#I used to say ‚the oven is hot people aren’t‘ I don’t do that anymore

[phoenixfeatherandunicornhair]

Being demisexual, biromantic and traumatized is exhausting.

Sure, being obsessed with the person I like and having them be the only one I‘m attracted to sounds cute. In theory. In reality it‘s not having any idea what they’re talking about when anyone says „wow, what a hot guy/girl“ and that’s just weird..

#I used to say ‚the oven is hot people aren’t‘ I don’t do that anymore #I know not everyone experiences it this way but I do #also yes I am bi shy and ready to cry I just don’t get ‚hotness‘ #I get ‚you‘re so cute I will protect you and talk to you daily awww… yikes feelings where did you things come from? go way. no?‘

[bobohu4eva]

Sweet Tooth (Part 2)

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Royalty AU, fluff, angst, eventual smut, mutual pining

Summary: Life as the palace baker got a lot more interesting after catching the devastatingly cute prince sneaking around your kitchen.

WC: 4.3k

Tag List: @wooya1224 @dixnysustae @bbhile @geniusloey @blahblahblah-boo @leave-me-in-the-summertime

Masterlist

“Good morning!”

The egg hit the counter with more force than intended, enough to be smashed completely and leave your hand a sticky mess.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” You heard from behind you accompanied by a giggle.

You turned around, smiling and trying your best to play it cool. The devastatingly cute prince had not just seen you smash an egg on the counter. And he definitely didn't notice how you were hiding your egg covered hand behind your back. Hopefully. At least that’s what you told yourself for the sake of your sanity.

You’d been jumpy for a reason. You knew he would be there again today, and you still didn’t quite know what to do about it or how to act around the guy. Sure he was funny and cute and honestly quite pleasant to be around but he was still very much the prince.

“I’m okay! Good morning to you as well.” You bowed to him before quickly finding something to clean the raw egg off your hand and work table.

Luckily he didn’t comment on your little egg mishap any further. Instead he rounded the table until he was standing on the other side of it and he pulled up a stool and sat down the same way he had the day before, elbow on the table, with his chin resting on his hands looking at you expectantly.

“So? Fruit tart?”

“Yes, fruit tart. Shall we get started?” He quickly nodded. “Would you like me to only show you how I make it or do you want to do some of it too?”

“Oh, uh, I hadn’t really thought about that… Can I just jump in if there's something that looks easy?”

A smile spread across your lips. You’d almost forgotten in the short 24 hours you hadn’t seen him just how non-aristocratic the man acted, but what a relief it was.

“Yes, if that’s what you’d like. Let’s get started? The first thing we need to make is the tart dough.”

As you started to gather your ingredients you found it more and more difficult to focus. He wasn’t wearing pajamas anymore, he was wearing what the princes usually wear. It was very attractive. He looked, well, like a damn prince. And you were expected to just act normal? When he strolled into your bakery looking that good?? It felt very unfair. He was just wearing a thin white cotton shirt and black pants but you couldn’t help but ogle him when he wasn’t looking. His broad back, the swell of his chest, it was too much to handle. Combined with the messy head of hair and lazy smile, it had you weak in the knees.

You combined your flour, sugar, and butter and started to add your water with shaky hands, before beginning to knead it.

“Can I do that?” He asked as he got up and walked over to your side of the table.

You nodded and handed him the dough and watched as he started to clumsily smack it against the table. That was when you noticed his hands, and how pretty they were. They were slender but not bony, and you found your mind wandering off, wondering how they would feel holding yours. They were probably so soft. The mole on his thumb was so cute.

“Don’t do too much, or else the dough will get tough.” You said quickly as you snapped back to reality, reaching for the dough and he let go of it. You internally cursed yourself for getting carried away daydreaming about the man’s hands of all things.

He stayed standing next to you, watching you, as you started to roll the ball of dough out into a big enough circle to fill your tart pan. You picked it up and started to press it into the edges and the whole time you were incredibly aware of his eyes on you. You almost wished he would do something embarrassing again so you could stop being so nervous.

“You’re so quiet today.”

“People tend to like me better when I talk less.”

You frowned. “I liked talking with you yesterday.”

You could’ve sworn you saw the man blush, but you pushed the thought aside, not wanting to think about that while you had a task to complete. It would be all too embarrassing if you messed up a mere fruit tart just because there was a pretty boy distracting you.

And he couldn’t actually be blushing at that. Right?

“I expected you to be stuck up, but you aren’t at all. That was a big relief. And I think you’re kind of funny. And like I said yesterday, it can get lonely here so I’m happy to have some company.”

“You can still ask me to leave any time if I’m getting bothersome, I’ll understand.”

You looked up to meet eyes with him and gave him a small smile. You didn’t quite understand why he said such things but you very much felt the need to comfort the guy anyway.

“You aren’t bothersome. It’s nice to have someone to talk to here.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that a lot.”

He was looking down at the table now, and this time you knew he was blushing. His pink cheeks had pulled up into a small smile. Cute.

“Is that ready to bake?” He asked when he saw that you were done touching the dough.

You nodded, and before you could react he picked up the pan and walked it over to the oven before putting it inside and closing the door.

It wasn’t on purpose that you were being so quiet now. You were getting quite flustered and didn’t want to say anything embarrassing. He was the prince, you couldn’t exactly explain to him that you were having trouble focusing because of how attractive he was.

“So? What now?”

You were quickly brought back to reality by his words and realized you’d been staring at him the whole time. Like a weirdo. You could only pray that he wasn’t catching on to your odd behavior.

“The filling!” You said, a bit too loudly, as you shook yourself out of your thoughts.

You started grabbing ingredients again, keeping your eyes anywhere but on him. Once you had everything gathered, you combined the egg, sugar, and starch and handed the bowl to him.

“Do you want to mix it?”

He nodded with an adorably excited look on his face as he took the bowl from you and started to whisk the mixture together. In the meantime you began to heat up your fruit puree, and by the time it was warm enough you took the bowl from him and started to temper the egg mixture into the hot fruit. You put it back on the heat for a little while longer to make sure it got thick enough and by the time it was done it was time to take the crust out of the oven as well.

The whole time you carefully poured the filling into the crust you knew his eyes were on you but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge him, out of fear of what you might do to embarrass yourself if you did. It was too quiet for too long. You still hadn’t spoken when you started to gather various fruits to start chopping up to put on top of the tart.

“I can leave if you really don’t want me here, you don’t have to lie and tell me it’s okay just because I’m the prince, I can tell I’m bothering you.” He mumbled and you finally brought yourself to look him in the eyes.

He looked upset. Your heart ached. You realized just how cold your actions must’ve come across to him, even though you hadn’t meant it that way at all.

“No! I promise you aren’t bothering me, really, I just… I’m not used to having someone back here with me watching me, especially someone like you.”

Much to your disappointment this didn’t seem to cheer him up, his face remained just as sad as it had looked a second ago.

“Someone like me?”

“You know, royalty. I work for your family after all, so it’s a bit nerve wracking for you to watch everything I do.”

“Oh…” His face softened a bit, and it seemed to you that he genuinely hadn’t considered that yet. “I’m sorry, but you really don’t have to be nervous, I won’t mind even if you mess something up. I promise I’m nice.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. He was a nice person, you knew that much already, if anything he could stand to be a bit more sure of himself. You felt bad that you’d hurt his feelings so easily by making him think he was being a nuisance.

“You are really nice, I can tell that much, I guess I just don’t really know you yet.”

“Well then what would you like to know about me? Ask away, I’m an open book.”

You looked at him with one eyebrow raised, wondering what you could even ask someone like him.

“Well, what’s it like being the prince?”

He frowned, obviously disappointed with your question. “Not great. Next question.”

Not great?

“Well what’s something you do like about it?”

He tilted his head to the side and pushed out his bottom lip a bit as he thought of an answer. You wondered if he did this on purpose, if he knew how adorable he was and liked to see you get all riled up because of him, but he seemed too oblivious for that to be the case.

After a few seconds his lips formed a wide grin and his eyes met yours. “The food.” He said.

That time you knew he saw you blush, and you even had to cover your mouth as a surprised laugh rolled off your lips.

“I’m just being honest, I don’t care about power and titles and all that, and I don’t need to live in a castle to be happy. I’m a simple man. But the food is a really nice bonus.”

“The cooks are really talented, I can see why you like that so much.” You said, now focusing back on the fruit you were chopping up.

“You too though, and sweets are my favorite.” He said, picking up a piece of strawberry you had just chopped to put on the tart and popping it into his mouth instead.

Your eyes traveled from his hand, as it grabbed the piece of fruit, to his face as he brought it to his perfectly smooth, pink, lips. You watched his face as he ate the strawberry, not realizing that you were once again staring.

“Is there something on my face?” He asked, with the cutest look of confusion on his face.

Somehow, you felt yourself blush even harder at that. “No, sorry, I just spaced out for a second.” You lied.

“Why is your face so red?”

“Is it?” You tried your best to act casual, quickly changing the subject. “So what do princes do in their free time?”

He made that same face again, the little pout that showed you he was thinking of an answer.

“Well, I like to get out of the palace. Take my horse out into the woods or through town, anything to get out and feel some fresh air and not be bothered. Or go on a walk through the gardens. I’ve seen you there a few times, by the way, reading.”

“Oh…” You didn’t quite know how to respond. You must’ve been so caught up in your books that you’d never noticed when he was there.

“I sometimes wondered who you were, but I didn’t want to bother you since you always seemed so invested in what you were doing.”

You felt another twinge of embarrassment, thinking about the romance novels you would sometimes spend hours totally consumed in.

“Well, next time you should come say hello if you see me.”

His cheeks and ears started to look like they were turning pink again, although you couldn’t understand why. He had looked down at the table, and one hand was scratching the back of his neck. He had paused. He almost looked a bit nervous.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we be friends?”

His eyes finally looked up to meet yours and the pout on his face as he nervously waited for your response made you feel crazy. There was no way in hell you could look back at him when he looked like that and say no.

You put a small smile to your lips and nodded, and to your relief his face immediately lit up into a wide smile.

“Thank you, Creampuff.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname.

“I have to come up with a stupid name for you too now that we’re friends you know.”

“Well, then I am greatly looking forward to what you can come up with.“ He said grinning, and taking another piece of fruit you’d just carefully sliced.

“If you eat all my fruit before it can go on top it’s not going to be much of a fruit tart!”

He was giggling hysterically now, making a show of it, grabbing several more pieces of fruit and holding them up in the air, out of your reach..

“That’s okay, the topping is the best part anyway.” He snickered as he brought another piece of your oh so painstakingly chopped fruit to his lips.

Was it a good idea to befriend the prince? Probably not, however you didn’t want to think too hard about that since it was too late now anyway.

You had a fruit tart to finish, so you dragged your mind back to the task at hand.

“Baekhyun, do you want to put the fruit on top? Or are you just going to eat all of it as is?” You teased, gesturing towards your still naked tart with the pile of chopped fruit next to it.

“Okay okay I guess I can put some on top too.”

You watched as he started arranging the variously shaped fruit pieces atop the tart, and you once again marveled at his hands.

“So do I get help, or do I have to figure this part out myself? You always make them look so pretty, I don’t think I have the same artistic touch you do.”

You smiled at the compliment, more than you probably should have. Something about this guy enjoying your work so much was just too good to be true.

You felt silly. So silly. Has it really been so long since you’d had an interaction with a cute boy that you simply couldn’t handle yourself? He had to notice by now. It had to be painfully obvious why you were so flustered, right?

At that point you were openly staring. Luckily for you, he was actually pretty focused on making the tart look nice, so he didn’t seem to notice your eyes on him. His fingers had a slight sheen to them from the juices from the fruit and it took everything in you to not grab his pretty hands and lick them clean yourself.

“So? Y/n?”

You hadn’t even answered his question yet and you were already off in a little daydream about him.

You were crazy. You took a deep breath, recomposing yourself for the nth time.

“I’d like to see what you come up with.” You said, trying to sound as playful as you possible with how hard your heart was beating.

He gave you a smirk that told you he had accepted your challenge. His focus went back to the table and he started carefully arranging and rearranging his work.

Then, he was finished. The last of the fruit had been placed atop the cream filled crust. It actually looked okay, you were even slightly impressed with his artistic vision.

“How did I do?” You heard his ask as he set down his finished creation and looked at you with a pleased grin. He took his bottom lip between his perfect teeth, looking at you with those familiar puppy eyes and you wanted to scream at how cute he looked right then.

“It looks really nice. Not how I would’ve done it, but pretty.”

“Well if I did it exactly how you do it I would just be copying you and you wanted to see what I could do so how could I possibly even think to do something so unoriginal?” He looked very pleased with your response.

“You wouldn’t be able to make it look like mine even if you did try to. You just don’t have that special touch.” You responded, surprising yourself with your teasing tone.

Baekhyun perked up at your words, raising an eyebrow at you.

“What? You said it yourself earlier.” He really had. But you knew he was ready to fight you about it now anyway.

“I just need more chances to prove myself, but I think I did pretty damn good just now for someone who hasn’t prepared his own food in his life ever.”

“You’re so spoiled.” You giggled, plucking a piece of fruit off the tart and placing it between your lips, keeping your eyes locked with his. You weren’t sure where this new surge of confidence was coming from, but you decided to just go with it.

“Hey! I can’t help who I was born as!”

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t still spoiled.”

“You’re so mean to me.” He whined, obviously just trying to get a rise out of you. Unfortunately it worked very well for him. His little pout when he pushed out his bottom lip and furrowed his brows ever so slightly, was almost too cute to handle.

“Yeah, but you’re still here with me for some reason. Now are you finally going to eat your tart?”

He’d once again gone all bashful on you, acting like you were somehow the one in charge here when his family basically owned you.

“Can you cut it?” The words rolled off his lips softly.

You nodded, grabbing the sharpest knife you had, and started cutting the tart into slices.

It immediately felt wrong. You realized you’d fucked up.

The filling was still too warm to cut. It wasn’t fully set. It would start oozing into a big puddle of fruit goo as soon as you’d touch it.

It was so obvious. Of course you shouldn’t have cut into it already. Of course it wasn’t ready yet. You knew that, but your mind had been elsewhere. It was a dumb, dumb mistake and you felt it start to chip away at the last bit of sanity you had left.

You closed your eyes, clenching your jaw as you made a second cut, but you knew you were only making matters worse. It was already ruined. You put your knife down and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to fight the tightness in your chest and the tears that were building in your eyes.

“Creampuff?”

The nickname just made it hurt more. The way he said it so softly was too cruel. You failed to suppress the sob that wracked through you and the tears flowed freely down your cheeks, which were now deeply tinted with your embarrassment.

“I’m sorry.” You choked out. “I messed it up. It’s ruined.”

“Huh?” The look on his face as he watched you cry could only be described as a combination of worry and panic.

He didn’t get it. It still looked fine. Before you could stop him he picked up a piece and you watched as the beautiful and delicious little project you’d spent all morning working on with him fell apart. His carefully arranged fruit topping was destroyed as the filing slowly sagged into the missing gap and his slice turned into a messy glob.

“Where are the spoons?”

You looked at him like he was crazy.

You watched as he picked up the two forks on the table. “I don’t think a fork is going to work for this, can you give me a spoon please?”

You were a wreck. You were crying, sobbing even, and here he was asking you for a spoon so he could try at least one pathetic bite of your fruit tart turned pudding mess.

“Y/n?” It was barely a whisper this time. “Why are you crying? I said it’s okay even if you mess up. I’m not mad at you.”

Swallowing your tears, you reached into a nearby drawer, grabbed hastily at its contents, and shoved a spoon into his hand.

It was huge. The kind of spoon that was usually used for mixing large salads. You didn’t even understand why you had such a monstrosity in your little bakery.

Baekhyun stared at the ridiculous instrument you had just thrust into his unsuspecting palm as you let out a few more sniffles.

Then he let out a loud laugh. “This thing?!” He thought it was hilarious. “Are you trying to fatten me up? You know my mom always told me that my good looks were the only good thing I have going for me, don’t go ruining that now. I can’t afford to get chubby.”

You let out a whine and opened the drawer again, this time paying better attention to what you were grabbing. You pulled out two normal sized spoons.

He watched as you set them down on the table and frowned when he saw how upset you still looked, despite his joking around. You didn’t touch your spoon, still too upset to want to try a bite of your mistake. He didn’t seem to care though, immediately scooping up a spoonful and taking a large bite.

He let out a pleased hum as he finished his bite. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset, this is still pretty amazing if you ask me, thank you so much for letting me make it with you.”

He genuinely seemed to not mind. He kept happily eating it. But you didn’t feel any better. This was your job, your thing, and he’d seen you make such a stupid mistake, and on just the second day he’d met you. It was embarrassing more than anything else. What if he thinks you’re bad at your job?

“I’m sorry.” You let out again quietly and this time he didn’t tease you or make a dumb joke. He looked concerned. When you felt a tear roll down your cheek, he looked scared.

“Why are you still crying?” He put his spoon down. He was rounding the table to walk to the other side, to where you were standing. Once he was standing directly in front of you he froze. He’d lifted one arm slightly, as if he was reaching out for you, but it quickly dropped to his side again. You took a shaky step back but he moved with you.

“I promise I’m not here to judge you, I just wanted some time with someone who’s nice to me for once. And the tart is still amazing. And I know everything else you make is amazing too, because I’ve been eating it for years.”

You made the mistake of looking up into his big brown eyes. His cute slightly droopy looking eyes that sat perfectly atop his smooth, round cheeks. The look he gave you was too sweet to bear. You let out another sob.

He turned towards the table. He grabbed your spoon, hastily taking a scoop and shoving it into your mouth before you even had time to react.

“See? It’s good. Really good. Who cares if it melted or whatever. That’s like, the least important part. It’s food. It’s supposed to taste good. And it tastes super fucking good.”

You chewed slowly as he spoke, still standing far too close for comfort. He watched as you ate with tear stained cheeks. When you swallowed his hand moved. He was reaching for your face. You felt his thumb lightly brush the corner of your mouth, removing the small drop of cream that had ended up there. He brought his finger back up to his lips and he licked off the bit of cream, eyes never leaving yours.

“Delicious.” He whispered.

Panic was setting in now. You couldn’t find it in yourself to cry anymore. You felt like you needed to escape. You couldn’t trust yourself to not make a fool of yourself right now, even more than you already had. The poor guy would probably never wanna come bake with you again. The thought of not spending time with him again like this hurt more than you expected it to.

You stared again, too taken aback by his actions to get any words out. He was closer now. You weren’t quite sure when he’d gotten so close, close enough that you could smell the lingering scent of sweet fruit on his breath.

He was right there, and he was staring right back at you, close enough to touch. Your mind was slowing down and you swore you saw his eyes flicker down to your lips, before he cleared his throat and took a step back.

“I’m sorry, I think I should go. The tart is amazing, really. Thank you again.”

He turned to leave, and the words left you before you had time to think about it. “Are you still going to come back?”

He turned back to look at you, a reassuring smile on his pretty face. “Of course, Creampuff.”

Next Chapter

#exo #baekhyun #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun fic #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun smut #exo fic #exo fluff #exo smut

[flightfoot]

Friendship and Uncertainty

AO3 Thanks to @oblivionhold for betaing!

Marinette really didn't have a lot of great options in Prime Queen. She couldn't tell Nadja and her parents "Oh yeah, sorry, I double-booked myself as Ladybug, my bad! Guess my parents are gonna have to babysit instead!" And if she'd tried to make up an excuse about being busy, with how last-minute it was and how urgently Nadja needed childcare, I don't think her parents would've accepted it.

Her only viable alternative option would've been to cancel her interview with Nadja at the last-minute, citing some last-minute conflict with her civilian schedule. She could've transformed during a bathroom break, texted Chat, and told him as much, leaving him to interview with Nadja alone. I'd argue that this would've been the most responsible option, but not necessarily the best one. With how much the network was pressuring her, Nadja may have landed in hot water if she couldn't get one of her guests on, and Chat would've been disappointed as well.

The plan Marinette came up with in canon was her best shot at fulfilling all her responsibilities without anyone being mad or disappointed or hung out to dry. Manon got looked after by someone Marinette knew was a good babysitter, she got to go to the interview, and no one would have any clue things were remiss... at least, that was her plan. In canon, things got dicey for a bit with Alya calling into the show, but ultimately no one discovered Marinette had left the premises, and everyone was mostly happy.

But it was risky, and things could easily have gone wrong. Hence, this story.

It gives me a good reason to explore Alya feeling hurt and exploring her emotions while sticking closely to canon. There aren't a lot of fics that do that.

--------

“Where is she?” 

Alya looked down at Manon. Nadja was worried about Marinette not being in the picture when she called, and she couldn’t blame her. Bringing over a friend to help babysit as well, or taking over babysitting momentarily while the hired babysitter was busy was one thing, but this was getting ridiculous.

Marinette had seemed weirdly anxious about talking to her parents. She’d chalked it up to Marinette being nervous about whatever she’d needed to tell them, but…

She let out a frustrated sigh. Marinette hadn’t even told her why she needed to talk to them so urgently. It almost felt like she was making up an excuse to ditch her with Manon.

“Marinette wouldn’t do that,” Alya murmured to herself. “She’d tell me if she needed me to cover for her, right?”

But the thought wouldn’t leave her brain.

Manon yawned.

Gears turned in Alya’s head. “Hey Manon, before you fall asleep, how about we go downstairs so you can use the bathroom?”

“I’m not gonna fall asleep!” Manon said, yawning again. But she stood up shakily and headed for the stairs, following Alya.

-----

As Alya waited for Manon to finish in the bathroom near the kitchen, she heard a soft humming coming from the kitchen. Seizing on the opportunity, she hurried over (while keeping near enough that she could still hear when Manon opened the bathroom door).

“Ah, Alya!” Tom greeted her. “Did you kids need some snacks?”

“No, but-” Oh what the hell, why not? “Actually, that sounds great.”

“Anything for my daughter! And her friends of course,” he said, cheerily grabbing a few of hers and Marinette’s favorite cookies. 

“Speaking of Marinette, what’d she want to talk to you about?” she said, as casually as she could manage.

“She wanted to talk to me about something?” Tom asked, sounding perplexed.

“Maybe I just misheard her,” Alya said hastily. “I was playing with Manon and things got a little loud.”

Tom looked troubled. “Well, just let her know that if she needs to talk to me about anything, her papa is always willing to lend an ear.” She could almost see a lightbulb turn on above Tom’s head. “Oh! I’ve got a batch of Marinette’s favorite cookies in the oven right now! They should be ready in about twenty minutes. If you can send her down then, we can talk this out, see what’s troubling her! And if it was a mistake, well, I’ll never say no to watching her face when she bites into a strawberry macaron.”

Alya slapped on a smile. “Will do!”

The toilet flushed. 

“That’s my cue to leave. Thanks, Mr. Dupain!”

“Anytime!”

She walked to the bathroom on autopilot.

Marinette had lied.

------

“I’m so sorry Alya! I had no idea it would take so long to talk to my parents!” 

Alya didn’t look at her. “What did you guys talk about?” she asked tonelessly.

“Uh, you know… family stuff,” Marinette sounded nervous. 

Alya turned to her. “Marinette, I know you weren’t with your parents.”

“I- uh-”

“I went downstairs earlier and asked your dad what you two talked about, but he said he didn’t talk to you at all. Your dad wanted me to tell you that if you need to talk with him about anything, he’s willing to lend an ear. The batch of strawberry macarons he was making should be ready by now.” Her voice sounded dead, even to her own ears.

“Alya, I’m- I’m really sorry-”

She took a deep breath. “I’m not ready to talk with you about it right now,” she said evenly. “If I do, I might raise my voice, and I don’t want Manon to see us fighting.”

Marinette winced, glancing at the sleeping girl.

“Um… could we talk tomorrow…?” Marinette asked, sounding small. 

Alya nodded stiffly. Not like she could avoid it, tomorrow was a school day. 

As she headed down the ladder, she paused and looked up, “Oh, and Marinette?”

“Yes?”

“I didn’t let anyone know you left. I’m still not happy you ditched me, but I didn’t rat you out.”

Marinette’s eyes widened and she started to stammer something. Alya shut the hatch.

Alya squeezed her eyes tight, letting out a small sob.

At that last moment, she’d been tempted to stay. To hear Marinette out. To see whether maybe, maybe, she had a good explanation. Some sort of excuse.

But she couldn’t.

If she stayed, with Marinette looking at her like that, clearly hurting… she wouldn’t be able to stay mad at her. Not when she felt worse than Alya herself did.

Alya wasn’t ready to let go of her anger and hurt yet. Not so soon.

Pausing only to text Nora that she was heading home, she hurried out the door.

------

“Little sis?”

Alya quickly wiped her eyes, trying to compose herself before Nora saw her.

It didn’t work.

“What happened? Who hurt you?” Nora asked, grabbing her shoulders. 

“No one!”

Even to her own ears, it sounded false.

Nora frowned. “Really? Your eyes are red, and I can see the tear streaks on your cheeks. You really expect me to believe that?”

She looked away.

“Hey, look, little sis-” Nora said softly.

“Don’t call me that.” She couldn’t muster up the energy to put any heat behind her words. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Promise not to go after her?”

Nora blinked. “Her? ...wait, you were just at Baguette’s place- did something happen with Marinette?”

“Promise me,” she insisted.

Nora grimaced, before sighing. “Fiiiiine. Can I at least yell at her?”

“No. I want to handle this myself.”

“If you’re sure, little sis.”

Alya made a face, but explained what’d happened. How Marinette had called her over, ditched her with an excuse about her parents, how she’d learned Marinette was lying, everything.

“-and I just. I don’t understand why,” she finished. “I help her out all the time! Heck, I’ve even helped babysit Manon before! Why’d she lie to me?” She looked down at her lap, her fists tightening as she squeezed her pants legs, needing to get energy out. “I just- I feel used.”

Nora pulled her into a tight hug. She leaned into the pressure, listening to her sister’s heartbeat.

“Remember back in Martinique, with Maya?” Alya murmured.

“The neighbor girl?”

Alya nodded. “We played together a lot when I was a little. But sometimes… sometimes she’d get demanding, saying that if I didn’t do what she wanted - play some game she wanted, pick a role she wanted me to, whatever - she’d say that if I didn’t do it, she wouldn’t be friends with me anymore. There weren’t a lot of other kids my age in the area, so I agreed.” She gave a small smile. “Until one time she went too far. I stormed home in tears, scared that she wouldn’t play with me anymore, but not able to take it anymore.” Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, she continued. “You know what Mom did when she heard? When I told her how afraid I was that Maya wouldn’t want to play with me anymore? She told me to just wait. Less than an hour later Maya was knocking at the door, asking if I would come out to play. I stopped being afraid of her threat after that, and she stopped using it. I could say no.”

“I’m guessing this feels similar?” Nora said.

Alya nodded. “But it’s also weird! With Maya I understood what she was after. With Marinette, I don’t. Did she just really not want to babysit? Where’d she even go? And why-” Alya hesitated. “Why did she risk this? What was so important? Marinette, she- she doesn’t always think through other people’s feelings, but she DOES care about people! She doesn’t like hurting others! So why-”

Nora shook her head. “It’s no use speculating, you’ll just get your head turning ‘round and ‘round in circles ‘til you don’t know up from down. Just ask her tomorrow.”

Biting her lip, Alya sighed. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. I just don’t know how I’ll sleep tonight after all this.”

Nora smiled, pulling out a DVD from… okay she really wanted to know when Nora had hollowed out a copy of the Lord of the Rings trilogy collection, because on the one hand that was SUPER cool, and on the other hand it physically hurt her to see a book damaged like that. 

