purchasing something only for her to hate it.

Another common one was lingerie. Bucky almost choked on his tongue when he saw some of the examples given with that option. None of it looked comfortable (in fact, he’s still scratching his head about how you even put on one of the pieces that popped up on the web page) and he doesn’t want to give her the impression that she has to dress up for him. Even putting all that aside, he has no idea what size she’d even wear. He likes to think that he knows his wife pretty well, but somehow, in all their years together, it never occurred to him to ask her for her clothing sizes. That, and have you even seen the bra sizing system? Does it make sense to anyone, because to Bucky, it’s all gibberish. 32 B? 36 DD? What the hell? Somehow, when HYDRA was training him to extract information, they failed to go over the translation of a woman’s bra size. He supposes he could ask, but he’s not sure there’s a non-suspicious way to work, “Hey, sweetheart. What size are your breasts?” into casual conversation.

Sam said to get creative, so he tried to think outside the box. What’s something she really needs? A new vacuum cleaner is the first thing to come to mind, but he’s not stupid enough to think that would make a good gift. He knows she’s had her eye on a set of throwing stars, but that doesn’t seem to correlate well with what this holiday is all about. That’ll keep until her birthday.

He’s still wracking his brain for anything at all that might work when he feels a wet nose poking at his hand. Sarge. “Hey, boy. Has your mom gone to bed?” The response is a quiet “woof” and lick to his palm. He scratches the mutt behind the ears, smiling to himself as Sarge’s back leg thumps at the treatment.

“What do you think we should get our girl? Huh?” There’s no reply (of course not, he’s talking to a dog), but he nods, pretending all the same that Sarge has offered up a suggestion. “A bone. Yeah, somehow I don’t think that’s her thing. Try again.” The dog blinks at him lazily. “No, you’re the one who wants new tennis balls. Not Mom. Although you’re right about her liking peanut butter.” At this rate, he might as well get her a bone and some tennis balls, because he’s sure not coming up with any ideas.

She likes music. The thought pops into his head while he’s brushing his teeth. All sorts of music. Over the years, he’s tried to make sense of the songs he’s heard her listen to, but has yet to find a discernible pattern in her listening habits. She doesn’t seem to stick to just one genre or era. More like she picks songs by how they relate to what she’s feeling at the moment. Wait a second-

“A mixtape.” His reflection mouths the words back at him. Despite technology having moved on from the days of burning CDs, she still has a thick stack of the disks stored in a cabinet and plays them on the regular. He’s even seen a few that she made herself, pasting together the songs she likes to make a “Cleaning mix”, “Workout Mix” and “Pissed off Mix”. Bucky’s sure he could figure out how to burn a CD, but it’s not like she’d be able to listen to that everywhere she went. That leaves a playlist. She uses one of those apps to listen to music on her phone, right? Surely he can put something together for her using that.

Quietly, he climbs into bed next to his sleeping wife and pulls her back against his chest, slinging one arm over her waist as usual. He closes his eyes, but his mind is alight with activity. A playlist. Of course. He’ll put some extra effort into whatever he cooks that night, stop by a bakery and pick up some sweet treats for dessert. Hell, maybe they’ll both dress up and act like they’re on a date. Then, once they’re sitting down to their meal, he’ll pull out his phone and hit play. It’s perfect. At least, he hopes it is.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Putting on a lacy bra and panties set underneath her regular work attire seemed like a brilliant idea this morning. Today’s a short day; she’s only got three classes to teach, and Rhodey called last night to tell Bucky that he’s suspending work hours at three pm “Since most people have holiday preparations to make.” Her plan was to be waiting on the sofa in the living room when he arrives home, professional button-down blouse open just enough for him to get a good look at what’s underneath, pencil skirt pushed up enough to reveal the stockings and garters she’s donned for the occasion. It’s fun, with just enough cheesiness to match this whole holiday. And, well, it’s a guarantee that by the end of the night they’ll be in bed together, both rumpled, sweaty, and satisfied. Perfect, right?

Wrong. On her drive to work, her skimpy underwear began to ride up, giving her a wedgie, and there was no way to adjust without running the risk of wrecking. She was so distracted by her discomfort that she missed her exit, and by the time she arrived at the college, she was running so behind that she didn’t get the chance to run to the bathroom and readjust. Her lecture on sentence diagrams was pure torture before the underwire from her bra decided to join in the fun and poke her directly in the ribs, but with that addition, she was especially impatient with her students’ tendency to joke around a little too much in class.

Luckily, she had just enough time to wrap the exposed metal bit in tissues before her next class, which eliminated the pain in her chest, but did nothing to alleviate the discomfort once her stockings began to slide down, having at some point disconnected themselves from the garters. She taught like that for the next two classes, but as soon as they were over, she pealed the whole ensemble off in the teacher’s restroom and changed into her gym clothes. Alright, screw the whole seduction routine. She needs to blow off some steam and fast, or else she’ll be in a bad mood all night.

That’s why, thirty minutes later, she finds herself in the training room of the Avengers compound, working over a punching bag. “Fuck-” Her fist connects, making the bag swing crazily from it’s hook. “-this- whole- day!” It goes sailing, and she feels a little better.

“Ouch!” The voice comes from behind her and she whirls around, gaze resting on-

“Sam.” The man in question holds up his hands in an “I surrender” gesture.

“Don’t shoot! I come in peace.” Rolling her eyes, she holds up her middle finger, receiving a snicker in acknowledgment.

“Just working off a little frustration before I head home.”

“Good.” Sam chuckles. “’cause otherwise, I’d be worried that when Barnes pulls out his dick tonight, you’ll bite it off.” She thinks about telling him that there’s no chance of that, but she might just cut off his if he crosses her. However, that jogs her memory.

“Has he left yet?” Sam nods.

“About an hour ago. Said he had to pick up groceries.” Shit. There goes her plan to shower, throw the damn lingerie back on and proceed as planned.

Bidding Sam a hasty reply, she makes tracks towards her car and, once inside, heads for home. Fine. New plan. She’ll shower once she arrives and then when the evening is drawing to a close, wait for him in bed. Nodding to herself, she puts the car in park and climbs out. Now, to psych herself up enough in the next few hours to put the damn lingerie back on.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Where did he go wrong? It takes all of Bucky’s self control not to spit out the spoonful of sauce he just tasted. This was supposed to be an easy recipe for Chicken Alfredo (or at least, that’s what the website boasted; he should’ve known better than to get his information from the internet and stuck to a good old-fashioned cookbook from the library). Not… whatever the hell this is. Maybe even if the sauce is nauseating, the chicken is okay?

He pulls open the oven door, and immediately smoke billows out, making his eyes water. Okay, chicken’s a little well-done. Who is he kidding? Black. The chicken is burned black. And the pasta… he lifts the pot lid and stirs, only to come to the realization that the pasta is completely stuck to the bottom of the pot. Wonderful.

It’s inevitable; over the years, he’s had his fair share of cooking disasters, but usually he does okay. Tonight though… who the hell up there did he piss off, because the only explanation for how badly this is going is his karma coming due.

Still holding the offending spoon, he looks over at Sarge, who’s staring at him, long pink tongue sticking out as he pants. “Trust me, boy. You don’t want any of this.” There has to be something else he can pull together on short notice. Normally he’d be worried that she’s running late without so much as a text, but today he’s relieved. At least if she’s running behind he’ll have time to… what? Maybe order takeout? Before she gets-

“I’m home.” Shit.

Sarge yips, shaking with excitement, and starts towards the kitchen door, then turns back, uncertain. “Go on. I know you’re dying to jump on her and lick her face.” Something they really should be training out of him because he’s getting too big for that sort of behaviour but, well… there’s a reason they call them “puppy dog eyes.”

Not needing to be coaxed, the dog takes off, tripping a little in the momentary lapse in his memory that he’s a tripod, but easily catches himself and goes on his merry way, leaving Bucky to clean up his mess. From the sound of things, a game of fetch is going on in the living room, so she should be distracted for a while.

He manages to pour the sauce down the drain and scrape most of the pasta into the trash while Sarge is acting as a decoy, but there’s absolutely no way he can dispose of the chicken without tipping her off (damn enhanced senses, it’s a wonder she hasn’t already smelled it). Finally, he decides to just go for it. She’s going to notice whether he throws it out now or two hours from now. Might as well get a head start on cleaning.

Sure enough, not ten seconds after he empties out the oven, he catches a movement in his peripheral vision, and the familiar sound of her breathing tips him off that he’s no longer alone.

“Hey, Doll.”

“Hey, Bucky. Did something burn in here, or-” He holds up the pan for her inspection before continuing his scraping.

“That’s one way to put it, yeah.” He slams the lid back on the trashcan and turns on the tap, intent on rinsing out the pan. “Another is whoever the god of culinary arts is has it in for me today.”

She chuckles. “You know, that would be funnier if we didn’t actually know a god.”

“Yeah, but he’s in control of thunder.” He meets her eyes, smirking slightly. “Although it did look like I electrocuted the bird.” Her lips quirk up into a smile, and he takes the opportunity to kiss her, cupping the back of her head gently to hold her in place when she tries to move away, muttering something about being sweaty.

He’s not entirely sure how it happened, but by the time they come up for air, her back his pressed against the wall and he’s got her pinned in place. Not that he’s complaining.

“Anyone ever tell you that the tip of your nose turns pink after you’ve been kissed?’ Her cheeks go rosey in response.

“I think so. One guy did. I told him it’s only when I’m kissed properly.”

He really would like to continue the playful banter, but there’s still the small matter of whatever it is they’re going to eat.

“What do you feel like for dinner tonight?”

“Apart from electrocuted chicken?” He responds with a swat to her ass, which earns him a snicker. “Let’s keep it simple. Pizza. Your choice of toppings.” Right, that’s easy enough. Plus, if they have to wait longer than thirty minutes, it’s free.

“Okay. I’ll order while you shower?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He’s just pulled up the menu on his phone when the sound of her clearing her throat attracts his attention. She’s standing in the doorway, combing through her freshly let down hair with her fingers, a playful look in her eyes.

“Or you could join me. Just a mild suggestion.”

Dinner can wait for a while.

___________________________________________________________________________________

The Brooklyn townhouse they live in has many nice features. There’s a functional if small screened in back porch, big enough to hold a table for two and a grill. Two bedrooms, on the off chance someone from work needs to crash for a night or two. A kitchen with a dishwasher. A working fireplace. Good closet space. And an en suite bathroom.

Maybe it’s a little ridiculous to call a bathroom luxurious, especially when, in comparison to what’s featured in many brownstones, it’s more than modest, but she can’t help but think of it as such. There’s a double sink so that in the morning rush to get ready, Bucky’s able to shave and brush his teeth without having to wait for her to finish applying her makeup. Shelving above the toilet makes certain that even if the last person to shower took the towel with them, another one is on hand. Speaking of the shower, it’s not the largest one in the world, but both of them can fit in comfortably at the same time, which is what’s lead to their current situation.

She’s just finished allowing the water to course over her body, easing the sweat from her skin, and is about to begin the process of washing her hair, scrubbing her body, but she hesitates. She might as well ask. It’s only practical after all.

“Do you want to start now or get cleaned up and have dinner beforehand?” It’s obvious what she’s referring to, so she doesn’t bother to spell it out.

His brown knits, and if she didn’t know him as… intimately… as she does, she’d actually believe he’s confused.

“Oh, so you’re just assuming there’s gonna be sex involved at some point tonight?”

She shrugs, wringing out her hair.

“Seemed like a safe enough bet.” She glances pointedly between the two of them. “After all, we’re already undressed. “

His laugh is a quiet huff, barely discernible over the sound of the water. “Then I’d say start now, have dinner, then go for round two. Sound about right to you?”

She nods. “Solid plan.”

“Then get over here.”

Unlike the welcome home kiss they shared not half an hour ago, this one is less tender, more electric. Hands twist in hair, bodies press together. Tongues begging for entrance quickly give way to teeth nipping at bottom lips, an unspoken sparring match for who’ll be in control this time around. Ultimately he wins, grasping her hips and lifting as she wraps her legs securely around his back.

There’s no need for prep; the teasing of their earlier words is foreplay enough. Back pressed against the wall, her body easily welcomes him in as she braces one arm against the glass shower doors for balance. Any concerns about slipping and falling wash away as they move together like so many times before. She’s sure her nails will leave marks on his back, fingertips digging in for purchase and it’s a guarantee her hips will be littered with fingerprints from his grip, but she can’t find it in her to care, and if the desperate, bruising kiss assaulting her lips is anything to judge from, neither can he.

“So damn good, Doll.” It’s panted against her neck. “Always. So damn perfect for me.” All she can manage is a moan in response.

She feels him twitch inside of her and knows he’s close. So is she, but she can’t quite get there without-

As if he’s read her mind, he reaches between them to touch her where she needs it most, and on instinct, she readjusts, locking her arm around his neck to stay in place. “Let go, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” She couldn’t disobey if she wanted to.

“Fuck.” As her walls contract around him, he pulls out just in time to paint her middle with his release.

“That’s one word for it.” She’s still fighting to catch her breath, but she shoots him a shaky smirk, which he returns.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mrs. Barnes.” Snickering, she releases him to stand on unsteady legs and pecks his legs.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Barnes.” Maybe there’s something to this holiday after all.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“You want the last slice?” Bucky considers it for a moment before deciding-

“Nah. You can have it.” It may not be exactly what he planned, but it’s been a good night. Between the two of them, they’ve gone through two large pizzas while watching the new version of Beauty and the Beast (she rolled her eyes when he asked if this was her way of saying he reminds her of a certain hairy, horned character) in their pajamas.

“No, really. You take it. I don’t want it.” She nudges the mostly-empty pizza box towards him. The noise makes Sarge lift his head from where he was snoozing beside her on the sofa. That gives him an idea.

“I don’t want it either, but I can think of someone who does.” He cocks his head towards the now-drooling dog. “How ‘bout it, boy? Wanna help us out?”

Snickering, she picks the pepperonis and pieces of sausage and ham from the pizza, forming a pile. “Here, Sarge. Catch.” She tosses a coveted treat in the air, and Sarge’s jaw snaps, swallowing it whole. “Good boy.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she speaks again.

“You know, I actually did have something planned for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” She nods.

“Absolutely. Had a whole seduction plan laid out. Tiny underwear, lacy bra, and stockings with garters included.” Huh. Guess she wouldn’t have taken the “lingerie” option the wrong way. He’ll file that away for future use… along with a mental note to ask her bra size. “That is, until I tried wearing the damn things for longer than an hour. Turns out, hiding a dirty secret under your clothes is more itchy than sexy.”

He can’t help it. He laughs, producing a pout from her which quickly turns into her own quiet laughter.

“Well, that fits in perfectly with my fancy dinner going up in smoke.”

“We really do have shitty luck with the whole “romance” thing.” She’s joking, but he decides to respond anyway.

“I don’t know about that.” Entwining his fingers with hers, he lifts their hands, twin wedding bands catching the light. “You waited five years for me to reappear after the blip, and I convinced you to elope with me. Seems pretty romantic.” Although, that reminds him…

“Don’t move.” Releasing her hand, he stands and goes in search of his phone.

“Bucky, what-”

“Don’t move, Doll. Stay right where you are.” Ah. On the kitchen counter, just where he left it. Jogging back into the room, he resumes his place on the couch next to her. Ignoring her questioning gaze, he pulls up the app and, selecting the correct playlist, hits play.

Immediate recognition blooms on her face at the opening lyrics. “She is the sweetest thing that I know. Should see the way she holds me when the lights go low.” He’s not one for modern music, but when he was googling “songs for Valentine’s Day” and this one popped up, he couldn’t help but think that the lyrics were fitting.

“I didn’t know you’d heard this one.”

He chuckles. “Even old men have a few tricks up their sleeves. That, and a wifi connection.” She rolls her eyes but leans closer, which he takes advantage of to show her the playlist.

“This is the app you use, right?” Receiving a nod, he continues. “Feel free to scroll through and add whatever you want. I haven’t listened to all of them the whole way through, but they seemed to fit the mood.”

Her hand closes over his, covering the phone. “Thank you, Bucky. It’s perfect.”

As the singer goes on about how hearts don’t break around here, he presses his lips against hers.

“I love you, Doll.”

“Love you.”

Not bad for a disastrous Valentine’s Day. Not bad at all.

#marvel #the avengers #bucky fanfic #bucky x original female character #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #captain america #the winter soldier #bucky barnes smut #smut #fluff

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bbdaydreams · 3 years

Text

Mayday Parade//Hisoka Mikage

Pairing: Hisoka Mikage x Reader

Summary: Hisoka’s partner is out of town visiting their family and he’s apartment sitting for them which makes him realize how much he misses them.

“Thanks for sending me off, Hiso. I’ll see you in two weeks, okay? Here’s the spare key to my place. I love you,” you said with a sad smile on your face.

“Love you,” Hisoka responded with the same expression.

You two were currently at the airport, Tasuku a few feet away, saying goodbye as you were leaving to go visit your family. Hisoka was about to go in for a hug until a voice came on over the intercom announcing that it was time to board your flight.

“I’ll miss you! I’ll text you! Bye!” you told him while kissing him goodbye and then turning around, grabbing your luggage to go head towards the gate, leaving him behind.

“Miss you...”

“Ready to go, Hisoka?”

“... yeah.”

The car ride was pretty quiet. It was late in the evening so there weren’t many people out. Tasuku kept his eyes on the road and glanced occasionally at Hisoka who would come in and out of his sleep. To him, Hisoka looked a little off but not enough that it was a real concern. “You okay, Hisoka?”

“Marshmallow...” he voiced while looking out at the beach where he confessed to you, probably his favorite memory he shared with you.

“What do you mean ‘marshmallow’? You gave them the rest of your bag that you brought during the car ride there after they said they were nervous.”

“Hmmm. Can you drop me off at their apartment? I’ll walk home.”

“If that’s what you want, alright.”

Once Hisoka gave Tasuku his thanks for giving you a ride to the airport and dropping him off at your place, they bid farewell. Hisoka made his way up the steps and opened the door to be greeted with silence.

He’s been at your residence multiple times, but it was his first time by himself for a long period of time which made him feel a little nervous. He promised he’d apartment sit for you while you were gone which meant he’d have to take care of your plants and just make sure no one broke in.

“Meow!”

And of course, feed the stray black cat that likes to come to your balcony on a routine basis.

“Hello, Glitter. Up, time to eat.” Hisoka greeted the feline while holding a cat bowl that contained wet food and kibble mixed with water like you had specifically shown him how to do that morning to make sure Glitter was well fed. He voiced about the process being a little over the top for a stray cat and not a pet. You brushed it off and told him you wanted what was best for them, even if they were just a guest.

Hisoka went back inside and left the door open since you sometimes let Glitter stay overnight. He made his way to your kitchen and grabbed an already open bag of marshmallows from your cabinet and walked around the apartment to make sure everything looked okay as he snacked. Walking room to room, Glitter followed him until he reached the guest room which is where Hisoka bid the cat farewell and decided to go lock the doors and make his way back to the dorms.

A week went by and he felt normal but everyone else could tell something was off.

“He’s not sleeping as much, he’s actually struggling to even take naps.” Azuma stated.

“Are you sure? I feel like I never see him around so I assume he’s been napping,” Tsumugi continues.

“That’s because he’s been spending most of his time at y/n’s apartment during the day,” Tasuku adds on until they hear the front door unlock.

“I’m home,” Hisoka yawns as he makes his way inside.

“Hisoka! Where’ve you been? I was worried and was ready to leave a trail of marshmallows for you!” Homare exclaimed clutching a bag of said sweets to his chest.

“Y/n’s and it’s ok, I’m not hungry. I’m gonna try to sleep. Good night,” he said while making his way out of the room. Once he was out of sight, his troupe mates went back to discussing how to help their friend come back to normal.

Once Hisoka reached his bed and settled in, he took out his phone and started scrolling through your texts. “Pretty...” he mumbled looking at the pictures you had sent him of yourself with your family wishing he could’ve come with you. His favorite was a picture of you with your family pet simply because he could tell how happy you both were. He saved it and decided to make it his lock screen before rolling over and falling asleep.

“Hiso-... -soka...Hisoka.”

“Mmm.”

“Wake up. The sun is about to set,” a familiar voice called out to him.

He opened his eyes and looked down to see you resting in his arms looking up at him. “Y/n?”

“Who else would it be silly?” you giggled and blew cold air at his bangs to get some out of his face. “Look!”

He raised his head and looked straight ahead where the sun met the horizon and gradually went down. As much as you wanted him to look at the sunset, he kept sneaking glances down at you, feeling how at peace and comfortable you were while entangled. Hisoka decided to hold you a little tighter and felt you slowly get softer and softer.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, Hisoka?”

“Y/n, you’re disappearing!”

“Goodbye Hisoka. I love you.” Those were your final words to him as a gust of air blew you away as your body turned into sand. He tried to grab onto you but he’d just slip right through you.

Hastily, he got up and looked in every direction around him in search for you. The sky had turned darker, rumbling with thunder and lighting. He was so invested in searching for you he didn’t notice the giant tsunami headed towards him until the water reached his knees. He opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out as he faced the monstrous wave about to engulf him.

“Hisoka! Awaken! You’re having another night terror!” Homare yelled while shaking his roommate. Hisoka woke up with a gasp and a tear stained face before sitting upwards. “You’re okay.”

He took a look around the room and calmed down his breathing before speaking, “Sorry.”

“Do you want to chat about it?” Homare asked in a concerned tone.

Hisoka continued looking around the room until he saw the time on the wall clock. “It’s okay. Thank you. I’ll be fine.”

“Thats the fourth one this week but it’s alright, I won’t pressure you. Goodnight, hopefully you sleep better and I’ll see you when I awake.” With that Homare went back to sleep but Hisoka was left awake in his bunk trying to make out his dream.

“Everything’s an illusion...”

Hisoka was never one to look at himself in the mirror regularly but today was the day that you were coming back and so he wanted to look presentable. As he was trying to dry more of his hair with a towel he gave himself a major stare down in the mirror. Dark circles had formed under his eyes, he looked a little thinner, and his face looked lighter than he remembered. “This isn’t good, Y/n’s gonna be upset,” he told himself while rubbing his face. With him sleeping less he can understand the dark circles but him looking sick he couldn’t let slide. When you’re around, you always made sure he ate at least one meal that wasn’t marshmallows, most of the time cooking extra just to save a plate for him since he pops up like your stray cat sometimes. “Omi, can you make me breakfast?” Hisoka asked after he got himself dressed and made his way to the kitchen.

“Sure! What do you want to eat?”

“Anything.”

“Hiso-Hiso!” You happily greeted him over the phone.

“Y/n,” he responded so fondly. His troupe mates and director were with him in the lounge waiting for the call to go pick you up from the airport so once Hisoka said your name they all perked up their heads.

“Hisoka I’m so sorry, but could you apartment sit for me for one more week? Other relatives heard I was back and they want to come see me so I’d like to stay another week,” you asked him, guiltily since he was already doing so much for you.

A small frown etched its way onto his face and he felt his chest immediately tighten up. Another week without you? The first week he felt fine but the second week you were constantly on his mind due to his nightmares. It didn’t help that he was really looking forward to finally seeing you today. To finally wrap his arms around you and feel the warmth radiating off your body was all he wanted. All he wished for was for you to be by his side but unfortunately you were so far away.

“If you can’t, it’s completely fine! No worries it-“

“I can do it. It’s for you,” Hisoka says cutting you off.

“Hiso, are you sure? You really don’t have to.”

“I want to. It’s just another week, how hard could it be?” Hearing this, his troupe mates grew concerned. They’re the ones that had to deal with him acting gloomy and ill. So far, they’ve concluded you were the center of his attention for all of his daily thoughts.

“Hiso... thank you so much I owe you so much. I forgot to tell you before I left but feel free to stay the night and stuff. Make yourself at home, I want you to be comfortable. I don’t mind if you use anything that’s mine either, help yourself to the fridge too,” you told him hoping he would take you up on your offer.

“I can sleep in your bed?” he asked without thinking which made him immediately start blushing which wasn’t unnoticed by the people in the room. Azuma threw him a sly smile causing Homare to laugh into his hand.

“Of course. What’s mine is yours.”

“Ew, what’s wrong with your face? You look like a tomato!”

“Shut up! Get out!“ you yelled before grabbing a pillow and chucking it at your sibling.

“I love you,” Hisoka told you with a smile on his face after hearing what was said in the background.

In the time that you two have been together, it was rare whenever Hisoka would say those three words first. You know he means it, and it’s priceless. “I love you, too. See you soon.” With that you both hung up the phone.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Hisoka asked once he looked up and his troupe mates and director.

“Hisoka-kun, I’ve never seen you like this before!” Izumi stated.

“Like what?”

“In love!” Tsumugi answered. In all honesty, it was the happiest they’ve seen their friend in the past two weeks. It was surprising to them how quickly his frown turned into adoration the moment he expressed his feelings for you.

“You should bring them around when they come back! I’d love to meet them.” Izumi continued. You two have been dating for a little over six months now and Hisoka was still thinking on how to introduce you to everyone in the dorm without making you feel uncomfortable. The only information they knew of you is whatever they heard from Hisoka and the only other person that’s met you.

“Tasuku what are they like? I’d love to know more about Hisoka’s partner,” Azuma asked.

“They’re nice. They can keep Hisoka awake without marshmallows. Honestly, seeing them together just makes them look like kids in love.”

“Hisoka, where are you going?” Homare asked noticing him getting up to leave.

“Anywhere but here,” he responded with a shy smile before exiting the room.

“Glitter, up. Hey, no fighting. Be patient,” Hisoka said speaking to not only Glitter but a couple other strays as well. In the time that Hisoka was apartment sitting, he grew a fan base of cats that started following him to and from the apartment. “Go to bed,” he told them leading them to the guest room.

Hisoka ended up taking you up on your offer of allowing him to stay at your apartment. He enjoyed staying in your bed and sleeping under your blankets that smelled just like you. He definitely felt a lot better staying at your place compared to the dorms because it was the closest he could currently be to you. He still needed to go to the dorms and shower and change his clothes though.

Everyone at the dorms was still worried about their friend but he did seem to be doing better. He was still a little sad but at least the bags under his eyes had disappeared due to all the sleep he was getting from sleeping in your bed.

Once he got there he looked at the time and date. It was a little past eight and you were coming back in two days. As he exited the shower he decided it was best to stay the night in his own bed and he’d start tidying up your place in the morning.

“Goodnight, Hisoka-kun!” Homare called out.

“Night...” Hisoka responded before tossing over in his bed.

“Mmmm... smells nice,” Hisoka mumbled only for a lump to form in his throat after he opened his eyes.

Your head was resting on his chest, sound asleep while a blanket covered the both of you. He didn’t recall seeing you last night or you even saying anything about coming home early. All he remembered was waking up around midnight and deciding he’d rather be at your place so he got dressed and walked to your apartment in the middle of the night. He brushed some hair out of your face to make sure it was really you which caused you to try to bury yourself deeper into him. Once it registered it really was you he wrapped an arm around your back and had tears well up in his eyes. You were back.

“Y/n, when’d you get here?”

“Mm, I got here a couple hours ago. I’m surprised you didn’t wake up when I opened the front door since you’re always on such high alert. Saw you in my bed and didn’t wanna wake you so I just climbed in carefully.” After a while you slowly raised your head to greet him. “But good morning- Baby, why are you crying?” His eyes were soft and he was smiling as the tears were rolling down his cheeks. You quickly decided to shimmy yourself higher up on the bed so you could put his head into your neck as he cried. “What’s wrong? Talk to me,” you pleaded.

“I was miserable at best without you,” he told you while wrapping both his arms around you as he breathed in your scent. “I missed you so much. I couldn’t sleep, I had so many nightmares and in one of them you just disappeared, it was so scary. You leaving was so scary.” He was sobbing at this point.

“Hiso, it’s okay. I’m right here. I’m not leaving for a very long time.”

“No, don’t leave again.”

“You can come with me next time. I promise.” You responded while using your fingers to comb through his soft hair. “I missed you a lot too, ya know? That’s why I came back early. I wanted to surprise you and spend time with you. Just like this, in bed as you hold me.”

He slowly pulled his head away from your neck to look at your face. Oh that loving soft look he missed that you would only give to him. He was glad he let you into his heart. “I love you, a lot. I know I don’t tell you directly a lot but-“ you were quick to cut him off with a kiss. When you both pulled away, you wiped the last of his tears away from his face.

“Hiso, I know you do. I love you too. Now, calm down. I’m here okay? You’re rambling and I wanna cuddle. Can we do that?” you asked him, already knowing the answer and rolling off him onto your side so you could cuddle facing each other.

“Yes,” he spoke softly as he brought you closer to him and began to slowly peppering your face with kisses.

“By the way, you have some explaining to do. Why is there more than one cat in my guest room? Glitter started pawing at the door the moment I came home asking to be let out and then they all started rubbing on me.”

“You weren’t supposed to find out,” he responded burying his face back into your neck.

“Hisoka... it’s my apartment? What do you mean I wasn’t supposed to find out?“

“It’s bed time, Y/n. Zzzzzzz...” And with that, all of Hisoka’s negative thoughts ceased as he spent the rest of the morning sleeping in with you.

#Hisoka Mikage #Hisoka x reader #Hisoka Mikage x reader #A3! Hisoka #a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!

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deafgaynerd · 3 years

Text

what happens after dinner

Malcolm and Edrisa attend family dinner for the first time as an official couple.

(written for @brighttanaka)

check it out on ao3

Malcolm Bright walked into the Major Crimes meeting room to clean up their most recent case board. He had caught their killer by doing what he does best, going just far enough into danger that he succeeds (while also making everyone else worry) but not far enough to die. He organized everything into case files to put into storage. The Major Crimes team filed into the room for a debrief.

Gil Arroyo, Dani Powell, and JT Tarmel joined Malcolm in the room. They didn’t sit down, instead electing to stand around the table as all attention turned to Gil. He went over assignments for paperwork, gave out praise for closing the case and thanked Malcolm for joining them. He did this after every case, thanking Malcolm for his work as if he was unaware that Malcolm was always, constantly itching to work on a new case, to solve a new murder. Gil made sure each case ended in a way that if Malcolm ever had to stop consulting, heaven forbid, his last case ended well and he was in good standing with each person on the team. That, and he knew that someone needed to praise Malcolm for being as smart as he was. Many people just expected him to be smart, they didn’t feel the need to congratulate him or tell him that whatever he did for the case was helpful and productive. Malcolm needed this occasionally though, and since Gil knew this, he made it a part of their case-ending routine.

Gil ended the meeting with a promise to see them all at family dinner and sent them all to their respective partners. Bright is the last to walk towards the door before he’s summoned back to talk with his surrogate dad.

“I know this is Edrisa’s first family dinner as your girlfriend, but make sure she knows that she doesn’t have to act any different than she is. We all know her, and we love her for who she is, she doesn’t have to impress us by being someone else,” Gil told Malcolm as he picked up the file box and walked towards the door.

“You do know that I can’t make Edrisa do anything, right?” Malcolm reminds the lieutenant. “I will remind her, though. If only to help reassure her. Dinner’s at 7:30 right?”

“Yeah, but you know your mother, you better-” Gil began.

“-Get there by 6:30, I know. Thanks, Gil. I’m going to go see if Edrisa is ready now. See you later.” Malcolm left Gil to put up the case file in the records room.

Malcolm made his way to his girlfriend’s office a few levels down. His new romantic partner was the medical examiner for this NYPD precinct, Edrisa Tanaka. Edrisa had an eccentric personality that Malcolm had been drawn to ever since he started consulting for Gil. They had so much in common and were constantly in awe of each other’s intellect. They understood each other very well and were nearly perfectly in sync, saving each other from dangerous things at crime scenes, and just being able to brainstorm about cases together.

Of course, Malcolm and Edrisa had things in common other than work. They were both interested in the same type of things, between human anatomy, ancient weaponry, and classic stories, among other things, they curated a wonderful friendship that blossomed to a romantic one. Malcolm was always worried that with everything that he deals with, he would overwhelm Edrisa, but she reassures him this isn’t the case, whenever he needs to hear it.

Edrisa and Malcolm fit each other well, so well, in fact, that Edrisa says “Hi Bright!” before Malcolm has pulled his second foot across the threshold of the morgue. He smiled and walked the rest of the way to his girlfriend. “I figured you would be done soon,” she revealed. “I knew you finished the case, and Gil’s speeches tend to be around the same length each time.”

Malcolm smiled at her, nodding. “Are you ready to head home to get dressed for dinner at the Whitly House, Ris?” He asked, moving directly in front of her to capture her attention.

“I just have to finish filling out today’s paperwork on this autopsy, it should only take a few minutes.” Edrisa told him, smiling. She then proceeded to explain what she had found out in this autopsy, a case Bright was not assigned to, and Malcolm listened intently, fascinated by not only her findings, but the passion with which she talked about her cases. Once Edrisa had finished, Malcolm helped her gather her things and they headed to the car.

When they got home, Edrisa held up two outfits. “Which one do you think would go over the best with your family?” She asked. “Ainsley helped me pick out some clothes that would look appropriate for your mother, which one do you think I should wear? I don’t want to wear something that would upset Jessica Whitly, ”

Malcolm studied the two outfits. One was a knee-length, emerald dress. The other was a navy blue suit with a lighter blue patterned shirt underneath. “I think you should go with the suit, it feels more “Edrisa.” Besides, my mother loves you already, Everyone who will be there loves you already. This will go fine, I promise.”

She nodded and left to change. “I know that I already know everyone, Malcolm, but this time it’s different. This time we’re going as a couple.”

“Edrisa, it’s just our friends and my family. You got this. We’ve got this. I’ll be right by your side the whole time.” Malcolm reassured her. She walked out and he couldn’t help but stare. She looked gorgeous. “Wow, Ris, you look amazing.” He got up and walked over to her, grabbing her hands and looking into her eyes. “We got this.” He said again.

“We got this,” Edrisa repeated.