“I was saving this for your birthday,” Nora said, oblivious to Alya’s crisis, “But I think you need it now.”

She looked at the movie, letting out an inhumanly high-pitched squeal. “Majestia’s Early Days - Collector’s Edition?! How’d you even get this? I camped out on the website all day trying to snag a copy! They sold out in seconds,” she scowled, “Damn scalpers.”

Nora laughed. “Having fans can really come in handy. After one of my matches, I mentioned how bummed out my little sis was about not being able to get her hands on a copy. The next day one of my regular fans handed this to me, said he hoped you’d enjoy it.”

“If you see him again, tell him that he’s a wonderful person with excellent taste in boxers!”

Nora laughed, grinning from ear-to-ear. Alya bet her own grin dwarfed even Nora’s. 

“Let’s watch Majestia kick some ass.”

-----

“Alya? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” 

Nino lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve been staring down at the floor for the past minute, looking like your dogs just got kidnapped by subterranean monsters and you’re trying to figure out how to get them back and why they’d want them in the first place.”

She stifled a laugh. “You come up with that for one of your movie scripts?”

He adjusted his cap, grinning proudly. “No, but now that you mention it…”

“Do you even know anyone with a dog?”

“Maybe a shelter would help out? They’re always looking for more exposure. We could put a note during the credits that the pups are available for adoption!”

Hm… she could advertise their film on her blog too, maybe ask whether any of her readers worked at a local dog shelter…

“We could talk to Marinette, see whether she’d be up for making a monster costume! Or if she’s too busy, Halloween’s coming up and- Alya?”

She blinked, only just now noticing how tightly she’d been squeezing her shirt in her hands. “I’m- I’m fine.”

Nino frowned. “No, you’re not.”

She looked away. 

Nino slid into the seat next to her. “Look. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s clearly hurting you. If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand. If you just want to go back to talking about something unrelated to it, something fun, to keep your mind off it, I’m happy to oblige. But I’m always here to lend an ear if you need it.”

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Marinette called me over last night, wanted me to watch the Ladybug and Chat Noir interview with her. She also happened to be babysitting Manon, and thought it’d be more fun if we were all there together. Everything was fine at first,” she said, fidgeting. “I played around with Manon for a bit, Marinette got some pillows to lay on, and we got set up to watch the interview. Then Marinette said she needed to talk to her parents and that she might be gone for a while.”

She let out a humorless chuckle. “I waited for a while, but… no Marinette. Finally, I went downstairs and checked with her dad. He didn’t know anything about it. As far as he knew, she’d been upstairs in her room with me the entire time. Marinette came back a little while later, pretending that her talk with her parents had gone super long and I just… I couldn’t deal with it. I left. I said I’d talk with her about it today, but…”

“But you don’t feel ready now either?” Nino guessed.

She nodded. “I just keep on turning it around and around in my head. It doesn’t make sense. Sure, Marinette makes up excuses and disappears sometimes, but…” Something niggled in the back of her brain. “Hey Nino,” she asked carefully, trying to catch the strand of thought. “Has Marinette always been like this? Running off at a moment’s notice with fake-sounding reasons?”

Nino scratched his head. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “We’ve been in classes before, but we weren’t exactly close. I don’t think so? I think I would’ve noticed that. Not like we had akuma attacks distracting us last year.”

“Akuma attacks...” she murmured to herself.

There it was again. That niggling sensation, but even stronger this time. 

*Slam*

Marinette threw the classroom door open, pinwheeling her arms as she struggled to regain her balance. 

“AAAAAAH-”

At the last second as she fell backwards, Adrien seemed to almost teleport through the door, catching her.

Nino smiled. “I swear Adrien has a ‘Marinette falling’ sense. He always arrives just in time to catch her.”

Alya snorted. “Now if only he had a ‘Marinette feeling’ sense.”

Frowning, Alya tried to grasp onto the threads of thought from before, but they’d scampered with the distraction. 

“...Can I sit here?” a soft voice asked.

Alya jumped a little, then scolded herself. She’d just seen Marinette arrive, she shouldn’t be able to startle her less than a minute later.

Nino got up slowly, giving Marinette a hard look, but moving to his regular seat without comment.

Marinette didn’t move. 

Oh. Marinette was waiting for her permission, not just for Nino to leave.

“Sure. I mean, you sat here first,” Alya said. “I’m not the Queen of Seats.”

Marinette snorted at the reference, the edges of her mouth twitching upwards.

Alya narrowed her eyes. She hadn’t noticed before, but from this close, she could see the bags under eyes, along with a slight puffiness.

Guilt settled in her stomach. She was pretty sure she knew why Marinette wouldn’t have gotten enough sleep, why she would’ve been crying.

“But she broke my trust!” part of her screamed. “She lied to me, used me!”

She still didn’t like seeing her friend hurt.

“So?” She asked as Marinette slid into her seat.

“So what?” Marinette asked nervously.

Alya narrowed her eyes. 

Marinette bit her lip. “I- I’m not sure what to say. I- I lied to you. You’re right. I called you over because I’d accidentally double-booked myself, but I couldn’t just TELL Nadja that and I couldn’t cancel on no notice, so I just… came up with what I thought was the best solution. Manon would get taken care of, Nadja, Mom, and Dad wouldn’t know anything unusual had happened, and I’d be back before you noticed anything was wrong. Everyone would be happy! At least, that’s what I planned…” she petered off, looking away.

She could get what Marinette was thinking now, when she called her over. Sometimes you couldn’t do the things you wanted without disappointing someone, without someone being upset with you. But if you lined things up just right, you might not need to upset anyone - so long as they never found out what you’d done. 

It still stung that Alya had been the tool she used to solve her problem, but at least she understood Marinette’s thought process. 

“What was so important?” she asked. “What was so vital that you had to sneak out, even if it meant lying to your friends and family?”

Marinette flinched. “I- I have to,” she whispered. “I don’t have a choice.”

Alarm bells rang in Alya’s head. “What do you mean?” she said urgently. “Is someone threatening you? Marinette, are you in danger?”

“No!” She thought for a moment. “Yes? Kind of? Not- not the way you’re thinking of!” she added hastily.

She didn’t know what she was thinking. Drugs? Gangs? A cult that’d ensnared Marinette in its clutches?

“Can I have your attention please?” Ms. Bustier said.

Alya turned to the front of the class, head still spinning. She still wasn’t totally sure how she felt about what Marinette had done, but she had bigger worries.

Something was wrong with Marinette. 

-----

That girl could be slippery when she wanted to be. 

She managed to avoid talking to Alya for the rest of Bustier’s class, not responding to any note-passing and hurrying out of the classroom the second the bell rang. With Marinette going home for lunch she had little opportunity to talk to her then, and as for their next period… Alya may be brave, but she wasn’t stupid. No talking in Ms. Mendeleiv’s class.

With a sigh, she watched Marinette run out of Francois-Dupont, somehow managing to take the stairs two at a time without falling. Clearly whatever it was, Marinette didn’t want to talk about it. 

But if it was hurting her…

She shook her head. She’d been thinking about this all day. It was time to get her mind off it, do something else. 

Nodding, she turned towards the park. Maybe some time climbing trees would help take her mind off things. And if it didn’t, it’d at least give her practice catching her siblings when they inevitably got themselves stuck in some high-up area. She could swear they had teleportation skills that they’d been hiding their whole lives just to prank the rest of the family with.

Chuckling to herself, she almost missed the flash of red out of the corner of her eye.

She whipped around. “Ladybug?!” 

The superhero froze, looking caught out. “Alya!” she said, sounding strangled. “What’re you doing here?” 

She shrugged. “Just enjoying the weather,” she said, pulling out her phone. “Would you be up for another interview?”

Ladybug started shaking her head before she even finished the sentence. “No, NOPE, nada, absolutely not!” she said, making an “X” with her arms for emphasis. “Not after yesterday. Not happening.”

She stashed her phone. “You just want to talk off the record then?”

The superheroine’s eyes widened a fraction. She nodded. “There’s… there’s something I could use your advice on.”

Something fluttered in Alya’s chest. Her idol needed her help? “I’ll do what I can,” she said, more confidently than she felt.

After going to a secluded part of the park, Ladybug turned to her. “You know a lot about superheroes right? About how we have to maintain a double life?”

Alya nodded. “It’s a comic book staple. Often causes a lot of trouble for the hero, but not as much as having their identity leaked to the world.”

“Yeah, I know what that trouble’s like,” Ladybug muttered to herself. Speaking more loudly, she looked at Alya. “I- I messed up. Badly. I forgot that I’d-” She paused. “Sorry, I need to be careful about this. I don’t want to expose myself.”

Alya nodded. 

After a minute, Ladybug tried again. “I needed to do something as Ladybug, but as a civilian, I’d already agreed to another responsibility at the same time,” she said carefully. “I couldn’t tell anyone that I needed to do something Ladybug-related without spilling my secret identity, but I also couldn’t get out of my civilian responsibility so I- I tricked someone into doing it instead. And they found out and they’re mad at me and I can’t BLAME them but I can’t tell them everything and I just don’t know what to do!” She looked at Alya pleadingly.

Her stomach twisted. “Seems to be a lot of deception going on lately,” she muttered, surprising even herself with how bitter she sounded. She blinked as Ladybug winced. 

Stop projecting your feelings about the sleepover onto Ladybug’s situation, they’re not the same! She scolded herself.

What would she do in Ladybug’s shoes? She couldn’t tell anyone her identity. She’d still want to be friends with this person. Just heaping on lies would make it worse when those came to light, alienating the friend (or former friend) even further.

“Have you explained as much as you could why you did it without giving away your secret identity?” Alya asked slowly. “Just… let them know that you do care about them, that you didn’t lie to them lightly, that you care about your feelings and you didn’t have a lot of options.” Ah, screw it. Maybe it was just because it’d been recent and she was still hurting and worried, but perhaps hearing it would help Ladybug with her own friend problems. “One of my friends recently tricked me into covering for her,” she said. “I’m still not sure why.”

“O-oh, really?” Ladybug said… nervously? Probably because it reminded her of her own friend.

“She vaguely explained to me why,” she continued. “What she was thinking and feeling at the time. She had another commitment too, but she didn’t tell me what it was.” She let out a deep sigh. “At least she didn’t lie about it - I think. I’d rather she not tell me, than lie about it.” A pebble sat near her shoe. Absentmindedly, she kicked it. “With how distraught she was when she explained it... I think she was sincere. That she doesn’t view me as a tool. That she was just in a tough spot,” she said. “That helps a lot.”

“I- I did explain,” Ladybug said, hope lifting her voice. “I think she believed me.”

Alya nodded. “In that case… I don’t think there’s much more you can do. Give her space, and try to avoid doing it again if you can.” She bit her lip. “Which might not be totally under your control considering Hawkbutt.” 

Ladybug stifled a giggle. 

She gave a small smile, snorting at her own joke. “Anyway, could I ask you a favor? So long as you don’t have any other commitments already, I don’t want to land you in hot water with anyone else,” she added hastily.

“Nothing to do with the Ladyblog, right?” Ladybug asked suspiciously.

As much as she’d like that… “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Actually, it has to do with a friend of mine. You know Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

“Uh- NOPE never heard that name in my life! Who’s Marinette?” Ladybug said hastily, gesticulating wildly.

Huh. Weird. She could’ve sworn that Marinette had mentioned meeting Ladybug before, but come to think of it, she couldn’t remember a single instance of Marinette and Ladybug being in the same place at the same time-

Never mind, there was that time with Alix’s race. But if that was the only time, no wonder Ladybug didn’t remember her. She wasn’t even sure that anyone had said Marinette’s name while Ladybug was within earshot.

Aaaaaand there was that niggling sensation again. She wished it’d either divulge what it was getting at or leave her alone. 

She whipped out her phone, pulling up a picture she and Marinette had taken together a couple months ago. “Marinette’s my best friend,” she said, surprising herself with how sure she sounded. “We’re going through a bit of a rough patch right now, but… well, I’m still worried about her. She was the one who lied to me yesterday, and when I confronted her about it, she said something about not having a choice. It sounds like she’s in danger but she won’t tell me from what, and I’m not sure what could be the problem and… I’m just worried.” Looking up from her phone, she locked eyes with the superhero. “Could you check up on her, please? Maybe she’d talk to you even if she wouldn’t talk to me. And- and even if she doesn’t, I’d feel better if a superhero was looking out for her.”

“You really care about her, huh?,” Ladybug said, giving her a soft smile. “Even though you’re fighting.”

She nodded. “I’m not happy with her, and there are some things we still need to work out, but- yeah. I want to make sure she’s okay.”

“You’re a good friend, Alya. I’m sure she’s fine, but I’ll look after her as best I can.”

“Buginette?” a boy’s voice called. A black figure landed next to Ladybug, crouched in the classic superhero landing pose, one knee bent, one hand punching the ground.

Oooh, new Ladyblog idea! Top ten Chat Noir poses! Seriously, that cat could be a model with the way he effortlessly mugged for the camera.

Ladybug groaned. “Did I forget the time already?” 

“It’s fine,” Chat said, resting his stick on his shoulders. “Waiting made seeing you all the sweeter.”

The spotted heroine groaned again, for a different reason this time. Alya saw the corners of her lips quirk upwards ever-so-slightly, belying her annoyance. “Come on, you alley cat. Race you to the Tower!”

“Oh, you’re on!” 

Alya watched them run off. Well, pole vault and swing off, but you know. Semantics.

Turning around, she headed back home.

She had an article to write.

-----

Alya hummed as she walked into class, glancing at her phone. The Chat article had been a major hit, garnering several dozen comments within a few hours of posting, including from a user called “TheCatsMeow” who seemed weirdly invested in convincing everyone that Chat definitely had no experience modeling and his on-point posing was entirely due to natural talent and charisma. People picked the weirdest hills to die on. She’d been joking when she proposed that he was secretly a supermodel, but after having defended the possibility in a ten-commment-long exchange, she was starting to seriously consider it. Hm, maybe Adrien would have an idea of a possible identity lead…

“Oooof!”

“Augh!”

Note to self: Don’t walk while looking at your phone. Sure she never listened when Mom told her that, but maybe this time she’d have the self-control to hold off! Optimism!

“Sorry,” she said instinctively. And blinked. “Marinette? You’re EARLY?!”

She should text her mom to buy a lottery ticket.

“Yeah,” Marinette said, chuckling nervously. She seemed to be in much better shape this time. A little down, but it looked like she’d gotten some decent sleep. “I- I just thought- if you wanted to talk- never mind. You need space.”

Suspicions percolated in her mind. “I should go to the restroom before class starts. How about you?”

Marinette’s head whipped up. “Yeah, sure, better to be safe than sorry. You know me, always needing to race to the toilet!” She rubbed the back of her neck.

“Every other akuma attack it seems like,” Alya said, walking down the hallway with her friend. “I swear, something about it being an inconvenient time makes you need to go even more.”

“Yep, that’s totally the reason!” Marinette agreed.

They walked for a moment in silence while she tried to gather her thoughts. “You know about my advice to Ladybug, don’t you?” she said at last.

“Ack-!” Marinette tripped on air, but managed to save herself at the last second. “Uh, no, that’s ridiculous, how could I know about that? It’s not like I was there or anything.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Uh huh. And it’s pure coincidence that you concluded I needed space the day after I gave that advice to Ladybug to help with her own friend problem?”

“Uuuuuh…” Marinette looked off to the side, before releasing a long sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. Ladybug talked to me last night, and well… your conversation came up. I figured our problems were similar enough, and you were the one giving the advice, so… maybe if I followed it, we could make up?”

Marinette wanted to go back to normal, to laugh and joke and just.. enjoy each other’s company again. And Alya… she wanted that too. 

She knew Marinette hadn’t meant to hurt her. And she understood why Marinette had done what she’d done. 

Well, except for what prompted Marinette to need to lie in the first place. She just had a gut feeling it was a cult, some sort of secret society. She was sure Miraculous had been around for awhile, that several historical figures had used them, and she could just bet that there was some sort of secret group watching over them from the shadows. She just needed a thread to follow, something that could lead her back to the guardians-

NOT THE TIME, BRAIN.

Abruptly, she stopped. “I- I want that too,” she said softly. “I don’t like fighting. I want my friend back.” She gave Marinette a hard look. “If Ladybug told you my advice, then you already know what I’m about to say. I don’t like being lied to - not like that. Not as part of a manipulation. You had your reasons, I get that, but I don’t think I could take that a second time. Unless someone’s in danger if you don’t, please, don’t lie to me. If you can’t tell me something or why you’re asking me to do a thing, just tell me that. I can’t promise to like it, but it’s better than being tricked.”

Marinette bit her lip and nodded. “I think- yeah. Yeah, I can do that,” she said, gaining confidence.

Alya smiled. “In that case…” she took off. “Race you to the bathrooms!”

“Hey, no running in the halls!” Marinette said, but her laughter undercut her words. As did her immediately overtaking Alya.

Girl could move fast when she wanted to.

------

(Several months later)

“And I… I’m Ladybug”

“This makes everything make so much more sense.”

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #alya cesaire #marinette dupain cheng #prime queen

[bamf-jaskier]

What the fuck are the Trials

Since the show is based on the books and not the games, and more people are more familiar with the games that the books, I thought it might be helpful to sort of officialize the posts I’ve done about specific topics in the books. 

Here are the previous posts on Triss&Geralt as well as Coën

TLDR: So looking at this process, according to the books the way a Witcher becomes, well a Witcher looks like this:

There is the Choice which is the decision to become a Witcher made when you are a child

Eat a lot of magic mushrooms that give you the strength and ability Witchers are known for

Then the Trial of the Grasses which is a concoction of mutagenic elixirs injected into the bloodstream which mutates you into a Witcher

Then finally there are the Changes. This is a big step and one that requires a mage. This is when the hormones are changed and a Witcher becomes permanently sterile

then there is training until you earn your medallion and BOOM, out onto the path with you

Now, have a post about what the trials are as far as the books are concerned

It’s important to note that in the books, The Witcher are a dying breed so the Trials are really only mentioned in Blood of Elves when Ciri trains with the Witchers and the two prequels, Sword of Destiny and The Last Wish. 

Let’s start out with the basics of the Trials, here is a passage from Blood of Elves where Triss is wondering why the Witchers at Kaer Morhen are being so secretive in regards to Ciri:

“It’s obvious. They want to mutate the child, subject her to the Trial of Grasses and Changes, but they don’t know how to do it. Vesemir was the only witcher left from the previous generation, and he was only a fencing instructor. The Laboratorium, hidden in the vaults of Kaer Morhen, with its dusty demi-johns of elixirs, the alembics, ovens and retorts… 

None of the witchers knew how to use them. The mutagenic elixirs had been concocted by some renegade wizard in the distant past and then perfected over the years by the wizard’s successors, who had, over the years, magically controlled the process of Changes to which children were subjected. And at a vital moment the chain had snapped. 

There was no more magical knowledge or power. The witchers had the herbs and Grasses, they had the Laboratorium. They knew the recipe. But they had no wizard.”

Later:

“And now they want to mutate the girl but can’t. And that might mean… They may ask me to help. And then I’ll see something no living wizard has seen, I’ll learn something no living wizard has learned. Their famous Grasses and herbs, the secret virus cultures, the renowned, mysterious recipes…”

Now, what Triss doesn’t realize is that Geralt and the others are not planning on subjecting Ciri to the trials at all but are instead trying to hide Ciri’s magical ability from Triss. They are worried she will report them to the Chapter. 

Of course, until they tell Triss this, she is deeply suspicious and goes on to talk about the mushrooms Witchers have access to which are extremely unique. 

“Of course, thought Triss. They’re feeding her those legendary cave saprophytes – a mountain plant unknown to science – giving her the famous infusions of their mysterious herbs to drink. The girl is developing quickly, is acquiring a witcher’s infernal fitness. Naturally, without the mutation, without the risk, without the hormonal upheaval. But the magician must not know this. It is to be kept a secret from the magician. They aren’t going to tell me anything; they aren’t going to show me anything.”

Later:

“I don’t give a fig for your trust, witchers. There’s cancer out there in the world, smallpox, tetanus and leukaemia, there are allergies, there’s cot death. And you’re keeping your “mushrooms”, which could perhaps be distilled and turned into life-saving medicines, hidden away from the world. You’re keeping them a secret even from me, and others to whom you declare your friendship, respect and trust. Even I’m forbidden to see not just the Laboratorium, but even the bloody mushrooms!”

Triss as a mage has extreme bias against the Trials and for good reason! Most of the populace doesn’t have access to any information on the Trials outside of vague ideas but Mages have access to first hand accounts such as this from Blood of Elves: 

“On the third day all the children died save one, a male barely ten. Hitherto agitated by a sudden madness, he fell all at once into deep stupor. His eyes took on a glassy gaze; incessantly with his hands did he clutch at clothing, or brandish them in the air as if desirous of catching a quill. His breathing grew loud and hoarse; sweat cold, clammy and malodorous appeared on his skin. Then was he once more given elixir through the vein and the seizure it did return. This time a nose-bleed did ensue, coughing turned to vomiting, after which the male weakened entirely and became inert.

For two days more did symptoms not subside. The child’s skin, hitherto drenched in sweat, grew dry and hot, the pulse ceased to be full and firm – albeit remaining of average strength, slow rather than fast. No more did he wake, nor did he scream.

Finally, came the seventh day. The male awoke and opened his eyes, and his eyes were as those of a viper…”

~Carla Demetia Crest, The Trial of Grasses and other secret Witcher practices, seen with my own eyes, manuscript exclusively accessible to the Chapter of Wizards

When most people think of the Trials, they are thinking similarly to Queen Calanthe in Sword of Destiny. 

Here is what Calanthe says to Geralt when talking about what he might do with his child surprise: 

“You are astonished,’ she stated. ‘Well, I’ve studied a little. Since Pavetta’s child has the chance of becoming a witcher, I went to great pains. My sources, Geralt, reveal nothing, however, regarding how many children in ten withstand the Trial of the Grasses. Would you like to satisfy my curiosity in this regard?’

‘O Queen,’ Geralt said, clearing his throat. ‘You certainly went to sufficient pains in your studies to know that the code and my oath forbid me from even uttering that name, much less discussing it.’

Calanthe stopped the swing abruptly by jabbing a heel into the ground. ‘Three, at most four in ten,’ she said, nodding her head in feigned pensiveness. 

‘A stringent selection, very stringent, I’d say, and at every stage. First the Choice and then the Trials. And then the Changes. How many youngsters ultimately receive medallions and silver swords? One in ten? One in twenty?”

Later Calanthe asks Geralt:

“Do you believe a Child of Destiny would pass through the Trials without danger?’

‘We believe such a child would not require the Trials.’

‘One question, Geralt. Quite a personal one. May I?’

He nodded.

‘There is no better way to pass on hereditary traits than the natural way, as we know. You went through the Trials and survived. So if you need a child with special qualities and endurance… Why don’t you find a woman who… I’m tactless, aren’t I? But I think I’ve guessed, haven’t I?’

‘As usual,’ he said, smiling sadly, ‘you are correct in your deductions, Calanthe. You guessed right, of course. What you’re suggesting is impossible for me.’

‘Forgive me,’ she said, and the smile vanished from her face. ‘Oh, well, it’s a human thing.’

‘It isn’t human.’

‘Ah… So, no witcher can—’

‘No, none. The Trial of the Grasses, Calanthe, is dreadful. And what is done to boys during the time of the Changes is even worse. And irreversible.”

Later:

“The risks are too great,’ Geralt said quickly. ‘As you said. At most, four out of ten survive.’

‘Dammit, is only the Trial of the Grasses hazardous? Do only potential witchers take risks? Life is full of hazards, selection also occurs in life, Geralt. Misfortune, sicknesses and wars also select. Defying destiny may be just as hazardous as succumbing to it. Geralt… I would give you the child. But… I’m afraid, too.’

Then in The Last Wish, Geralt describes his own experiences with The Trials:

“Kaer Morhen…That's where the likes of me were produced. It's not done anymore; no one lives in Kaer Morhen now. No one but Vesemir. Who's Vesemir? My father. Why are you so surprised? What's so strange about it? Everyone's got a father, and mine is Vesemir. And so what if he's not my real father? I didn't know him, or my mother. I don't even know if they're still alive, and I don't much care.

“Yes, Kaer Morhen. I underwent the usual mutation there, through the Trial of Grasses, and then hormones, herbs, viral infections. And then through them all again. And again, to the bitter end. Apparently, I took the changes unusually well; I was only ill briefly. I was considered to be an exceptionally resilient brat…and was chosen for more complicated experiments as a result. They were worse. Much worse. But, as you see, I survived. The only one to live out of all those chosen for further trials. My hair's been white ever since. Total loss of pigmentation. A side effect, as they say. A trifle.

“Then they taught me various things until the day when I left Kaer Morhen and took to the road. I’d earned my medallion, the Sign of the Wolf's School. I had two swords: silver and iron, and my conviction, enthusiasm, incentive and…faith. Faith that I was needed in a world full of monsters and beasts, to protect the innocent. As I left Kaer Morhen, I dreamed of meeting my first monster. I couldn't wait to stand eye to eye with him. And the moment arrived.”

So looking at this process, according to the books the way a Witcher becomes, well a Witcher looks like this:

There is the Choice which is the decision to become a Witcher made when you are a child

Eat a lot of magic mushrooms that give you the strength and ability Witchers are known for 

Then the Trial of the Grasses which is a concoction of mutagenic elixirs injected into the bloodstream which mutates you into a Witcher 

Then finally there are the Changes. This is a big step and one that requires a mage. This is when the hormones are changed and a Witcher becomes permanently sterile

then there is training until you earn your medallion and BOOM, out onto the path with you

This is why it’s such a big deal that Triss was brought to Kaer Morhen. Without a mage, someone cannot become a full Witcher and Triss believed that was why she was there. Of course, this wasn’t true but it’s a valid concern to have. 

One thing I want to note, there is absolutely NOTHING in the text that says that being a Witcher is limited to any sort of gender boundary. The fact that Triss so readily jumped to Ciri becoming a Witcher and the fact that Geralt didn’t specify  boys until he was talking about the sterilization process...well, there is a likelihood female Witchers actually existed. 

Again, in the books Witchers are a dying breed and you can literally count on one hand the number of Witchers we meet. Of course, considering mages are the ones who made Witchers, it makes sense that female Witchers are either strongly discouraged, banned or simply not talked about. 

One big point Triss has against Ciri’s training is that she won’t “develop” correctly like a woman “should” due to the mushrooms and harsh training and considering how so many northern mages place importance on beauty I could definitely see mages not wanting to have female Witchers, considering it a “perversion”. 

Just a fun thought I often have about the books that I haven’t seen anyone point out. 

So overall, here is what the books have to say about the Trials, it’s a touch different from the games but I find this very fascinating and interesting. Let me know if you want me to do a specific topic or relationship next, but for now, thanks for reading!

#I was actually thinking about making a post about what the schools look like in the books tonight #thought it might be intersting #the witcher #wtf series #the trials #the trial of the grasses #the changes #geralt #The Witcher netflix #the Witcher books #asaps #andrzej sapkowski #sword of destiny #blood of elves #the last wish #quotes #myposts #meta

[mmmonie]

I have obey me brain rot and I physically cannot take it anymore so here are some random HCS I fucking busted out about demons under the read more (and some angel stuff thrown in. For fun. Spice is the variety of life or whatever) I formatted this on mobile so forgive me for my crimes pls..... 😔

Also as an fyi I have never written anything in my life <3 (and also I’m dyslexic) so if something sounds stupid I’m sorry lol <3 also I’m sure u can tell but I never know where to put commas so if that bothers u........sorry again lol

*There are (at least) two demonic languages: one is a bit like Latin albeit way more fucked up. The second one is spoken only. A human can learn to understand both but the second one requires a lot of concentration to discern due to the subtlety in the growls, clicks and other noises demons are capable of making. It’s also very dependent on body language, especially in demonic form.

*It would be nearly impossible for a human to be fluent in the second one because of that. (unless you’re like. A really good mimic?)

* the second one is the oldest language. The new language and it’s written counterpart are derived from it with a little twist, so you’ll still hear some interesting noises thrown in there. It would take some dedication to learn, though the written part is fairly easy once you get the hang of it. It was made to be read quickly and efficiently. The speaking part however...................good luck.

* Demons and angels can instantly pick up human languages including reading and writing. Wouldn’t do you much good to be summoned in like. Germany and not know the language LOL

* Demons purr LOL you can’t click and growl and NOT purr. Like cats, it is both a happy thing and a self soothing thing.

* There is a slight difference between a happy purr and a self soothing purr, but the difference depends entirely on the demon.

* Demons (and angels) are nearly impossible to kill. It’s also very hard to damage them in any meaningful way. They also heal very quickly, so even if you did get a good hit on one, if they managed to get away chances are they’d heal in a matter of hours.

* Stronger demons like the brothers are even MORE impervious to damage. The amount of times Beel’s reached into the oven barehanded just to pop a piping hot cookie in his mouth is insane. He swears it’s the best way to eat them.

* Angels are very stiff but very physically powerful. They have a lot of control over their bodies and are trained from a young age to be able to wield that power responsibly.

* Demons on the other hand are incredibly flexible and bounce back easily. Though your average demon might not be the same physical strength as an angel, they have agility on their side. Angels are heavy hitters where demons rely on their ability to strike multiple times very quickly.

* This was a very weird transition for the brothers, though the amount of strength they had barely changed between realms. Fallen angels don’t change that much strength wise, but a little bit is burned up in the fall (to protect themselves.)

* Angels may be strong but demons also posses a massive amount of strength and have to learn to control it over time. This is known as a “juvenile phase” but it happens at different ages depending on how they were born. Fallen angels do not go through this as they have already learned to keep a grip on their power. Do I have an entire separate post ready about this bc I just couldn’t shut up? Maybe...

* There are four ways of being “born” a demon. Fallen angels, half demons, human borns and natural demons.

* Humans can choose to be turned into demons, but it is a very painful process and they won’t be able to gain any strength, what they get is what the get. They are referred to as “human born” and were considered the lowest of the humanoid demons until Diavolo came into power.

* Human born used to just be made whenever by whoever but that caused problems. Demons would make human borns and then just leave them to flounder about by themselves in an unknown territory. Diavolo’s father put an end to that during his reign, but “accidents” still happen. Now you have to do paperwork if you want to turn your human friend/lover into a demon lol.

* The ceremony for turning humans into demons is incredibly complex, which is why banning making human born unless given permission is less of a problem than you’d think.

* Half demons are just that, they’re only half demon. Most are half human but there are a few other kinds of magical creatures mixed in there. They aren’t as strong as a natural demon nor a fallen angel but they can gain power through their other ancestry. Many of them specialize in unique kinds of magic.

* Half human/demon children aren’t as rare as you’d think they are. This is due to the fact that demons have all sorts of ways to keep a demonic baby alive. Ranging from shapeshifting and (magically) taking the baby themselves once it’s grown enough to handle the transition to various forms of potions and spells to help a human along.

* Half demons and natural demons have the luxury of being born already (mostly) acclimated to the devildom, making some of the transitions that come with a demons lifespan easier on them than human born and fallen angels.

* Angels are taught to control/ignore their instincts where demons are taught to rely on/embrace theirs. Because demonic instincts often work against the things taught in the celestial realm fallen angels have a hard time adjusting to their new environment. Though, as their sins overtake them, their instincts become easier to fall back on.

* Demons have multiple forms, not just the two shown in game. All in all, the brothers have 5, each becoming less and less humanoid.

* Half/human born demons are more likely to have both a tail and wings in their first demonic form. Stronger demons like the brothers are merely showing off the strongest of the two, but everyone has both. (Bc I think they slap LOL *points* u get a tail and wings! *u get a tail and wings*)

* •a demons features can be influenced by what sin they are, but it’s not a hard or fast rule. Don’t be surprised if a demon who looks more akin to Mammon is actually a Sloth demon.***this does not apply to little Ds who’s look is entirely dependent on their sin. Little Ds are an entirely separate conversation 😈

* human borns/half demons can have two sins assigned to them, though this makes them less powerful in both. Usually there is a more prominent sin.

* Diavolo’s rule has helped quite a bit with bringing humans into a new better light, and many natural born demons who haven’t been able to interact with the human realm have become increasingly curious about humans and the way they work. Much of this is due to media that was brought from the human world to sedate Dia’s intense curiosity.

* In the eyes of many older demons, humans are merely playthings and it is expected that most demons will eventually mate with at least one other demon. A human and a demon dating is seen as just infatuation on the demons part, and it’s often thought that there are no real feelings behind a relationship like that. However there have been/are many successful and happy human/demon relationships.

* Demons don’t really have a concept of marriage. They live so long there really isn’t a point to tying yourself to one single person (or a few people) However, that’s not to say that there aren’t relationships like that. There are binding ceremonies for expressing love and devotion to other beings and it has its own unique culture.

* though the gates to the human realm are still technically closed and have been for a long time, demons can still be summoned by witches (sorcerers, wizards, warlocks, whatever you call yourself.) They can also be successfully summoned if you are not a magic user, however this is rare and often can go wrong, much like horror movies.

* Summoning very powerful demons like the brothers is incredibly hard even for an extremely experienced magic user, so often the demon you get claiming to be Satan really isn’t LOL. There are demons who are actually assigned to go to summonings in the place of the seven lords of hell, but many demons will just take on the role to fuck around with whomever summoned them. You think a prince of hell has time to just go possess some object or person for fun? (Ok...Mammon Satan and Belphie might.......if they’re bored enough LOL)

* Demons are actually relatively cuddly creatures. They might be a little rough with strangers but base instincts with family members will always be to coddle rather than fight. They’re more like humans in that right.

* Angels don’t do much casual touching, they’re very uptight. Beel and Belphie being as close as they are was a bit of an oddity in the celestial realm. That’s not to say angels don’t need causal touch lol just that they were trained to avoid that “temptation”.

* the brothers had a hard time starting out in the Devildom because of this. They still have a hard time with casual touches, which is why they seem so touched starved with the MC.

Things I might elaborate on later:

* There is a difference between demons, incubi and succubi but it’s not what you think it is.

* Demons, angels and humans all have very different takes on gender.

* The juvenile phase (DO not tempt me I wrote out like 1000 words about it bc I couldn’t shut the fuck up)

* Animals in the Devildom are fucked up. I WILL fucking talk about this bc it’s my passion.

* Pacts and how they work..........

* Maybe I’ll also elaborate on the hierarchy/power structure of demons sometimes 

#I was like that kid WHOS trying not to cough meme I could NOT fucking keep it to myself anymore LOL so now u will all SUFFER my shitty takes #I think abt obm constantly so........if I don’t delete this out of embarrassment tomorrow I might post more.....we’ll see.........sincerely #I fucking might LOL I’m already sweating. #anyway it’s 2:40 am I’m gonna eat this fucking cheese stick and go to bed goodnight bestie (<-u if ur reading this mwah)<3 #mental eelness........... #obey me! #obey me headcanons

[sohotthateveryonedied]

psssst got any headcanons about the batkids being turned into animals for a day thanks to some fucked up magic rogues?? (i saw you reblogged some of that shifter au so i had to get your thoughts on this because uhhhhh i need it)

(i’m expanding it to a week because this au deserves as much content as i can give it holy shit i love it already)

dick gets turned into a golden retriever and he is having the time of his life. his only responsibility now is wagging his tail when he’s happy and barking at the mailman. no stress. no worries. he can do whatever he wants now. dick will run up and down the stairs fifty times for no fucking reason and has an absolute blast. he will plop on bruce’s lap while he’s trying to work and take a nap there and bruce can’t do a single thing about it. just sits there under the weight of his giant fluffy son.

dick tries to call wally and invite him over to the manor so they can play frisbee but all he can communicate is with woof woof bark. so he texts him with his giant paws, “pls coem ovetr im bored :’((” 

“sorry but i don’t want this to awaken any furry genes in me,,, you’re on your own pal”

timmy is a CAT. because i LIKE IT. he’s this fluffy lil black kitty who disappears less than five minutes after bruce wrangles them all back in the manor. he’s phantom of the opera now. the only reason anyone even knows he’s still in the house and alive is because alfred keeps finding him napping in the laundry room because it’s warm and he likes to squeeze himself into teeny tiny spaces. bruce nearly kills him when he turns the oven on one day and it’s sheer luck that he opens it to make sure it’s empty and oop! there’s tim! curled up on the bottom rack sleeping his life away in a hot box of death! bruce has a goddamn stroke.

barbara visits and tim spends the whole day sleeping in her lap. at one point he climbs up on her shoulder and snuggles into her neck like a fluffy lil angel, purring his heart out. babs has never felt so blessed in her life.

bruce: “son please. i have work to do”

tim, stomping all over bruce’s keyboard and headbutting him in the chin: “oh??? you have work to do huh??? more important than paying attention to me??? your son??? you hate me??? you want me to die??”

bruce’s very important email to lucius fox: “mkkkkkkkkkkkkghjkkkkkkknj.////////////,” 

steph!! is a mouse!! what a fuckin ride!! she is a small squeaky creacher, here one minute and gone the next. you grab a box of cheez-its from the pantry and find it empty but for a little blonde mouse snoozing in there like “fuck ok i guess this is how it is now.” one morning bruce discovers her using his coffee mug as a jacuzzi. he is dead inside.

damian is a wee tiger cub. he is cute but miserable and will run at bruce from across the room and smash into his shins because “father!! this is terrible!! fix it father!! you bitch!!” he snuggles with dick whenever he can though, purring like a car engine. 10/10 adorable, would definitely adopt.

bruce: “damian”

damian: :3 

bruce: “damian”

damian: :3

bruce: “you will spit stephanie out right now or you’re grounded”

damian: >:3

jason becomes a hawk. the first thing he does after getting turned is land on bruce’s head and screech in his ear because fuck you that’s why. this is karma supreme. once they’re all safely at the manor he carries off a screeching steph in his talons and drops her in the toilet. familia.

bruce: “jason. sweetheart. please tell me you didn’t just shit on my car.”

jason: “ok :) then i won’t tell you”

ironically, cass is a sloth. slow sleepy girl. only three toes nothing more. she is shockingly okay with it and just,, hitches rides on people,, all day. she hangs around bruce’s neck like a gucci scarf and sleeps there for hours. snzzzz.

duke is a freckled bunny, floppy ears and twitchy nose hell yeah. bunny duke is too good for this world. too pure. sleeby twitchy boy. he dropkicks damian in the face during dinner and lands in a bowl of mashed potatoes. babey. 

a few days in, alfred calls up the teen titans that way beast boy can come over and interpret what the batkids are saying since they can’t exactly speak anymore.

bruce: “so?? why does duke keep biting me??”

gar: “well uh. he said something about how um. you confiscated his xbox last week...”

at one point bruce isn’t looking where he’s going and steps on a cherry tomato and just. bursts into tears. because he thinks he stepped on steph’s tiny mouse body and killed her. a minute later steph swan dives off the chandelier with a parachute she made out of one of alfred’s handkerchiefs and lands on bruce’s head, giving him a fucking heart attack.

bruce goes to the pet store to buy food because apparently cats aren’t supposed to eat caviar?? wack. he stocks up on all kinds of pet food and the cashier asks how many animals he has. 

“oh no these are actually for my kids.” 

cashier: ಠ_ಠ

#fun fact! mischief actually stepped on my laptop while i was making this #so the bit where tim did that to bruce was only added because of one (1) fluffy mischievous boy #a comedy genius #batfamily #batfam #headcanons #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #cassandra cain #black bat #batgirl #orphan #tim drake #red robin #idiot duckboy #stephanie brown #spoiler #duke thomas #the signal #damian wayne #robin #batkids #dc comics

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [22]

Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 22.5 OR Chapter 23 [Finale]

➜ Words: 4k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

There’s quite a few things that you hate.   You like to say you’re a somewhat well-mannered individual who wouldn’t use such a strong word, such as hate, to describe objects, people, and things in general. But there’s a number of things that just absolutely grind your gears. One of such examples are small spoons used to eat ice-cream or crème brûlée where you can never get a satisfying mouthful. And another is—   “Fuck this yeast. Seriously.”   “Hey, what did yeast ever do to you?” Jungkook laughs, finding your rage all the more amusing.   “It won’t foam up.” You tap the measuring cup with a long sigh. Sure, the mixture is bubbling, but it’s nowhere near as good as you want it to be. “It’s been five minutes too.”   “Did you put in sugar to feed it?”   You scoff. “Who do you take me for?”   You hate making bread, hate making laminated dough, hate anything that has to yeast. It’s just horrible to work with and you don’t understand how anyone can like bread in the first place. No one can eat bread on its own. It’s bland as hell. It’s boring.   But aside from your personal vendetta, it just didn’t make sense — you and Jungkook have the same dry active yeast but when he proofs it, it’s perfect. You wonder if these tiny organisms hate you.   “I hate yeast and bread and everything to do with it.”   “Quit whining.” While Jungkook brushes past you, he taps your bottom. “Less complaining, more working.”   “Easy for you to say.”   Jungkook continues the recipe. He whisks together three tablespoons sugar, a tablespoon of salt, and three cups flour. In the meanwhile, you stand there, tapping your glass and wondering if you have to re-do the entire process.   But then another thought comes into mind.    And you slyly switch yours with Jungkook’s.   “Whatever, we’ll see what happens.” You clear your throat, discreetly shifting past him to grab the salt.   “Who knows, it might end up fermenting properly,” he says and a noncommittal sound is made at the back of your throat.    Quickly, you make your dry mixture and pour the yeast in with some oil. It forms into a soft dough, bouncy to the touch, and just the right texture. At the same time, Jungkook returns to grab the yeast and immediately frowns.   “What the fuck is wrong with my yeast.”   He brings it up to eye level, frowning. You shrug. “Yeast is finicky. Was your water too hot when you poured it in? Might’ve killed it.”   “But it was fine befor—” Jungkook’s voice halts. His eyes dim. He redirects his gaze towards you and deadpans, “You switched it, didn’t you?”   “What?” You laugh. “No, I didn’t.”   It’s frightening how he figured it out in an instant. You ponder just how much Jungkook can see right through you. “You took it, didn’t you?!” Your boyfriend playfully throws his arm around your neck and pins you under his armpit in a choke hold. You giggle, grabbing onto his forearm.   “I didn’t!” “You’re still trying to lie to me now, brat? I expected better from you!” He laughs and you squeal.   “Jungkook!”   Finally, he lets go of you, but not before huffing out in frustration. You’re unable to recover when he ruffles your hair roughly, disheveling your entire head and sighing again. “Now I have to re-do mine.”   You pout, watching him grab the container of dry active yeast. “I have to make sure my bread rises.”   He smiles softly. “So now you admit stealing from me?”    You dust off the flour from your hands and approach slowly. When the opportunity is right, you grab Jungkook’s arm and loll your head to one side, fluttering your lashes. “You wouldn’t be upset with your wonderful girlfriend, right, Kookie?”   “Don’t try to act cute with me.”   You lean against him. “I’m not. I just love you.”   Jungkook scoffs, but a tiny smile still lifts on his features. The corner of his mouth is timidly quirked and you know you’ve won.   The dough is kneaded until it’s elastic. Then the bowl is covered with a damp cloth and put in a warm place where it rises for an hour and a half. Afterwards, you punch the dough down on a lightly floured counter, shape it, and bake it in greased loaf pans.   For hating everything yeast, you must admit that the smell of fresh bread filling the kitchen is mouthwatering.   “It rose!” You peek through the oven in its last minutes, observing the way the crust is turning golden brown. “It looks so good.”   Jungkook looks over your shoulder. “Not bad. We’re going to have to do it again though. Or at least you do.”   “What?” The oven closes and you whirl around. “Why?”   “You can’t use my yeast during our exams.” Your boyfriend’s expression is impassive and you open your mouth to retort, but end up closing it. There’s no way you can argue against that.   “Ugh!” Your feet stamp childishly. “But I hate it!”   He smirks and brushes past you. “Should’ve done it right in the first place.”   “Shut up, Jeon.”   The scent of bread baking in the oven only serves to mock you now.   Jungkook tears his teeth into his bread, having lightly buttered it before eating. It’s still steaming hot and looks soft inside. You’re jealous, but also thankful when he stays around and watches you try a second batch all on your own without stealing any of his yeast.   “Too much salt or sugar could slow down the yeast,” Jungkook says. “If the water is too hot, you’ll kill it. If it’s too cold, it won’t activate.”   You sigh. “Why is it so difficult?”   “It isn’t. Just keep trying. The best upcoming pâtisserie chef isn’t going to give up on something as simple as bread, right?” Your boyfriend smiles when he sees you can’t even feign a pout, that your mouth twitches at the compliment.   Motivation flares through you. “That’s right.”   You check water twice, ensuring that it’s the perfect amount of warmness and after you add the godforsaken yeast, you measure out sugar carefully. There’s little agitation before you set up a stool to watch it move.    You pray these microbes will do your efforts justice, that they’ll release their carbon dioxide and ethanol, that they’ll bubble and ferment and make your dough rise later on.   “Are you going to sit there and watch it?”   “Shush,” you hiss at Jungkook as if the yeast could be scared to death.   He smiles, plops a kiss at the top of your head and walks away to clean up his pans and bowls. In the meantime, you wait for five minutes, and then another two just to make sure. By then, it’s bubbling.   “Is this good?” You bring it to Jungkook, not sure anymore.   He peers inside the bowl. “Looks okay to me.”   “Then I did it!” You throw yourself at him for a big hug and the yeast mixture nearly sloshes above the rim of the bowl onto the ground. “We can go now, right?”   Jungkook snorts. “You still need to make the bread, sweetheart.”   You pout. It’s such a pain. But it’s worth it when dough rises, the bread bakes perfectly in the oven, and Jungkook claps for you. When all is said and done, you feel lucky that Jungkook’s here for you, a personal cheerleader of sorts, always rooting you on.   You didn’t know bread could taste so sweet.

“Jungkook.”   “Hmm?”   He’s nodding off, head rested in his palm, elbow on the counter, slumped on the stool. He’s trying hard to keep his eyes open, but he’s been dozing, hair flopping around as he tries to keep himself awake. It’s painful to watch him.   “Go to bed.”   “’t’s okay.” Jungkook straightens his spine and stretches above his head with a yawn. “I’ll wait for you.”   “I’m not going to be done my cakes for a while. Just go back and sleep. Aren’t you tired?”   “Only a little.” He slides off his stool anyway, oddly obedient when he can’t be bothered to put up a fight.   Still, Jungkook comes over and you instantly know what he wants. He leans down, propping his chin on your shoulder, and you hug him as he folds over you. His body is nearly covering your entire frame like a blanket, but it’s warm and comfortable. “I wanted to wait for you,” he mumbles sleepily into your shoulder.   “You’ll see me tomorrow, you big baby.”   He makes a disgruntled noise, eyes shut, squeezing you before letting go.   You smile at him. “Here.” And you help Jungkook undo his white apron. He turns around so you can undo the strings and once it’s free from his body, you haphazardly toss the apron on the counter.   You press your hands against his cheeks so his mouth puckers and you place a brief kiss to his lips. “Okay, now go back and sleep.”   “Okay.” Jungkook relents and retreats away, barely dragging his legs along. A soft smile finds its way on your face, but right when the door of the kitchen closes, your nose scrunches.   There’s a smokey smell in the air.   Immediately, you whirl around to where you’re working and a gasp rips from your lungs.   Jungkook’s apron that you tossed, the one he once told you was precious and lucky to him, is caught on fire. The cloth is curling right on the stove, burnt off, red flames engulfing it.   After a delayed second, you finally lurch forward and grab the edge of it to dump it in the sink. The smoke rises as you turn on the tap and you watch, completely stunned and speechless.   “Shit. Shit!”   //   You’re at a loss of what to do.   You’ve stuffed the dirty thing in your bag, went home and tried to recover it. But the white apron has a huge gaping hole right at the center and there’s nothing to be undone. You tried to read the tag too, to find the brand, to find where it was manufactured, but it’s been worn and faded.   So you consult help. “Jimin, do you know where Jungkook’s apron is from? The one he usually wears.”   “No idea,” the boy says and you’re flooded with complete disappointment. “Didn’t his grandpa give him that thing before he passed away? I think it’s why Jungkook started baking in the first place.”   Blood drains from your face. You feel worse than you did before.   Jimin notices the way your expression crumples, how you’re on the verge of tears and his eyes widen. “Are you okay?! What’s wrong?”   “Don’t tell Jungkook….but...I…..I accidentally burnt his apron.”   There’s a quiet pause. “Oh shit.”   “What do I do, Jimin?” Guilt and remorse eats you whole, chewing and spitting you out to leave you nude and mortified. “I just took it off of him and threw it on the counter. I didn’t know it would land by the stove!”   “You can’t read the tag?” When you shake your head, the boy sighs and his voice softens in sympathy you don’t want. “I’m sure Jungkook won’t be upset with you, Y/N. It was an accident.”   But you can’t come clean with him.   You can’t bear seeing Jungkook’s disappointed face. The inevitable expression that’ll arrive if you tell him you destroyed a precious belonging. If you tell him you ruined his late grandpa’s last gift. If you tell him you wrecked what started him on this journey.   “I can’t say I’ve ever seen something like this before.” Aeri holds it up, studying the pathetic piece of cloth in the light and ignoring the giant hole in the center. She’s the next person you turn to and perhaps your last one.   Yoongi would just laugh in your face and call you an idiot. Taehyung can’t keep a secret for his life. And Hoseok has more than enough on his plate than to deal with your antics. Jimin and Aeri are the ones who are understanding and kind enough to actually help you in your dumb crisis.    “Have you tried searching online?”   “I found one similar on amazon but it’s not the same. The pockets are placed differently. He’ll know.”   “Doesn’t Jungkook have the standard one from school?”   “It’s...not the same.” You exhale in defeat and fall back onto her bed. You cover your face with your hands to shield away the sunlight that comes through the windows. The nice, autumn weather felt like it was mocking you. “What should I do? What if Jungkook breaks up with me over it? I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.”   The girl laughs. “He wouldn’t. Jungkook’s not that kind of person. I’m sure if you just told him, everything will be okay, Y/N.”   That’s what everyone reassures, and in the back of your mind, you know he can’t be upset with you for that long. But Jungkook trusted you with a personal belonging of his — something so special and you burnt it to a crisp.   You feel guilty. There’s no amount of apologies that can bring the apron back to how it was. You’ve ruined it like how you ruin everything else in your life.   //   “Hey, have you seen my apron?”   Jungkook’s digging into his belongings a few days later, having searched his locker and is now looking into his drawers and into his closet. You swallow hard, knowing that this was imminent.    “N-nope.”   “Weird. I swear I had it here….”   You glance at your backpack. There’s a new apron that you bought, had it shipped to you in a day’s time. You picked the nicest gift bag to put it in too, but you haven’t had the courage to confront him about it.   You wonder what Jungkook would do if he decided to end the relationship over this. Maybe he’ll cite that he’s done with your shit, that you’re irresponsible and too clingy. That you’re too emotional, how he can’t trust you with anything, and perhaps he'll say he needs space.   You’ll survive — you know that much. You’ve been through enough in your life to know you’ll make it out, but surviving is not the same thing as living.    Jungkook’s become such a big part of your life — your boyfriend, partner in crime, best friend — you don’t know if you’ll ever be ready to be without him.    You love him, more than you’ve ever loved anyone else before.   “What’s the matter?” Jungkook’s suddenly squeezing your face together, the cheesiest grin painted across his own visage. “I’ve been calling you for the past five minutes. Are you thinking about someone else when you’re with your boyfriend?”   You blink at him, eyes becoming glossy. Jungkook’s confusion takes over when you don’t make any snarky comebacks, when he realizes you’re not in the mood to joke around.   He slowly lowers his grip and sits down on the edge of his bead, concern taking hold. “Is everything okay?”   Your breath staggers out from your mouth. “Don’t be mad.”   His brows furrow deep. “What’s wrong?”   You open your mouth, but realize that you can’t say it. So you lean down and grab the gift bag from your backpack. You hand it to him and he takes it in his bewilderment, peeking inside.   You tear your eyes away. You can’t bear to see his face. “I’m sorry. Really. I am, Jungkook. The….the other day when I took off your apron, I threw it on the counter without looking and it caught on fire. I was trying to look for another one, but I don’t know where it’s from and I know it’s special to you, and I’m so sorry.”   There’s silence.    Then the noise of his chuckling.   You lift your head and you’re instantaneously engulfed into Jungkook’s arms, hugged by him. “I love it, thank you.”   You’re stunned — and it takes a moment for you to snap back to reality. “You’re not mad at me?”   “No.” Jungkook scoffs lightly and pulls away with a grin. “I was wondering why you’ve been so quiet the entire day. I was more worried than anything. You didn’t get burnt, did you?”   “No.”   “Good. Then that’s all that matters.”   He’s humming happily, unfolding the new apron and pushing out the folded wrinkles. Then Jungkook stands up while holding it out on his body, checking how it looks in the mirror.   You can’t comprehend how he can be so forgiving. “Wasn’t the other one from your grandpa? You started baking because of him, right?”   “Kind of. He cooked a lot and told me I should find something I love to do and make it my job. It was a bit of a whim.” The boy turns around, doe eyes twinkling. “But that old man gave me a whole box of stuff, not just the apron. And honestly, it was kind of getting old and worn, so I’m glad I have a new one now — plus it’s from my amazing girlfriend, so how can I not love it?”   It takes three seconds.   Three seconds and then you burst out crying. You’re not sure exactly why and it causes Jungkook to be alarmed. He tries to comfort you, but he’s obviously uncomfortable as he pats your back and caresses your hair awkwardly. It’s only when you’ve calmed down a bit where he wipes your cheeks with his thumbs and asks if it was something he said.   When you tell him you’re not quite sure, the next question he asks is if you’re on your period — and you almost slap him.   The pair of you don’t talk about your meltdown again, but in the middle of the night while you’re still awake, you’re finally able to pinpoint your emotion.   It wasn’t that you were afraid of Jungkook being angry or breaking up with you — you were afraid of disappointing him, of breaking his heart, of hurting him.    You know anyone else in your life would’ve been let down. But not Jungkook. And for that, you feel relieved, reassured, comforted. You feel fortunate that he loves you, and most of all, you realize just how much you cherish the boy named Jeon Jungkook.