The pair arrived at the Whitly House at 6:30 on the dot. Gil was already there, of course. So were Ainsley and Dani, since Ainsley had decided to live at home again to help out their mom and Dani coming over to visit her girlfriend before dinner. The only couple missing were the Tarmels. They started joining family dinners when Dani and Ainsley got together, because it didn’t feel right to have 3/4 of the team at dinner. They also invited Edrisa, before she and Bright had gotten together, and she had been participating. It had been a few weeks since Malcolm and Edrisa became a couple, but Edrisa had been busy for the past few family dinners. This was their very first one as an official couple.

At 6:45, JT and Tally came in, sheepishly. “We’re sorry, Jessica, the babysitter was late.” JT informed the night’s hostess. “We made dessert though. We brought brownies.”

“Who is this “we” you speak of, JT Tarmel.” Tally scolded, making Jessica laugh. Gil took the tray of brownies from JT and put them in the kitchen.

“Now that we’re all here, let’s have a drink and prepare for dinner,” Jessica announced.

At 7:30, the group sat down at the dinner table as the waiter brought out their dishes. They ate peacefully for a while, making small talk with the people around them. It was nice, getting to catch up with all their friends outside of work. They made sure to have family dinner at least once a week, because Jessica wanted to know what was happening with her children. All of them, which now included JT and Tally.

“Edrisa, I hope Malcolm is treating you well,” Jessica said loud enough that everyone can hear. “I taught him better than to treat you poorly.”

“Oh! Ma’am, Malcolm is wonderful. He’s so attentive, he’s kind, he’s sweet, he doesn’t leave a girl hanging, if you know what I mean,” Edrisa says, smiling at Malcolm who, all of a sudden, has a look of panic on his face. Most people can’t tell, but Edrisa has noticed. “He’s very thoughtful,” Edrisa continued, “and he loves me, too, even if he doesn’t know it yet.” She looked at Jessica with that statement and Jessica couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m sure he does,” she responded before going back to talking with Gil. No doubt, they’re discussing how all of their kids ended up dating each other. Or, something about how they ended up here. They’re sentimental like that during family dinners.

After dinner and dessert, the couples broke off, heading to their own places. Edrisa and Malcolm went back to Malcolm’s place, where Edrisa always stayed over the weekend. They crawled into bed, Edrisa reading Dracula, sitting up against the headboard, and Malcolm scrolling on his phone, reading over a new psychological research paper. Edrisa has a favorite out of Malcolm’s clothes to wear, his old Harvard sweatshirt. No matter how many times it gets washed, it always smelled like Bright, and it was the warmest and coziest out of all of his tops, and he knew to leave it ready for her when they came home for the weekend.

After finishing his article, Malcolm rolled over to lean against Edrisa. “Are you done yet, Ris?” He asked her. She looked down and smiled, before lifting her arms up to let him lay on her more.

“I am not done reading yet, no. I’ll tell you when I am.” She responds to him. Malcolm takes the invitation and lays his head on her shoulder while she reads. He wraps his arms around her torso while she brings her hands back down, using his back as a resting place for the book and running the other hand through his hair. She knew that the best way for him to not have nightmares was for him to be holding onto her, and she knew that dealing with his family always exhausted him and he could use the rest.

Malcolm eventually fell asleep cuddling her while Edrisa finished rereading her book. She turned off the light and moved just enough so that she's laying down with him. She fell asleep in his arms and it’s the best sleep either of them has had in a while.

#malcolm bright #maldrisa #edrisa tanaka #malcolm x edrisa #prodigal son #gilica #gil x jessica #dani x ainsley #dainsley #dansley #jessica whitly #gil arroyo #dani powell #ainsley whitly #jt tarmel #tally tarmel

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kookiebunnii · 4 years

Text

d4u || c’s get degrees

sept. 2018. this is my first time having a class with guk. we like to make bets on things to satisfy jungkook’s competitive instinct and the reward is usually food-related. i guess this quarter will be no different.

pairing: bestfriend!jungkook x reader

genre: slice of life

word count: 2.4k

warnings: n/a

sept. 2018

If there was one thing Jungkook loved, it was competition. You still remember the phase where he’d respond “bet” to anything you said, even if it made no sense.

Let’s have Chinese takeout for dinner. Bet.

Don’t forget your keys like you did last time. Bet.

If you say “bet” one more time, I’ll throw your Widowmaker mousepad out the window. Bet.

He’d always be the one to suggest playing rock, paper, scissors for the last slice of pizza, betting that if a coin turns up heads then you would have to do the dishes tonight instead, or begging you to play some new video game with him so he could 1v1 you over a large sum of five dollars. Maybe it was the adrenaline he craved or the fact that he could rarely find something he was not skilled at. However, after all the years he’s known you, he has realized that he’s finally met his match. You always watch uninterestedly as the coin lands on tails and Jungkook howls in pain over the kitchen sink. Similarly, you grew used to noncommittedly charging him $5.00 on Venmo as he repeatedly demands a rematch because the game was bugged or his character was lagging.

Perhaps the boy was known for being good at everything, but it seemed that luck was always on your side.

Breaking out of your reverie, you watch as Jungkook dashes across the apartment in search for something. While you spread Nutella over a piece of lightly browned toast, your eyes follow his frantic movements in amusement. Biting into your breakfast for the day, you hum happily as the chocolate-y flavor spreads across your tongue.

“What are you looking for e-boy?” you ask before taking a sip of the milk in your cup.

“I can’t find my penny board…have you seen it?” he starts opening all the cupboards one by one, as if his skateboard would be in the kitchen shelf next to the canned spam.

“I hid it,” you casually state, hiding your grin behind a nibble of toast.

He stops in his tracks, looking you dead in the eye before calmly replying, “And why would you do that?”

Brushing the crumbs from your fingertips onto your plate, you skip past him to respond in a chirpy tone, “Every time you used that cursed thing you’ve come back with a new cut or scrape. We’re running out of my favorite Hello Kitty band-aids, so I’ve decided you need a break from your precious board.”

He seems to be ready to retort something back in response, but with one look at his right arm he’s forced to agree that maybe he should rely on his own two legs for the next week or two. Huffing indignantly, he grabs the other piece of toast you’ve left for him on the plate and begins spreading generous amounts of the hazelnut spread while you get ready for class.

Surprisingly, you and Jungkook have the same class this quarter on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Since the two of you were different majors, you never really discussed schedules with him and only ever really asked about his classes to know when you should expect him to be at home. However, it turns out that this class in question is notorious for being an easy pick to fulfill a GE requirement all students had to complete for graduation, so you couldn’t say it was a complete surprise that the two of you were simultaneously enrolled.

Minutes later, you cover your mouth as you yawn at the doorway, watching Jungkook sling his backpack over his shoulder. He freezes, mumbling something that you assume is a list of all the things he needed for the day to ensure that he doesn’t forget anything.

As he does this mental recital, you reach up and smooth out some hair sticking up at the top of his head. He’s rather tall, so you do your best to tip-toe and ensure that the gel in his hair is adequately spread over his brown locks to make him look as presentable as possible—which you admit must be tough for the poor gel product. He flicks you gently on the forehead as soon as he notices you holding in your laughter over this thought.

“I know you’re thinking something funny about me again. Stop.”

You give him your most innocent smile before heading out the door, slipping your earbuds in to listen to your regular “commute tunes” playlist.

After the short bus ride, he gently bumps into your side to get your attention. You pull out your earbuds and give him a questioning look and soft shoulder bump of your own. Based on the mischievous look on his face, you knew that the premonition you had this morning about Jungkook’s competitiveness was a warning sign.

“Since we have the same class this quarter, how about we bet on who will get the higher grade?” he grins happily, his whole body seemingly lit with excitement.

“Are you sure, Mr. Film Studies major? This is a philosophy class,” you quip, watching as masses of students trickle around the two of you like slippery salmon in a never-ending stream.

“It’s not like you’d have an edge either Miss International Business major” he laughs, and you can hear the confident tone in his voice. Jungkook genuinely thinks he has a chance.

How cute.

Right before you two enter through the classroom door, you pull him aside. The confident way he leans back to look at you tells you that he knew you wouldn’t be able to reject his offer. You never backed down on his challenges, and that’s why he liked you so much.

“Loser treats winner to Korean BBQ,” you state plainly, casually glancing down at your phone to check the time. Two minutes before class starts.

“Sure.”

Satisfied, you head into class and look around for two empty seats that were side-by-side. It wasn’t a habit that you were used to, since you rarely had friends in your university courses. However, with Jungkook beside you, it felt like a natural and customary reaction to scan the room for two empty seats instead of one. It was like pulling out two plates for dinner every night, stopping at a bakery when your cravings hit to buy your favorite dessert and a slice of banana bread to-go, or sending him a meme as you scroll through Reddit that you knew would make him laugh. You were unconsciously conscious of him.

The weeks passed like a summer’s breeze, so enjoyable that you’re left awestruck until it’s over. You enjoyed dodging around Jungkook’s questions whenever he struggled with the homework, watching him nap on his notebook while you took lecture notes, and distracting him with text messages when you didn’t want to pay attention in class so that he wouldn’t be able to either. It was almost like high school again, back when you used to be able to spend time with him and mess around in class with the teacher being none the wiser. Before long, finals had come around and you were feeling a little nervous to say the least. Jungkook refused to tell you what he got on the midterm, and by extension his grade in the course, thereby keeping you in the dark. Your grade wasn’t terrible, but you knew that Jungkook wasn’t a complete dummy because he always performed well when he was focused. Free Korean BBQ could do that to a man.

“Do you want to study together?” you ask, finding him laying on the couch and playing a racing game on his phone. You watch as his round eyes focus on the screen intently, waiting for him to blink.

“Sure. I’m not helping you though.”

You laugh, bringing your face close enough that it was right above the phone in his hands. Making weird faces to distract him from his game, you reply, “As if. I’m just checking to see how behind you are in this class.”

He finishes and tosses his phone on the tabletop. Looking at you disinterestedly, he pinches one of your cheeks and gets up when you wiggle out of his grasp. It looks like he’s going to get his stuff, so you head into your own room to prepare your books for a productive study session.

One of the highlights of your university was its library. You always came here to study instead of studying at home or going to a café. Being at home was sometimes distracting, especially when you could hear Jungkook roasting his team over voice chat well into the late night. Given how much you were consuming at your new barista job, you also decided to avoid places with delicious pastries, lest you wanted more feelings of disappointment during your next weigh-in at the doctor’s.

Finding a table with space for two, you sit down and begin pulling all of your supplies out of your backpack. Your enjoyed studying with a particular organization of notes and texts, so you had your favorite animal post-its on hand. Using them to indicate the beginning of your lecture notes, you begin going through what you’ve written with a light yellow highlighter. After doing this for a few pages, you peek at Jungkook’s work to find him doodling in the margins.

Leaning over, you draw a cute stick figure pointing to Jungkook’s doodle in awe. To get the full effect, you include a speech bubble of the character saying “WOW!”

He smiles before giving your stick figure a gorgeous mustache and top hat.

Surprisingly, the two of you get a lot done that day. You expected to be consistently distracted, but Jungkook kept to himself whenever he was really focused. Maybe he was always like this with studies he was interested in, but either way you quite liked how focused he was being. His wide eyes were trained on the text in front of him as he absentmindedly tapped his pen against his cheek in thought. Once in a while the pen tilts dangerously close to his mouth, and as you catch him proceeding to take an unconscious bite of the cap, you pull his hand away in alarm.

“You have a habit of putting things in your mouth. Perhaps you’re into that, but for your health let’s not,” you chastise, pulling the pen out of his grasp and tapping him on the head with it.

Grinning, he proceeds to try and bite your shoulder. You almost screech in alarm at his attack before remembering that you’re in a very public library with students already taking notice of the way you were practically falling out of your chair in horror. Clearing your throat and straightening your jacket, you give Jungkook a dirty look before turning away to focus on your textbook again.

Finals turned out to be much easier than you anticipated, which matched up to the past experiences you’d gathered from previous students of the course. It was clear to you that you and Jungkook had over-studied, but what captured your interest with greater intensity was the final grade in the course. As you happily noted the bright 97.6% flashing back at you on the screen, you could practically taste the yummy samgyeopsal on your tongue. Guess what makes food even better? When it’s free!

You slide over to Jungkook’s room and peek inside, hoping he wasn’t in the middle of a game. Luck finds you again when you witness him exiting out of the League of Legends application on his setup and spinning around in his bright orange gamer chair to greet your new intrusion. He quickly pulls his headset off to hear you better, to which you respond by diving face-first onto his bed and rolling up in his blanket like Y/N burrito just to bother him. When he makes a sound of annoyance and begins prying the sheets off you, you know you’ve attained your goal and begin helping him unravel you.

“What do you want?” he prods you off the bed so he can redo his sheets.

“Have you seen your PHIL grade yet?” you begin pretend-boxing with his back as the punching bag. He doesn’t seem to like this very much either, because he quickly spins around and grabs onto your fists to stop you.

“I have. Guess you’re taking me to KBBQ tonight?” he tries to tickle you out of spite, but you know he’s in a good mood. You’re rarely this playful with him, preferring to silently annoy him or treat him more like a troublesome younger brother to look out for. But what can you say? A free dinner peaks your mood.

“What’d you get then smartass?”

He pretends to think for a bit with his hand on his chin, “You first.”

Confidently, you stand up to him and puff your chest out in pride while jabbing his chest with each digit that comes out of your mouth.

“97.6% baby. Anyways, there’s this new spot 15 minutes away Luce told me about, I think you should treat me there-”

“Hm, 97.7% here baby,” a smirk sliding easily across his features as he mocks your previous tone, “What was that about a new place?”

Wide-eyed, you demand to see his grade on the university’s portal page. There’s no way this slick kid managed to get a higher grade than you…especially by a tiny percentage point! He’s got to be joking, maybe betting that you wouldn’t actually fact-check his claims or something…

Alas, as he shows you his screen while laughing in crazed triumph, you feel like breaking his obnoxious rainbow-lit keyboard as he runs around his room doing victory laps. You always thought luck would be on your side, especially when it came to studies, but perhaps you had used up all your free passes this year.

Breezing past him, you head to your room to find a light coat for the evening and your car keys. Jungkook seems to find that following you as you complete this task is entertaining, because you have to try your absolute best not to look at him as he tries to get your attention by making his typical crackhead expressions.

“Put on one of your weeb hoodies with the anime chicks and let’s go.”

“Wind out of your sails Y/N?”

He grabs you by the shoulders in an attempt to spin you around, but one well-aimed knee to the balls later, Jungkook seems to enjoy lying on the floor clutching his precious package more than teasing you with his antics.

Mental note: never make a bet with Guk again.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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infinitevariety · 4 years

Text

Burn

Warning: Injury (nothing graphic)

Aziraphale lets himself into Crowley’s flat with the keys Crowley gave him only a couple of weeks ago. They don’t technically need keys, miracles being what they are, but it’s the symbolism of the thing. Crowley showing him he wants Aziraphale to come over and let himself in whenever the fancy strikes him. No invitation needed.

He drops the keys in the little dish by the door, looks down at them, and smiles.

Today he has been invited. Food, wine, and something called Net Flicks. Aziraphale is ambivalent—happy to spend time with Crowley and sharing in his interests, but also dreading whatever the Heaven the thing is.

Before he steps much further into the flat, Aziraphale catches a smell that has him lifting his nose and breathing deeply. Something smells delicious. He wonders if Crowley has already ordered takeaway.

As he wanders through the flat towards the smell, he hears Crowley. He can’t hear exactly what he’s saying yet, but from the volume and the fury of his voice, Aziraphale assumes there is a lot of swearing involved.

The smells and sounds lead him to the kitchen, where Aziraphale stands in the doorway observing the scene.

Crowley is standing at the hob, stirring something in a large pot with one hand while he looks down and scrolls on his phone with the other. There are several knives laying about on the counter top, along with a chopping board and bits of vegetables. From the straps Aziraphale can see looped over his head and tied around his waist, Crowley’s even wearing an apron.

Crowley is cooking and Aziraphale can’t keep the beaming smile from his face.

Instead of interrupting what seems like a stressful situation, Aziraphale continues to watch silently from the doorway.

“I’ve added all the basil already. You didn’t tell me I needed to save some to sprinkle on the top!” Crowley growls down at his phone, obviously unimpressed with the recipe he’s following.

Aziraphale wonders what he’s making.

“Tough shit, I don’t have a dish that size. It can go in what I have and like it.”

Crowley turns, picking up a glass oven dish from the counter before catching sight of Aziraphale. He jumps and almost drops the dish, but catches it just in time.

“For fuck’s— Where did you come from?”

Aziraphale gives him an innocent little wave. “The front door. You gave me keys, remember?”

Crowley nods, turning to place the dish by the pot on the hob.

“You’re cooking?” asks Aziraphale.

“Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything. I’m simply making an observation.”

“It’s not a big deal. It didn’t seem that hard, I thought I’d see what all the fuss was about.” Crowley shrugs. “Piece of cake.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to put basil in cake.” Aziraphale tells him.

“How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to know your idea of a ‘piece of cake’ involves copious amounts of swearing.”

“And wine,” says Crowley as he holds up his almost-empty glass and waves it about.

“You started without me? How many glasses do I need to catch up?” Aziraphale dashes across the room to pour himself a large glassful.

“Only a couple. I needed the assistance alcohol brings.”

It’s not Crowley’s best wine, Aziraphale notes thankfully, as he gulps down half his glass. This close, he can now see what Crowley’s apron says.

Hot stuff coming through.

Aziraphale snorts into his wine, but doesn’t disagree.

“What are you cooking?” he asks.

“Just a pasta bake. Nothing fancy, don’t get your hopes up. If it’s terrible I have takeaway menus on standby.”

“It smells wonderful,” Aziraphale reassures him.

“Hmmm,” Crowley hums non-committally.

Aziraphale retreats to the other side of the kitchen with his glass of wine and the bottle. Sitting down to watch, but giving Crowley space.

Crowley ladles out the contents of the pot into the dish, before sprinkling it with cheese. ‘Sprinkle’ might be the wrong word, with the sheer amount he uses, but Aziraphale isn’t about to complain. Once the dish is overflowing with cheese, Crowley pulls open the oven door. He’s met with the steam of a pre-heated oven and slides the dish in before closing the door.

“Right,” he says, turning to Aziraphale. “We’ve got 10 minutes. Where’s that wine?”

Aziraphale might have done too good a job at trying to catch Crowley up, because three glasses of wine and much longer than 10 minutes later he sniffs the air and pulls a face.

“Can you smell smoke?” he asks.

Crowley’s eyes widen comically as he cries, “Fuck!” and upends his chair in his rush to get up.

At the oven, Crowley is wafting smoke with a tea towel and articulating some very choice language.

“Open a window!” he calls at Aziraphale, who rushes to comply.

The fresh breeze on his face is a delight when he gets the window open as far as it will go. He pauses for only a few seconds, his attention quickly drawn by another harsh curse and the sound of glass breaking.

Aziraphale turns to see pasta, tomato sauce, and broken glass littering the kitchen floor. But more concerning is Crowley, squatting low and clutching a hand to his chest.

“What happened?” asks Aziraphale as he dashes over.

“Fucking stupid—I didn’t think, just stuck my hand in to pull the thing out the oven.”

Aziraphale winces in sympathy. “Crowley, dear, let me see.”

Reluctantly, Crowley holds out his hand for Aziraphale to inspect. It looks bad, but Aziraphale runs his own hand over it slowly, working his literal magic, and when he’s done there is an angry red mark, but no burn.

Crowley sighs in relief. “Thank you.”

A couple of hours later, sitting on Crowley’s sofa, watching a young girl get nose bleeds as she makes things move with her mind, and eating pakoras, Aziraphale lets out a quiet chuckle.

“What?” asks Crowley, nabbing an onion bhaji and looking at Aziraphale.

“You can drive through Hellfire and come out unscathed, but a dish that’s been in the oven is too much for you?”

The onion bhaji suddenly finds itself colliding with the side of Aziraphale’s head.

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Written for the Summer Omens challenge that @thetunewillcome is hosting. IDK. Apparently Aziraphale likes standing in doorways and scaring Crowley, and Anthony JActs of Service Crowley strikes again.

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(Sand) (Ice Cream)

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable husbands fic #anthony jacts of service crowley #summeromens #i wrote this #idk #warning: injury

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wriggleum · 4 years

Text

Your Hand In Mine

on AO3 ! Summary: Jack wants to cook dinner for Bitty because he realizes that he's never properly cooked him dinner before. prompt: Jack cooks dinner for @jackzimmermannturns30 Words: 8819 Chapters:1/1 Rating: G Relationship: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann Warnings: Concussions