In the middle of your bread and viennoiserie class, while your floured hands are folding laminated dough, Taehyung looks up from the counter with a sudden question.   “What kind of wedding cake do you guys want?”   “The hell did that come from,” Yoongi grunts beside him, his beloved silence now broken.   “Well I was just thinking salami and prosciutto would be so delicious with bread, because I love myself some deli meats and there’s this super cute girl at the deli I go to, but I’m pretty sure she has a boyfriend. Anyway, I started to remember the cakes they had on display at the bakery section and there was a funfetti one with a cartoon rabbit on it that looked a lot like Jungkook.”   “What?”   Taehyung keeps rambling, literally thinking out loud, “Then I realized he and Y/N are probably gonna get married someday, and I wondered if I was going to be a groomsman at the wedding and what kind of cake they were going to have, so yeah. What kind of cake do you guys want?”   Yoongi's expression is disconcerting as if he’s wondering how Taehyung lives peacefully with a brain like his. “Do you ever get tired being yourself?”   “Hey, you asked.” The tall brunette is unbothered by the insult and turns to the two of you for an answer. “What kind of wedding cake are you guys going to have?”   Your mind is reeling.   Getting married to Jungkook seems so far away from now. The pair of you are barely in your twenties, and you’re not particularly inclined to get hitched so young. But in terms of cake — your own specialty — you’ve had one in mind since the beginning of time.   “Well obviously, we’re going to have chocolate.” — “Fresh strawberries and cream.”   You and Jungkook both answer at the same time over top each other.   Your heads turn, eyes meeting, stares connected.   “Of course we’re going to have chocolate.”   “Aren’t you sick of it? I make chocolate for you all the time,” Jungkook argues. “And you eat some every other day.”   “I could never get sick of chocolate.” You frown. “Since when did you like fresh strawberries and cream?”   “Always.” He shrugs. “And when we worked at Kim's cakes, that flavour always tasted the best to me. It’s fresh, but still sweet. I think everyone would like it. It’s versatile.”   “Yeah, but what matters is that we like it.”   “I like it.”   “Yeah, but I think chocolate is just more fitting for us.”   Yoongi sighs, looking over at Taehyung. “Here they go again.”   “What?” You direct your attention to the sleepy man, a sharp bite to your words. “What do you mean ‘here we go again’?”   Taehyung’s eyes widen and he begins to slide away from the counter, not wanting to be in the face of your wrath. Yoongi, on the other hand, has never been intimidated by you in the least bit. “The both of you are always fighting.”   You glance at your boyfriend. “No, we’re not.”   “First it was about cookie dough and then pineapple on pizza, soufflés and now this.” Yoongi spits straight up facts without sugar coating it and you’re left stumped. You didn’t realize how it looked to outsiders. You know there’s never animosity between you and Jungkook — it’s just debates, but you suppose the arguments happen frequently.   You stare at Jungkook and he smiles tenderly at you.   The man turns back towards his friends.   “I like getting Y/N riled up. Isn’t it fun to watch her?”   “Excuse me?” you scoff, not expecting that kind of response.   “Ugh.” But Taehyung takes his words in a completely different meaning and his face scrunches. “So this is a kink you guys get off on? Making other people suffer by listening to your bickering?”   Jungkook doesn’t say anything and merely wiggles his brows. It makes your face hot and Yoongi appears disgusted as well next to his baking partner.   Your boyfriend looks off at you. “How about chocolate strawberry cake then? We can have chocolate cake layers and alternate between cream and ganache in between. We can frost it in strawberry buttercream with strawberry roses as decoration — and of course, a pile of chocolate strawberries as the topper.”   You grin at him, leaning in to press a kiss on his lips. “Brilliant. As usual.”   “Ugh.” Taehyung groans even louder. “Nevermind. Go back to hating each other. I can’t handle you two being sappy and gross.”   “Well get used to it,” you tell him proudly while Jungkook drapes an arm over your shoulder, approving your message.   It’s only when the teacher brushes past all four of you and reminds all of you to continue kneading your dough do you remember that you’re in class with everyone eavesdropping in.   But you don’t mind shamelessly flaunting your relationship with Jungkook — you’re proud of him and of loving him.   //   It’s later that night when you’re snuggling while watching some show playing on his laptop, that you verbalize some doubts that Taehyung’s snuck into your mind. “Do you think we argue too much?”   “What?” Jungkook turns his head. “Not really. I like arguing with you — well, not in any way that makes any of us upset or anything, but I like our heated debates. Why? Don’t you?”   “I do,” you hum. “I was worried you didn’t. I don’t want to make it seem like I’m always picking fights with you.”   He laughs and the sound is melodic to your ears. Jungkook’s grip on you tightens, making sure he’s holding you close. “You are. But I don’t mind. We don’t need to agree on everything to be together.”   You lean into his warmth and a content sigh escapes your lips.    Of all the things that you disagree with Jungkook on, you think he would agree that the both of you cherish being with one another. Future wedding or not, you want to savour every moment and all the antics you have together. That’s all that really matters.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #btsboulangerie #jungkook x reader #jungkook baking AU #jungkook baking!AU #sugar and coffee #ONE MORE CHAPTER GUYSSSS

[fafulous]

Take Me Home (3/5)

Andy Barber x Reader (Post!Defending Jacob)

Summary: After the unfortunate events of the trial and after, a depressed Andy Barber decides to call it quits and start a mundane life far away from Newton. He decides it is best to have a fresh start away from prying eyes and alone, but he never thought his caring neighbor (and her son) would change all of that.

Themes: MAJOR D.J. SPOILERS ((The series is following the BOOK ENDING and not Show)), Sad and soft Andy Barber, Single Mother Reader. Cursing.

A/N: Thank you all for reading this! I’m really not so good at nsfw stuff. Bear with me xD

SERIES MASTERLIST

Warnings: NSFW lil smutty.

–

Andrew Stephen Barber is a good man.

He not only asks you out for a date, but also asks your son’s permission to take you out on a date.

But before that you had a conversation with your little one while he was playing with his toys. “Hey Niko, can mommy talk to you?”

Niko fiddled with his toys, whispering to them that he needs to talk to his mother dearest.

“What is it mommy?”

You lifted him and placed him on your lap, kissing his forehead. “Mommy needs to tell you something, and you need to tell me if you’re okay with it.”

“Owkay,” he buries his face in your chest.

“Peaches, will you be okay if I hang out with Andy more than he normally does?”

“But you fwiends with Wandi.”

“Yeah Peaches I know,” you hesitated for you didn’t know if it was wise to have such a delicate conversation with this little brain you love so much, “But I think mommy like Andy more than a friend now.”

“Woh like pwincess and pwince?” he asked you, his face brightening.

You hugged him tighter laughing at his comparison, “Yeah peaches. Like them.”

“But what about papa?”

It was hard to explain, even though Niko knew his mother and father aren’t together. You patiently explained him, pausing in between whenever he didn’t understand.

“…Papa hit me peaches. Papa doesn’t like me, but papa loves you okay, you must know that. You still have to visit papa okay?”

He began to cry again and hugged into your shoulders, realising that the whole ‘papa hitting momma’ triggered his memories that he never liked in the first place, “Me don’t like papa! P-papa hit you! Papa give you booboo in your face mommy!”

“Hey buddy don’t cry.”

Your head turned to Andy; glad he made a visit at the right time. He quickly whispered that the door was unlocked, and he took Nikolai from your grasp. “I got this momma bear,” he whispered.

He snuggled and cuddled Nikolai just to calm him down, walking up and down the house. He didn’t bother about the fact that the child’s tears and snots were staining his blue shirt.

“Hey buddy. Don’t cry what happened?”

“Papa hit mommy. Papa hit mommy-”

Andy cradled him now, trying to distract him with his soothing voice. “Your papa isn’t here buddy. No one’s going to hurt mommy okay? I promise I won’t let anything happen to mommy okay?”

“Y-you won’t h-hit m-mommy Wandi?”

Andy froze for a little bit, wondering where this was coming from, but then you popped in with a teary eye gently telling him that they had a conversation about you asking him out.

“Of course, not buddy. I will never hit Mommy, it’s a promise. I like your mommy okay buddy?”

“Yeah, Mommy say she likes you too.”

“Will you be okay if I’m with mommy?” He asked the little baby, wiping his tears with his hands.

“You pinkie pwomise you won’t hit her?”

“Pinkie Pwomise.”

“Then wowkay.”

A few more minutes of cradling, and the little one dozed off.

Andy put him on the couch after kissing him and came up to you, embracing you in one of his cuddly hugs you always loved. You tip toed and kissed him on the cheek. “Mr. Grumpy Cat, you’re making me feel like I am too dependent on you.”

“Isn’t that a good thing Momma Bear?”

“If you say so.”

—

You knew Andy was a keeper the minute he knew Nikolai would be joining them for their first date at the park.

It so happened that little Niko didn’t like being left alone with Mr. Arthur when his two-favourite people on the planet were going to spend time with one another. He threw a tantrum like one you’ve never seen before, and alas your weak heart couldn’t see him crying for too long.

To your surprise it didn’t sound like he was feigning, but Andy was genuinely looking forward to going out with you and Nikolai at the same time. After all it was his first time he was going to literally go out with you two.

Laying a picnic spread, Andy unpacked the picnic basket. Both of you did try to sneak in a few private moments with each other but was too less. Nikolai would never leave you two alone. “I am so sorry about this Andy. I know you deserved a better first date from my end.” “Hey its completely fine momma bear. This feels just like our dinner nights, only difference is that we’re out in the warm sun with home cooked food and lemonade.”

Mostly what you and Andy could do was cuddle under the tree while you spoke about tame stuff since Nikolai ran up to you both every five minutes. He would take a sip of lemonade, a bite of the Andy’s sandwich and go up the jungle gym with a couple of his newly made kid friends.

“And here I thought you were trying to impress me Andy. Your impressing Nikolai instead of seducing me?” In fact you were drop dead impressed. He took care of your son’s needs first. What more does a single mother need?

It wasn’t also helping how Andy looked so good today. A light blue shirt with black trousers, his sleeves rolled up to show his popping veins on his arm. His muscles weren’t shy from popping through his shirt material. His hair and beard, as usual, is something you’d worship alone.

He looked like a gourmet meal.

“Oh, you want seduction?” He leaned over close, breathing hot air onto your neck while he readied his hoarse voice, “Wait till you taste my peanut butter sandwich honey.” Even though his voice went low, sending you tingly feelings all over, you knew you’d never not laugh for his silly boy jokes.

Dates with Andy soon became date nights. Andy was a gentleman when it came to your son’s involvement. Any other prospective date of yours would have ended it soon since dating you meant having your son all day around. Thanks to the help of Andy’s loyal contacts and past clients, he had managed to get Nikolai into a day-care since it was time you stopped depending on your neighbours. They were extremely kind and didn’t mind taking care of Niko too, but you had to respect their fragile age. So here you two were, on an official first date without your son. A quiet lunch in a quaint cafe right near your library. Andy picked you up, even though you argued that it was literally walk-able from your workplace. Andy and you felt the conversation going so smoothly. It only felt like any other conversation you both had during dinner every day. But only this time, both of you had little butterflies in your stomachs in the hopes of this relationship blooming into a safe cocoon. A safe place for each other. "I’m guessing the first time you saw me, I was never in your good books?” “Oh no,” you huffed taking a sip of your wine, “you were a pain in the ass. I still never get it why you were so rude to me.” Andy reached out for your hands and gave a gentle squeeze. “I’ll never forgive myself for that. You just seemed so so… good to be true. I wanted to keep distance from something that was so wholesome, especially when I used to see you and Niko in your lawn every evening you know.”

”Oh shush Andy. You’ve made Niko’s and my life too good to be true now.” With great difficulty, you let Andy pay for the first date, arguing that he was always fed by your home cooked meals and now was his turn. 

“I had a good time Andy. I had such a good time. I want to spend more time with you like this.”

“We have every night ahead of us honey. We get to spend more time more now.”

“Niko has gone to his father’s place, it’s his birthday this week and he wanted Nikolai for the whole week,” your face drooped, “We have the week to ourselves. Do you wanna, you know, do something?”

“Yeah I’d love to. Say what about dinner at my place? Drop in home once work is over? I’ll cook?”

This was a little chance. He wanted to do something more intimate with you.

Once work was over, you straight away drove to his home. When Andy opened the door, you hugged Andy and took in the blissful ambience of his house.

Anyone would argue he wasn’t a bachelor. His house was so neat, better than the first time you visited his house.

Andy made a beeline to the stove and over while you removed your coat and went around the place. His house soon smelled like a warm toasty oven; vanilla candles lit on the table with a few fresh roses in a vase in between.

“How was your day honey? I really love the blouse you’re wearing.”

Such a charmer.

“Thanks bub. My day went fine you had no idea what happened…”

You dramatically narrate the events of your workplace as you plop yourself on the kitchen counter while Andy shows keen interest in your words even though he his cooking. He simmers the flames and chooses to give you his full attention now.

“…and so now Tracy doesn’t like me anymore because I am going out with you now.”

“Is that right now?” he leaned in closer, placing his arm on your sides, trapping you with his arms on either side of you.

You nodded, which was sending Andy crazy because he saw how your supple lips were being trampled by your own teeth. You looked irresistible. With your flimsy cute work blouse showing the perfect amount of cleavage and outlining the cups of your bra, he just instinctively leaned closer to you. Both of you were silent except for each other’s breaths.

But your eyes trailed lazily over him, until it landed on an uncharacteristic embroidered apron that said Kiss the Cook.

As Andy neared you, your legs wrapped around his thighs, feeling his well-toned calf muscles that he must have developed from swimming. Your voice was so breathy that you doubted if Andy could hear you. “Do we obey the words of the apron in this house?”

Andy looked down to his apron and then back at you, eyes looking at your lips, “Well I was planning for that after dinner gets over.”

“Oh Andy,” your fingernails trace his cheek, shamelessly pulling him by the chin as your lips brushed his. “But I’m so hungry…”

Andy smashed his lips on to yours, even though he wanted to be gentle. You kissed him back with all the pent-up frustration of not being able to touch a man for so long on to him. Andy kissed you just as passionately and deeply as you did. You ruffled and pulled on his hair while your tongues peaked inside one another. He tasted like a homemade meal with a splash of wine. It was the first time both of you made out. Andy Barber of the past would have instantly taken you over the counter, but his clogged mind didn’t think he deserved such gestures of pleasure. So, he never took any initiative to direct things, always seeking your direction like lost puppy. "Andy? Bub? You can touch me wherever you want,” you whispered. He pulled you closer by gripping on to your ass harshly which earned a sexy chuckle from the both of you. Andy couldn’t say how you tasted, maybe it was some flavoured chapstick that you’d always wear? But for Andy, you tasted like home, his favourite taste.

Both of you gently yet quickly ripped off each other’s clothing. Andy’s bare chest made you want to place sloppy kisses all over his body and at the same time pinch his cute pink nipples. But you reminded yourself to stay grounded.

Because Andy was being very reserved with you. He was so hesitant, you could feel it, even though he was a mind blowing kisser. He removed your top and asked you a couple of times if he could touch your breasts.

He pushed away everything and made you lie on the counter. He massaged your breasts while he shoved his tongue way down your throat. It felt so good. He felt so good. So good that you could feel your panties ruined. His hands dangerously neared your clothed core. Your fantasies of Andy bending you over the counter and fucking you like he owned you flashed for a couple of minutes. But Andy stopped his kisses the minute he smelt the burnt smell coming from the oven and stove. Andy took out the burnt pasta and the burnt chicken appetizer from his stove and oven and placed it in the open.

Two panting, half naked bodies looking at each other. “Sorry Bubba. We got um carried away with the kiss, didn’t we?”

“No way honey. That was more than just a kiss. But this is just a plate of pasta and chicken. Besides what do you think about candlelight pizza and some whiskey with your favourite Harry Potter movie?”

“Andy,” you said with your strict voice, “you have officially seduced me with that one question. It’s definitely a big yes!”

Andy plopped you off the kitchen counter with one more passionate kiss and helped you into his sweater (since you requested if you could wear one of his soft blue sweaters). Andy realised you had removed your work skirt and were tying your hair into a high bun when he finished ordering your pizza.

If Nikolai had made his living room messy and loud with his toys and fighting sounds, he would be having a perfect home right now.

Soon the pizza came. Andy didn’t let you do any kind of work. He placed the pizza box on the coffee table and lit two more freshly smelling vanilla candles in front of you. He brought his bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses (and even wine because in case you change your mind). Before Andy sat down you realised, he was like you too with just sweaters and boxers. His hair was the same, ruffled because of the little stunt you both pulled at the counter.

“You don’t mind right?” He gestured to his attire.

“Oh, lover boy, this is a perfect night and I know it.”

Before you know it your cuddling with each other as the movie goes on, taking bites of cheese and sips of alcohol. Once the food gets over, you almost reach one third of the film, now just drinking mindlessly on wine and whiskey as both of you start to get grabby with one another.

Andy and you became tipsy, the movie soon forgotten. Cuddling soon became sweet whispers of comfort.

Sweet whispers of comfort soon became sloppy neck kisses.

Oh boy and these neck kisses ended up being another make out session.

Getting lost into each other’s kisses was something you loved with Andy. Even though you could feel his hard shaft onto your clothed dripping wet core now, both of you responsible adults knew it was too early for sex.

Both of tried to exchange a conversation that was soon forgotten. It came out as mumbled words and they were soon forgotten…

“H’honey,” he burped with the amount of alcohol he had consumed, “you’re not mad at me for not having sex, right?”

“Shhh, it’s okay Andy,” you burped back too, “Nothing wrong in saying no to sex. Consent is important. We are res-responsible adults- Andy that tickles!”

Andy rolled over on top of you on the couch and attacked your ears, peppering his lips all over your chest.

Sex was out of the cards for you lovebirds. Not sloppy wet kisses right? — Andy would do these small gestures that would always bring a gush of warmth and fuzziness inside you. His hands on the small of your back whenever you walked anywhere. The small back rubs he would give you whenever his body swallows you for a hug. His forehead kisses whenever he saw you stressing out too hard thinking about Nikolai. Your most favourite, linking your hands or pulling you towards his shoulders while going out (even in a departmental store) when any unknown young man approaches you. 

You did miss your son without doubt, but it gave so much time for you and Andy to get to know each other much more intimately, emotionally.

Andy had his own vulnerabilities. That as just as much he is moving on, he is as much depressed if he is left alone. He even opened to you how he was going and try to reach out to a psychiatrist and you encouraged him to do so if it would make him feel better

Physically, Andy and you fooled around kissing all day. He never initiated anything, but when you did, he would beg you not to stop. You were genuinely not complaining because sex isn’t everything in a relationship. He told you honestly that he wanted to know you much more before consummating with you and you understood, because you realised, he just came out of a 17-year old institution called marriage.

The idea of him moving on was a blessing for you. Now you would wait for the blessing to count… Or you would just take it in your own hands?

Just the day before Nikolai visits home, Andy asked if he could work on Nikolai’s nursery. You were more than happy to oblige.

As hard as it was to get up early on a Sunday morning, Andy made it easier since he bought you some coffee and waffles.

He began with painting the wall with Nikolai’s favourite colour blue and made sure they were done in neat strokes. You are having the time of your life for you just sat on Niko’s bed watching Andy drilling a few holes into the wall. 

He was shirtless all day.

You saw how his back muscles flex as he tried to screw in wooden planks on the wall to hold any toys for him. He even made two small wooden cubbies for Niko’s toys and books. He even made sure to buy extra black paint so that we could draw a very amateur version of his Audi car that Nikolai loved. You and Andy had a good laugh at the final disfigured outcome but were happy genuinely. It was the thought that matters

He loves nothing more than a home cooked meal and so you made him lunch and dinner while he finished the last details.

You left Andy alone in Niko’s nursery while you had to wrap up the kitchen and clean it. You made sure Nikolai’s pancakes batter was in stock because he was coming home tomorrow.

When you entered the nursery, it looked so perfect. Green walls, a cute little bed for his liking and a lamp in the shape of a yellow star was placed near his bed. But just one thing or one person looked out of place.

“Andy? Why do you look so stressed?” “Nothing just- was reminded of Jacob,” he shook his head, looking at the photo frame of new-born Nikolai in your arms. “His hair looks uncannily similar to Jake’s.” You sat next to him, your hands gently squeezing his thighs in comfort. “Do you want to talk about it?” “No no, I’m fine.” He gave you a half-hearted grin, but soon smiling at you for he realised how grateful he was for you to be here at every step of processing his emotions, “Thank you momma bear.”

“No bubba, thank you for all of this.” Both of you leaned over for a quick kiss, but Andy didn’t let go. His kiss on your lips felt needy, tugging on to your lips when you let go and looked into his eyes; it wasn’t as sunken as it was when you first laid your eyes on him. You realised how bad it must be for him to be alone with his thoughts.

But at the same time, you knew he wanted more, his eyes looked like that of a needy child wanting comfort. 

And you were hell-bent on giving it to him

“Hey bubba, I gotchu’ okay?” He closed his eyes when he felt your soft palms cupping his cheek; the movement of his thumbs making him blush more. You brought your lips to his, feeling his chapped his against your soft ones.

You got up from the nursery and pulled him to your room and gently closed the door to lean in for another deep kiss.

It was too addictive. Andy had to taste more. He pulled you closer and kissed back with a newfound passion. But he felt you pulling back, leaving him breathless only to see you making him sit down on the bed and you falling down on your knees. “Hey no,” he knew what you were up to, “you don’t have do this.” “But I want to Andy. I wanna take care of you.” I want to give my love to you. You convinced him to relax and pulled down his sweatpants. His black boxers didn’t help hiding his growing bulge. You nudged him to open his legs wide and began placing soft kisses up his thighs. Andy breathed out soft whimpers when you licked and grazed your teeth over his clothed bulge all the way up. His needy state made you tear up a little bit, but it was okay, you were here for him now.

You pulled him for one more kiss before pulling down his boxers. “You look so beautiful bubba,” you whispered to him, gently stroking him while you pulled him down for a peck on his lips.

Andy was mesmerised by the sight of his cock in your hands. You teasingly stroked his length and placed sloppy kisses all over, earning a loud curse from him. 

“Fuck!”

“Do you like it bubba? Do you like me holding you like this?” your mischievous yet caring eyes fluttering as you kitten licked the tip of his throbbing cock. Andy threw his head back, his breathing becoming heavier. 

Andy was a moaning mess and boy oh boy you weren’t even started. He then saw your pretty lips wrap around his shaft, your tongue running around his throbbing length. When you wrapped your hand around the remaining part of his cock, bobbing up and down, Andy became a mumbling mess. He gripped on to the sheets beside him, not wanting to ruin his beautiful sight in front of him.

You could taste his precum on your lips, making you wet already. You sloppily licked him again, thinking about how would his hot cum feel inside of you. Your moan into his cock made Andy shudder with a small intensity. He was close already.

Tonight was about him only.

Andy tried so hard not to close his eyes, but he failed for he lost himself in this pleasure. He finally gave up tugged on to your hair gently, eyes lidded with desire. He felt so good in your mouth. 

He felt so good being with you.

As you increased the pace, you felt him buck his hips against your mouth while your fingernails gently teased his balls. Andy wanted to fall back on the bed, but he kept growling incoherently at your antics. But he wanted to see his cock getting lost in your mouth. 

“H-honey, I’m gonna- oh my god!”

He finally falls back onto the bed, his hips hitting your mouth harshly once more as you felt spurts of his sweet, salty cum go down your throat. You tried to lick every last drop of him on your lips, but you had a better idea. 

Andy slowly open his eyes, only to see you hovering over him, panting. You leaned in for another kiss, passionately taking in all of you while he came to senses to realise, he was tasting himself off of you.

Andy looked so beautiful, his face was flushed. A glow on his face like a boy getting laid for the first time. His eyes had that mild sparkle; you would do anything to get happiness in this man’s life now.

“You taste that bubba? That was you,” you kissed his neck and another sloppy kiss to his plump lips, “So sweet.”

“You’re a little minx momma bear” he panted too, rolling over to nuzzle in your neck, “I never knew you had it in you.”

“Neither did I, I just wanted to take care of you okay. You looked like you could use a uhm- you know-“

“An Orgasm?”

“Yeah.” Both of you giggled like teenagers while later as Andy pecked more needy kisses on your neck.

“I want to return the favour, Honey.”

Oh, you would gladly accept him jumping into you, but you weren’t cruel. The man was literally tired. “But you look so tired Andy,” you cupped his cheeks again, ruffling your hands into his hair, “My orgasm can wait.”

“B-but" 

“No buts mister. You did so much work today. You help me set up Nikolai’s whole room and you never even let me help you. This was all about you okay? I can’t see you with a frown on your face Andy. I really lo-like you a lot okay?”

"You hurting me honey,” he leaned closer to whisper sweet nothings, “I really like you too and that’s why I wanna make it up to you, now.”

“Sleep next to me today?” you trailed his hands over his exposed chest.

“Say no more.” You gasped as Andy lifted you over shoulders, spanking your soft peach. He gently made you sit down on your bed and helped you change into your nightwear, which was his very same blue sweater you wore that day.

That night you realised you would never cease to make his life brighter.

You spooned Andy as you both exchanged good night kisses. He was delighted, he was in the arms of a woman who was way out of his league. He slept that night peacefully knowing that he finally has someone to take care of him now. –

The very next Monday morning, Andy and you woke up to the sound of the calling bell, realising it was Chad dropping off Nikolai before he heads off to work. Andy was gleeful as he strode towards the door, excited about what happened last night.   “Yaay! Wandi!” Niko literally jumped from his father’s hand to Andy’s shoulder, hugging his mother’s new pwince tightly as ever. 

“Hey buddy, glad to have you back.”

Niko then goes running into his house, to his mother by the kitchen counter. You hugged your boy and held him in your arms, unbeknownst to you the ugly conversation that was going to follow

“It’s you from the library,” Chad eyed him like a piece of meat noticing he was not wearing his shirt.

You observed from afar. He was nothing compared to Andy. Your boyfriend’s muscles had more personality that your son’s father. “Yes and you must be Chad, Y/N’s ex-husband.” “And you must be Andrew Barber. Father of the dead Jacob Barber.” “You are a fucking son of a-” You quickly put Nikolai down and asked him to go to his room. Andy wanted to throw this man over your porch and slam his head with a metal pan. But you beat him to it as he saw you holding Chad by the collar. “How dare you? Don’t you fucking DARE say a word about him, DO YOU GET IT?” Andy tried and successfully held on to you know, deeply terrified of how you were shouting.

“You’re wearing his clothes,” he snarked “You fucking any guy that lives next to you now?“

Smack!

You slapped him hard. So hard he had a red imprint on his cheek. You waited for a second for him to open his mouth as an excuse to slap his other cheek again. Andy pulled you back now, “Sweetheart it’s not worth it. It’s okay.”

“You don’t even know anything about him Y/N,” he straightened up himself. “I may be a cheater, but I am not born a murderer.”

Andy left his grip from your arms, feeling him slowly move away inside your house.

“What?”

"Did you know his father in jail? Bloody Billy Barber? For murdering a girl?”

You felt your heart feeling heavy. “N-no.”

“Oh jolly, good luck processing that! By the way, Sasha my girlfriend and I are going on a vacation for a couple of weeks so, Nikolai will not be coming- “

You weren’t listening to him because you shut the door on his face. You slowly processed what you had heard. You never pressed Andy because you respected his choice. His words. 

“Is this true Andy?” 

You earned a small nod from his burried face in his own hands.

How could you forget? It was one of your best nights. You never doubted him and even after hearing this, you really didnt.

You both were really drunk that night (every night of the week actually), rolling on the bed with each other naked. "I have a lot more skeletons in my closet than you think Y/N.”

“Have you cheated on anyone?”

“No”

“Have you stolen monies?”

“No, you silly” “Have you killed anyone?” Andy giggled and said “No!“ He smacked your forehead. "Then consider that closet empty. I like you, this Andy Barber, not the Newton County’s DA. The hot swimming instructor who hates Speedos and loves backrubs.” By the time you could process this information, Andy got up and gently grabbed you by your shoulders, his watery eyes doing no job of his distress. “Andy listen to me okay. Wait-” “I wanna stay alone for a couple of days okay? I want to apologize if I feel like I’m abandoning you. I-I am not though…” “Bubba we can talk about this.” You pleaded him, cupping his cheek. “Just talk to me bubba please.” “No, I don’t think so Y/N. I can order take out okay. Don’t wait for dinner night for me. Thanks for last night. I’ll never forget it.” He places a quick kiss on your forehead only to leave in a hurry. “I still like you okay.”