“What’s wrong? Did I mess up the recipe? My hand kinda slipped when I was seasoning the chicken and I dropped a lot of paprika in the bowl. I thought I fixed it?” Jack had been staring at his plate for what was most likely an awkward amount of time after he had taken a bite of chicken breast. But Jack was just stuck in his head. He had a thought earlier during breakfast. Bitty cooks for him all the time. He makes dinner for them whenever they’re together and if Bitty isn’t around Jack can always just heat up one of the premade meals stocked up in his freezer. Bits is just amazing like that, and he insists that it’s no trouble at all. The thing that’s getting to Jack is the fact that he’s never cooked dinner for Bitty. It’s been bothering him all day, during his run, all through practice, at the gym and when he came home and took his nap up until he hit the ice. It’s not that Jack can’t cook, he can cook just fine. He’s never actually followed a recipe before. His mother taught him how to cook chicken at one point, and he can follow packing instructions perfectly. His food may lack seasoning most of the time —he became aware of that fact at some point his sophomore year, Shitty broke it to him gently after a few bites of whatever he made for dinner that night— salt was pretty much the only thing he had in his cupboards before he met Eric. A spice rack was one the first items Bitty added to his kitchen when he visited for the first time over the summer of his second year. His kitchen has never been the same. Despite the lack of seasoning in his food, it gets him fed and full. His meal plan didn’t allow for much variety. Jack had never minded it. Yet for a while it was eat to bulk up, and eat to keep him going. Then Bitty came in and ruined it all for him with his pies. Jack will be reluctant to admit he’s snuck away with a few extra slices of pie in the middle of the night while he was living in the Haus. At least he’s not living off of takeout like some people he knows. So yes Jack can cook, but he honestly doesn’t know how he survived without Eric’s cooking for the years that he did. His baking is next level, that's a known fact of life, but his cooking is just as good. Meanwhile Jack's cooking looked like lukewarm high school cafeteria food compared to Bittys carefully thought out dishes. The fact is Eric is always cooking for Jack and Jack feels kind of bad about it. It’s not like Bitty isn’t busy with his (second!) book and the Youtube channel and then he goes and insists on cooking for Jack or prepping meals for when he’s off doing bookdeal stuff. So Jack is going to take it upon himself and make a meal for his husband. It’s really the least he could do for him. Looking back down at his plate of perfectly seasoned chicken breast —Eric’s mistake not noticeable at all— surrounded by flavorful green beans and cauliflower. It was all so good and exceeded anything Jack could have made for himself without a recipe. “Bits, there's honestly nothing wrong with the chicken. It’s perfect actually.” Eric squints at him from across their plates. “Ok then why do I feel a but coming?” “But,” Jack chuckled. “You’re always cooking for me. Us.” Jack stabs a bit of green bean and chicken onto his fork, stuffing it into his mouth, chewing for a bit and swallowing “You’ve been so busy Bits and you’re still cooking dinner for us and baking and going all over the place and I don’t know.” Jack paused and took a sip of water gathering himself. “I feel bad.” An outraged look crosses Bitty’s face for a second. He scoffed and says, “You made breakfast for me the other morning! You grill all the time during offseason!” “Scrambled eggs and a toasted bagel can hardly count compared to what you end up cooking, and that takes minimum effort.” Jack gives Bitty a long stare, “Also you season and marinate the meat whenever we barbeque. Here I thought you of all people would understand that premade chicken tenders and a homemade lasagna aren’t the same thing.” Jack goes to eat another bite from his plate but then says, “Also I meant dinner. You’re always cooking dinner. When was the last time I actually cooked dinner?” Bitty takes the time to honestly think about it but looks up at Jack sheepishly a moment later. “That’s what I thought. If you don’t want to cook we just end up ordering take out or we go out somewhere.” Bitty rolls his eyes at Jack, “Well, you’ve got a point there hun I’ll give you that.” They go back to eating, Bitty’s dinner playlist playing softly in the background. Then Jack has a thought. “I’m going to cook dinner for you.” he looks Eric in the eyes, “As soon as possible.” Bitty looks like he’s trying really hard not to laugh, Jack pouts. “Oh honey, that's real sweet of you, and I would love that! Don’t get me wrong.” he picks up his glass of water and tries to take a sip to hide his suppressed laughter but fails. “I’m not laughing at you ok, so please stop with that face. It was just you were so serious about it.” Bitty giggles and grabs Jack's hand next to his and smiles brightly at him, “I really would love to have whatever you cook up!” “Ok so what do you want?” “Oh you know I’ll have whatever!” When Jack doesn’t respond to that, Bitty rolls his eyes again and pulls out his phone and starts tapping away. “Oh ok, ok. I’ll send you one of my Pinterest boards and you can choose something from there, how about that?” “I would really appreciate that. Thank you Bits.” Jack's own phone pings and he smiles down at it. He saves the link to the board to look at later and goes back to polishing off his plate. *** The next day after practice Jack is sitting in the nook scrolling through the Pinterest board Bitty sent him titled Quick ‘n Easy: Beginner Friendly Recipes. When Jack first saw the board he looked at it a bit suspiciously. He couldn’t think of a reason as to why Bitty would have a board of recipes for beginners. It would make more sense if it was for his Youtube but the board itself has no baking recipes in it. Bitty must have had it already made because he had sent it when Jack had asked, and there were a lot of recipes already in it. He’d have to ask Bitty about it later. Now, Jack was struggling with what to choose. Did he want to with the easier option of a pasta dish, or did he want to do something like a steak with a couple of sides to go with it? He really wanted to cook Bitty the best dinner he possibly could. Apparently Jack was stressing about choosing a recipe harder than he thought because the first thing Tater said when he sat down next to him was, “What is matter Zimmboni? You look as if you are making big life decision. You talk to Bitty yet?” Snowy who sat down across from them chimed in, “Yeah man I don’t think you can stick your phone any closer to your face without it becoming a part of you.” Jack suppressed a sigh. Might as well come out with it, these two sure as hell won’t leave him alone without Jack saying something. “I’m going to cook dinner for Bitty.” “Ah, you cook for little B! What are you cooking?” Tater wiggled in glee, peaking over Jack's shoulder to glance at his phone. Handing his phone straight over to Tater, Jack poked at his packed lunch —prepared by none other than Bitty. “That’s the problem.” Jacked sighed, “I don’t know.” “What is it, an anniversary or something?” Snowy asked. “No it’s just Eric is always making dinner for us and I just want to cook dinner for him for a change.” Jack explained. “Ahh gotcha.” It was silent for a second but Jack felt the brunt of Snowy’s piercing stare. He didn’t say anything but Jack could see it in his eyes when he looked straight back at him: what the hell Jack, you don’t cook for your husband? When he’s not only been cooking for you, but he brings in plates and plates of amazing baked goods for the team? Really Jack? For shame. He could hear it clearly in his head in Snowy’s smooth drawl. When Snowy looked down at his own food, breaking the eye contact that went on only for a second or two, Jack chastised himself. Snowy would never seriously say something like that. Chirp him to hell and back? Oh for sure. Jack snapped out of it when Tater exclaimed, “Oh Zimmboni! Cook this, is perfect!” Tater wiggled the phone in Jack’s face. Taking it back he looked down at the screen, it looked like it was no longer on Pinterest but rather on a blog post. Snowy snorted, “Oh yeah? Or is it just something you want to eat?” “Of course I want to eat, if I want to eat it is going to be good for little B!” The two chirped back and forth while Jack scrolled through the blog. It was a blog post with several other recipes in it. There’s a lot of text, the post going on and on about the bloggers family —something about a family reunion?— with so many pictures of people and food. By a photographers standpoint it wasn’t actually that bad. The composition was actually quite nice, and the lighting in all the shots was beautiful. Jack mentally noted to go back to the blog again later but for now he went back to looking for the recipe that he still hadn’t gotten to despite scrolling for a good bit. “So?” Tater looks over to Jack with an eager look. “Euh, what was it you wanted me to cook?” “What! Zimmboni please.” Jack gives his phone back to Tater, feeling a bit like he just was scolded. Tater quickly scrolled through the blog straight to the recipe and showed it to Jack. “This one! It sounds good and looks very easy.” The recipe read, One-pot lemon shrimp pasta. The dish was only five ingredients and the instructions themselves fit into one small paragraph. That seemed simple enough but it also sounded really good. Jack made sure to bookmark the page when Tater handed his phone back to him. “Send updates. I want to know how it comes out.” “Sure Tater, I’ll send you updates.” Snowy snorted between a bite of sandwich, “Can you even cook Zimmerman?” Jack quirked an eyebrow, “Can you?” Snowy said nothing but gave Jack a slight nod of his head as if to say touché. It was a fact that all the Falconers knew, something that Tater brought up constantly, is that Snowy can’t cook to save his life. At least Jack can fend for himself tasteless as his food may be. He really hoped the shrimp pasta was as easy as it seemed. *** The next day Jack facetimed his mother after practice. “Maman, I need your help.” “Oh?” Alicia raised a perfectly plucked brow. Jack explained the situation and Alicia nodded and hummed appropriately. In the end she smiled that superstar smile, all genuine and glimmering white. A twinkle of mirth in her eyes. “I think that’s wonderful. If anyone deserves a home cooked meal it’s Eric.” Jacked nodded in agreement, because that was a very obvious statement. Bitty deserved everything. “But what is it exactly that you need help with? Want me to talk you through the steps?” Alicia ginned. “No maman.” Jack rolled his eyes playfully. “Just. Do you think it sounds good? And Should I add anything else to the food, or on the side? What about drinks that go with it? Should I even bother making a desert or should I just buy it?” “Jack, sweetheart. The recipe sounds delicious. You’re going to have to make it for your father and I next time we visit. And you can’t go wrong with a dry rosé.” Alicia hummed a bit, thinking about Jack’s other questions. “You could add some bread for the side. Perfect for soaking up the pasta sauce. I think you should go to that bakery Eric is always going on about, and maybe get some dessert while you’re there. But I wouldn’t stress about all that, Eric knows you’re not a baker.” Jack thanks his mother for the advice and after the call ends he heads out straight to the store to pick up all the ingredients. Before heading into the grocery he stops by Bitty’s favorite bakery and asks about pre orders and says that he’ll keep in touch. At the grocery store Jack texts his mother a picture of the bottle of wine he picks out just in case; he gets back a string of thumb up emojis and a longer string of various hearts. The recipe called for linguine but he knew Bitty didn’t really prefer it so he stood in the aisle looking at a box of bowtie pasta and a box of penne. Why in the world are there so many types of pasta? In the end he chucked in the penne into his basket because a mother was giving him a mean side eye for taking so long. Thankfully he didn’t have any other issues with getting the other ingredients, so the rest of the trip went a lot quicker. At home Jack put what he could of his supplies in a box and stuffed it in the pantry, the rest went in the freezer and the fridge wrapped up so Bitty couldn’t tell what it was. It wasn’t long after that Jack found Bitty poking around in the pantry. “I’m only looking for flour Jack. Why would I snoop when you told me not to? How could you accuse me so.” he said, thickening up his accent and looking playfully aghast. Jack jokingly shoved him away from the pantry, “Move along Bittle we both know you keep all of the flour in the cupboard.” “Hmm really? I guess I do, don’t I Mr. Bittle-Zimmerman. My apologies I’ll be making my way along to the cupboards then.” *** After all that Jack was sucked into the world of hockey. The playoffs were right around the corner and the Falconers were doubling down in preparation for it. They had a good chance of making it through. So Jack promptly forgot about cooking dinner for his husband and was in full hockey robot mode. Bitty was just as busy with his second book, and he knew how Jack got during the playoffs so he didn’t mention anything. After all, if he really wanted Jack would have all the time in the world to cook when the offseason came around. *** It was an earlier night than usual for Jack. He had to be up extra early for a flight to Pittsburgh and wanted to get enough sleep so that he wasn’t wound up for the whole plane ride. Bitty was getting ready for bed, brushing his teeth in the bathroom. When he hopped into bed and kissed Jack goodnight it was minty and sweet. Before he drifted off into sleep he had a feeling that he was forgetting something. *** They’re a second game into the playoffs, and It’s a home game. It’s warm ups, the national anthem, and then the puck drops. A Penguin wins the face-off and Jack is right behind them. It’s give and take the whole first period, Thirdy gets a pretty goal from the blue line hitting the net right behind the goalie's shoulder. But a Penguin scored one right after, keeping them 1-1 for the rest of the first period and well into the second. Each team took shot after shot on the goal but none were going in after those first two goals from each team. It’s when they come back onto the ice for the third period that it all goes to shit. Jack has the puck and is on his way into the offensive zone, he’s got a huge Penguin on his heels (number 85) and he’s trying hard to push Jack toward the boards. Jack clenches his mouth guard and takes a quick look around to see if anyone is near to pass the puck to. He gives the puck away at the last moment, but Jack was too close to the boards when 85 slashes him with his stick on the outside of his right leg, taking his skates right out from under him and with the speed they were both skating at there was no way to stop 85 from crushing Jack right into the boards. Jack wasn’t sure if he heard a whistle or not, but he was already falling. His shoulder hit the glass first and on the way down his head hit the edge of the dasher board, helmet catching and flying off. His temple hits the ice and it all goes black for a second. When he opens his eye the lights from the rink are blinding and for a very long second Jack panics and then he’s aware of pain and everything blows up around him. He can hear Tater cursing in russin, he already knows he probably has 85’s jersey in his large fists. Thirdy is asking how Jack feels, and he can only blink at him slowly and then he’s cursing as well. Jack isn’t exactly sure how long it takes, but at some point the team doctor is out on the ice blocking his view of the rafters asking him too many questions. What hurts? Everything. Can he move? Sure, but he doesn’t want to. Finally, he asks if Jack needs a stretcher and Jack says no so the trainer and Thirdy help him up and help him across the ice, players around them tapping their sticks on the ice and against the boards. He’s nauseous the whole way across the ice and it takes everything in him not to spue across it. His head is pounding, his ears are buzzing, and the world is spinning. It’s nothing like the smaller concussion he got while in the Q. He’s been lucky so far, but he guessed it was bound to run out at some point. After Jack is off the ice things get a little hazy, the last thing Jack wants to be at the moment is awake. Bitty is looking frantic and now Jack feels guilty and he has a pounding headache. The trip to the hospital is pretty unmemorable to him, and while at the hospital the haze isn’t as bad he’s still having a pretty terrible time. Jack goes through all the necessary procedures, takes too long to answer a few of the doctor's simple questions and promptly gets shoved into an MRI machine and then he’s waking up in a hospital bed, the lights are off. Bitty is sleeping on the most uncomfortable looking couch in existence next to his bed, and he’s really hating 85 right about now. Jack takes stock of himself. His head is unsurprisingly still pounding, he lifts a hand to graze at his temple and it’s tender as hell. Probably already bruised up. His shoulder is stiff, twinging with the slightest movement. And most of all he wants to sleep for a good solid month. Jack tries moving a bit but after his body screams at him he decides he’ll just wither away in the position he’s in at the moment.A gasp to his left shocks him and he winches when he jumps a bit at it. “You’re awake!” Bitty was off of the couch in a blink and next to Jack holding onto his hand in moments. “How’re you feelin’ hun? I know it's probably terrible.” Frowning, Jack thinks back to when Bitty was sprawled on the ice helmet feet away from him. The terror he felt. It’s unfortunately a part of the game and can happen to anyone but Jack still feels bad about the undoubtable stress Bitty probably went through having to watch what happened to Jack from behind the glass unable to get to him. “Sorry Bits.” Confused Bitty responds, “What for? If anyone has to be sorry it’s that 85.” “It’s ju-” Jack was cut off by the doctor entering his room. She explained the situation to both Jack and Bitty but Jack wasn’t really paying much attention. The pain behind his eyes was making it hard to concentrate. Apparently he has a grade 3 concussion and at some point during the hit he popped his shoulder in and out. They want to keep him overnight for observation. Jack was going to protest but thought better of it when he saw Bitty’s glare. Jack would have rolled his eyes if it didn’t cause him pain, so he closed them instead raising the cheap hospital blanket to his chin. Bitty continued to talk to the doctor, their voices a low whisper. Tabarnak, Jack thought. He was out for at least a month, maybe two. Meaning he was done, he was officially out for the rest of playoffs. At least he had more than enough time to heal. He must have dozed off for a few because when he came to again the doctor was gone and Marty was handing a bag off to Bitty. Marty had retired the year prior but hangs out with everyone whenever he’s not busy with his family, and gives Tater pointers from time to time since he handed off his A to him. “Whenever you’re ready to leave you guys just give me a call and I’ll pick you up.” Jack wanted to thank Marty but one second he was blinking and when he opened his eyes again —with great reluctance— he was gone and a nurse was checking out the machines next to his bed, a soft light making its way through the shut blinds. Bitty wasn’t on the couch next to him but the nurse saw him looking around and said that he had only left a few minutes ago, so that left Jack to deal with the nurses poking and prodding him after what felt like zero hours of sleep despite knocking out for a while. He hated hospitals and he hated being incapacitated. Jack knew he was a horrible patient, but he’d always been like that. Though he thought he was polite enough to the poor nurse who had to deal with him. For breakfast they gave him some bland soup and crackers that Jack didn’t really want to eat, but Bitty came back just as they were rolling in the cart, a cup of steaming cafeteria coffee in his hand. He gave Jack a look and it was enough that he begrudgingly slurped at his watery soup. A quick visit from the doctor and some tests later and Jack was free to go home. Not without explicit warning from the doctor and nurses to not strain himself and to listen to their instructions. To get the frown off his face Bitty read the texts from the Falcs and the old SMH hockey team telling him to get well soon, as they escaped by way of a back door straight into Marty’s car to make a clean getaway. “You know the drill.” Bitty said as soon as they made it home, the door locked behind them. Jack sighed, he did in fact know the drill. It was drilled into him by several people in the hospital and as well as Marty on the way home. “Bits. Bud. I stink. I still have to shower.” Jack felt grimmy. He never got to shower after the game and on top of that he has hospital all over him. Bitty scrunched up his nose, “Yeah. You reek.” A quick shower later with Bitty keeping watch on the toilet who gave him a play by play of the rest of the game after Jack’s exit. He was honest with him back at the hospital when Jack asked how the team fared after his exit. Short answer was that Falcs lost in regulation, 1-3 (in the end the Falconers advanced to game six without Jack, they fought hard but it wasn't enough and they lost it all in the next round. It’s hard to lose when you’re so close, but Jack found it especially difficult not being there for his team when they needed him the most). Jack went straight to bed after his quick shower, his mattress felt amazing after laying in the lump of a thing the hospital made it’s patience lay in. He was staring at the ceiling thinking about all the things he wasn’t able to do when Bitty came in a few minutes later, a bowl of steaming something in his hands. “Chicken soup! You definitely need to get something in you, I have no idea what they tried feeding you back at the hospital but it definitely shouldn’t have the right to be called soup, let alone chicken soup.” Bitty was handing it off to Jack his fingertips barely grazed the bowl when it hit him. It was so sudden that Jack physically recoiled, shocking both Bitty and himself. “Bits!” Jack gasped, pulling his hands back. Bitty pulled the bowl back towards himself, almost flingling the contents of it all over the both of them. “What oh my god I didn’t think the bowl was that hot!” Shoving his face into his hands he groaned, “I was supposed to cook dinner for you!” Setting down the bowl of soup on the nightstand on Jack's side he let out a long d’awww, “I wondered how long it would be until you remembered.” He gave Jack's upper arm a little squeeze. “I think you get a pass from cooking. You were all busy getting ready for playoffs and then actually making it to the playoffs! And well...” And he waved a hand over Jack. “Considering your bedridden figure ‘n all. Plus that terrible looking bruise on your head.” “But Bitty it was supposed to be a thing. I even bought everything ahead of time. I was even going to pre order bread from your favorite bakery. I talked to them and everything. Why didn’t you say anything?” Jack only felt slightly betrayed. “Don’t you worry about cooking for me mister!” Bitty scolded, “You had this idea come into your head when playoffs were creeping up right around the corner, you know how you get during this part of the season. And well you just worry about getting better and then you can make me dinner whenever you want.” Picking the bowl of soup back up Bitty hands it off to Jack or he tires to and is unsuccessful because Jack is crossing his arms and pouting in bed like an overgrown toddler. “Oh my god!” Jack harrumphs. “You infant!” Bitty is trying really hard not to smile. “You giant manchild! Are you seriously refusing my soup? Do you think I won’t tweet about this?” Bitty wipes his smile away, putting on his most serious expression. “Eat the damn soup Jack.” he says, making it sound like a warning. “What are you going to do if I don’t eat the soup?” Jack smirks back. Bitty mutters under his breath, “Geez for someone with a serious concussion…” and then he trails off and says louder. “Jack you don’t wanna play these games with me. Not only will I call you mother, who I was assured will come down with the drop of a hat, your father in tow. But I will call Shitty as well.” How quickly Jack uncrossed his arms and grabbed the bowl of soup had Bitty stuffing his laughter behind both of his hands. “My own husband on the cusp of betrayal.” It was Bitty’s turn to smirk. *** The first week Jack caught up on a lot of sleep and listened to one full audiobook read outloud to him from his laptop that he carried from room to room when he felt restless and was sick of lying in bed. That was all he could really do. Listen to his audiobook for a few minutes a time, rest, get up, walk around the house, get a terrible headache, nap, repeat. And worst of all he wasn’t allowed in the kitchen when Bitty was around. Which at the moment was all the time. Jack has never wanted to cook a meal so badly, he was so excited to be able to do something for his husband who works so hard. But Bitty refused to let him cross the threshold between the dining room and kitchen, even if Jack claimed it was just for a glass of water. To which Bitty would then say, “You have a glass and a water bottle and a gatorade next to the bed.” and then Jack would turn tail and lay under the covers because the bright natural lighting from the kitchen was stabbing his eyes like knives. Without hockey, or TV, or physical books Jack was bored out of his mind by the second week. The bruising around his temple had turned a sickly shade of pale greens and brights yellows and browns. The headaches were still there but definitely not as bad as the week prior. But he still wasn’t allowed to do much of anything, especially with Bitty keeping like a sentinel; Guardian of the Kitchen. Jack could admit himself he was getting restless and he was definitely being a grump at times. Bitty thankfully didn’t take his shit moods and would sweetly tell Jack to take a nap if he was going to be ill-tempered, or to take up knitting or something to keep him occupied. After a few days into the second week of The Concussion, Jack was waking up from a mid afternoon nap and was on his way to the kitchen to be a bother when he overheard Bitty talking to someone in the living room. Jack peaked his head in and waved to Bitty who was talking on the phone, pacing back and forth barefoot on their extremely soft white (fake) fur rug. Bitty waved back absent mindley and then did a double take, glaring at Jack he did the I’m watching you hand motion and then pointed sternly at the couch. Jack shrugged and plopped right down in the middle of their couch wrapping a plush throw blanket around himself, catching the rest of Bitty’s conversation. “You know I would love to and I would hate to cancel but Betty, I don’t think I can go.” And nope. Jack had a hunch on what this was about and Jack was definitely not letting Bitty cancel.Getting up from the couch Jack stood in front of Bitty who gave him a curious look. Jack looked right at him and whispered, “Go!”. With a furrowed brow he shook his head, while Jack nodded his. “Yes! Go! I can take care of myself just fine. Bits, go to your convention.” Jack whispered. Bitty bit at his bottom lip, thought about it for a second and then told his agent. “On second thought Betty I think I will be able to make it. You can go ahead and confirm!” The yay! That came from the other end of the phone was loud enough for Jack to hear as he fell back onto the couch. When Bitty hung up with the date and hour of his flight to California written on a notepad, he put his hands on his waist and gave Jack a very squinty glare. “Want me outta your hair don’t ya?” Chuckling Jack pulled Bitty down onto the couch hugging him but then unwrapped the blanket from himself, rewrapped it around the both of them and then slinked his arms back around Bitty. “No Bits. But you have stuff to do and just because I’m not working at the moment means you stop working too. I don’t want you to miss out on all of these opportunities you’re getting!” Bitty went to protest but Jack cut in before he could say anything. “I know you rescheduled a meeting with that publishing company in New York the other day.” Bitty tsked, but then he hugged Jack tightly back. So they came to an agreement and Bitty was on his way to LA by the end of the week. And Jack thought he was bored before. But at least got to practice the dish he was supposed to have cooked for Bitty. Instead he invited Tater over who had a lot of input with how Jack prepared the food and cut vegetables. But he was always good company even when he was nagging over Jack's shoulder the whole time he was cooking. “‘S very good!” Tater hummed as he chowed down on Jack's creation. “Have to facetime Snowy, show that Zimmboni can cook.” “Were you guys seriously doubting me?” “Yes.” Came from Taters phone that he was pointing at his own half eaten plate of pasta. Jack took his own to wash having finished while Tater chattered, shaking his head on the way to the sink. By the third week Jack is still bored out of his mind, but at least Bitty is back, the downside is that he’s really doubling up on his youtube content in anticipation of his second book release. He’s doing several collaborations. He actually already did a few while he was in LA and he’s been editing every day hunched over his laptop at odd hours because he still refuses to hire someone else to do it for him. Jack had forgotten that one of the collabs was with the Falcs social media team, filming something for his own channel and a second video for FalcsTV. So when he walked into the kitchen one Saturday morning and saw the kitchen in full Bitty-Is-Recoriging mode with the addition of Poots, Tater, and Snowy. Jack was actually surprised and thankful he had actually put on pants because his teammates would never let him live it down for walking around half naked in his own home. Unfortunately Jack was having a major headache that day so he only stayed for some hellos and a snack before he retreated back into the bedroom for the rest of the day. He was feeling a little better by the time Bitty came in ready for bed, cuddling up to him and falling asleep in seconds, breath ticking the back of his neck. The fourth week was an improvement from the previous ones. Bitty was away again finalizing book deal stuff so Jack was home alone. But Jack was finally able to do some reading and light trainer approved workouts with the approval of his doctor after a follow up. Now that he had something to occupy his time with he was not only feeling better physically but also mentally. Best of all was the fact that Jack was able to get onto the ice, with the stipulation of not overworking himself. But the sooner he was on the ice the sooner he could get with his personal trainer, and get his ass kicked into shape again. He has to get his stamina back up though, a few circles around the ice and he was definitely feeling it. It would only be another few weeks until Jack was able to officially get to work on putting his body back into shape. By the time Jack was good to go he was hopping on a plane to Quebec for a quick trip to see his parents. He was getting call after call from his father complaining about not knowing what his face looked like anymore— despite several facetime calls. Jack told him he could come down himself and his father said, “I’m getting old Jack, I’m tired of traveling. I've done it my whole life you’ll understand when you get to my age.” “Ok old man I’ll fly up.” “Hey!” Bob protested at being called old by his son, when two seconds ago he was just complaining about getting old. Jack had to shake his head at that. In all honesty the second his father mentioned a visit to his old home Jack was already pulling up listings of flights and had bought a ticket while his dad was blustering on about how good he looked for his age or something like that. Jack had tuned him out a bit. A month and some weeks out of commission, stuck at home with not much to keep him entertained and Jack was itching to get out. Jack would be back home in Providence in time for his birthday —so would Bitty who was still out… doing something Jack wasn’t too sure but he knew it invloed the new book and a possible show? Bitty was being very hush hush about it. He said he didn’t want to jinx anything. Jack wasn’t supposed to have heard that particular conversation but he was in the room first when Bitty answered the phone, so that was all on his husband. It only hit him while he was out having dinner with his parents and they asked him what he was planning for his birthday that he was like huh. Jack is turning thirty. The big three-oh. In reality Jack wasn’t bothered by turning thirty, he was still plenty young. In the hockey world though, it made him sweat a little. He learned not to pay attention to the media long ago, but he still has bad days and when several outlets ragged on about how he’s past his prime years he can’t help but let it bother him a little. He was on the phone with Bitty when his birthday came up again. “So did you want to do anything special for your birthday? We both get back on the 1st right? We can plan something out if you want. We haven’t really had time to talk about it huh?” Bitty’s voice crackled through Jack’s phone. On the screen Jack was getting a spectacular view of his nose and all the hair inside it. Jack laid back onto the overstuffed pillow his mother kept in his old bedroom, having changed it long ago to a guest bedroom changing out his old twin to a full. “I don’t know, I haven’t really thought about it. It’s just another birthday you know? I think I’ve done all there is to do. Or at least all I’ve ever really wanted to do birthday wise.” Bitty shifted, propping his phone up against a pillow or something because now Jack was able to see him from his head to his chest. He was fluffing up pillows and getting comfortable for bed, laying down to face Jack fully. He looked at Jack sideways from his current position laying down. “What about tigers?” “Tigers?” “Oh yeah tigers.” he said with a serious tone "Thirty is kind of a big deal, you’re no longer twenty. I think that deserves a wild party with some tigers.” “Nah, I think that’s more of a fiftieth birthday type of thing.” Bitty paused but then went, “Hmmm Ok then!” Not long after that they said their goodnights and when Jack’s screen went black he squinted at his reflection with an inkling of suspicion. “He’s definitely trying to plan something.” *** It was late but he was back home, suitcase in hand Jack was dead on his feet. Never more glad to be home. He was greeted by the smell of freshly baked pie and if Jack listened closely he could hear his bed calling to him. But first. Bitty. He was sitting at the dining room table typing away at his laptop with a plate left only with pie crumbs next to him. He must have heard Jack walk in because he immediately closes his laptop and turns around with a blinding smile and holds his arms out for a hug that Jack was already going to give. “Welcome back handsome.” Bitty said into Jack’s chest. “Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.” Jack smiled, “You’ve been busy.” he passed a hand through Bitty’s freshly shaved undercut. Sighing, Bitty losend up in Jack arms, “Yeah it’s all been a bit hectic but I’ve got some exciting stuff coming along.” “Anything you want to share with your loving husband?” “I don’t want to say anything just yet!” “Ok, ok! Well if you’re done here want to get to bed?” “I would love nothing more.” *** Jack sleeps in the next day, he decides that morning the first time he wakes up to take the day off from his morning run. The second time he wakes up it’s because Bitty is getting out of bed, he kisses Jack’s forehead and then Jack out again. The third and final time Jack wakes up it’s because he’s being crushed. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRAH!” Jack shoves Shitty off from him and gives him an icy glare. “What the fuck Shits? And my birthday is tomorrow!” “I know.” Jack exhales loudly and gets out of bed. No use in trying to get anymore sleep with Shitty around. In the kitchen he finds Lardo and Bitty quietly conversing, pie dough rolled out between them and Jack is so sure that a pie is already baking away in the oven, even if the smell wasn’t a dead give away. The day is filled with a lot of pie and catching up. The only time they’ve had recently to talk is the odd facetime call and whenever Lardo and Shitty had time for a game or two in Boston. Shitty is busy with his firm and Lardo has been getting huge commissions from a few major companies so they’ve all been fairly busy with life and being adults. So it’s nice to take a day to talk, have a couple of beers and eat a few pies while screaming at each other over Mario Kart and Smash. It’s later at night when they’ve just finished watching 1917 —Jack’s been wanting to watch it but kept on forgetting about it until Lardo mentioned it when they were all throwing suggestions for movies— that Shitty says. “Hey we’re going out tomorrow for a little bit, just you and me. Two bros out in the town.” Jack laughs out loud and replies, “Sure Shitty.” And the following day at nine in the morning Jack wakes up with Bitty in his arms, his steady breath hitting the side of his neck and he's officially thirty years old. Bitty makes him special birthday pancakes for breakfast —they’re really just maple blueberry pancakes, and everyone else is having them too— and Shitty insists that they pop a single candle in his stack and sing him happy birthday. When that’s all done and they’re all full, Shitty slaps Jack on the back and tells him to get ready. On their way out Bitty gives him a tight hug, Lardo gives him one too that’s less constricting and then Jack is in Shitty’s hands. Shitty’s first stop is at the historic downtown area in Providence where a cluster of vintage stores crowd both sides of the street. They both take their time visiting each store, looking through them and all they have to hold. In one of the stores dedicated to mostly just vintage clothing Shitty finds a horrendously patterned disco shirt, it’s made of a material that squeaks. “Lardo’s going to kill me if I let you bring that home.” “Brah, if I have to wear clothing it might as well be clothes that speak to my soul.” Jack walks out of the store as Shitty is forking the cash over to an all too pleased cashier, and walks into the next one over. And it’s much more what Jack is into. The smell of old books permeates the air, it’s very dusty and books line shelves are stuffed into bins, and there are even towers of books stacked up on the floor all over. He’s already across the room looking through the titles on the shelves in the back when Shitty comes rustling in with his bag that holds the ugliest shirt Jack has ever seen is being carried in. He may not be the most fashion forward, and he may have committed some fashion crimes in his time but come on. Looking down at his watch Jack can’t help but be shocked at the amount of time that’s flown by while they were walking around. It’s well into the afternoon and Jack was getting kind of hungry. So he goes to pay for the little pile of books he’s gathered (one is a personal journal dated from 1946, another was an old mystery novel and cute little vintage cookbook for Bitty.) and asks Shitty if he wants to go get some food. He hums a bit glancing at his phone before answering Jack, “I think…” he types out a text, “We should eat something light. I'm sure Bitty is planning some sort of feast or something for when we get back.” “Ha, you’re not wrong.” So they find a cart selling hot dogs and walk to a park nearby to eat their food at a pickin table by a lake. Jack finished his two dogs in a few bites but Shitty is still on just one. He’s doing a lot more talking than eating, telling a ridiculous story about an intern and a major coffee mishap that invloed a few sick and one injured. By the time Shitty was done with both of his hotdogs and the story it was already half past three. Shitty was furiously texting on his phone, while Jack sares off towards a cluster of trees where two squirrels were chasing each other around the base, upwards, and then back down again. “Ok time to go!” Shitty shouted, slamming his phone down the table. “Euh, ok?” It was getting kind of late so Jack picked up his books and followed Shitty back to his car. When they were on the way home Jack realized what was happening. Bitty had planned a party. A few minutes later his suspicions were confirmed when all along his driveway and lawn were a cluster of cars. Loud music was coming from inside and out of the house. Jack gave Shitty a sidelong glance; his smile was wide underneath his mustache. The front door was already open and when he walked in the party was already underway. He dropped off his books at a table full of gifts before making his way through his own birthday party. Most of the Falconers and the old Samwell hockey team were gathered throughout the house and the backyard. He even spots his mother and father mingling with George by the couches. Ransom and Holster screamed at him and jostled him around when they spotted him. Nursery, Dex, and Chowder were more subdued but still loud enough to draw the attention of Tater and Snowy who greeted him like Ransom and Holster did which was much more obnoxious because he sees them regularly. And so it went, much the same as he made his way throughout the house and into the backyard, meeting old teammates and saying hello to his current teammates' families. When he finally made it to the backyard with a plate full of food in one hand and a cup of water in the other he was greeted by Marty, Thirdy and their respective wives. They chattered for a little while, Jack mostly listening while he ate, when a shrill scream drew his attention away. It was Bitty running around the grass playing with a pack of children and preteens, they all seemed to be playing a fierce game of tag. Jack knew the second he laid eyes on his husband his eyes went soft. Something bloomed in his chest at the thought of Bitty running around with a child of their own in this very backyard. Marty lightly punched his arm, nodding to the group of children currently chasing Bitty. “You talk to him about it yet?” Nodding Jack replied, “It’ll come up from time to time, we’ve talked about adopting.” and they have talked about it. It’s always out of the blue when they’re both silent, in bed or watching TV, or out for a walk. Bitty will say, “We should adopt.” and Jack will agree, and then they both say, “In the future.” But Jack right then in that moment, with Bitty laughing under a dogpile of giggling children, thinks why not now? It’s not long after that Bitty comes jogging up to him, grass stains on his knees, a smile stretched across his face making his cheek so very pink. He stands on his toes and gives a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “Time for cake?” Jack grins and nods and they go hand in hand into the kitchen and the windows can barely stand it when everyone sings happy birthday. *** “There's only one thing I really wanted for my Birthday that I didn’t get yesterday.” Jack is making the both of them smoothies. His mother and father helped them clean up the morning after Jack’s party. They left a while ago telling them to enjoy themselves, so now it’s just Bitty and Jack back in the kitchen where they always tend to gravitate to. “And what’s that?” “I never got to make you that dinner I promised.” Pearls of laughter spill out from deep within Bitty’s chest. “Alright I think it’s about time I get this dinner.” Neither of them wanted to go out so Jack orders the ingredients through a delivery app and in the meantime they bake a pie. Jack has baked plenty of pies with Bitty over the years at this point, he’s become quite the expert at draping the crust just right and his lattice is always laced perfectly. The one they make is more for the fun of it, since they both have had their fair share of sweets during the last few days. The pie is probably going to a grateful neighbor later on. “Yesterday was really nice Bits, thank you for that.” Bitty who’s washing his hands free of flour smiles warmly at him, “Anything for you hun, I just wanted you to have a special day. You only turn thirty once.” Bitty takes a handtowl and wipes his hands dry. “And I’ll have you know it was Shitty’s idea to take out and “distract you”.” “Of course it was” Jack grins, “He did a decent job of it but I had my suspicions by the end.” “Well I wasn’t really trying to hide the fact, but you know how that man gets.” Later on when the ingredients are delivered and Bitty is watching Jack try and fail to neatly devein the shrimp does Jack pop the question. “Did you want to adopt a kid?” Bitty splutters into his cup of wine, “Now?” Shrugging Jack replies, “Yeah now. Well not right this moment obviously it’s a process but, yeah. Now.” Nearly out of seat Bitty gushes, “Yes let's have a kid now! We’ve waited long enough haven't we?” The food is done in fifteen minutes, and they're both on the couch forgoing the dining room for the night. Bitty is profuse with the compliments towards Jack’s cooking, moaning with every bite. “If I had known we had a secret chef in the house I would have let you cook dinner more often!” “Are you actually admitting that you weren’t letting me cook on purpose this whole time?” Instead of replying Bitty shoves a mouthful of pasta in his mouth. Jack fakes being wounded in the chest but they’re both giggling. After the dishes are done they both hunch over Bitty’s laptop looking up the process on how to adopt a child in Rhode Island. At this moment he’s warm and happy, he finally cooked his husband an actual dinner served with fancy wine and all. He'd never thought back when he was teen that he would be here now. Out in the NHL married to another man looking up forms for adoption. It was a thorny path he followed to get here but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