You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You didn’t like how this was going.

You processed it. Andy’s father was a murderer, not Andy himself.

If Andy wasn’t going to process that, you would do that for him too. 

You would do anything to get happiness in this man’s life now.

–

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#Andy Barber #Defending Jacob #Andy Barber x reader #Chris evans imagines #Andy Barber Imagines #Chris evans x reader #Defending Jacob Spoilers #andy barber fluff #andy barber smut #chris evans #chris evans x you #andy barber imagine #andy barber angst #defending jacob finale #jacob barbe #andrew barber

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: Family - 18

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2354

Warnings:  Pregnancy, smut (fff threesome, pregnancy sex, sex toys, multiple orgasms, vaginal and anal penetration with toys)

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family.  When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 18: Girls’ Time

After talking with the others I decided I’d wait a little while before meeting my mother.  In the end, I felt like I needed to be sure what she was doing was genuine or not before I agreed to see her.  It wasn’t like I didn’t have other things that were more important to think about.  I had the ultrasound coming up to check for abnormalities and where we could find out the sex of the baby.  I had had this feeling that because three of us were pregnant, and because we already had two kids that there wouldn’t be enough excitement to share.  Often with second children people aren’t quite as hyped as the first one, partially because they’re busy with the first one, partially because all those baby things you need to buy you already have, and partially because the other people in your life don’t share your excitement.  With that on top of the fact, there were three people pregnant and I was the least pregnant, I thought by the time I hit all the milestones everyone would have been a little burnt out.

To my surprise, that was not the case.  I don’t know if it was just that there were ten of us and we were all excited about the new family members that we fed off each other to keep that going, if the others were trying to make it up to me from last time, or if the fact that when I was pregnant with the twins so many of them weren’t around and I had nothing to compare it against, but everyone was buzzing.  They’d go from happily feeling Natasha or Wanda’s stomach for kids, to saying how they wished they could feel kicks from the baby I was carrying too.  They’d talk about potential baby names for the three girls and then start speculating what sex the baby I was carrying was so they could name it too.

It felt good.  I loved how buzzed everyone was.  I loved how special they made not just me feel but Wanda and Natasha too.  I couldn’t wait to meet the four new members of our family and I was buzzed to find out what I was having.

Wanda, Natasha, and I all now had crazy cravings too.  Wanda was craving a lot of food she made with her mother.  She was vegetarian now, so she was adapting recipes that included bell peppers stuffed with pork to be vegetarian.  She was also making desserts from puff pastry and quark cheese.  Interestingly, her usual aversion to hot food had gone completely and she was enjoying all these things warm and fresh out of the oven.  Natasha’s were completely different.  She was craving high fat and high salt, which delighted Clint.  Pizza.  Burgers.  French fries.  Natasha was ordering them all hours of the day and night.  Her cravings annoyed her.  She was careful to try and balance them with salad or at least something less processed and she hated that she didn’t have the willpower to ignore them completely.  For me, I was craving sugar and things that were high in iron.  I was drenching spinach in honey mustard dressing and eating every dessert that was offered.

The men were all very keen to take care of us too.  If we had a craving they were rushing to the kitchen or ordering in takeout to cover it.  It wasn’t just food we were craving.  Our sex drives were out of control and with the kids at school we were spending a lot of days dragging people off to bed with us.  Interestingly our sex cravings were all different too.  Wanda was completely off penetration of any kind but if you went down on her she came so hard and so quickly it would make your head spin.  Natasha really, really liked being spooned.  Which was another thing that annoyed her, because she normally liked being so dominant and in control.  That didn’t annoy her nearly as much as she started getting weepy when she climaxed.  And for me?  Well, I was really into anal.  I had no idea where it had come from, but I could climax from anal alone.

The day before my ultrasound, Wanda, Natasha, and I were spending some rare time where it was just the three of us.  We’d dropped the kids off at kindergarten, come home via a nail salon where we’d gotten mani-pedis, and then come home to have a very mismatched lunch that catered to our different cravings.

“Please stop thinking about sex, Elise.  It is very distracting,” Wanda said in a tone that was half scolding and half playful.

“Don’t worry, Wanda,” I teased.  “I’ll take care of you.”

“Elly!”  She squealed and threw a dinner roll at me.

I laughed and caught it, tearing it in half and feeding a piece to each dog.

“Elise,” Natasha scolded.  “Don’t feed the dogs from the table.”

“Why not?”  I protested.  “Clint does.”

“Oh yeah, Clint’s who you want to model your behavior on,” Natasha snarked.  Wanda started giggling and Natasha wrapped her arm around Wanda’s shoulders.  “I bought you a new toy, by the way,” she said.  “I think given your current desires you will like it quite a lot.”

“Natasha,” Wanda whined.  “Why are you teasing me.”

“I’m not teasing you,” Natasha said, nosing at Wanda’s cheek.  “We haven’t had girls time in forever.  Let’s go upstairs.”

Wanda wrinkled her nose and nodded.  “Yes, please.”

Natasha smirked and stood, offering Wanda her hand.  Wanda took it and let Natasha lead her away from the table.  “Elly, are you coming?  I got a nice present for you too.”

I got up as quickly as I could and followed after them, curious about what Natasha had in store for us, and already a little wet knowing it was going to be good.

When we got to the bedroom we helped each other strip off.  It was pretty far from sexy.  We were all different levels of pregnant.  Wanda was huge.  Probably as big now as Natasha would be full term.  She was finding it hard to even get her pants on and off by herself these days without help from someone else or using her powers.  Natasha wasn’t as big, and she was more mobile, but she was still a little awkward and she wasn’t exactly able to pull off a sexy striptease anymore.  I wasn’t quite as big as her, but it was like my body had realized it was pregnant and just gone straight into the third trimester despite the fetus I was growing not being anywhere near ready yet.  So I was not exactly co-ordinated as I got out my maternity sweats.

When we were finally all undressed Wanda and I climbed up onto the bed while Natasha went and gathered the things she had ordered.  She laid out a selection of toys and lotions on the bed before getting up on the bed.

I think that all three of us were having trouble with actually feeling sexy.  It is hard when you feel slightly awkward in your own body.  But the way they looked at me, it was easy to believe I was the most desirable person in the world.

“I think we might need to take turns,” Natasha said. “It’s a little awkward otherwise.”

“Let’s start with Wanda,” I said.  “She’s gonna get off from just us anyway so we should get her before it becomes too much.”

Wanda giggled.  “So thoughtful, El.”

Natasha lay down so she was spooning her.  She took a little vial of gel and squirted a blob onto her index finger before slipping it between Wanda’s folds and rubbing it slowly onto her clit.  I began to kiss Wanda and massaged her tits.  Wanda moaned softly into my lips and held onto me.

“Oh,” Wanda gasped, breaking the kiss.  “That tingles.”

“Mm-hmm…” Natasha hummed taking her hand away and grabbing the vibrator.  It was small and pink with a white cap on the end.  She turned it on and it hummed softly as it buzzed in her hand.  Natasha slipped it between Wanda’s legs and pressed the white end against her clit.  Wanda hummed softly but that didn’t seem to be the reaction Natasha was looking for.  She kept moving the toy, just a little wriggle as she upped the buzz.  “Fuck!”  Wanda gasped and covered her mouth.

“There you go,” Natasha said, holding the vibrator in place. “You foul-mouthed girl.”

I leaned in and started to suck on Wanda’s breasts.  I’d suckle and nip at her nipple until it was hard and then move to the next.  Wanda started panting very quickly and her hips jerked out of her control.

“Nat...Natasha, please,” she begged, her voice soft and needy.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”  Natasha hummed.  “Hitting that exact need, right?”

“Oh god, yes,” Wanda moaned.  Her orgasm was coming on very fast and seemed to be hitting her much more intensely than normal.  Her whole body had begun to jerk and her legs were shaking.  Natasha held her in place and upped the buzz on the vibrator.

Wanda’s body seized up and she cried out as she squirted hard.  Natasha didn’t ease up though, and as Wanda’s orgasm passed, a second hit immediately and her legs kicked out wildly as she moaned loudly.

Natasha pulled the vibrator back and kissed Wanda’s neck.  “You want one more?”

“No, no… I need a break.  That was…”  Wanda babbled.

“Fast.  It got you fast,” Natasha teased.

“Seriously,” I laughed.  “That had to be five minutes and she squirted.  What the hell is that?”

“Satisfyer pro,” Natasha said.  “It has suction.  I got one for each of us.  And you’re next.”

“Oh goody,” I said, as we moved around.  Wanda was moving slower and her eyes looked a little glazed as she moved in front of me.

Natasha handed Wanda a different vibrator that looked just like the one Natasha had used on her and Natasha took another toy and showed me.�� “Wanda’s going to use the vibrator while I fuck your ass with this.

The toy in her hand was beautiful.  It was a clear, shimmering glass dildo.  The shaft was wavy and it had a thick round end.  Running right through the center was a blue feathered design so it almost made it look like an icicle.  It looked more like a sculpture than a sex toy.

“Pretty,” I said.  “That’ll be the prettiest thing I ever had in my butt.”

“Elise!”  Wanda scolded and spanked my thigh playfully.

“What?  It’s true,” I laughed.

Wanda took some of the stimulating gel and rubbed it into my clit, obviously trying not to laugh as she did.  The gel was warm and made my clit tingle.  Behind me, Natasha lubed up the toy.  We were pressed closely together.  Wanda’s stomach touched mine, while Natasha’s pressed into the small of my back.  Wanda and I began to kiss and she turned on the toy and pushed it between my folds.  I hummed at the soft buzz and Wanda tilted her head and moved it around and increased the intensity.  When she touched it on my clit, the small device sucked the sensitive bundle of nerves and vibrate around it.  I gasped and tense up, digging my fingers into Wanda’s side.

Behind me, Natasha teased the cool glass toy over my asshole.  She was patient, and even as the toy sent pleasure rippling through me, making me muscles clench and spasm, she didn’t start easing the dildo in until I’d relaxed enough to take it.

She began to fuck my ass with the toy as Wanda sucked on my breasts and held the suction vibe on my clit.  My cunt clenched and spasmed, and my toes curled.  I wasn’t going to even last the five minutes Wanda took.  It was intense and every single one of my pleasure centers seemed to be hit at once, with such perfect accuracy.

“Oh god… oh fuck…” I babbled, cursing over and over.   My whole body seized up and I jerked hard between them and came, my clit twitching under the toy.  Neither Wanda nor Natasha eased up though.  If anything Natasha seemed to start to fuck my ass harder.  Wanda turned the toy up and pressed her teeth down on my nipples.

I came again, my toes curling and my hips jerking.  My belly bumped into Wanda’s but even still they didn’t stop.  Wanda turned up the vibe and I screamed - my third orgasm hitting me hard.

They both stopped and kissed me softly as they let that last orgasm shudder through me.  “Natasha’s turn,” Wanda said.

I moved behind Natasha and took a thin g-spot vibrator from the collection.  Wanda took the other suction vibrator and applied the gel to Natasha’s clit as she kissed her deeply.  I kissed Natasha’s neck and lubed up the vibrator.

As Wanda pressed her vibrator between Natasha’s fold, searching for her clit, I sunk the g-spot vibe into Natasha’s cunt.  I fucked her with it as Wanda held the other vibe on Natasha’s clit.  Natasha rutted her hips slowly between us, moaning into Wanda’s lips.  I sped up my pace, angling the toy so it would hit her g-spot and vibrate against it.

The sounds Natasha made kept getting louder and more primal.  She jerked between us and came gushing onto my hand.  We kept going, fucking her with the toys, kissing her neck and breasts.  Her skin became flush and sweat clung to it.  She came again, and even as that orgasm rocked through her a third hit, making her whole body shake.

“Stop, stop…” she begged and Wanda and I took the toys away immediately.  They were both a sticky mess and we put them with the others to clean up.  The three of us lay back.  Wanda and I giggled as Natasha panted between us.

“Shit,” she sighed.  “Why don’t we do girls' time more often?”

“I don’t know,” I said, rolling over and kissing her shoulder.  “But we definitely should.”

// NEXT

#the avengers #steve rogers #bucky barnes #tony stark #natasha romanoff #bruce banner #clint barton #wanda maximoff #sam wilson #avengers fanfic #avengers x oc #steve rogers x oc #bucky barnes x oc #tony stark x oc #stucky #clintasha #natasha romanoff x oc #wanda maximoff x oc #clint barton x oc #bruce banner x oc #sam wilson x oc #all caps #thor x oc #thor #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #pregnancy #the tower

[justbecausewhynot]

Between Stars Part 2 {Arvin Russell x reader}

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

The next day, you woke up bright and early to make your strawberry pie for the new reverend. The entire time you were baking, your mind was on Arvin. Something about him stuck to you and you were excited at the thought of seeing him today at church. Finally, your pie was out of the oven and looked delicious. Before your mom passed away, she taught you how to bake and cook, saying “Every woman should know how to bake, not for men but for themselves. A good roast can fix any problem.” 

“Honey, go change, we have to go soon.” Your father said, bringing you out of your daydreaming of Arvin. 

You quickly ran upstairs and examined your closet with the boy in mind. You chose a blue floral skirt that reminded you of his cap, and paired it with a white blouse that showed off your cinched waist and a little bit of cleavage. 

As you ran down the stairs, your father looked at you with a suspicious look “Who are you dressin’ up for y/n? Cause it sure ain’t the lord.”

“Oh shush daddy, this is what I always wear to church.”

“Whatever you say.” He smirked. “Now let’s hit the road before we’re late.”

The two of us piled into the blue truck, pie in my hand and headed to the town church. 

Once we parked, I set my eyes on Arvin. “Dad, let’s go say hi to the Russells.”

“I’m afraid Mrs. Russell’s gonna tell me to cut my hair.” He said, suddenly looking very scared and fixing his appearance to a point. 

“Don’t worry about it, now let’s go.” I said, stepping out of the truck with the pie and making my way over. “Hello Mrs. Russell.” I said smiling, trying not to stare at Arvin for too long. 

“Hello y/n, where is your father?”

“Don’t tell him I told you this, but he’s scared you’re gonna criticize his appearance.”

“Let me see him, I won’t be too harsh.” She said, spotting your father and making her way towards him, leaving you, Arvin and another girl alone. 

“Hello, I don’t believe I’ve met you.” The girl said. You were worried she was Arvin’s girlfriend or something, but nonetheless was as pleasant as always, if not more. 

“I’m y/n, I just moved into town.”

“I’m Lenora, Arvin’s sister.” She said, making your heart settle. “That pie looks awfully good, did you make it yourself?”

“Yea, I did, my mom taught me when I was little.”

“I wish I knew how to bake, the most I can do is a cake, and they aren’t even that good.”

“Don’t say that I’m sure they're great.” You said smiling, completely forgetting about the boy next to you. 

He most certainly did not forget about you. Zoned out in the way your eyes lit up, how your hair was pinned perfectly, but there were two stray strands framing your face, how your shirt granted him the perfect view of-no he shouldn’t be thinking about this. Arvin quickly snapped out of his trance to see Lenora and you staring at him. 

“I said you look a little red there Arvin, you okay?”

“Y-Yea, I’m just hot out here, that’s all.” He said avoiding eye contact with you in case you saw he was watching you.

Mrs. Russell came by with your dad and said “Alright, let’s head in now that Henry looks half decent.” Your father grumbled and kept his head down, following you into the church. 

There was a line of people presenting their home goods to the new preacher. The Russells went ahead of you while you were not-so secretly staring at Arvin. Once he turned back, you quickly turned your head as slyly as you could. When you looked back at him, his eyes were still on you and your cheeks were starting to heat up under his gaze. The sound of the preacher speaking brought both of you out of the gaze to turn to two fingers stuck into Mrs. Russell’s chicken liver. He lifted his fingers and put them into his mouth, sucking on them. You cringed at the sight and had to turn away once he caught your eye and stared right at you. Feeling incredibly uncomfortable, you fidgeted and looked to Arvin who was close to glaring at the preacher. Arvin followed his gaze to see that he was staring at, and once he saw you staring at him looking uneasy, he was about ready to start a fight. 

Neither of you heard what Preacher Teagardin said next, only watching the other, waiting for who knows what. Mrs. Russell and Lenora stepped away, out of the line, making Arvin follow them while still looking back between you and Teagardin. 

You stepped up with your father and stretched your hands out, holding out your pie towards the man. “Now, what do we have here?” He asked slowly.

“Strawberry pie, sir.” You answered, unsure if he was talking about you or the pie.

“It looks absolutely delicious.” he answered, still keeping his eyes fixed on you, making you very uncomfortable.   

“My y/n can bake like no other.” Your father boasted, clearly unaware of your discomfort. Someone who did notice, was Arvin. He was standing on the opposite side of the room, watching your interaction with the creepy reverend. Before he could think about what he was doing, Arvin was making his way towards you while Teagardin was holding your shoulder rubbing it in circles. 

“Sorry to interrupt.” Arvin said as he neared you and the preacher. “But can I steal y/n away for a second?” 

“I’m not surprised you have a boyfriend y/n, a pretty little girl like you must have all the boys chasin’ for your hand.” Teagardin said, smiling at Arvin.

“I didn’t know you were datin’ anyone.” Your dad said sternly “I guess that’s why you wanted to dress up so pretty.”

“I-well…” You were unsure what to say, not wanting to overstep any boundaries.

“Yea, I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sir, I wanted to keep it a secret so nobody would pick on y/n.” Arvin said, grabbing your hand and squeezing it reassuringly. “Well, my grandma really wanted to talk to y/n about something, she said it was important.” 

You didn’t need anymore convincing to quickly place your pie in the reverend’s hands and walk off with your “boyfriend”

“Thank you for that.” You said quietly into Arvin’s ear, waiting to explain until you were alone. Leading you outside the church’s doors, your hand was still in Arvin’s.

“How did you know I needed help?” You asked, amazed that Arvin came when he did.

Arvin didn’t want to admit that he had been watching you and so he just said “I noticed something was off with the man and didn’t want you to be left alone with him.” Which wasn’t a lie at all, but still, not the whole truth.

Suddenly feeling very sick, you thought about how the man had a wife and how he was much older than you. Next you thought about yourself. You thought about how you unbuttoned your blouse an extra button, hoping for the attention of Arvin. This was your fault, and you felt disgusted with yourself. 

Noticing that you looked less than happy, Arvin, still cradling your hand, pulled you up to a standing position and smiled. “Seeing as I’m your boyfriend now, it’s my job to make you happy again.”

“And how do you think you’re gonna do that?” You asked with a smile.

“By walking back in there, head held high, eating some of your delicious strawberry pie and then, going for a drive with me up to the creek.” He said

“Arvin Russell, are you askin’ me on a date?” 

“Seeing as I’m your boyfriend, I figured we should go on one sooner than later. 

“Sounds good to me.” You smiled, and made your way back into the church, hand in hand with Arvin. 

#arvin russel x reader #arvin russel #arvin russel imagine #the devil all the time

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Every Now and Then - Chapter 5

Summary: “It’s a simple case of not enough versus taking what you can get. Sometimes she sees him for a day or two, then not again for almost half a year.” Relationships are hard. When one person is a world-wide superstar and both people are idiots, they get that much harder. They both take what they can get, but eventually that may not be enough.

Warnings: Two large dollops of smut, a half-cup of angst divided, several pinches of language, dash of loneliness, and a good sprinkle of lack of communication. Fold ingredients together gently, bake at 200c fan for 20 minutes, then serve piping hot from the oven.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: So many, many thanks to @glassjacket and @thoughtslikeaminefield for endless cheers and edits and more cheers. I love you both. Thank you to @there-must-be-a-lock for the lovely image (and all the many wonderful choices you gave me to pick from). Please excuse my slang terms if I got them wrong. I did a lot of internet research but was too self-conscious to ask an actual British person for advice.

In case you missed it: Chapter 4 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

…

Every Now and Then

Chapter 5

They have an agreement of honesty and disclosure but as few outside personal details as possible. She gets all the information she honestly needs about his love life from the tabloid press, and she answers any questions he has about anyone she bothers to date in his absence, though his questions are near to non-existent. As are her other dates, to be honest. It’s impossible to find anyone that measures up to him in his absence, and she’s mostly given up trying.

She doesn’t see him for the whole of one winter and then only sporadically through the spring. Then the internet and tabloids explode over videos of him dancing and kissing and all manner of things she honestly does not want to see, and she thinks…

Well, she doesn’t know what to think. Jealousy, obviously. Disappointment. A deep, unexpected emptiness. But really, what did she expect? They aren’t married. They aren’t dating or really even committed. They certainly can’t have an official relationship. She has no claim and should really have no expectations.

She does her best to avoid tabloids, to turn the other way at the market when she does her shopping, and she avoids all but the most necessary uses of the internet. She buries herself in work and her friends and family and continues on with her life, just as they both always say they should when they aren’t together.

Because they are very obviously, very much not together.

And, yet, she misses him all the same.

When the “news” of his break-up hits, she refuses to allow herself to be glad. He’s always wanted someone he can be with publicly, have a real, open life with, and she will not hope for or be excited by the prospect that he has lost something so important to him.

And, yet, she listens for his call all the same.

It doesn’t come.

Autumn has firmly set in and is toeing the line with winter. She is in for the evening, too tired to go out with her friends, feeling just melancholy enough to let herself sulk into a mug of hot chocolate as she surfs shit television, wrapped in giant cardigan, sweatpants, and a fleece blanket to boot. Her flat is conspicuously empty of him tonight, and she feels his absence in every fiber of her being.

“Fucking pathetic, ridiculous, and absolutely stupid.”

She groans and finishes her scalding drink in one go, heaving herself off the sofa with the intention of making another one with extra whipped cream, when the door buzzer goes off unexpectedly. She stares at it, perplexed. It’s too late for deliveries, and most of her mates are off on a mini holiday that she didn’t feel up to joining. No one should be coming over.

The buzzing stops before she can answer, and she waits for a moment, staring hard at the box mounted in the wall. Maybe there was a short in one of the wires. There’s a long minute of silence before she finally shrugs and turns to the kitchen. She’s just pulling the milk out of the fridge when a short, definitive series of knocks comes from the door.

He’s just as tall as she remembered, but he seems a bit deflated as he stands in her doorway, a ridiculous hat on his head, thick sweater obscuring the sharp edges of his body, looking as unlike himself as she’s seen in a long time. She steps back automatically to let him in, but he hesitates, his eyes nervous and sad behind his thick, black-framed glasses. She knows what he’s waiting for, but, as much as it pains her to pain him, part of her is the barest hint of vindictive tonight, and she needs to hear him say it.

“I missed you.”

She waits.

“It was too long.”

Yes, it was.

“I won’t apologize, because you told me not to, but I…”

She cuts him off with a sharp shake of her head. “Try again.”

“I tried, she and I both tried, and it didn’t work. I didn’t want to make you my rebound, so I waited until I thought I was settled again. I should have called, at least checked in, but I didn’t want you to think...I didn’t know what you would say, and I’m afraid I was a bit of a coward. That’s why I came instead of calling first tonight. I was afraid you’d hang up. And then I buzzed, and you didn’t answer, and one of your neighbors was coming in and didn’t recognize me, so I thought...I just wanted to see…”

She gives him one more chance, knowing instinctively he’ll get it right this time.

“I just wanted you.”

There it is.

...

“Where did you even get that ridiculous hat?” she asks him later, tilting the accessory in question over her forehead as she lounges across his lap. He leans back against the wall behind her bed, hands folded behind his head, watching her with a faint smile of amusement lighting his face.

In all those tabloids she hasn’t looked at even a little (not once, not at all) while he was gone, she definitely did not notice how little he was smiling. And all those interviews she didn’t watch on the internet. Or read about on the gossip sites.

“I’ll have you know someone told me I look rakish and edgy in that hat.”

“But how does it even fit over all that hair? Really, darling, you’re getting quite shaggy.” She turns to face him, kneeling with her legs on either side of his thighs. Her voice, though teasing, is lower and quieter than normal, and she still feels a little raw around the edges.

She needs to reassure herself he’s really here and not some desperate, late night fantasy conjured up by her loneliness. Her fingertips trace over the faint lines around the corners of his eyes, the ones that deepen so beautifully when he smiles. She runs her fingernails lightly through his beard, ghosts a faint touch over his lips, looking everywhere on his face but still managing to avoid his eyes.

“Tell me.” It’s a request, and she knows it, but they have an agreement, and she feels compelled to answer.

“I was jealous, more than I want to admit. And sad. And lonely. And everything I’d imagine you felt after you broke up with her, as well.”

“You have nothing to be jealous over, you’re so much-”

“Shut up, you great git.” But there’s no sting to her words. “I don’t want to be compared to her, even if it’s favorably. I’d never believe you, anyway. You asked, I answered. I missed you, I hated every mention of the two of you together, and I had every vitriolic thought conceivable, none of which I will ever let reach your ears no matter how much you convince me I need to be open and honest and blah blah blah about my feelings.”

“But you can tell me, you know.”

“I can, but I don’t want to. First, I am done to death with your ex-girlfriend and would love nothing more than to never think of her again. Second, I have gone nearly eight months without a single stupid Shakespeare recitation or dramatic reenactment of my favorite chef, so if you aren’t going to put your tongue to better use, go get that recipe book and get to reading.”

“Darling, I don’t need a recipe book anymore. As the good lady herself said, ‘Once you have mastered a technique, you hardly need look at a recipe again and can take off on your own.’ I think my tongue can be put to much better use pleasing you without resorting to recipes.”

…

She watches him silently from the sofa again, her feet encased in thick, cozy socks and fingers wrapped around her perpetual morning coffee mug, as he sips his tea and scans the newspaper. The sun slips a little higher in the sky, hitting his ridiculous halo of hair in a burst of bronze, and a knot in her chest she didn’t even know was there loosens suddenly. He looks up at that moment, as if sensing the change, and their eyes lock in one of those silent looks they’ve shared so very often. She feels the sting of tears, but she fights them. Yes, they agreed to honesty between them, but there is honesty and then there is idiocy.

“You’re a terrible arse, you know that? The worst kind, and you know I can’t bear the sight you.”

His smile, though sad and knowing, is entirely genuine when he gathers her into his arms and buries his face in the crook of her neck.

“I never claimed to be otherwise, darling, and I can’t stand you, either.”

...

The End

#tom hiddleston rpf #rpf #tom hiddleston #unnamed original female character #reader insert #smut #angst #loneliness #lack of communication #idiots #I love my idiots #romance #every now and then #some language #bad slang usage #I've apologized #and i will do so again!

[anjuschiffer]

Breaking the Silence

My first Dickinette! Originally this was going to be for Maribat March, but ended up getting too invested on it... welp! Hope you enjoy this!

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Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo

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AO3

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The door opened with a slam and closed with a click, Dick peeking over the doorway, his face lightening up upon seeing his children enter the home. However, a frown replaced his smile when he saw Thomas throw his bag to the side, Marie watching her twin brother with a pursed lip and worried eyes.

“-maybe he can help.” Marie whispered, trying to grab Thomas’ hand only to get it slapped away.

“Dad?” Thomas scoffed, dragging his hand down his face before flinging his hand in the direction of the kitchen. “That happy-go-lucky guy? Bet he’s never had to deal with this shit before.”