#omgcp #jlz turns 30 #omgcp fic #My writing #zimbits #my first omgcp fic :')#check please #jack zimmermann #eric bittle

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sooave · 4 years

Text

The Problem With Wanting: 2

It’s 2026, and an old celebrity crush comes to haunt your old and cynical heart. You’re doing great at pretending you were never obsessed with him, and finding things about him that you don’t like. Until you’re repeatedly forced to work with him. Until he decides that he’s in love with you.

Genre: I really don’t know what to call this, but it’s not an AU, Kyungsoo’s older and still a celebrity, and it’s friends-to-lovers.

Characters: Kyungsoo x Reader

Length: 1,484 words

Tags: Angst, Slow Burn

Part 1 | Part 2

The instant you got home, the first thing you did (after putting away your supplies and changing) was to sit down at your computer and do a quick Google search on Do Kyungsoo. It had been quite some time since you were actively following him (you could try to dig up your Twitter accounts but that wasn’t worth the time).

EXO as a band had not formally retired, and from time to time would release a song or two. And like their hyungs from Super Junior and SHINee, most of them remained relatively successful in the showbiz. This, you knew. But you had no idea what Kyungsoo specifically was doing.

You almost didn’t want to look. As if becoming informed would bring you one step closer to being obsessed. Guilt coursed through you when you saw the paparazzi shots that popped up from your search. It felt somehow… disrespectful, now that you’d actually “met” him.

A quick scan through the Career section on his Wikipedia page told you that he continued to act in various movies and dramas, but had also released a few solo albums. You raise your eyebrows when you see a few titles that you actually recognize as being critically-acclaimed, but you have never watched them yourself.

He was doing well for himself career-wise; that much was to be expected. Personally, the fangirl inside of you was happy that they all seemed to be doing well.

The Personal Life section remained minimized, and you stared at words on your monitor, debating whether or not to open that Pandora’s Box.

Your cursor hovered over it, and just as you were about to open it and take what you promised yourself to be a brief look, your phone on the table began to flash with an incoming call. A breath quickly escaped you and you immediately hit the shortcut to close the window.

Thanking the gods for the intervention, you snatch the phone up to pick up the call from one of your old-time clients. He was an owner of a Michelin Bib Gourmand traditional Korean restaurant, looking to open up a new location. Your gratefulness to him extended beyond the fact that he interrupted your unhealthy behaviour; he gave a chance on you when you first started looking for contract work in Korea, and it has opened up a lot of doors for you since.

“Hello?” You greeted automatically, even though you already know who called you.

“Ah! It’s me, Kim Yongsun.”

“Yongsun-ssi, how can I help you? It’s been a while.” The computer desk proves to be a dangerous place to be, so you quickly moved to the sofa and laid down, balancing the phone between your shoulder and head.

“Yes… thank’s for being patient, it’s been a little crazy here.” There were rambunctious shouts in the background and you heard Yongsun cover his mic to loudly scold them.

“Ya! Keep it down, I’m getting work done in here!” He hollers. The mic crackles as he returns.

“Sorry, new hires getting excited and all. Anyways… I’m ready to start talking about what you can do for the new location. What time are you free?”

This is one of your favourite parts of what you do. Sitting down with a client and getting to know their dream and understanding how you can help them achieve it.

“I have time tomorrow actually. I’m free anytime.”

“Okay…Hmm.” He seemed to contemplate something before continuing. “Come over to the restaurant at 3:30. I’ll have some food prepared for you,” Yongsun says proudly, as if he doesn’t always provide free lunch for you.

“Wow… you’re so generous,” you thanked sarcastically but couldn’t help but smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You both said your goodbyes and hang up.

Riding on the high that was imagining the success of a client consultation, you scrolled through your phone and reopened the dating app that you haven’t touched in almost a year. It was a little tough to date in Korea, your age aside.

Relationships were successful if the two persons involved had mostly similar values. It was also a well-documented phenomenon that young adults in Korea are staying single longer, and weren’t prioritizing marriage. You certainly weren’t alone in that you were in your 30s and unmarried, but elders still held a strong bias against it.

Back to values. You were absolutely not interested in being a housewife, despite the fact that you keep an impeccably tidy house and enjoying doing so. Your art and career are important to you.

But whenever you happen to mention that you’re an artist and do most of your work from home, men seem to assume that you’d be a perfect for the role of a housewife. The men who were actually on these dating apps were usually looking for a woman willing sacrifice their career for the “home”.

In short, Korean men who grew up in Korea usually did not hold the same values as you.

Nevertheless, you swiped through a good number of men, excited by none of the prospects. And it ended the same, with you throwing your phone across the sofa and closing the app. But this time you didn’t delete the app, because you promised yourself you’d try.

—

“Hello?” You poked your head through the door of Youngsun’s restaurant and called out cautiously. It was 3:20, and the restaurant was eerily dark and empty. Usually, the lights would be on and there would be a couple of chefs mulling about during the service break. You pulled yourself out of the door and checked your phone for the third time, double checking that you’d gotten the date and time right. You had said tomorrow right? Maybe he forgot.

A minute or two, no one had responded, so you reluctantly slipped into the establishment, tiptoeing your way to the back. The kitchen had it’s lights on, to your relief. Humming of the industrial hood fans and the noises of a knife on a chopping board comforted you.

Still paranoid that you had gotten yourself into a mix-up with Yongsun, you silently slunk your way towards the kitchen. There was a large pass-through window but there was no one visible through it, and you guessed that whoever was in there was towards the back of the kitchen. You poked your head around the corner and quickly shrank back in shock.

The heart in your chest was threatening to jump out of your throat at the sight of what looked to be Do Kyungsoo in his standard baseball cap, thick rimmed glasses, and plain t-shirt, cooking in Yongsun’s kitchen.

You weren’t even 100% sure it was him. But you knew you weren’t hallucinating.

With a growing horror in your chest, you pressed your back against the wall, contemplating your next move. Your two options were to run out of the restaurant and never contact Yongsun again, or to text him and figure out what was going on.

With slightly shaking hands, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and frantically dialled Yongsun’s phone through FaceTime Audio.

His phone began to ring in the distance, and you squeezed your eyes shut. The fear churning in your stomach was telling you that you had completely gotten the time or date wrong. What were the odds that you’d run into your old celebrity crush? Zero. So maybe that wasn’t him in there, but you could recognize Kyungsoo anywhere.

“Ah, hold on, let me get this,” You hear Yongsun say.

The realization that Yongsun or Kyungsoo might be able to hear you speak from outside the kitchen dawned on you, and you practically dove around another corner to get as far as way as possible before he picked up.

Why did I not just text him??? You groaned internally.

“Hey, where are you?” Yongsun skipped the pleasantries, not bothering to say hello.

You cleared your throat and spoke as quietly as possible, heart thundering in your chest and ears.

“Oh… sorry… I just came to the restaurant and no one was there. So I assumed I might have gotten the time wrong.”

“Ahhh,” he let out a bark of laughter, “I forgot to tell you that we were closing early today. Going to have the night off. It’s my wedding anniversary tonight.”

“Wow, congratulations!” You chirped, and immediately slap your hand over your mouth. That was dangerously loud.

“Thanks… but again, where are you? Did you leave?”

You looked around awkwardly. It was pretty much out of the question to tell Yongsun that you were behind his restaurant bar, splayed out on the floor from tripping on your feet.

“Just waiting outside,” you said nonchalantly as you stared at a dustball on the floor.

“Okay well come on in. I’m in the kitchen.” He hung up and you were left with nothing but dread and a dustball.

A/N: I finally finished Ch2, and ch3 coming soon!! I finally have it all planned out. Also, credits to my Apple Pencil breaking down so I couldn’t do any artwork. Who else is staying up right now to watch the musical xiusoo are in??? (hi, @lapetitefangirlperdue)

#exo #exo fanfic #exo fic #kyungsoo fic #do kyungsoo #exo fanfiction #exo scenarios #kyungsoo fanfic #kyungsoo angst #exo scenario #doh kyungsoo #kyungsoo slowburn

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jbbuckybarnes · 4 years

Text

Time Stops

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Desc: This is for @ussgallifreyfics #gallifreys500 writing challenge. Not beta read. Prompt: “They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that’s true.” - Big Fish Warnings: FLUFF

MASTERLIST

They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that’s true. You’ve seen it with friends that had met their soulmates the day they were ready to. They stopped aging. When you turned 18 you could find your soulmate and never age again. While that was beautiful, it also put a lot of pressure on you and a lot of pity on people growing old. Usually people would just feel who their soulmate is, but there also were soulmate marks. They weren’t big or anything to brag with, but yours was a little heart-shaped darker spot on the back of your right hand. Right between the thumb and the pointer finger connection. Definitely a space you massaged a lot when you got nervous.

Right now was one of those situations. You were waiting in line to get onto a plane to New York City. A trip you made once or twice a year to meet your friends. While you loved New York, you hated flying. The many alien attacks and whatnot of the last decade weren’t helping with your anxiety. The plane being delayed on top of that was even worse for your mind going in circles. A big man sat down next to you, putting down a duffle bag and getting out a book with the title, “Love, Simon.” Wasn’t that a book about a closeted teenage boy? Didn’t match up at all with the giant frame the man had, but you smiled to yourself. You scrolled through Instagram, created a new collection for cute cat pictures and went on about your anxiety soothing. When you were finally boarding, your anxiety went through the roof again. Thankfully you had downloaded a whole documentary for the flight, otherwise you’d go insane. When you were situated in the plane and had gotten out your headphones, the giant man found his seat, the one which just so happened to be next to you. It was about to get cozy, but you weren’t complaining. You’d rather have a giant man with a good taste in books next to you than a creep or a family with a newborn baby. After your heart almost jumped out of your chest while you took off you finally could relax and start watching your space documentary. Every now and then you felt him flip a page in his book very delicately. Your hand landed on the little table your phone was situated on to give him more space, which is when you started to feel the stare on you. Well, now it WAS a little creepy. He tapped your shoulder and you stopped the show and looked at him. Woah, wait, you knew that face. That was Bucky Barnes, wasn’t it? “Sorry for interrupting, I just...I saw you like space and, uh, could you tell me what documentary that is? It looks awesome.” he gave a shy smile before looking away, right hand going through his beard. Wait a damn second. “Huh?” he looked back at you confused. “I said that out loud.” you stated to yourself and closed your eyes. “Yes, you did.” Now he was grinning at you, eyeing your slightly flustered face. “Uh, your soulmate mark. Are you…?” your eyes went from his eyes to his hand. “What makes you think that?” “You didn’t really age but you also were in cryo a lot, so it’s quite difficult to tell.” you grinned. He smiled wide and looked down on his hand before shaking his head, “No, haven’t found them. I don’t think I ever will. 70 years is quite a lot-” He saw your right hand come into his field of vision and his eyes went wide and back up at you. You were amused at the weird situation you had just put each other into and you couldn’t deny that you liked how he turned into a soft dorky man. But maybe that was just him outside of the news. “So...uh...wow.” Another time that he went through his hair. “Yeah,” you looked up at him with shimmery eyes. You respected the man in front of you so much for what he went through and that he was still here. But that giant dork that looked illegally good was your soulmate? That must be a dream. “So...would you like to go on a date anytime soon? I’d love to get to know you.” he got a little confidence back and gave an unsure smile to you. “Of course, I know this really great brunch place in the Upper West Side.” you smiled a little giddy. “Spring Natural Kitchen?” he asks. “Spring Natural Kitchen.” you nodded chuckling. “Wanda told me about it. She loves testing new places whenever she’s not on call.” “Sounds like I’d get along great with her.” “So...why are you flying to New York? You live there?” he finally asks and you shake your head. “I live near Denver and come here sometimes to meet friends and have a good time for a week or two.” “Which city’s better?” he smirked. “I like both, but I have a job back in Denver that I love. I’m working in a very laid back modern restaurant, café kinda establishment.” you explained. “Well, if you’re my soulmate, you might as well open up a second one of those in New York City, cause that sounds great.” By now he was so deep in your flirting battle that he totally forgot that he just met you. “You just want that cinnamon cupcake goodness.” you laughed. “I’d never say no to any food, I think that gets very clear when you look at me.” he looked down on himself. “Hm, yeah, a little.” You grinned, “Hungry giant.” “Oh, we’re already starting pet names, huh?” his brows went up. The giggle escaping you widened his big smile. ___ *You ready to get picked up and judged by Sam Wilson?* *Why not by Wanda? Or literally anyone that’s not Sam?* *I ask myself that every single day, darling.* *I’m ready by the way...and ready to fight Wilson if I need to.* *Sure, darling.* you could practically feel him grinning at his phone screen. *And by that I mean, if he dares to, you’ll defend me anyway, cause you’re cute like that.* Not too long after the AirBnB’s doorbell rang and you ran to the door in your comfy outfit. It was a brunch date, not a fancy gala. When you opened the door you were met with his audacity to wear a leather jacket. “Aw, come on. Really? A leather jacket? Like you don’t know that it’s super hot?” you pouted and were pulled into a hug. “You look cute. Is that Totoro on your sweater?” he held you and looked down on you. “Old man knows Totoro, check.” you grinned. “Hey, I’ve been catching up for 4 years. There needs to be SOME stuff that sticks.” “Could the lovebirds that both can’t drive please move their asses a little faster?” you heard out of a car behind Bucky. “Could the angry bird please chill?” Bucky answered without even looking at him. “C’mon, let’s go and give the man a break.” you chuckled before taking his hand and dragging him towards the car. “So, tell me about yourself. Anything that I don’t already know from social media and our chats.” he grinned. “I stress bake, my favorite shows are all documentaries, I’d love to have a cat, I’m into astrology, I love to draw and paint, my music taste is a literal dumpster fire and I really like sneakers.” you counted a few that you found to be relevant to yourself. “I’m still learning to cook new foods. I actually have a cat, her name’s Alpine, she’s an absolute whirlwind but she’s the most loyal little thing ever.” he smiled. “What kinda cat is she?” you asked excited. “British Shorthair and white.” he beamed. “I already love her. I’d love to get a completely black cat.” you leaned onto your hands. “We could.” he squinted with a cheeky smile. “You’re already thinking about moving my ass to New York, aren’t you?” you chuckled. “You’re my soulmate, why not? It’s not like you’re a shot in the dark or anything like that.” That made you feel warm inside, very very warm. “Yeah, guess you’re right.” you looked at the table flustered. “So, assuming you would stay here…” he got your attention back and god were his eyes sure of you staying here, “...would you actually open up a cool place like this?” “I’d love to but...renting a place like this in New York City? Making it look nice and advertising it? That’s so hard.” “Hi, you’re sitting in front of the longest prisoner of war. If you think Sam didn’t sue the shit out of the military to get me paid for that, then you’re wrong.” he grinned accomplished. “Bucky, you can’t-” “I can, tell me what you’d want to do.” he smiled at you softly, grabbing your hand. After a few moments of grasping the moment you continued, “Well, similar to this place, but with cakes, pies and cookies. And with a completely different color scheme. Very bright, like white and some pastel colors. I’d try to find tons of recipe’s online and let you try them until I have like 12 good and special ones that work. I’d always have a jar of triple chocolate cookies and a chocolate bomb cake. Maybe even sweet ice cream in summer? I’d have chessboard tiled wall behind the counter and hang nice art work in the rest of the place. I’d probably have someone bring in dog cake every week so they also get some good food. I’d make milkshakes, have a barista working and would create some special hot chocolate mix. Maybe I’d do something themed after you. Like little cookies with the- wait, do you hate the red star on your old arm? I know it’s very much a connection to the Sowjets, but I don’t really look at it like that.” “I’m neutral about it. I write autographs on cards with red stars all the time.” he shrugged. “Then there will be red star cookies. Maybe something themed after your bird friend?” you grinned. “He needs to work for it.” he laughed. “I make a mad cinnamon banana milkshake. That would sell very well.” you mumbled before taking a sip from the drink in front of you. “Cookies with red chocolate melted into it...that’s a good one for Wanda, isn’t it?” you smiled shyly, trying to not misjudge his friends. “I love that idea. Maybe something egg based for Sam, you know, cause he’s a falcon. I’ll shut my mouth…” he grinned and watched you snort laugh. The waffles you ordered were set down in front of you and you continued talking about the interior of your dream place. “I don’t know if I’d do it in Manhattan or Brooklyn. I mean Brooklyn literally has cute food places as its elevator pitch.” “I guess it depends where you’d find a place.” “Yeah, forgot, we’re in the ultimate place of renting stuff.” you grumbled and heard him chuckle. ___ “Finally!” you jumped around in the empty space that was about to become your own little store. You’d been with Bucky for three months now and your old boss was more than happy to have a new venture. And you were more than happy to have gotten such a great soulmate. He even got his driver's license to drive you around and go on little trips with you when he wasn’t working. Brooklyn Heights, right next to the Brooklyn Bridge, with an apartment right above. “Let’s measure and buy a nice kitchen for you to bake cupcakes in, darling.” he grabbed you close. “You just wanna eat, honey.” you pouted. “Of course, I eat everything you make.” he planted a kiss onto your forehead. “Hm, okay, let’s measure and drive to Home Depot too.” you smiled content and got another kiss. “You know, I think I found you at the right time. I like how you look. Not a day too young or too old.” you mumbled. “I would have loved you at any age I could’ve found you.” he hummed. “Yeah, that’s because you’re a hopeless romantic.” you giggled. “Only for you, darling.” “Love you,” you mumbled before pressing your lips against his, “so much.” “Let’s get your dream kitchen,” he said while lightly slapping your ass. “Hey! Watch your hands, Barnes.” you playfully scolded him. “Yes, ma’am.” he rolled his eyes before picking you up and carrying you to the damn car himself.

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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The Goode Case, 14/14 (Multi) - Juno

Chapter Summary: Jaida, Brita and Jackie try to plan for the three of them to go bowling. Of course, that might not work out quite as planned!

(A/N: So ….. this is the end of TGC! It’s the epilogue, and I wanted to give them all an ending, so here it is. I’ve been so blown away by the support I’ve received for this fic, even though it’s completely insane and no one asked for it! Thank you to everyone who has left me a like, kudos, comment, or just read it and enjoyed it. It really does mean the world! xo Juno)

Tuesday 14thNovember

7.09PM

Brita:Do u want to go bowling this Friday? Xx

Jackie:The three of us??

Jaida:I don’t think three is quite enough sis. Not for a good game. We’ll be done in half an hour!

Brita:LOL if that’s a hint then yes u can ask Jan xx

Jaida smiled to herself. If she hadn’t been thinking it before, she definitely was now. She was having a great time getting to know who Jan was, and what made her tick, these past ten days or so. Hearing Jan’s unbelievable singing voice at full pelt in Jan’s little Fiat 500. Playing around doing lay-ups at the basketball court and normally losing to Jan, even thought she was the shorter of the two. Getting their legs tangled in the sheets at the end of the day …

Oh yes. Jaida had enjoyed every minute.

Jackie:Ok, I don’t need to read minds to see how this will go……..

Jaida: lmao really? X

Brita:Enlighten us Jacqueline xx

Jackie:Obvs we three want to go

Jackie:Jai invites Jan

Jackie:Brita wants to invite a gf if Jai is inviting one

Jackie:So now Aiden is coming

Jackie:Aiden always brings Crystal

Jackie:Crystal always brings Gigi

Brita:Aiden isn’t my gf

Jaida:and Im Oprah

Jackie:LOL!

Brita:shush Jai xx

Brita:we just had a couple dates so far thats all xx

Jackie:Ok so I actually laughed

Jackie:Heidi & Nicky heard me

Jackie:So they invited themselves

Jaida:oh that’s cool no problem x

Jackie seemed to see more of Heidi than Jaida did right now. Jaida might have felt strange before, the thought of her friend and her colleague mingling, no careful divide in her mind; but that was fading fast. Nicky had started teaching Heidi some useful French, rather than just more swearing, and now they were organising for Nicky to come into Heidi’s kindergarten class with some basic French for the kids.

As for Brita … well, if there was one thing Jaida had learned about her through the Goode case, it was that she often had a slightly devious ulterior motive in these innocent suggestions. And although Jaida still didn’t feel as if she knew Aiden very well yet, she’d noticed that Brita had never spent more time daydreaming in the office; prompting a few pens being thrown at her by Jackie all last week.

Brita:How many is that? I suck at math lmao

Jackie:is that nine?

Jackie:one more to make it even??

Jaida: Dahlia, I said I would organise something with her

Brita: sis u cant invite Dahl without Rock xx

Jackie:Ok look

Jackie:We can’t have eleven

Jackie:That’s an even weirder number than 3!!

Jackie:Maybe we should stick to us 3

Jackie:No friends

Jackie:no gfs

Jackie:No psychics

Brita:no psychics? So we not going either?? LOL

“Hey, Jaida.” Widow came out of her room, waving to Jaida on the couch, as she walked past to the kitchen. Jaida gave her a smile and a wave back.

Widow was still walking a little slower than usual, but finally getting back into a routine. She’d flown back from KC on Sunday night, but even the week before that, she’d seemingly made some progress. She had even started coming to talk to Jaida, feeling a bit more comfortable sharing things with her.

Jaida was struck with inspiration.

Brita:also Jackie why cant u just type a message in one line Xx

Jaida:I got it, my housemate Widow to make it 12 x

Jackie: Who?

Brita:yeah u may not have met her yet

Brita:Jai I thought u said she doesn’t like big crowds xx

Jaida: something tells me things may change x

Friday 17thNovember

7.25PM

“Child, I still don’t get why it’s called football.” Jaida teased Jan, as they sat waiting for their turns to come back round. Heidi was lining up her shot in the distance, but neither Jaida nor Jan knew the scores at this moment. “They don’t even use their feet! They use their hands! And it’s not a ball! It’s an egg! Hand-egg!”

“Jai, if you insult my precious Patriots one more time, I’ll –“

“Jan! Focus!” Heidi was calling her. “Your shot, boo!”

“Be right back after I hit a strike!” Jan reached over to kiss Jaida gently on the lips.

“Oh, so you’re not coming back?” Jaida tutted, unable to stop the grin spreading across her face. Jan playfully slapped her arm and grinned back at her.

The aisles were only good for six people each, so they’d booked two beside each other, and it looked like couples’ night in the opposite lane. Brita’s impressive round of strikes and spares was almost matched by a few strikes from Crystal, all of which she claimed were flukes. She hadn’t stopped laughing all evening, clinging to Gigi, who smiled coolly and pushed her hair out of her eyes whenever Crystal did so. Gigi herself was making a respectable score behind the two of them, claiming to just have a magic touch.

Dahlia, however, kept sinking almost every ball into the drain and sulking as she did so, going into the sixth round with only seven points on the board. Aiden, whose twelve points were almost as bad, ended up insisting on the fences being raised after her third straight round of hitting nothing, prompting Rock to hit trick shots for the rest of the evening, bouncing her bowling balls between the fences and making her turns take twice as long.

It was Widow who came to sit in Jan’s empty seat, the mischievous glint in her eyes slowly returning as the days went on. Jaida returned her smile, and Widow reached and rubbed Jaida’s forearm.

“Thanks for inviting me, sis,” she muttered. “It’s – it’s a good night.”

When Jaida had asked, Widow had hesitated in coming out as part of a large group. Following Tori’s funeral the previous weekend, Widow had insisted on a quiet time all week. But the crowd brought her straight in, particularly Heidi and Brita, who she had already met. She even seemed to click with Jackie almost immediately, both of them shrieking with glee at discovering a mutual love of Overwatch and swapping Xbox names to link up later.

But Jackie and Widow were already competing. On the scoreboard in their lane, Widow was leading the team, but only by two points, with Jackie right behind her, almost matching every single strike. Jaida was enjoying seeing them show competitive sides that they rarely did, both of them playing up the competition by pointing menacingly at each other after each turn. Jaida, Jan, Heidi and Nicky were all lagging behind them, all in a cluster, but none of them minded; they were far too amused by Jackie and Widow to care.

Jaida looked at all their names altogether on the scoreboard, and the other names on the other lane. It still felt a little weird, but Jaida was actively trying to focus on it, and tell herself that it was all good. The separation she’d held onto for so long had crumbled, and here they all were – friends, colleagues, housemates, girlfriends – all in the same space.

And bringing her friends together, into one space in her life, made Jaida feel a lot more complete.

She grinned at Widow and turned to watch Jan, who was picking up every spare bowling ball and testing their weights, before commenting on the balls all being too big and settling on the lowest weight. Jackie, next to her, was giggling at her comment.

“You like them, now that you met them?”

“I hate to admit it, but yeah,” Widow chuckled. “They’re all really, uhm –“

“Exuberant? Energetic?”

“Loud,” Widow chuckled again. “I’m getting a headache. But – they’re all so nice as well.”

They were interrupted by a whoop of joy and a leap in the air; Jan had somehow managed a strike with her tiny ball and was twirling on the spot, her blonde hair spinning a whirlwind round her face and shoulders.

“Your girlfriend – Jan – is she your colleague as well?” Widow motioned to Jan.

“No, I met her through Brita.”

“And the three students? Sorry, I can’t remember their names.”

“I can’t discuss the case, but I met them through work.”

“And the girl with blue hair?”

“That’s Dahlia’s girlfriend, Rock.”

“Rock?” Widow repeated. “As in, rock solid? Rock ‘n’ roll?”

“Yeah,”

Widow’s eyes moved between them all on the opposite lane. Gigi was lazily twirling a finger through one of Crystal’s curls, while Crystal gazed enraptured at the scoreboard, for once still and silent; Gigi seeming to be the only person able to quieten her. Aiden, whose turn it was, held a bowling ball to her torso and was trying to keep a straight face as Brita, stood next to her, held another ball and was somewhat innocently demonstrating which fingers were best to use for the holes.

In their own lane, Jan and Jackie were calling to Nicky, whose turn it was; but Nicky was curled under Heidi’s arm in the booth next to them, her long legs swung over Heidi’s lap, holding her phone and scrolling down while they both stopped for a few seconds, chuckling at whatever was on the webpage they were going through.

Jaida smiled at Widow’s bemused expression. “You’ll get used to them.”

——

THE END

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herondaleholly31 · 5 years

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Love On The Weekend Chris Evans X Reader

overview: Whenever you can you and Chris spend a weekend together just the two of you. This weekend is different.