“It doesn’t hurt to try.” Marie urged, holding Thomas’ hand into her own. “Maybe he can-”

“He won’t and will not. And you better not tell him about any of this.” Thomas gritted, jerking his hand away from Marie, his eyes landing on his father who was now standing at the foyer of the house, a smile plastered on his face.

How long was he there for? How much did he know?

“So, how was school?” Richard asked, leaning on the wall, watching as Marie fidgeted under his watch while Thomas muttered something, averting his attention.

“It was alright.” Thomas started, picking up his school bag and threw it over his shoulder. “Aced my midterms if that helps.” Richard’s smile grew, Thomas wanting to roll his eyes as his father walked over to him and hugged him, ending the interaction by ruffling his midnight hair. 

“Definitely wonderful news! Worth celebrating over! Might have to call your mo-”

“He got in a fight.” Marie blurted out, her gaze on the floor, her fists trembling at her side, her name hissed out of her brother. 

“A fight?” Richard asked, Thomas rolling his eyes, feeling a bit ashamed when his father’s eyes narrowed. “With who-”

“It’s nothing you should be concerned about,” Thomas said, walking up the stairs to slowly retreat to his room. “No-thing,” Thomas enunciated each syllable.

“Stop lying Thomas,” Marie said, her voice wavering. She looked at her father with bluebell eyes, round and filled to brim with unshed tears. Richard’s heart ached. They looked just like hers. “He got in a fight with-”

“Marie.” Thomas sternly growled, watching his sister tense up. “Not. Now.”

“Thomas, let her-”

“Are you happy that you got Dad’s attention, Marie?” Thomas asked, Richard wondering what exactly was his son feeling. Anger? Annoyance? Jealousy?

“What are you-”

“Aren’t you happy Mar? Happy that Dad loves you sooo much, simply because you’re the better one out of the two of us? The one that never gets in trouble? The goody-two-shoes, just like him? Like her? Like them?”

“What? No!” Marie squeaked, her eyes darting from their father and Thomas. “No, I-”

“Oh stop lying to yourself, Mar.” Thomas walked back down the stairs, his bag abandoned at the top. “You just love the fact that Dad always prefers you over me. After all,” he looked past his father, watching as Marie cowered behind him, “-you look just like her.”

“Thomas.” Richard said sternly, standing in front of Marie, tears falling silently down her face. “That’s enough.”

“What’s enough?” Thomas asked with a dry laugh. “The fact that Marie looks just like Mom? The fact that Marie looks identical to Mom? The fact that you have an identical replica of Mom living with us despite me also being a part of her?” Thomas let out a shuddering sigh. “I bet you’d choose Mom over me if you had the chance, wouldn’t you?”

“Thomas. Take. That. Back.” Richard gritted.

“Why should I when we both know it’s the truth?”

“You’re jumping to conclusions young man.”

“Oh? Am I?” Thomas walked up to his father, the height difference not scaring him one bit. “Then explain why I’m always the outcast.” At that, Richard took a step back, wondering how to answer at the accusation. “Why was I always the one you avoided looking at? Why was I always the one sent to Grandpa Bruce’s manor while Marie got to stay with Grandpere Tom and Grandmere Sabine? Why was I the one who had to suffer through all the gossip behind my back? Why was I-”

“Because you resemble her the most.” Richard softly said, Thomas looking up to his father, wondering when he had curled into himself, why his vision was so blurry. When did he start crying? When did his father start crying? Why was he crying? “Because some days you sounded exactly like her.” Richard brought his son into an embrace, Thomas feeling his father tremble. “Even though you have my shade of blue eyes, you have her midnight hair.”

Thomas felt his chest both tighten up and feel lighter.

“You have her laugh and her voice, her button nose and scrunched up face whenever she ate something sour.” Thomas’ vision blurred again, a lump forming in his throat.

“Your freckles look identical to her’s, you have her smile when you eat your favorite ice cream combo: vanilla and chocolate mint.” Richard let out a wobbly laugh. “Did you know that was her favorite combination to eat?”

Richard separated himself from Thomas, watching Thomas hang his head in shame while also wiping his tears away.

“And despite never meeting her, you have the same habits she had.” Marie walked up to her father and silently cried into his side. He patted her head, pulling Thomas into a hug again, hearing muffled cries. “It’s not that I was avoiding you Thomas, I was just not prepared to face you… to face the reality that your mother will never be able to see how much her children have grown up without her seeing a single bit of it with her own eyes.”

Thomas’ wails broke the silence, Marie shortly joining in, her own sobs syncing with her brother’s, something Richard had yet to completely understand.

Even when they were infants -in the rare times they would cry- whenever one of them would cry, the other would join, their screams syncing into a single wail, sometimes scaring Richard.

It would still be something to get used to. 

Richard let his kids cry, knowing it was heavily needed. Talking to Thomas about the fight can wait for another time, his current emotions were more important than some fight from earlier that day.

He knew about Thomas’ constant fights, the academy always calling Richard to try to meet in person to speak about the situation, Richard always turning the appointments down. He already knew about them, he had for a while. He just knew it wasn’t the right time to approach Thomas about the issue.

He wanted to give Thomas the option to approach him, to confide in his father for advice.

Richard knew better than to pry information from people, if living with his adopted siblings taught him anything, it was to never pry. When he had applied pressure, or at least the majority of the time, it’d lead to an unwanted situation.

Their crying carried for minutes, almost an hour until they came to a soft hiccup, Thomas being the one to end the symphony of tears. Making sure that his kids calmed down completely and didn’t have anymore pent up emotions, Richard coaxed them to take a nap as Thomas and Marie ended up exhausting themselves, now drowsy from all the crying.

With great hesitance, the twins finally agreed to take a short nap, Thomas complaining how it would ruin his sleep schedule while Marie was starting to crave cake. Richard told Marie he would make sure a cake was made and finished before dinner while laughing at Thomas’ complaints. 

It reminded him of a certain someone.

Tucking Marie into bed and giving her a kiss on her forehead, Richard slipped out of Marie’s room and went to the kitchen to start working on the cake he had promised Mari. 

Setting up his work space, he got to baking, placing his glass bowl over a pan of hot water, cracking the eggs over it and placing the sugar and vanilla extract in as well. He began to mix the ingredients, feeling something was off.

“Oh! Don’t forget the honey! You always forget the honey!”

“Right! The honey!”

“And don’t forget to remove it-”

“Remove it when it gets to 40 celcius. And we have to do the same for the butter and milk.”

“Yup! Honestly, why do you keep asking me about the step if you got the majority of it down?

“Just making sure.”

“Once you mix the first bowl you gotta add the cocoa powder.”

“Right, the butter and milk come after that.”

“Yup! So let’s get back to baking!” 

“Hope I don’t forget a step along the way.” Richard said to himself, failing to notice the figure that peered from the kitchen doorway, watching Richard talk to himself as he made the batter, placed it in the oven and started to prep for the next step.

“Do you see that Mari? He’s doing just fine. He may still be healing, but he’s okay.”

——

“What’s the cake for? Is it the twin’s birthday already?” A voice asked, making Dick jump, almost misplacing the last strawberry on the cake. 

“Kor’i!” He exclaimed with a smile, placing the strawberry down and going up to kiss his wife, having to tip-toe a bit to kiss her cheek. “When did you get back home?”

“When you started baking.” Kor’i giggled upon seeing the blush on Richard’s face. “I didn’t want to bother you so-”

“You could’ve still said hi.”

“You were talking with M.” Kor’i said softly, watching as it dawned on Richard as to what she had meant.

“Oh,” was all he could say, rubbing the back of his neck. “Was I?” Kor’i nodded, noticing the mess on the counter.

“Why don’t I help you clean up? That way you can take a short break before dinner.” Kor’i suggested, Dick nodding, the two cleaning up the mess in sweet silence.

------

The mess was cleaned, dinner ready to be heated and the cake to be eaten, but there was an hour to spare before Kor’i and Dick had to wake up the children, so they settled with sitting on the sectional sofa, Dick being Kori’s pillow as the two watched some drama Kor’i had been watching recently.

While Kor’i was highly immersed into the show, Dick was content in just being there, running his hand through her hair that seemed to flow for miles. Her sunset hair shimmered, before Dick realized it had turned midnight and short.

------

“-hope that- Dick?” Kor’i asked, quickly turning when he had stopped moving. One minute he was stroking her hair, the next he had stopped. 

Quickly, Kor’i kneeled beside Dick. “Dick? Dick? Dick, are you alright?”

“Mari. Is Mari okay?” He asked, staring at his hands, Kor’i noticing that tears ran down his face, his eyes had turned glossy.

“Dick... Dick.” Kor’i repeated, placing her hands on his shoulders. “Dick, please, say something.”

“It was all my fault.” Dick whispered, still looking into the distance, watching as Mari’s casket was lowered into the ground. “It was all my fault.”

------

Dick stormed out of the manor, slamming the door behind him, ignoring Alfred’s calls.

This is exactly why he hated Bruce. Why he hated Batman. Why he hated being Robin.

This is why this was going to be his last mission. His last mission... As a vigilante…

He had enough of all of this...he just wanted to have a life next to her.

As he made his way to his girlfriend’s home, ambulances rushed past him, firefighters and police cars following suit… all of them heading for-

“Mari.” With the worst case scenario in his head, Dick broke into a sprint, praying that it was all wrong. That what his gut was telling him was wrong. That Mari was fine. That she is alright.

Please, let her be okay.

------

He couldn’t bear to see her nor to touch her. 

“I’m fine Dick.” Marinette softly said, placing her hand over his, drawing circles. “I’m going to be fine.”

“Why?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you so calm?” Dick grasped the mint green blanket into his hand. “Why aren’t you-”

“Because I was also at fault.”

“He was drunk.”

“But I also was crossing the street when the light was still green.”

“He was going over the speed limit, Marinette.” Dick gritted, getting up quickly, the hair falling down. “Don’t you understand how serious this is?”

“I made it out with a simple scratch.”

“Mari, that’s not a scratch. You could’ve ended up blind and possibly dead if it weren’t for your quick thinking and your phone.”

Marinette pursed her lips at that, balling the blanket under her grip.

She knew Dick was right, but she was grateful for her luck, only having the side of her face swollen and having a cut near her eye. 

True, she could’ve died if her phone didn’t take the hit for her leg… but Marinette was just happy to be alive…

Dick watched her avoid him as he took a breath, turning away from her as he collected himself. 

Do it for her. 

Bruce’s words rang in his head as he prepared himself for the biggest mistake of his life. Hell, the biggest regret of his life.

“I’ve had enough of this.” He said out of nowhere, Marinette wondering where this was coming from.

“Enough of what?”

“Of this!” Dick yelled, motioning at the hospital. “Every single time I come to visit you, I always end up here. Here!”

“Richard, I-”

“The first time I met you, it was my fault you were here. I wasn’t watching where I was driving, but since then?” Dick let out a dry laugh. “You manage to make it about yourself.”

“Richard, I had to-” 

“You should’ve let the ball roll off the first time, should’ve let the phone fall into the river the second, should’ve let the letter fly off into the air, let the dog runaway, let that girl-”

“How can you say that I was doing it for attention?” Marinette scowled. “I was helping someone, saving them on that last one.”

“Help to the extent of getting injured? Of dying?” Dick laughed before it came to a halt. “I can’t keep going like this. I rather not be involved with this.”

Marinette’s eyes shrunk, feeling her view become smaller. She could feel her chest tighten, a lump forming in her throat.

Please don’t… don’t say-

“I think it’s better if we go our own ways.”

He did...

Marinette didn’t know when he left, nor did she know when the other doctors came into her room. She only acknowledged them when one of them sat on her bed and held her hand, giving it a squeeze.

It was only then that she noticed that the other two doctors that were in the room avoided looking at her, their mouths in thin lines.

“I’m...I’m pretty sure you didn’t hear us when we came in...we noticed you were dazed off, recovering from today’s accident.” The doctor at her side said, letting out a huff. “We’re here to tell you about your friend, Alya.” Marinette perked at that. “We came to the decision to tell you about your friend now rather than later or through someone else.”

No. 

Please… don’t…

She can’t right now… She can’t lose another person… She won’t be able to handle that...

“Wh-What, where is Alya?”

She needed Alya right now...

“I’m sorry, but Mme.Ceshaire… she didn’t make it through the surgery.”

One minute Marinette saw the three doctors in her room… the next, her world had become dark.

------

“She’s awake! Someone! Get the doctor!”

Marinette’s eyes flickered, flinching when her eyes adjusted to the lights.

“I see that you’re doing better, Mme.Dupain-Cheng. And we need you to be doing better, to get better. After all, you have to live on for two now.”

“I, um, I beg your pardon?” Marinette asked, adjusting herself to sit up a bit, watching as the doctor looked at her in astonishment and then gracefully gave her a smile.

“I’m guessing you didn’t know, but that’s quite understandable, seeing as you are only two weeks in.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m still not-”

“You are pregnant Mme.Dupain-Cheng.” Marinette’s heart fell. “Congratulations.” 

———

It was finally done. 

Fuck Bruce. 

He was never going back. 

Dick felt like a weight in his shoulders were slightly lifted. 

There was no turning back. 

As Dick headed for the bakery where he knew Marinette still resided in, his heart came to a halt as his eyes laid on the girl he had left behind. 

She had changed. She was a bit more plump, glowing as she sat on the chair outside the bakery. Next to her, a man who he’d only see a few times. Luka, if he remembered correctly. 

But that wasn’t what had caused his heart to stop beating. It was her figure that had him to stop breathing. She was pregnant. But now the question that rose: whose was it? Who was the father of the child she was to bare?

It didn’t take long to figure it out because as soon as Dick locked eyes with Luka, he saw red in the other man’s eyes. One minute Dick was looking at an enraged Luka and the next he saw a fist, toppling backwards where his head met the floor.

“How dare you show your face around here after what you’ve done to Marinette!”

“What-” a grunt. “Are you-” a gag as he tasted blood. “Talking about?” But Dick got no response. Luka just keeps punching him, Dick letting him despite his brain telling him to defend himself. But his heart said otherwise. Something told him he deserved it.

“Luka! Stop it! Please!” Marinette’s voice cracked as she pleaded, Luka almost stopping instantly when he heard it. 

Dick swore that his heart stopped at how broken it sounded, how tired it had become. 

Was it all because of him?

“Mari, I-“

“Come inside.” Marinette said with a weak voice. “I don’t want anyone eavesdropping on our conversation. 

-

After getting fixed up, Marinette treating his last bruise, Dick finished what he came to tell her. 

The reason he broke up with her and didn’t contact her for months? One word: Kitten. 

She had decided to waltz back into his life, but this time being the new Killer Moth, something Bruce and Dick did not expect to hear after hearing of Drury’s death. 

While Bruce quickly adjusted to the new villain, Dick couldn’t. Because he knew what this meant.

She wanted him -hence her return- and this time, she came prepared.

She had more things to hold hostage against Dick - Gotham, Batman, Robin...and Marinette.

He needed to act quick, hasty decisions that led to successfully taking Kitten down. 

However, they also led to regrets.

He watched as Marinette dropped the bag of frozen peas, her eyes filling up with tears. 

“All of that, for a mission?”

“I know. It was stupid-“

“Stupid barely just scratches the surface.” She started, letting out a dry laugh. “It was downright idiotic!” Holding her hand to her head, she walked in a complete circle before facing him again.  “Why didn’t you just tell me? Why? Didn’t you trust me?”

“I do! I still do.”

“Sure didn’t seem like it.” Marinette scoffed. “Because if you did, you would’ve told me.”

“I could’ve never returned to you had the mission gone wrong.” Dick defended, attempting to reach out to her, only for Mari to catch his hand and shake her head. 

“I would’ve understood. I know the sacrifices a person must make to keep their loved ones protected.” She reminded him, Dick fully knowing she was referring to her days of being Ladybug.

“Kitten-” Dick started, only to get cut off. 

“Kitten would’ve faced my wrath if you didn’t come back to me.” Marinette said, then remembering about that clingy girl he once spoke of. “I would’ve done something to bring you back home.”

“I know. And that’s what I also feared.”

“Hmm?”

“I feared that if it did go wrong and you had to do something to get me back, and something happened to you as well...what does that say about me? Am I too weak to protect you? That I’m still not ready to have my own life and protect it?”

“What’s wrong in relying on others?”

“It often means bringing in more people for others to hold hostage.”

“Is that what your father taught you?” Marinette asked coldly, glaring at the bruise on Dick’s face. “Is that what you learned from fighting alongside Batman? Red Robin? Robin? Because if anything, they prove otherwise.”

“I just don’t-”

“Sometimes, you have to rely on others, lean on their shoulders.” Marinette reminded, cupping Richard’s face, gently pressing her forehead against his. “Just hide away your fears and ask for help. Talk to someone, just like you are with me.”

Dick didn’t know when he had placed his hands over hers nor when he got up to embrace her. He just knew that whatever stood between them no longer stood there. 

That she somehow washed away his fears.

“Thank you, Mari.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you for doing that stunt on me.” Marinette said against his ear, a chill running down his spine.

“R-right.” 

------

The next months were spent with Dick picking up the responsibility he had never picked up.

He helped Marinette with her modeling, helped her deal with her clients, always at her beck and call each day.

He did the cleaning, the laundry and the cooking, not once letting Marinette lift a finger. 

Despite each day spent like an errand boy, Dick cherished each moment. 

Their morning greetings (which was a boop on the nose), their lunch dates, Dick watching Marinette hum and caress her stomach whenever she took a break, being by Mari’s side whenever she felt irritated, and the list went on. 

Those days became weeks, which in turn, became months. 

He didn’t remember when he had the guts to ask her to marry him, crying when she said yes.

The two moved into their own apartment - big enough for them and their bundle of joy. 

———

With each passing day, he longed for the moment he’d be able to meet their child, Dick often being the one to bring out lists of names to choose from. 

They’d talk about the nursery as they watched the city lights beam across their ceiling at night. 

They’d talk about the cribs and the onesies they have to buy. Which brand to choose and the stuffed animals to buy. 

As he’d run his hand through her midnight locks, they would speak of what family activities to do. 

Introduce them to Disney, take them to the beach, the amusement park. To Paris!

They’d let their fantasies run wild, fully knowing that money was the least of their problem. 

They just wanted the best for their child. 

Their future. 

———

And in the blink of an eye, they were there. 

———

“He’s so tiny.” Richard cooed, cradling his son in his arms, watching the tiny infant squirm in his blanket. He had a tuft of navy hair, a few strands seeping from his tiny hat.

It was still pretty early in the morning, the delivery being five in the morning and yet Richard still had energy to spare. Or maybe he knew it wasn’t fair to his wife who worked so hard to bring their bundle of joy to their lives.

“He is, meaning that there’s still space to carry another one.” Marinette hummed, Richard tilting his head.

“Another...one?” Marinette giggled as she watched the nurse roll in another makeshift crib into the room, watching as tears rolled down Richard’s face. “Mari… why didn’t you-”

“I made sure to keep it a secret.” Marinette watched as the nurse helped Richard balance the two children into his arms, ingraining the memory. “Only my parents knew about them. Oh! And Alfred too!” 

“She’s adorable,” was all Richard could whisper out as he looked at their children in his arms. 

“Thomas. Marie.” Marinette said, reaching out for her children, the nurse quickly going to Richard to get Thomas and then Marie. Richard wanted to pout upon having his children taken from him but he didn’t care. 

His heart melted as he watched the two infants snuggle closer to their mother, tiny smiles on their wrinkly faces. 

“I’ll always be watching over you. Always.” Marinette softly spoke, her smile getting bigger before it quivered. “I’m sorry.” 

What was she talking about? Sorry? About what?

“Richard.” Marinette spoke, even quieter this time, Dick noticing that her hold on the children was loosening, probably because she was tired. Without another word, he scooped the children into his arm, watching Marinette look at him with soft eyes. “Come closer.”

He did.

He watched as Marinette slowly lifted her hand to his cheek, caressing it as she smiled, unshed tears pooling in her eyes. 

“You know I’ve always loved you and I always will.”

“You tell me everyday my love.” Dick assured, leaning into her cold touch. “I love you too.”

“Please.” Marinette pleaded, a tear sliding down her pale face, her lips giving him a frail smile. “Promise me that you’ll take care of them.”

“Of course I will.” RIchard smiled, wanting to caress her cheek as well, instead, he settled for a forehead press. She was kinda cold. “I’ll take care of them alongside you.” Marinette shook her head.

“Only you will be able to take care of... them.” Marinette said, her voice cracking towards the end. “I’m sorry.” She whispered out, Richard finally piecing together her words.

“Mari. Mari, no. You...you can’t.” Richard set the children down into their respective cribs, hearing her monitor start to beep in alarm. “Mari, Mari! Mari please! Someone!”

He started to shout outside the door, shouting for someone to come and help him.

He shouted desperately, watching as no one came, the crying of his two children being his only solace. 

She died with a smile on her face. 

———

“It was all my fault! I should’ve never left her alone! I should've told her about the mission instead of leaving her out of the loop! If I had simply-“

“Dick, you didn’t know.” Kor’i softly said, never noticing when the twins had gotten to the living room, watching as their father broke down. “None of us knew, but her.”

“Mari, is Mari okay? Tell me Kor’i! Is Marinette going to be alright?” Dick asked, clinging onto Kor’i. 

This...this was the first time the twins had ever heard their mother’s name out of their father’s mouth. It was always ‘Mom,’ ‘Mother,’ Nettie’. It was never Marinette. 

“Richard. She’s alright.” Kor’i hushed, watching as Dick let out shuddering breaths. “The children are okay as well.” 

Thomas and Marie watched as their father visibly calmed down, watching Kor’i give him a soft smile. 

“So she’s okay? She’s not…” he trailed off, looking at Kor’i with glossy eyes. When he saw Kor’i nod, let out a sigh before he collapsed to his side, the cushions allowing him to drift off to sleep. 

Thomas and Marie attempted to go over to their father, but didn’t when Kor’i prevented them from getting any closer. 

“Does...does- is this new?” Marie asked, watching her father in deep sleep, tears staining the pillow underneath him. “Was this-“

“He doesn’t have them that often anymore, they used to be much worse. And as much as I want to say no, I can’t do that. So yes, perhaps the sudden situation that caused him to confess his feelings may have triggered this one.” Kor’i responded despite not wanting to confirm Marie’s suspicions. 

“Will he be alright?” Thomas then asked, holding onto Marie’s hand that trembled in guilt. 

“He’s going to be alright. I assure you that much.” Thomas and Marie watched as Kor’i draped a blanket over him, wondering what awaited them.

The two walked out the living room, walking into the kitchen, a sob escaping Marie. 

“Come on Marie. You can’t just-“

“What if it’s our fault Mom isn’t here?” Marie cut her brother off. “What if we’re the reason-“ She flinched when Thomas slammed his hands on the kitchen counter. 

“Don’t you dare say that!” Thomas grabs her by the shoulders, shaking her a bit. “Don’t you dare mock Mom’s feelings like that! If we’re here while she isn’t, then she wanted us to live! And because we’re living, we can’t just just take her decision for granted!” 

“I know, but-“ Marie bit her lip. “How did we just believe Dad wasn’t still suffering from her death? Why didn’t we notice it? Why didn’t he say anything? We’re his children. He should’ve said something. We could’ve helped.”

Thomas frowned, watching as his sister silently cried. 

He hated to say this, but she was right. 

He could’ve told them what he was going through. He could’ve leaned on them… then again, who was he to judge him for that?

He never spoke of his fights with his father, so what right did he have for demanding him to tell them about his problems?

Now that he thought about, why did he never speak of the fights? 

Was it his shame? His guilt? 

No. 

Thomas knew why he never spoke of the fights. 

It was his pride. 

They called him motherless, a bastard when they saw him argue with his father once and when they learned that Kor’i was his father’s ‘current’ wife was someone from Tamaran, they called him a Torq. 

Torq. 

Insignificant. A nobody. That nothing good would ever come from a motherless rebel like him. 

Thomas hit the side of his fist against the wall, a book hitting his head and falling to the floor. 

Why did he choose the side of the kitchen where all the cookbooks were at?

Rubbing his aching bruise, Thomas went to pick it up, eyes widening when he saw the name on the opened front page. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Marie rushes over the moment she hears the name, slightly pushing her brother to get a better view of the book. 

They flipped the page, confused to see writing on it. 

“They’re recipes.” Marie pointed out, looking at the fruit tart recipe on the page they were currently looking at. 

“Mom wrote all of these.” Thomas stated the obvious, running his hand across the neatly written instructions. The regular instructions were in black, side notes and suggestions in red and pink respectively. 

He also couldn’t help but notice a ladybug theme on the book. 

Did she like ladybugs?

“In case Dick has another nightmare or breakdown.” Marie read out loud, Thomas looking to where he was reading.

“An herbal tea?”

“Do you think...it will work?”

“We can give it a try.”

“Let’s do it then!” Marie said with a smile. “Let’s make Dad feel better!”

I know you two can do it! Good luck!

———

“It happened again, didn’t it?” Dick asked, looking down at his trembling hands. 

It wasn’t even a complete ten minutes before he woke up. His body was sore and his throat parched. Another one, huh? “And I’m front of-“

“They were going to find out eventually.” Kor’i said softly, amazed that it took 16 whole years for them to find out. While babies didn’t fully understand breakdowns, they can absolutely feel them. “And what better time than now.”

“But they shouldn’t have to deal with-“

“They are not dealing with anything. Instead, they are learning more about you. Getting to finally know about their father.”

“Their pathetic poor-excuse-of-a-father.” Dick huffed, placing his head into his hands. “Can’t even get over-“

“Don’t. Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Kor’i gritted, cupping Dick’s face to make him look at her. “Don’t you dare say that death should be easy to get over. Because it’s not. And never will. Only time can heal it. And we both know that.”

“All too well.” Dick added, placing his head on her shoulder. “Sorry for saying that.”

“It’s alright.” 

“Dad.” “Dad.” They heard their kids say simultaneously, noticing that Thomas had a tray in his hand. 

“What’s that you got there?” Dick attempted to say with a chirp, causing everyone to resist showing a frown. 

“It’s a tea recipe we found.” Thomas started. 

“We decided to make it after finding it in Mom’s recipe book.”

They watched as their father’s eyes grew large. 

“Mari’s...cookbook. It thought it was lost in the move from long ago.” Dick whispered as he took the cup of tea, the aroma of ginger and cinnamon bringing back old memories. “It smells just like the tea she used to make.”

Marie and Thomas watched as their father took a sip from it, wondering if it tastes the same as Mom’s. 

“Does...does it taste...good?” Marie asked after a long moment of awkward silence. 

“It almost tastes exactly like hers. Of course, there’s still something missing-“ Marie’s hiccups, Dick quickly getting up to console her, setting down his cup. “Mari, the tea-“

“I’m glad you liked it. I thought you wouldn’t.” Marie sobbed, wiping away her tears. “We tried to figure out what the last ingredient was but after testing out different things, nothing seemed to be it.” 

“Whatever Mom meant by ‘tears of true love,’ we weren’t able to crack it.” Thomas clarifies, placing the empty tray onto the coffee table. “But I guess it was still a success if you said it tastes similar to Mom’s.”

Dick smiled, pulling Thomas close to him. 

“Seems like the two of you have your mother’s gift of creation.” Dick felt Kor’i join in on the hug. “She’d be really proud of the two of you. Without a doubt.” 

He wiped away a tear that dared to slip, flicking it away. 

He never realized the soft pink glow that emitted from the tea when the tear flew into it. 

The tear of true love...in the shape of a healing family. 