A/N Hey guys!! I’m currently in the middle of exams but I wanted to start writing some of the requests that was sent to me after my last post. Thank you so much for all your kind messages and follows after that post, it really means so much to me. I’m working through the list so I will try and upload as much as I can I promise. I hope you enjoy this one, make sure to keep sending me any requests!

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word count: 3,738

4:55. Five more minutes to go. You were impatient, and having already cleaned your desk three times in the past hour you were checking your emails one last time before you clocked out. Delete, delete, asos discount code saved, the rest thrown in spam. That’s it. All done. Only three more minutes.

“Y/N!”

Jack entered your office without knocking, an ominous stack of papers under his arm. “you’re still here, great. I need you to sort these files out before you go.” The stack fell with a thud onto your desk.

“I can’t,” you shook your head “I’m just about to head out.”

“Oh I’ve also put you on call duty this weekend,” Jack ignored you “so any plans you have cancel them.”

Your spine chilled “I can’t do this weekend. I cant I-“ you shook your head to try and stop your rising panic “I have to have this weekend off.”

“Tough luck. You’re going to want to keep you phone charged, I get a lot of emails.”

“No Jack-“

“Is there a problem?” He scowled.

The clock had struck five, he was going to be there any minute. “I can’t reschedule this plan my boyfriend’s job-“

“sweetheart can I be frank? I don’t give a shit,’ your bosses patient demeanour had gone and his normal irritation came through “I’ve got a golf game tomorrow and you were the last person to ask for time off. So you’re on this weekend.” He slammed his hand on top of the stack of papers and then turned to leave when suddenly a deafening sound came from outside. Shocked, Jack smacked his arm onto your computer, causing him to swear colourfully “WHAT IS THAT?” But you had already rushed to the window, your smile widening.

“He’s here.”

“WHO?”

You weren’t listening, grabbing your bag and throwing your coat over your arm “I’m going.”

“Is that for you?”

“Yes.” You turned once more, determination overruling your fear “Have a nice weekend Jack.” And with that, you flicked off the light switch and walked out the office. The honk was ringing down the corridor as you took the stairs two at a time before bursting out the door. A black range rover was sat in the middle of the carpark, and leaning against the bonnet was your boyfriend Chris. His eyes were covered with sunglasses but you knew his eye brows were raised in a teasing expression as he watched you stride over “are you always that dramatic when leaving work?”

“Only when my boss is being a dick.’ You reached him and cocked your head back so you could kiss him, both smiling against each other as the realisation that this moment had finally happened washed over. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Chris rested his forehead against yours and you breathed deeply, feeling the anger ebb away. “I missed you,” he whispered.

“I missed you too. I couldn’t get out of that place fast enough.”

‘I saw” Chris laughed. He pulled away to open the door next to him to reveal leather seats and your battered rucksack, bulging at the seams. “I packed everything on the list.”

“including the-“

“including my grey jumper for you to wear in the car.”

“thank youuuu,” clambering up into the seat you started to get changed, tights getting ripped and pony tails being loosened. Chris’s jumper had been washed one too many times, the fluffy interior bobbled and stretched to fit his physique; however you always wore it on these trips and had therefore become a running joke. “Where to this time?” You asked, popping your head over the collar to look over at Chris who was fiddling about with the Keys. He slid them in and a second later the car roared and shot out of the car park, the revs barking through the quiet. He didn’t answer until you had made it onto the highway.

“I’m going to keep it a surprise this time.”

“ooooo” you perked up “we haven’t done that for a while. Do I get a clue?”

“nope.”

“pleaseeeeee.”

Chris shook his head chuckling “you’ll like it I promise.” Still determined to know you sat up on your knees, leaning over the gear stick to kiss his cheek “not one hint?”

“No!” Chris laughed. You continued to ask, peppering the half of his face and neck with jokey kisses until his death went slightly ragged. “you’re going to make me crash.” He didn’t move away though, enjoying the way you bumped your nose against his cheekbone as the car steamed ahead. The car flew like a the air of you were on the run, Chris only realising when cramp started to form in his ankle from the clenching. You were so present to him in that moment his mind seems to have fogged over. Luckily You only kissed him a couple more times before sitting back, defeated. He was able to calm his pulse once again. “fine” You rolled your eyes teasingly “I guess I’ll trust you. Give me the aux cord.” You propped your bare feet up onto the dash board and plugged it into your phone and scrolled down until you found the playlist: Love on the weekend.

The weekend was something you and Chris had done for a long as you’d been dating. Although you lived in Boston near his family and spent stints in LA, work and business sometimes kept the pair of you apart for weeks if not months at a time. This had been difficult, until on a whim Chris had done what he would come to do every time; text you the night before that he was picking you up and that you two were going away together. That first time he’d taken you to a beach house where you’d spent the weekend getting a suntan and much needed alone time. That had been nearly two years ago and since the pair of you had taken trips all over the country, with nothing but a car and essentials. They had become your favourite tradition together.

The first song of the playlist started and Chris nodded his head in satisfaction “yessss!’ He pumped his foot on the gas and the car shot down the fast lane, leaving the traffic behind. The music swelled until the rough voice of Journey’s “Don’t stop believing” was blasting through the speakers, matched only by Chris’ rendition. He was tossing his head about and giving it his all, making you laugh so hard you felt the breath pound against your throat and your chest started to tense. The tipping point was when on the final high note your boyfriend’s voice cracked dramatically, to which you had to dig your hands in-between your clenched thighs to stop you from peeing. God it was so good to laugh like this again.

The speakers continued to blast out classics, raging from Kanye West to Disney to Prince until both your voices were frayed and your chests ached from laughing. At one point there was no sound from either of you except for wheezing and knee slapping. You were like children, bubbling with energy and excitement as the feeling of each other there made you giddy.

“We’re nearly there,” Chris was able to heave out later, breathing deliberately to even out his chuckles “keep an eye out for the right exit.”

“exit for what?”

“I’m still not telling you.”

“How am I going to know what the right exit is if I don’t know where we’re going?”

“Hey I gave you a name just trust me.” He reached out and patted your knee, before slowly moving his hand up to rest on your thigh. There was nothing suggestive about it, but you felt your body melt under his touch as he continued to drive. He hummed to the dulcet tones of John Mayer and would occasionally have to shift in his seat but he made sure to keep your thigh at arms length. His palm stayed soft and warm against you as the car pulled off the highway and drove down strips of long roads under golden sun stained foliage. One rumbling dirt track later and the car rolled into an opening, where it stopped and slumped, exhausted. Chris breathed, smiled, and squeezed your leg “we’re here.”

The house sat snuggled in the trees, overlooking a lake that shone brightly. White walls, blue tiles roof, a rickety dock that rocked slightly against the wind. It looked exactly the same as it did in the pictures that were hung around the Evan’s family home. You gasped in excitement “This is the place-“

“From my childhood pictures,” Chris nodded.

“The place you said you’d always take me,” you placed your hand on top of his “I can’t believe you did this.” In your excitement you leant over the gear stick and grabbed Chris’s face In between your hands “Thank you thank you Thank you!” You planted one big kiss on his lips causing him to laugh loudly before leaping out the car, your bare feet lacing with the grass. The pair of you grabbed the bags from the car and dragged them up into the house, abandoning them in the hall way to explore your home for the weekend. An open floor plan of polished wooden floors, white furniture and blue wallpaper stretched through the house, with soft corduroy sofas and shelves of thumbed classic books and board games. It was a weird mix of modern and old; as if time didn’t effect it. You were running around the house, calling for Chris to see something before discovering something else and getting even more excited. When Chris still hadn’t come after the fifth time you called you went clattering down the stairs to find him in the kitchen, already pulling things out of the stocked fridge “pesto eggs?” He asked.

“MMMM YES!” You yelled in excitement. “Sorry,” you quietened “sorry. Yes please.”

“I take it you like the house then?’ “Is this the part of the story where you tell me you’ve bought it?” You slid onto one of the stools by the island, nicking a bit of red pepper from the chopping board.

“ Unfortunately not.”

“shame. I would’ve quit work on the spot to move.”

“It’s that stressful huh?”

“You have no idea.”

Chris stopped stirring “so tell me about it.”

You shook your head, running your hands through your hair once before letting them fall on the table “I don’t want to weigh you down with that. You don’t wanna hear about that.”

“Yes I do,” Chris said “its obviously bothering you.”

“Not tonight Chris. Please.” You didn’t want to think about anything negative this weekend. Not with the limited time you had with him. “your eggs are burning by the way.”

“Huh? Oh Shit,” Chris went back to wildly stirring the contents of his pan, and the conversation was dropped.

************

The next couple days felt like the montage to a rom com movie, a warped bubble where negative thoughts and emotions weren’t allowed to penetrate. There was a lot to Catch up with so the pair of you didn’t waste a single minute. Swimming in the lake, running together through the woods, playing chess whilst drinking too much beer. A lot of random hugs and heated make outs that lead to other things that caused your skin to flush and tingle. This was partly due to Your shoulders getting burnt, resulting with Chris finding great pleasure in occasionally smacking the sensitive skin causing you to scream blue murder whilst chasing after him.

‘I still think I’ll have a hand imprint on my shoulder forever,” you joked. It was the last night and you were cooking whilst Chris picked the movie. He was crouched by the shelfs, his recently showered hair peering his grey t shirt with droplets. “What movie we thinking?” He called.

“hmmmm How about Captain America?”

“Funny.” Chris rolled his eyes. You laughed before diving down to retrieve the steaming dish of Chicken and vegetable pasta from the oven and dishing into bowls.

“Babe! You’ll never guess what movie they have.” Chris lifted the DVD case like a trophy, the title in your direction. You read it and gasped excitedly “About Time? Oh my days yes!”

“You’re gonna cry.”

“I am not.”

“You say that every time.”

“well this time I can definitely say that I will not cry!”

*************

“It’s just” you stuttered, “it just so…so” you had to gulp loudly through the raked sobs “so sad!” Bill Nighy and the little boy started skimming stones on the beach, causing you to whimper loudly, more tears streaming down your flushed cheeks.

“I told you you would cry,” Chris said, but his own eyes were watery and his jaw clenched in emotion. Seeing this made you even more upset and you started to grip onto the pillow, holding your breath so to stop the sobs. It didn’t work. Chris couldn’t stand it anymore; part of him obviously wanted to comfort you but also your turmoil was starting to become comical. “sweetheart,” he laughed “come here.” He dragged you over to sit in between his legs, your back against his chest so he could try and stop you from crying. ‘I’m fine, I’m fine,” you breathed “I’m not going to-oh my god they’re hugging.” The crying was uncontrollable now “This is the last hug they’re ever going to have together.”

“Okay you need to tell me whats wrong now,” Chris’ tone shifted to worry. He’d never seen you this upset over this movie before “hey, hey. Talk to me.”

“I don’t want you to leave me tomorrow.”

“what?”

“You’re going to leave tomorrow and I’ll be left with an apartment that is too big for just one person, a job I hate and the constant reminder that these weekends are the only things that I actually enjoy in life.”

The movie continued to play but Chris wasn’t watching anymore. Instead he sat there, struggling to find the right words to say. He didn’t want to ask, you’d specifically told him not to ask this weekend, the itch of knowing was starting to burn in his brain. “What’s wrong with work?”

You huffed, flinging your head back to knock against his shoulder “I hate it Chris. I used to love working there, but I just can’t do it anymore. The last time I had a weekend off was our last weekend 3 months ago.”

“why?”

“Because Jack makes me work so he can piss about golfing and spend the weekends screwing his assistant. I see the texts,” you nodded as Chris’s eyebrows shot up in surprise “they’re just as awful as you can imagine.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“about the affair? It’s not tha-“

“No. About work.”

“Oh.” You shrugged, wiping the back of your sleeve across your face “I didn’t want you to worry about me that’s all.” Feeling your boyfriend huff you felt yourself get defensive “you’re away for so long I didn’t want you to have to take off anymore time than you had to just because my career turned shit.”

‘That’s not fair,” Chris shook his head “I should’ve known.”

“Why? What would’ve you done?’ You were sitting up now, frowning at him, arms crossed “Quit your work and moved back full time to Boston?’ “Maybe!”

“No you wouldn’t of!”

“But at least I would’ve had that option!” His eyes flashed with a mixture of pain and annoyance “Y/N how am I supposed to be there for you if you don’t tell me these things?”

“That’s not fair Chris.”

“NO,” he snapped “what’s not fair is finding out that you’re feeling like this and yet I was the last person to know!”

“If you were here more YOU’D KNOW!”

There was a horrible silence. Shocked, you put your fingers over your lips, as if trying to grab back the words that were still ringing through the room. You were both shocked; hurt plastered on both your faces. You wanted to take them back, to rewind time so you could start this conversation again, to finish this weekend in a way that you will treasure and picture for the next weeks as you wait for him to come home to you. “I’m sorry.” You finally spoke “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Chris nodded slowly, and you noticed that his eyes were glistening with tears and you felt your brain screaming in fear and your heart be squished like a juice box “yea you did.”

“NO! No I didn’t.” You pulled him closer “I’m just upset about work, I’m taking it out on you.”

“But you do wish It don’t you?” Chris whispered.

“Of course I wish you were here more,” You nodded “but acting’s your dream. Of course I want you to be doing that.”

“Im so sorry Babe,” he pushed out a heavy sigh to stop the emotions from stunting his voice “I wish I knew how bad it was.”

“It’s not your fault You didn’t know. I wasn’t telling you.”

“I should’ve picked up on it. If I’d known I’d-“

“It’s not your fault Chris. I’m sorry for not telling you.”

Chris smiled softly. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, locking his hands together so you were pressed against his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head, nodding slightly “This was not how I was thinking this conversation was going to go.”

You laughed, snorting slightly due to the snot that had built up from your previous sobs “me neither.”

“And I was looking forward to telling you about my plans for after the movie.”

You felt your heart sink slightly. These conversations were always awfully painful. “Did your agent get another script for you?”

“Actually no. He won’t be getting me any for a while.”

“What?’ You looked up at him, confused “why?”

“because I told him I didn’t want any. Because I’m taking a little break.”

‘Chris? Please say you didn’t do that because of me!”

“only partly,” Chris smiled guiltily “I just miss Boston. I miss my parents, My nieces and nephews, You. I just want to spend some time here. Spending time with my family.”

The tears were falling again, only this time they were ones of happiness “you serious? You’re coming home?”

Chris nodded, savouring this moment for as long as he could. “5 more weeks and then I’m yours.”

******************

The Boston skyline had never looked so unwelcoming. Despite the sunrise bathing the windows with molten pink and blue reflections, they were a reminder that you were back in reality. You’d left the house early that morning with the remise you’d return in the summer with the whole family. It had still been difficult to say goodbye. The entire drive back you and Chris only spoke a few times, both too nervous of what to say in these last moment. Chris’s hand was back on your thigh, but this time your hand was intertwined with his, your only lifeline from breaking down into uncontrollable tears once more. Although this was the last goodbye you’d have to say for a long time, this one felt the most difficult because of the reality of what they were going back to. The buildings of the city grew thicker and thicker as you drove down main streets and over bridges until all too soon the looming signs floor your office building started to come, and then the ruling for the carpark, and in no time at all Chris was pulling into one of the visitors spots and switching off the engine. “we’re here.”

“yea.” A silence. “ Thanks for dropping me off by the way.”

“Yea of course.” Chris swallowed. Neither of you moved. No one made the move to say goodbye. But you knew it was going to happen, and your grip on his hand got tighter as you realised that now was the moment to let go.

In the end it was him. It left you feeling empty, like you’d dropped something into water and you knew that you were never going to get it back, and that’s when the tears started to fall again. In a moment Chris jumped out of the car and ran over to your side of the car, opening your door so he was able to scoop you into a hug. “ I know,” he whispered as you clung to him “ I know.”

“i don’t know if I can do this Chris,” you sniffed into his neck.

“Yes you can. You can sweetheart. Remember what we said.” He kissed your ear lightly “Just five more weeks. Five more weeks and the I’m home, you can quit your job here and we’ll figure something out together okay? Okay?” His tone made you move your gaze so you were looking at his wide eyed expression, full of promise and reassurance “We’ll figure this out together.”

“Five weeks.”

“five weeks and then I’m yours.”

You nodded, sniffing “Okay,” You breathed “Okay I’ll do it.”

“You can do it.” He kissed you then, and his lips tasted of salt but they were familiar and warm and his, and you already missed him so much five weeks suddenly felt like a lifetime.

“I am,” he rested his head against yours once more “so proud of you. I really am.”

You nodded. You kissed him as long as your lungs could muster and this time you let go, flattening your skirt and slipping on your heels as Chris grabbed your bags from the boot and handing them to you. He kissed you once more, told you he loved you and then walked back around to sit in the car. You walked around to his door and leaned in through the open window to kiss him again.

“I can’t watch you walk away,” he confessed “because if I do all I’ll want to do is stay.”

You nodded “That’s fine. I’ll see you in five weeks.”

‘Five weeks.”

“I love you Chris.”

One more kiss, and then he pushed the car into gear and pulled away, leaving you to wave goodbye to him. As he did, the windows rolled down, and a second later you heard the opening chords to “Love on the weekend” play. He didn’t look back, but you knew that he too was already counting down the days until the next time you two could see each other.

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