#maribat #dickinette #dick x kori #oc: marie grayson #oc: thomas grayson

[rpd-rookie]

Lost Youth - Leon S. Kennedy x Reader (NSFW)

Summary: Where did all the years go? When did his youth leave him? It's Leon's 43rd birthday and those are the questions he can't help but ask himself. Fortunately for him, he knows the right person to help him get rid of this silly melancholy.

Author’s Notes: In this one-shot, it is 2020 and Leon is celebrating his 43rd birthday while the reader is in her mid-twenties. So if you're not comfortable with that sort of age difference I advise you not to read this story. For the others who wants to give this one-shot a try, please be aware that the sexual content is very explicit. And finale, don’t hesitate to like/reblog and please tell what you thought of it.

Warning: NSFW, Smut, Fluff and Angst, Language, Age difference.

          His tired blank blue eyes were staring at his reflection in the mirror of the elevator with a melancholy he hadn’t felt in a while, wondering when he had become the man he was staring at right now. Exhausted, damaged and more especially, old.         His fingertips touched the corner of his eyes. Discreet small crow’s feet were framing them, along with the permanent dark circles he had grown used to see. And if he actually looked closely under the thick strand of hair covering the right side of his face, he would be able to see thin wrinkles carving his forehead, wrinkles that weren’t there the last time he truly scrutinized himself in a mirror. But when was that? He couldn’t know. As much as he couldn’t know where his youth had gone. Probably was it somewhere hidden among the years he hadn’t seen flown by. He could thank his tiresome job for that, he thought.

           The elevator bell rang and Leon mechanically made his way in the corridor leading to your apartment, awfully quiet and thoughtful, his hands buried in the pockets of his leather jacket, which was old just like him. He knocked at your door and looked down at his fidgeting feet while waiting, his hand back in his pockets.     The door opened and a bright smile welcomed him with a lovely warmth that helped him smile a bit. “Hello, birthday boy.” Two hands cupped his face and soft lips tenderly met his mouth to linger there for a short while but long enough for Leon to circle his arms around the waist pressed against his body. “Hi.” He said with a faint smile.           “ I missed you.” You declared, eyes sparkling with joy. “Where have you been?”   “Long story. But I’m here now, aren’t I?” You nodded, definitely happy to see him and moved away from the doorframe to let him come inside.

           Your apartment was just as Leon remembered. Small but cosy with adjustable furniture to gain some space. The kind of place you rent when you’re young and barely have enough money to pay all your bills. Leon loved that place. He loved being here. It reminded him of the apartment he would have certainly owned at your age if he actually had had a normal life. Except that his wouldn’t have been so charming.

“I tried to cook. Nothing fancy, don’t worry. But I hope it’ll taste good.” You said as you headed towards the kitchen corner of the room, leaving Leon in the small living room. “You didn’t have to. We could have ordered Chinese or something.” He said as he sat down on your old couch, bouncing a couple times on it in order not to feel the springs under his rear anymore.         “I wanted to please you, show the extent of my culinary talents.” You joked, winking at Leon; as you knelt to check if the meal you had prepared was slowly cooking in the oven. “It’s not everyday that you turn 43.” There was a sudden silence that you immediately noticed. You froze, waiting for Leon to say something.     “There’s no need to celebrate that. Trust me.” You stood up, concerned by the unusual tone of his voice, and watched him staring down at nothing, completely lost in his thought and looking astonishingly weary. “What do you mean?” He shrugged to elude the question. “Please don’t tell me you don’t like getting gifs and eating cakes cause I made one especially for you.” You opened the fridge, excited to show him the strawberry tart you had baked this afternoon. Hopefully the attention would please him and warm his heart a little. “I guessed I used to when I was your age.” You glanced at him; saddened and understanding he was going through one of those tough days. “Beer?”  You offered. “ Gladly.”

You brought two bottles and handed him one as you sat next to him. A sigh escaped your lips and you looked at Leon. “I guess drinking beers and watching tv is also a good way to spend the evening.” You didn’t dare say the word birthday, thinking it was probably the reason why Leon felt so miserable today. “Just like an old couple.” Your last words made him frown and you noticed it. “What is it? What did I say?”   “Nothing. It’s not you.” He answered as he took a mouthful of beer but you were not convinced. “ I can see something’s wrong, Leon. Talk to me.” You took his beer away from him and placed it on the coffee table next to yours before putting your hand on his knee.           “ You wouldn’t get it.” It was your turn to frown, not liking to be patronised. “Try me.” “ You’re too young for that.”

He glanced at you and immediately realised how annoyed you were.           You thought you both had had that discussion already, about your age difference and everything that came with it, being treating like a child included. You thought you had made yourself clear when you had told him it wasn’t a problem and you thought he was on the same wavelength. That’s what he had told you after all.         “Seriously, Y/N. You’re young and beautiful. You could have anyone you want. What are you doing with an old fool like me?”           This was exactly the same kind of question your friends had asked you when you had told them about Leon. What are you doing with a man that old? How can you date someone who’s almost your father’s age? Isn’t he like twice your age? Do you have a daddy kink of some sort? Daddy issues? You were tired of these questions, tired of justifying your love and your choices. And you never thought you would one day hear a similar question coming from Leon’s mouth.         “What are you doing with someone like me?” You retorted, hoping he would understand your weariness. Weeks ago he would have answered that question without an ounce of hesitation or shame. After all, he had done it a few times when people had learned about your relationship. What was he doing with you? A girl that young and in her mid-twenties. Was he going through some mid-life crisis? Why her and not some woman his age? Well, easy. You were his sunshine, the reckless joy he had lost, and the bright youth he had not seen fly away. You were the constant reminder of what he had missed and the opportunity to live what he should have lived years ago instead of running away from BOWs in lost parts of Spain or South America.             Through you, he could live his youth again. You were making him feel young again, not unlike those women he had dated and had tried to continually convince him to start a family. You didn’t want much. No family, no kids, no dog. You didn’t care about sharing a house. You wanted what he wanted. Simplicity, carefreeness. You wanted to enjoy life without thinking too much about the future. And sharing all this with you felt good and refreshing.     But today, he didn’t know how to answer this question because today he was feeling old and melancholic. Today, and despite your exhilarating presence, he had the feeling the reckless sarcastic Leon training to become an agent was just some distant memory he could barely remember and that there was no way for him to feel like him again.

           When you understood he would not answer the question just the way you would not answer his, you placed your head on Leon’s shoulder and nestled it in his neck as you circled an arm around his chest. He smelt good, like wood and spices. And the perfume was strong and heady, almost bewitching. You pressed your lips against his hot skin, tasting it. Only Leon tasted that good. Only Leon could make you feel the way you were feeling like right now. Whole and happy. You decided to sit on him, straddling his laps, hands placed on his shoulders. His blue eyes met yours and you moved his blond strand of hair away from his face to admire him. He was so handsome. Tired and slightly raw – the result of all those years fighting more than his age – but handsome. And that’s all you could see. You lay some light kisses over his face, on his cheeks, his nose, his forehead and his lips, showing how much you loved every bit of him. And he smiled. It was faint but it was sincere.        

“Gosh, you’re so beautiful.” Leon said as he gazed at your delicate face, his thumb caressing your smooth cheeks that was as soft a baby’s skin. “Why …” You cut him off by kissing his thumb, eyes staring deep in his eyes. “Don’t say a word.”          

You put your body closer to his to catch his lips and he responded immediately by returning your kiss with a softness similar to yours. That softness grew into passion when Leon’s hand grasped the nape of your neck to bring you closer to him and intensify the kiss. The pressure and his tongue looking for yours started an immediate fire in between your legs that spread wildly in your entire body and oozed out of it under the shape of a moan that Leon captured with his mouth the second it escaped your throat. “Do you really want me?”           “Stop asking silly questions already.” You retorted before kissing him with a devouring ardour.           Fingers tangled in his hair, you moved slightly above him, rubbing yourself against him, desire for lustful friction taking control of you. And soon it was his turn to moan.

Leon glimpsed at his crotch with burning half-lidded eyes, feeling his cock already growing hard in his jeans. Gently yet strongly, he squeezed your rear as he lifted his a bit to make you apply more pressure on his bulge. You obliged and started undulating your body against his manhood. Leon rested his head against the back of the couch and he gazed at you in silence, looking with delight at your hands cupping your breasts as your eyes were half closed because of the pleasure this atrociously good rubbing was providing you. Soon, Leon slid the straps of your dress along your shoulder, freeing your boobs that he grabbed without waiting, admiring and feeling how perky and firm they were, like two peaches recently gathered. He caressed them with his thumbs, lingering on the pointy rosy nipples calling his mouth. And how could he refuse them?

You sighed of pleasure when Leon caught one of them in between his lips and started sucking on it greedily, his hands still holding your breasts tightly. You brought your chest closer to his face, fingers pulling at his soft hair. “Leon” You whispered his name in between two moans. He hummed and looked up at you, not willing to let go of your nipple just yet. The weariness in his eyes was gone. They were dark now and burning with desire for you. “I want you. I want you now.” You begged and he let go of your teat with a loud pop.

A grin appeared on his face. It was cheeky and lively, playful like a child’s smile. “Very well.” You loved when Leon smiled. His face looked completely different each time he did (and those times were rare) making him seem suddenly more radiant, more glowing and - let’s say it - twice younger. Funny because that’s exactly how he felt each time you were making him smile, each time he was with you and able to forget all his worries and the absurdity of his life.

He grabbed you by your hair and kissed you again, tongue caressing yours as he let one hand wander along your chest down to your crotch where he dared let his rough fingers slide beneath the fabric of your panties to tickle your already swollen clit. You gasped, bit your lips and your nails dug in the back of the couch. You were so wet and so ready for him already. “Damn, baby.” He chuckled with enthusiasm. “Am I the one responsible for that mess down here?”     You laughed, shivering under his expert touch (an advantage that came with dating an older man). “What do you thiiinnkk?” The end of your sentence was swallowed by your sudden guttural moan as Leon plunged a finger in your wetness, hitting the sensitive spot hidden deep inside of you. “Please don’t tease me too much.” You asked, afraid to reach your climax too soon. Leon kissed you and smirked “No.” Then, he started fucking you with his finger, adding a new one in the process to hear you cry and feel you crumble against him. A groan of both lust and frustration escaped the barrier of your sealed lips and you instinctively began moving up and down Leon’s fingers. “Aren’t you eager?” He joked, amused.   “You’re such a tease.” You pouted, though not really complaining. “I know.” He pulled you closer and laid a greedy wet kiss on your breasts, tasting the sugary thin skin with a devouring eagerness.

Clumsily, you let your hand wander towards his jeans. If Leon wanted to play, then you both would play. You stopped moving and opened the zipper of his jeans, forcing him to lift his rear to pull down his clothe a bit along with his boxers.         His cock sprang free, red, glistening with pre-cum and perfectly erected. Eager to feel it, you urged to grab it, jerking it off a bit as you knelt on the sofa right next to Leon, grunting a bit as your pussy escaped Leon’s amazing fingers. You moved your hair to the side to stare at Leon as you bent towards his manhood to kiss the tip lightly. He immediately hissed and tensed and you smiled as you placed your lips back on his penis to put the head right in between them, ready to suck it. “Who’s the tease now?” Leon asked as he put his hand on your cheek. You chuckled and finally took him in your mouth, making Leon curse and tangle his fingers in your soft hair. The taste of his pre-cum was bitter but the vision of seeing your lover come undone was sweet and so your started bobbing your head up and down his shaft, moaning occasionally and keeping your eyes on him. “Goodness, fuck.” He groaned as he pushed himself deeper in your mouth to hit the entrance of your throat. You gagged and thick trickles of saliva flew along Leon’s hard member.

His hand met your prominent rear that you had kept up on purpose. It caressed it delicately, pulling your dress up. “Jesus, you’re perfect.” You squealed when he suddenly spanked you and he scoffed, his fingers venturing towards your humid entrance to play with your lips and clit. “God, Leon.” You cried out when he put his fingers back in you and started relentlessly moving them. “You like that?” You nodded as you tried to keep on sucking his cock and he pecked your ass with a cheeky smile, his fingers still exploring your core. “Do you want to ride me?”  

You took it as an invitation and you straddled Leon again. You put your panties to the side as he removed his v-neck, letting you admire his toned chest. You allow your hands to wander on it a bit, feeling the carved muscles under your fingertips. He had such a nice healthy body, definitely sexy. Anyone would agree with that.       You left a trail of kisses along his chest, from his smooth pectorals down to the V line framing his perfect abs. “I thought you wanted to ride me, baby.”       “ Let me admire you first.” You said before licking the small hairy line below his navel. He hissed and grabbed the couch tightly. “Admire what? My old body?” Leon joked but you could tell he was serious.

You looked up at him and frowned, slightly exasperated. “Shut the fuck up, will you?” His eyes widened, astonished, but a crooked smile appeared on his face. “You don’t have a old body. And you’re not old. Stop believing that.” You declared as you grabbed his chin. “Actually, you’re certainly the sexiest and the most wonderful man I had the chance to be with. And I don’t give a damn that you’re 43. You’re perfect to me.” You pressed your lips lovingly against his, thumb still in his dimple.       “No, you are.” He said as he put a strand of your hair behind your ear looking at your young beautiful features with awe and wondering how someone like him had managed to find a girl like you. Maybe he was lucky after all.

You sit back on him, this time ready to welcome him inside of you. Panties to the side again, you felt his cock probing at your entrance before penetrating you with ease, making you cry out as Leon groaned with pleasure. He felt so good in there and your pussy was a delight for him, better than anything he had ever had lately before meeting you in that bar three months ago. “Damn, you’re so tight.” And he couldn’t help but give your youth credit for that tightness.        

Your started hoping on top of Leon, your hands holding your bouncing boobs as his hands were squeezing your ass to give you the pace he wanted you to have. When you understood he wanted it rough and fast, you grabbed the backrest of the couch and accelerated your movements. Your wildness certainly satisfied him as he placed his arms behind his head to watch you fuck yourself on top of him. “That’s it, baby. Ride me.”

Leon’s name and a stream of onomatopoeia continually left your mouth as you felt your lover’s cock hitting your g-spot each time you had him slam back into you. “That feels so good.” You cried out and he smiled, ravished to see you succumbing to the intense pleasure he was giving you right now. “Are you gonna cum?” You simply nodded, unable to form a sentence. “Cum for me.” He ordered in a whisper as he grabbed your ass cheeks again to hammer you from underneath. “Oh my god, Leon!”   You body fell against Leon’s and your head hit the backrest of the couch to scream in it. The way he was pounding you was simply exquisite but it was so rough and deep you couldn’t sit straight anymore. A tear rolled over your cheek as you reached your powerful orgasm, yelling your pleasure so loud your neighbours would certainly complain in the morning. Your body tensed and you walls clenched around Leon’s shaft making him grunt and forcing him to put more strength in his thrusts. “Fuck, I love when you squeeze me like that.” And so did you.

Exhausted and shivering, your body went limp and rested lazily against Leon. He kissed your forehead. “You’re okay?” “ Yes.” You managed to say in between two irregular long breaths. “Good. Let me taste you.” He lifted you up easily; using the opportunity to admire the white cream you had left around his cock and pushed you over the couch. “You’re going to kill me.” You giggled, tired yet satisfied.   “Unlikely.” He grinned with a wink and spread your legs to place himself between them. Bothered by his jeans he hadn’t taken off yet, he pulled them down and threw them on the floor and he did the same with your dress and your panties. At last, you were fully naked before him and he couldn’t help but think how beautiful and desirable you were. He left a trail of tiny kisses on your chest and stomach enjoying the firm flesh under his wandering hands before burying his face in between your thighs.     You giggled when his stubble scratched your skin but that small laugh quickly faded away when Leon licked your slit and sucked on your clit. “You taste so fucking good, baby.” He whispered before lapping your folds again, humming loudly each time his tongue was reaching your reddened bundle of nerves. “Leon.” You whispered, biting your left hand while the right one was brushing his blond hair away from his face. “Yes, baby?”         “ I love you.” You didn’t realise what you had just said, eyes tightly shut, your mind lost in bliss, but Leon did.   Usually that kind of declaration would have freaked him out and he guessed it did but only a little. Because, despite the importance and the sincerity of those three words, he knew they didn’t mean what they would have meant coming from another woman’s mouth. They didn’t mean ‘let’s move in together and have a baby.’ They just meant what they meant. Love. Pure and innocent love.  Less commitment but still scary and weird for him to hear.

Leon sat up and kissed you tenderly, choosing to ignore your confession for now. You responded lazily, still a bit dizzy because of the orgasm you had experienced few minutes ago and the intense pleasure that refused to leave your body. “I’m not done with you yet.” He tapped your entrance with his hard cock and slid inside of you with one deep swift move that made you grunt. His hand circled your throat, but not too tight, and he began fucking you hard. His thrusts were not as fast as previously but they were rougher and stronger, making you hit your head against the armrest. Leon roared your name and ultimately placed your legs above his shoulders to burry himself deeper inside of you. You mewled, begging him to keep going, your fingers finding their way to your clit Leon had abandoned.

He noticed them as soon as they started rubbing your swollen bud and, as a consequence, he turned you over and put you on all fours. “You should have told me you wanted to cum again.” He said in your ear before slamming your head against the couch. You cried out, your nails dug in the suede fabric of the couch, when Leon entered you again, from behind this time, his hands holding on tightly to your hips. He didn’t waste time and took the same pace as before, except that this time his thrusts were even more exquisite because of the way his balls were hitting your clit and also because of the sound of his hips slapping against your ass. “Do you like when I fuck you from behind like that?”       “ Yes” You whimpered, feeling your climax slowly building up inside of you. “Keep going … please.” He complied with an excitement that he decided to demonstrate by quickening his pace. You crumbled under the power of his pounding and fell flat on the couch. But that didn’t stop Leon who grabbed your ass and your hair to keep on hammering you from behind. And soon each thrust he gave was followed by an animalistic growl, sign that his orgasm was close. “Make me cum with you, please.” You asked as you guided Leon’s fingers towards your clit. He agreed and started playing with your sensitive bud, bringing you atrociously closer to your climax. “Now.” You announced and his moves became clumsy despite their incredible strength.

You screamed in the couch as you reached cloud nine, your body convulsing and tensing as Leon came hard in you, his roars echoing loudly in the room. “Fuck!” He pumped hard between your clenched walls a couple more times, spilling every drop of his hot white seed inside of you, before allowing himself to slump against you, completely out of breath and exhausted, just like you.

After a brief silence, you giggled and so did he. “Wow.” He admitted before placing a smiling soft kiss on your shoulder blade. “That was awesome.” “Right?” You grinned trying to find his lips as you turned around to cuddle with him.       “You’re amazing.” He said as he pressed his lips on your smooth forehead while you weaved your fingers in his hair to cradle his sweaty hot body. “What would I do without you?” You didn’t answer, staring at his eyes, wondering what was going on in his head right now.             “ Do you wish we could stay like this forever?” You dared ask, playing with one of his blond strand.

He didn’t know about forever. Hell, he didn’t even know about next week, never making plans that far ahead. But he knew one thing. Seeing how quickly time was flowing forever might come sooner than expected. But it didn’t matter because with you he felt happy and young again.  

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #one shot

[bellatrixobsessed1]

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 19)

“Lucky girl.” Go-Hara rasps one day. “Lucky, lucky girl.” She tsks.

“How can you say that?” Azula asks. The very question is an absolute affront. One that sets her fire blazing to a degree she hasn’t felt in a very long time.

“Because you had a chance.” She pauses and corrects herself. “You have a chance and you’re throwing it away.”

Azula furrows her brows and shakes her head, “You had it right the first time, I had a chance. My chance is gone.”  Twice over. It would seem that each time she has her fingers (very firmly) around something that will make her happy, someone comes to pry her fingers off of it. Or maybe she squeezes too tightly and shatters it herself.

The old woman tsks again. “You have a chance! You have a chance! You. Have. A. Chance!” Azula should be used to her turbulent moods by now, but this time the woman is acting rather infantile. She wonders if the disease has progressed, wonders if leprosy can even do such a thing to the mind.

“We should talk about something else.”

“You should stop playing in alleyways and make a life for yourself…”

“I already tried that.” Twice over.

Quick and deadly as a lightning strike, the woman’s mood shifts. She is very visibly enraged and Azula can’t understand why. She thinks that Go-Hara detects her confusion. “I don’t have a chance. I’d give anything to have one. But…” she holds up her knobby hands, “Every day in this decrepit town, I watch perfectly healthy folks waste what they have. Nobody wants to fight for anything anymore. They fail once or twice and they decide that there’s nothing to fight for.”

Azula opens her mouth. But Go-Hara rages on, her fury seems to build with every word and by the end of her raving her voice is raw and soft, “that’s because they don’t know what it’s like to truly be in a position where fighting isn’t an option.” She backpedals, “where it’s an option but it truly doesn’t matter how much fight you have in you, you’re punching at a breeze. And I just have to watch them give up, wishing that I had the chance to just throw my life away. I don’t even have a life to throw away.”

Her breathing is rugged.

There are a lot of things that Azula can say. Things that are better. Things that could calm the woman down or appease her. She picks the one thing that will do anything but. “Perhaps you’re the lucky one; you don’t have to fight to die like the rest of us.”

Go-Hara turns on her heel and storms away. She is startlingly fast, Azula chalks it up to pure hatred fueled adrenaline.

She doesn’t see the woman again for a very long time. It is so terribly lonely and the more she thinks about it, the more pleasant it seems to prove to Go-Hara, to herself, to everyone that she is ready to see herself out. Maybe that will drive home how little of a chance she knows she has. Or maybe there is no one to prove anything to. Likely Go-Hara has died like everyone else she gets close to. This time the note is a bitter one to end on.

She ventures into the forest that day and she comes back with a few sprigs of hemlock in her gloved hands. She finds that her usual spot is occupied. She counts the flowers in her hands, there is plenty of spare hemlock to offer the intruder.

“Where were you?”

“Picking flowers.” They fall to the alley floor.

Go-Hara eyes the hemlock at her feet, “bah! Some bouquet that is.”

“I thought that you died.”

She thinks that the woman is snarling. But it is often hard to tell with Go-Hara, especially these days. The woman’s worsening condition is beginning to limit her facial movement. “I am going to lose this fight.” She declares. “But I’m still fighting.” The resentment is back, possibly fuller than before. “You can win but you’ve stopped fighting.”

Azula swallows and waits for the woman to demand that she pick herself back up and resume the battle. Instead she gestures to the flowers. “Go on then. They’re right there, eat ‘em off’a the dirty ground.”

Azula folds her arms over her chest, torn between hatred and misery. Torn between wanting to do just that, if only to see how the woman would react, and wanting to kick the flowers away out of spite.

Instead she finds herself standing there. Now that it is happening, she wonders how it hasn’t happened sooner; she finds herself wondering about Hajime and Atsu in the Spirit World. She imagines herself standing there in a bubbling hot spring with bamboo that reaches gold-orange clouds. There is steam all around,enchanting as it crawls over black sand, and  curls around formations of long hardened magma. That is how she has always imagined the Spirit World. And Hajime and Atsu stand in the pool, Seukhyun and Caihong too. But they aren’t delighted to see her. And when Hajime embraces her it is mournful. He blames himself. He says that she shouldn’t be here. Ojihara is furious. Absolutely livid. Just like Go-Hara…

When she comes back to herself she finds that the real Go-Hara isn’t angry at all. Not anymore.

“I just want you to have a chance.” The woman mumbles. “I met a lot of people and a lot of them don’t deserve to live.”

She has always appreciated the woman’s bluntness.

“Why do you think that I do?”

The woman shrugs. “Sometimes you just get a feeling about a person.”

Azula doesn’t take the hemlock that night or the next. She doesn’t take it at all. Go-Hara doesn’t bring up matters of motivation again.

.oOo.

“Are you happy?” Azula asks one morning. A morning where things aren’t particularly good nor particularly bad. These are the honest days. The days when she truly knows how she feels within.

“Happy?” The woman grins as wide as her affliction will allow. “I’m downright joyful! I’ve gotten to see more sunsets than most people. I got to ride hippo-cows and lasso ostrich horses.”  Azula thinks that it is supposed to be the other way around, not that she knows much about ranches. “And I got to meet a princess before I died! They call me a dead woman walking, but I’ve lived more than the lot’a them!” Suddenly her laugh isn’t such a hideous sound. This is the Go-Hara whose company she enjoys.

“Sounds, fulfilling.” Azula nods.

“Aye, girl!” She nods. “You’re no lepper. You have a full life to live. I ain’t got much longer. Can you do a dying old woman a favor?”

“Depends on the favor.”

Go-Hara chuckles. “Can you live that full life for me? I can’t do it, can you?”

That morning she leaves a blanket in the alleyway, at the old woman’s feet. On an old scrap of paper she scawls a thank you. And with the rising sun as a backdrop, she heads for the vast grassland again.

That day she learns that sometimes the sick are less ill than the healthy.

.oOo.

She thinks about it more than she thought she would. It was just a little touch. A soft little brush. But she has learned that those smaller, simpler touches are often more profound than the bolder declarations. She absently touches her cheek where his hand had been. She can still feel phantom tingles.

It was only a playful gesture… Only a playful gesture and yet…

She hears a knock on her door and her heart quickens if only somewhat. Upon opening it, TyLee flounces into the room and flops onto the bed. Azula had forgotten that the woman liked to do that.

“I know that you don’t like baking, but Mai’s birthday is tomorrow…”

Azula had forgotten that too. Granted she has never really had time for birthdays.

“I was hoping that we could bake her something special. She doesn’t like the icing on the other cakes, it’s ‘too bright’. I think that it’s just fine though.”

“Sure, TyLee, I’ll help you bake.” Though she can’t promise that it will be any good. Hajime had tried time and time again to teach her to cook the things she harvested but the culinary arts are lost on her.

“Great!” TyLee bounces up once more. She takes Azula by the hand and drags her into the kitchen.

“Okay so I’ve already…”

“Made a huge mess.” Azula observes. At least she won’t have to feel guilty for wrecking the kitchen.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

“I can’t cook, TyLee.”

She stares at Azula. Azula stares back. The princess is beginning to gather that she had been summoned under the impression that she could make something of this mess.

“You didn’t learn to cook in the Earth Kingdom?”

She shakes  her head. “I know how to roast meat.” Even then she usually burns it quite badly. “Have you tried asking Zuzu?”

TyLee nods. “It wasn’t this bad before he got here. The head chef personally escorted him out.”

.oOo.

The first step had been to clean the kitchen. Azula is good at this. She probably should have gotten one of the servants to do it for her but she needs to know with certainty that her baking area is absolutely spotless. And with her hand having done the work, she knows that it is.

TyLee drops two eggs into the flour mix.

Azula shakes her head.

“It says, two eggs’.”

“Yes.” Azula agrees as she cracks it against the rim of the bowl. She cringes as the yolk bursts in her palm. “two cracked eggs.”

TyLee nods. She too rams the an egg against the bowl, dropping the smashed bits into the mix.

“Without the shells.”

“Whoops.” She purses her lips as she begins picking shell shards out. “Well how do we get the yolk out without getting shell bits?”

“You open it correctly.”

“How?”

Azula wipes her hands clean and shrugs. She plucks another egg and tries again. Just when she thinks that the yolk will slide easily free, it explodes again, spattering her face with yolk. She crinkles her nose and wipes the mess from her forehead.

“You have to be gentle.” TyLee suggests. She picks up another egg and taps it on the rim of the bowl. This time she only has to pick a few pieces of shell from the mix.

“TyLee, can I ask you something?” She asks upon finally putting the cake in the oven. She will let the servants determine when to take it out.

“Sure, Azula!”

She swallows, before back peddling in her mind, “firstly, did you read my journal with Zuko?”

She cringes, “was I not supposed to?”

“I was hoping that you did.”

TyLee relaxes, “why?”

“Do you think that…” She pauses. “Do you think that Hajime would be angry if I found someone else.” It is a silly question, Hajime can’t get mad at her, he is dead.

“Oh, Azula!” TyLee takes her by the wrists, she thinks of a beach party so long ago, hadn’t TyLee been trying to give her love advice then too? “I think that he would be happy that you aren’t hurt or alone anymore.” Still holding Azula’s hand she presses it over the princess’ heart.

“Okay.”

“Who is it?” TyLee beams.

She isn’t sure how TyLee doesn’t know already. She hasn’t exactly been around that many people. And then she does seem to connect the dots. She gives a happy little gasp and covers her mouth, “it’s Sokka, isn’t it?”

She nods. Still she finds herself hesitant.

.oOo.

She takes the time to wash her floury, yolky hair and changes into fresh silks. She is offered lotions and perfumes and she helps herself to at least a little of it. She thinks that she is finally starting to settle more fully and comfortably back into her old lifestyle. At least a touch anyhow.

“The cake tastes good, what’s it for?”

Azula’s face flashes red, “Sokka, you didn’t!”

He throws his hands up, “I didn’t, I didn’t! Promise.” He drops his hands. “But it smells good.”

Azula exhales. Truly she should knock the man on his ass. “It’s for Mai, can’t you tell.”

He taps his chin. “Gloomy colors. ‘Birthday’ spelled with little mochi chunks and no ‘happy’. Yeah I can tell it’s for Mai.”

“I thought that we should just give her the mochi.”

“I didn’t realize that you can cook.”

Azula gives a dismissive gesture. “Wait until you taste it to make assumptions.”

He laughs. “I guess that you can’t be good at everything.” He takes a seat next to her on the bed, his hand brushes over hers briefly before he finds an unoccupied spot to put it. But she finds it again and without a word she takes it. He stares for a moment, at her hand in his.

“What’s this?” He holds up their hands.

She clears her throat, “it is my hand, Sokka. And yours. I would imagine that you have known what a hand is for a while now.”

He rolls his eyes. “I know what hands are! I just want to know why you’re holding mine.”

“Because it is here.” And she wonders if that is all there is to it. He is simply there and available. But she doesn’t think that this is the case. She is holding his hand because it is his hand. The hand that hovered over hers when she’d first woken up dazed and distraught, it is the hand that took hers at the theater, the hand that guided her as she learned to sew, the hand that held hers when she was falling apart.

He chuckles again. “I don’t exactly know what that means, Azula.”

But she does, she knows exactly what it means and she finds that she is just as hesitant to say it as she had been with Hajime. Perhaps more so. She hasn’t been around Sokka nearly as long as she had been around Hajime--not affectionately anyhow. She doesn’t know how to say it, not in a poetic and elegant way. And maybe that is just it, maybe it isn’t something that is meant to be spoken at all.

Anyways, she had promised Go-Hara that she would live. That she wouldn’t waste her youth and her pretty face. She had promised to truly live. She doesn’t give herself time to overthink it. She cups Sokka’s face in her hands and pulls his face closer for a kiss. Her first one in a very, very long time.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla

[siancore]

Title: Baked With Love

A/N: This is a SamBucky Bakery AU based on the graphic novel Bloom

Summary: Bucky Barnes’ family owns a bakery in a small town. High school has long been over, and Bucky is dying to move to the city to pursue a musical career with his band. And his future looks promising, if he can just persuade his father to let him leave his job behind at their struggling family bakery.

It is no secret that Bucky used to love baking with his father, but things change. He just can’t fathom wasting his life away watching rising dough and hot ovens. With his mind made up to leave, Bucky convinces his father to advertise for a replacement. While interviewing candidates to fill the position he has vacated, Bucky meets Sam Wilson: An easy-going guy who is as eager about baking as Bucky is about leaving. They bond over baking and become close. Love looks like it is ready to bloom between them if Bucky, in his haste to escape, does not ruin it.  

Words: 3,073

AO3 Link

The joyful laughter and chatter rose high above the music as the guests of the backyard wedding danced gleefully. Bucky sat over near the wall and lifted his head to see his sister’s smiling face. Becca looked so happy as she threw her head back and then twirled around the dancefloor. He was pleased for her, and glad that she was finally getting away from their small town, but somewhere deep inside he knew what it meant for him: More time at his family’s Bakery and less of a chance of him actually leaving as well. He frowned to himself and placed his drink down on the empty chair beside him. He watched the smiling partygoers a moment longer until his vision was impeded by a man’s figure.

“Bucky, why aren’t you out there enjoying yourself?” asked his father, George. “It’s your sister’s big day and you’re sat here with a face like a cat’s ass.”

The young man rolled his eyes and said, “I just don’t feel like dancing, Dad. Kinda wanna be alone right now.”

“At a celebration?”

“Yeah.”

George shook his head and said, “I’ll never understand you young people. Today isn’t about you, but you’re making it about you.”

“I’m not doin’ anything, Dad,” Bucky retorted, feeling annoyed. “You’re makin’ it about me. Why can’t you just let me be?”

Before his father could reply, Becca was standing next to George with her hand held out to her brother.

“C’mon,” she said as Bucky took hold of her hand and then stood.

“Where’re we goin’?”

“I just need to talk to you a minute,” she said, before kissing their father on the cheek. “We’ll be back in a sec.”

Becca led Bucky up the stairs into her old bedroom and closed the door. She walked to her closet and pulled out her sneakers before sitting down, kicking off her heels, and pulling the comfortable shoes on.

“Ugh, my feet are so sore,” she sighed as she laced the sneakers. “Glad to get these off.”

“Bec, you wanted to talk?” asked Bucky as he ran his fingers through his hair.

She patted the spot on the bed beside her and Bucky took a seat.

“Can you believe it, Buck?” she asked as she nudged his shoulder with hers. “I’m a married woman.”

He smiled a genuine smile and nudged her back before saying, “I’m happy for you.”

“I know, but you couldn’t tell that from the way you were moping around down there,” she proffered. “That moody musician thing really doesn’t suit you.”

“Sorry. I was just in my own head. I’m gonna miss havin’ you around.”

“Aww, I’m gonna miss you too, Buck.”

“And Dad’s gonna be on my case a lot more now.”

“Hey, he means well, you know?”

“I know, but it’s like he doesn’t support my dreams with the band.”

“He just doesn’t understand,” said Becca as she rested her head on her brother’s shoulder. “All he’s ever known is baking and taking care of his family. He wants what’s best for us.”

“I know, I just want to get outta here so bad, y’know?”

“Yeah, but Mom and Dad are gonna need your help around here for a while,” Becca explained. “Especially with me leaving.”

“You sound like Dad.”

“Well, he’s not always wrong about everything, Buck.”

“He told you to break up with Scott like five times or whatever, and now you’re married, so he’s definitely wrong sometimes.”

“Okay, smartass,” Becca said with a laugh. “All I’m sayin’ is, I’m moving out. The Bakery isn’t doin’ that great, and Mom and Dad are gonna need some help.”

“I get it, and I am helping,” said Bucky. “At least for a little while longer.”

One thing that Sam Wilson really loved about being back in the town where his father grew up was the abundance of fresh food. The fish markets were a literal five-minute stroll from his Gramma’s house, and the grocery stores stocked a lot of fresh, local produce. As someone who loved to cook, Sam was enjoying taking a languid walk through the store, with his shopping basket, while perusing the goods.

While it was only him staying in his family’s old house, his friends were making the trip to come and see him. He had made the decision to take time off from school to pack up his Gramma’s house after she had passed. He needed to get away from it all for a little while, so being in the town that held so many fond childhood memories for him was nice, even though it felt different without his Gramma there.

Sam was drawn from his thoughts by a loud squeal. He turned to see a woman, around his mother’s age, rushing toward him with a wide smile on her face. He did not recognize her, but she seemed to know him.

“Oh my god, Sam Wilson!” she said as she stepped into his personal space and went for a hug.

Sam stood frozen and offered a small smile.

“Hi,” he replied, not knowing what else to say.

The woman stepped back and let her eyes roam up and down Sam’s body before saying, “Look at you, all grown up.”

Her tone was quite suggestive, and Sam immediately felt uncomfortable. She reached her hand over and placed it to Sam’s bicep.

“My word, you look just like your father when we went to high school together,” said the woman as she gave Sam’s arm a squeeze.

“I’m sorry, I –”

“You don’t remember me?” she asked, with a pout and a flutter of her eye lids. “You were just a boy the last time I saw you, now look at you, looking every bit a man. Looking just like your father; goodness me, you’re built like him, too.”

Sam blinked a few times and didn’t say anything.

“What’re you doing here in town? Is your father here, too?”

“No, umm, Dad’s not uh, he’s not here. Just me. I’m packin’ Gramma’s house up.”

“Oh, so you’re here in that big house all on your own?”

“Y-yeah?”

“And you’re buying food to cook for yourself?”

“Yes, ma’am. Gotta eat.”

She dragged her eyes over his form once again and said, “Hmm, you do to keep a body like that well-fed.”

Sam did not know what else to say except to excuse himself.

“I really have to go now, but it was nice seein’ you.”

“Now hold on a minute,” she said, talking hold of his upper arm once more. “A fine-looking young man like you shouldn’t have to cook his own dinner. Why don’t I grab a bottle of wine and join you?”

“Oh, no thank you, ma’am,” said Sam as he began to back away. “That really isn’t necessary. But, uh, thanks for the offer? You have a good night.”

She looked disappointed, but ogled Sam one more time before saying, “Alright, say hello to that handsome father of yours.”

The alarm on Bucky’s phone sounded and he let out a groan. He did not usually have to do the early morning shifts, but since Becca had left, it was up to him. He rolled out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. A quick shower would liven him up. He got ready and then made his way to the kitchen. His father was already there finishing his coffee. Father and son greeted one another, and Bucky made a beeline straight to the coffee pot.

“Ready for the day?” asked George with a smile.

“Ugh, how can you be so chipper at this ungodly hour?”

George shrugged and said, “I love what I do.”

Bucky didn’t say anything in reply. He wasn’t in the mood to bicker with his father, especially at that hour of the morning.

“Come on,” said George, taking his son’s silence as a hint that the conversation was over. “Let’s get to work.”

….

By the time a few customers started coming into the Bakery, Bucky was tired and covered in flour. They were not going to be baking anything else at that point because sales weren’t particularly great in recent times. Hardly anyone came into the shop anymore. Most of their profits were made from customers who still paid for deliveries.

“You’re back here sitting on your phone, James?” asked George. He only called Bucky James when he was annoyed with him.

Bucky removed his earbuds, lifted his gaze from his screen, and said, “Uh?”

“Your phone, you’re always on it.”

“I’m waiting for Steve to text me back,” Bucky explained. “He’s looking at apartments in the city today. Was gonna send me pics.”

“You’re still going on about moving when we need you here?” “What about what I need?” asked Bucky as he paused the video of his band’s rehearsal. “Look at this.”

He held the phone out for his father to see, put the earbud in his ear, and then pressed play. The music started and George knit his brow as he removed the earbud and handed the device back.

“Son, what is this?”

“It’s my band, Dad.”

“You’re not even the singer.”

Bucky sighed and placed the phone back in his pocket.

“That doesn’t matter. I love music, you know that. Playing in this band with Steve, T’Challa, and Okoye is important to me. We’re gonna get an apartment and move away, Dad.”

“What about helping me and your mother?”

“I am helping.”

“But you’re leaving, also.”

Bucky sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t like being at odds with his father, but he wanted to do what he loved.

“You used to love helping me out in the Bakery when you were younger. Do remember how much fun we used to have?”

“Yeah, Dad, I do. But things change. I just don’t love it like I used to. I love music. When we couldn’t afford for me to go to school to study music, I didn’t make a fuss about it. I stayed here and helped out. Playing in the band with the guys has been good for me.”

“Bucky,” said George as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Me and your mother wanted you to go to college. It broke our hearts when we didn’t have the money to send you. We do want you to do what you love, we’re just having a tough time ourselves with the Bakery.”

Bucky and George stood a moment in the quiet until Bucky spoke again.

“Dad, I get it, and I’m not upset about it. I know we didn’t have the money and I know things have been tough, but I’m still leaving when Steve finds an apartment for us.”

George let out a loud sigh and then began to walk away.

“Wait,” said Bucky, as he reached out took hold of his father’s arm gently. “What if I find someone?”

“What d’ya mean?”

“If I find someone to replace me to help you out at the Bakery,” said Bucky, his eyes lighting up at his idea. “I could find someone really good, and then you’d get the help you need, and I can still leave.”

George sighed and said, “Let’s talk about it later. You should go make your deliveries now.”

Bucky placed the orders to the back of the Moped and then went to do his rounds. He enjoyed this part of working at the Bakery. He enjoyed getting out and about; feeling the wind in his hair; letting his mind go blank a moment in a welcome departure from all of the stress and worry. When he was scooting around town, he felt like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Having made the rounds, Bucky decided to take a shortcut on his way home. He rode up the small street of a residential neighborhood and some movement just ahead caught his eye. A guy, maybe a year or so older than him, was walking down a garden path carrying some trash. It was the day before the trash was to be collected, so there was nothing particularly interesting about it. Except the guy was drop-dead gorgeous.

Bucky could not tear his eyes away from the stranger, who was now looking right back at him. He didn’t know whether to smile or wave. He should have done something, other than stare at the dude like a creep. Perhaps watch where he was going, because just ahead were two trashcans full of smelly, discarded things.

Just before he was about to collide with the trashcans, Bucky regained composure and control, and straightened up. That could have been very embarrassing, he thought to himself, as he sped along home hoping the hot guy didn’t see his near-accident.

Misty Knight was rolling on her bed laughing as Sam shook his head and watched her through Skype. She was absolutely amused by Sam’s retelling of meeting the strange lady in the grocery store the previous evening.

“It’s not funny, Misty,” said Sam, even though he did miss his friend’s laughter.

“Sorry, Sammy,” she said while trying to recover. “It’s just typical, isn’t it? No matter where you go, someone’s hittin’ on you. Even old ass ladies in the grocery store.”

“I can’t believe my Dad knew her.”

“Can’t believe she was so shameless.”

“I know right,” said Sam as he ran his hand over his brow. “And offering to cook for me? Please, I know my way around a kitchen.”

“Oh, no, baby boy,” said Misty with a chuckle. “She wasn’t tryna cook for you, she was tryna eat you.”

“God, Misty, don’t say nasty things.”

“Sorry Sammy.”

“I wouldn’t have been in that situation if you didn’t put in a request for all the things you want me to cook while you’re here.”

“True, but you know I love your cooking,” she said with a smile. “Also, Riley’s comin’.”

“What?”

“He asked if I was going to see you, and I said yes, and he asked if he could come. Is that okay?”

“You should’ve asked first, Misty. But it’s cool. We’re friends and this’ll be a good reminder for him.”

“Plus, he’s got competition from the local thirsty-over-forty-crowd.”

Sam groaned and said, “Ugh. Why do I tell you anything? Change the subject please.”

“Alright. Alright. So, does it feel weird bein’ in the house on your own?”

“Yeah, kinda,” said Sam as he rubbed his hand over the back of his head. “It’s quiet. And feels sad.”

“I’m sorry, baby boy.”

“Thanks, pretty girl,” Sam proffered with a sigh. “It’s just that the last good memory I had was at Christmas time. The house was full of family and great food. Gramma was laughin’ and smiling so much you couldn’t even tell she was sick. She let me help her in the kitchen, and she never let anybody in her kitchen.”

Sam smiled a little sadly and Misty nodded her head before saying, “It’s nice that you got your love of cooking from her.”

Sam nodded his head and then said, “Oh, that reminds me, I found Gramma’s recipe book.”

“Oh my god, Sam, really? You looked for it everywhere after the funeral. Where was it?”

“Was right there on the shelf near her spice rack, Mist, I swear.”

“You looked there!”

“I know, right!” said Sam with an excitable look on his face. “It’s like it was just sittin’ there waiting for me.”

“Did you go through it?”

“Yeah, it’s still the most gorgeous book I’ve ever seen,” said Sam nostalgically. “All of our family’s recipes handwritten by Gramma and her Mama. Then it’s got my pancake recipe she let me write down. It’s so special.”

Sam felt the tears well in his eyes as he spoke; his voice cracked a little. Misty noticed.

“Hey, so you know what you should do?” she asked.

“What?”

“You should cook one of your Gramma’s recipes,” said Misty with a smile. “It’ll make you feel better, Sammy. I know it will.”

Misty was right. Sam had made a small, simple dish from his grandmother’s book. He immediately felt better. A tummy full of his Gramma’s mac and cheese always felt like a warm hug. He was going to be alright. He was.

After Sam cleaned his dishes and tidied up, he went to take the trash out front. He noticed someone flying along on a scooter. It was a young guy, probably around his age. The guy made eye contact and just kept staring at Sam, so Sam stared back, kind of entranced by the way the wind swept through his dark brown tresses.

Sam should have done something, other than stare back at the guy like some kind of creep. A wave or a smile would have done the trick. Instead, Sam was at a loss for words and actions. He almost called out when the guy nearly hit a couple of trashcans a few doors down, but he was gone before Sam could do anything. He walked back to the house wondering if he would ever see the stranger again.

After Bucky returned home, he parked the Moped near the Bakery and then went inside to clean up. After he was done, he locked up he made his way inside his family’s home. Dinner was already on the table and his mother, Winnie, asked if he was going to have something to eat.

“Sorry, Ma,” said Bucky with an apologetic smile. “I’m off to band practice now.”

“You can’t have a meal with your family?” George asked as he stepped into the room and sat down.

Bucky let out a sigh and said, “Music is important to me. I don’t wanna roll dough for the rest of my life.”

He knew his words hurt his father as soon as he had spoken them.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a baker,” was George’s reply. “I know,” Bucky said when he saw the hurt in his father’s eyes. “And I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant that music is what I wanna do, and practice will make sure I’m good at it. I gotta go.”

“At least take a bread roll with you,” said Winnie softly.

“Thanks, Ma,” said Bucky as he inched toward the door before stopping. “I’ll make the flyers up later to advertise the position and get them posted tomorrow. It’s gonna be okay, Dad.”

#sambucky #sambucky fanfiction #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky au

[dnfisgay]

Mr. Loverman - Chapter 1

a/n: hey! welcome to my first fic on here! i kinda feel like i’m back in freshman year writing youtube rpf but hey! we’re all regressing anyway aren’t we? this is a dreamnotfound fic based on the online personas of georgenotfound and dream. this is in no way meant to pressure them or their relationship, and if either of them say they’re uncomfortable with fanfiction i’ll take this down! but anyway at the beginning of every chapter there will be a content warning section and a summary if needed, or if any plot altering events happen during the possibly triggering sections. i hope y’all enjoy Mr. Loverman, a fic based on the song by Ricky Montgomery. 

THIS IS MY OWN WORK. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ON ANY OTHER BLOGS/SITES WITHOUT PERMISSION. DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN. 

Prologue 

Sometimes, a simple decision is what changes your life the most. Sometimes, a tragedy is a blessing in disguise. Not always, but enough of the time for a few lucky people to benefit. We were some of those people. A simple decision changed... everything. Everyone. Changed me, changed him. Sometimes, we regret those decisions. Other times, they’re the best thing that’s ever happened. We made history together. We made our own history. We changed ourselves for the better. Part of it was born of tragedy, of pain and suffering, of wrong-place-wrong-time. But after, we were born anew. A butterfly emerging from fog. 

The rainbow after a storm. A soft mist at the edge of a violent fall. Our own little refuge within the storm. We made history together, you and me. 

“I've shattered now, I'm spilling out Upon this linoleum ground  I'm reeling in my brain again Before it can get back to you  Oh, what am I supposed to do without you?”

Content Warnings: none 

Word count: 1,520

Chapter One - A New Chapter Of Us

“What if we moved in together?”

George laughed. 

‘What? You’re joking.”

“No! I’m totally serious!” Dream said, laying on his bed. “Think about it. You could get a work visa, come live with me, and we can make videos together! Like vlogs and stuff! You can get away from your family, and I… well I get you! It’s obviously a win-win situation.”

“Vlogs? You don’t even show your face.”

“Oh… yeah. Well, whatever! I’ll do a face reveal. Please, George!”

George’s hesitance showed, making Dream bounce on his knees on the bed, literally begging him.

“Please George! Please!” he laughed, waiting for him to agree. George stayed silent, trying to hide his smile.

“I guess you don’t love me then… oh bother,” Dream fake pouted at him, pretending to cry, rubbing his eyes to make them red. He couldn’t hide the smile in his voice.

“Okay, alright, you wore me down,” George said. “Looks like I’m going to Florida!” 

---

It’d been three months since Dream asked George to move in with him, and every day he’d sent him pictures of their place. Their place. He doesn’t know why that made him so happy to hear, especially coming from Dream. When he showed George the lounge and texted him “our living room :D,”  he felt like his whole entire body was lit ablaze. Like a firework on the Fourth of July -- how American of you already, George, he could hear Dream’s voice saying. It felt like when his first girlfriend told him I love you for the first time. Except... not that. Obviously not that. 

And the day was finally here, after waiting for the visa to get approved, and video chats, and seeing only pictures, it was finally going to be their place. Dream and George’s place. There would be no more lagging video or Discord crashing on them. If the internet went out, he’d still be in the next room over. He’d still be his.

Well, not his. But he’d be there. George felt the need to explain himself even in his own head.

The sound of Dream’s Discord ringer cut through his thoughts, too loud for his own good. He stretched over to his desk and answered, turning his camera on too. 

“Georgie!” Dream said, bouncing with excitement. “Guess what tomorrow is, Georgie.” He leaned forward on his desk, wiggling his eyebrows at George. 

George feigned confusion. “I don’t know, Dream. What’s tomorrow?”

Dream pouted. “Are you being serious right now? Do you really not remember?”

“Dream! I’m literally packing right now!”

“I’m litch-rally packing right now!” Dream mocked, impersonating George’s British accent. George stared him down while Dream was folded over laughing. 

“It’s not too late for me to change my mind, you know.”

“Actually, it is. Work visas have to be used or you’ll get a fine,” Dream said, chewing loudly on what looked like — popcorn? God, Americans were weird. 

“Is that actually true or did you just make that up so I have no choice but to come?” 

Dream looked like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “...Maybe.” George laughed silently, smiling to himself. He would never say it out loud, but he loved Dream. He didn’t know what made him keep it to himself when Dream all but shouted it from the rooftops, but something inside of him felt it was too real to be said. Dream knew it was true, and that was good enough, right? 

“Did you want to watch me pack?” George said, folding another one of his shirts and placing it in the box. Dream wasn’t paying attention. He was messing with something on his desk, his tongue sticking out and his eyebrows furrowed so tightly you could barely see his eyes. George loved his eyes, they were a warm pale green color that fit him perfectly. George snapped his fingers at Dream and asked if he was listening. 

“Huh? Oh. No. I’m sorry,” Dream looked sheepish, worried. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to, I just zone out sometimes, I’m really sorr—“ 

“Dream, Dream, calm down. It’s okay,” George smiled. “I’m not mad. Did you want me to ask the question again?”

“Please.”

“I asked if you wanted to watch me pack,” he asked, knowing which answer he hoped for. 

“Ooh, can I stay on?” Dream looked giddy as he asked. “I wanna tell you about my new bedwars record.”

“Sounds perfect, Dream.” 

---

It took him two more hours to finish packing up his clothes, bathroom necessities, and shoes, spare for the ones he needed on the plane. Dream had talked on and on for the whole two hours, about bedwars and what he was going to make for dinner, and how his mom sent him over homemade banana bread the other day. And even Patches made an appearance after a while. 

“Oh my God, Patches! I get to meet Patches! You know Dream, I’m kind of more excited to meet her than I am you.”

“Haha, very funny,” Dream cooed. “Not like Patches will make you dinner or comfort you when you have nightmares. 

“Nightmares? I do not have nightmares!” George defended, despite the fact he did definitely have nightmares. And he knew Dream knew that, he’d been the one called at 4 in the morning and the one who talked George back to sleep. It was all part of the game, though, the cat and mouse they had going on. He wondered who was the cat and who was the mouse

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Georgie. Oh, wait,” Dream smirked, laughing his ass off. George gasped and tossed his dirty shirt at his webcam, not minding the fact that it was still on his body and that he was now shirtless in his cold room. 

“Hey! I wanna see the view! You look sexy with your hair messed up like that.”

“Haha, very funny,” George fake laughed, though Dream didn’t. He usually laughed after jokes like that. What made this one different? “If I wasn’t so bloody cold right now I’d leave it on there. Make you suffer all alone under there.” He heard Dream whimper, and he didn’t know what it was, but it made his stomach churn. “But, I am very, very freezing right now.”

He pulled the shirt off the webcam, covering his chest with the fabric. “There. You have been freed,” he said, slipping his shirt back on. He swore he saw Dream’s eyes linger on the strip of skin still exposed on his stomach before he pulled it down. 

“I’m gonna go make some dinner,” George said, checking the time on his phone. “What, it’s already 9? Jesus. I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go make some cereal real quick, stay on the call.”

George put Dream’s volume loud enough that he could hear it decently from across the flat. Meaning, Dream could also hear him burning himself. 

“Did you just burn yourself? Aren’t you making cereal?” 

“Um…maybe?” he said, shouting over the cold running water. “I may have accidentally left the oven on from when I made salmon last night.”

“Last night?” Dream screamed in horror. “Genuinely, how are you not dead yet?” 

“I don’t know!” he said, wincing and drying off his hand before grabbing his bowl of cereal. Well, it wasn’t a bowl, but a large Tupperware container. 

“Is that Tupperware?” Dream asked as he sat down at his desk. 

“It was the easiest thing to unpack.” 

George ate his cereal in silence for a few minutes, drinking down the last bit of the sugary milk before asking “What were you staring at earlier? When you got distracted.” 

It took Dream a few seconds, but he finally remembered. “Oh! This!” He pulled out a tiny crossbow made of pencils and shot a rubber band at his camera. 

“That’s actually so sick,” George said, staring more intently at his screen to get a closer look. Dream went off on a tangent about it, showing him the mechanics and everything it could shoot. He swore he’d have another one for George by the time he got home. Home. He liked that word coming out of Dream’s mouth. He liked hearing it about himself. 

Eventually, it got too late for George to be up anymore. His flight left in 7 hours and he still needed to pack his PC. Dream pouted when he told him he had to go, but perked back up when he remembered the next time he’d see George, he’d be able to hug him! He was all but forcing his body to get tired after that. 

“Wake me up if you need me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Georgie,” Dream smiled. This time, he didn't sound teasing. He sounded genuine, more genuine than he’d heard in a long time. 

“I… admire you too, Dream.” George’s face went flush and hot, his cheeks blotchy with pink and peach. 

“Psh! When are you ever gonna say it back?” 

“Never, I thought we’d been over this.”

“Mark my words, Georgie. I will get you to say it back sooner or later.”

Yeah, right.

---

a/n: so! that was the first chapter of Mr. Loverman! i’d love any feedback and opinions y’all have! the next chapter should be up in a few days, and i even have art from one of my lovely twitter mutuals coming! i hope everyone enjoyed! :D feel free to reblog<3

Chapter 2 - Linoleum Ground (date TBD)

#mrloverman #dreamnotfound #dream smp #dream #georgenotfound #sapnap #youtube rpf #dream team #minecraft youtube #mcyt #chaptered fic #chaptered #all fics